#anton thoughts

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 that says 'LONELY BOY' 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

December 16th. 9:43 pm.

If you look past the edge of your laptop, you’ll find that there’s a small fleck of paint chipping off your apartment walls. It’s been there since you moved in but apparently, you’ve never found it more intriguing than right now considering how long you’ve been drilling a hole into it with your eyes. Despite your repeated attempts to cover it up, it refuses to be hidden behind stickers and photos of you and your favorite people. Instead, it sits there and mocks you. You and your unfinished assignments and your eye bags of doom and despair.

You glance over all of the photobooth strips you’ve hung up on the wall surrounding it, a reminder of the times when you were free from the shackles of physical chemistry. Seriously, pitting the two hardest subjects together and expecting an A out of you has to be some sick humiliation ritual put into action by some perverted scholar. You rack your brain but you can’t remember the last time you weren’t being subjected to academic torture. The only escape you have are the physical overpriced snapshots of some of your favorite moments on your wall. There’s a cute one of you and Anton in black and white from one of your first dates, and another of you and your friends at the mall all making silly faces while waiting to receive a notification that your table is ready. When you shift your gaze back over to the laptop, you let out a deep sigh. The assignment you’ve been working on for the past 2 hours to no avail sits on an idle tab seemingly taunting you.

Your roommates were gone for the weekend, so you decided to stay in the apartment instead of going back home, even though you live only about 1.5 hours from the university. In the back of your mind, you told yourself this was punishment for doing so poorly in your recent midterm. You needed the win because you hadn't done too hot on the first one either, but you guess you're on a losing streak.

For the past few months of the fall semester, these sad beige walls have watched you fall apart at the expense of trying to maintain your GPA. It’s cliche and it’s embarrassing to care so much about a number, but you didn’t want to lose now. You’re currently in your fall semester as a junior and it’s safe to say your plate is filled to the brim. Your Google Calendar was to be feared by anyone and everyone. The phrases, “You’re so busy” and “Do you even have time to breathe?” uttered by your friends and peers filled you with a sickly satisfaction that you were doing all the right things by paving the right path for yourself.

You went to mixers that felt more like mandated appearances than suggestions to get to know others, while juggling the climb up the social ladder in pre-professional clubs. You watched in horror as other competitive students stomped on each other's necks to get to where they wanted to be before almost committing the same atrocities. Advanced molecular biology and physical chemistry have been giving you a run for your money on top of the research lab you’re doing for hours and upper division credit.

You let your mind drift to the responsibilities of the extracurricular that you haven’t finished and are beginning to pile up on your to do list. In truth, it’s because while you initially joined out of passion, you feel like you’re continuing out of pure spite and obligation. You’re not a complete lost cause though—the minuscule semblance of a social life you have is kept alive by the time spent convincing yourself you enjoy the parties on Frat Row your friends force you to attend every other weekend. The smell of stale beer and the bad music makes you want to dip after an hour, but being a junior feels like you’re running out of time to make stupid decisions.

You start to feel sick.

Your phone pings with notifications from your other friends in the class asking how you did on the exam, but you feel your stomach churn at the thought of talking about it with them. You push everyone away—and that means even Anton, though it eats at you because you know he’s going to be so worried about you not responding for the past 12 hours.

You always feel like such a bad girlfriend when you get in this mood, and that thought makes you even more upset with yourself.

You’re knocked out of your trance-like state when you hear the sound of someone knocking on your door. A glance at the clock. It’s 10:07 pm. Who is that? Your mind defaults to asking, but you knew better.

You dragged your feet to the door, peeped through the hole just for safety’s sake, but hurried to open the door immediately after a quick once-over. It’s Anton. Of course, it’s him. He always knows.

He looks at you with such a sad expression that you know is inevitably laced with complete fondness and affection, and it makes you melt. You wish you could go back in time and answer his worried messages so he wouldn't be looking at you like a kicked puppy right now.

Your body reacts first. You collapse forward, body already craving his warmth, and he catches you. His arms wrap around you, and his hand offers gentle pats to your head and back, as tears well up in your eyes. You're already sniffling and making a mess on his shirt.

“Baby… what’s going on?”

He never chastised you for not responding to his texts, knowing it’d only make you feel worse. You must’ve had a reason, even if it doesn’t make him happy that you temporarily shut him out. More than anything, he hates knowing that you’re feeling alone in your hurt.

You don’t say anything. The words die in your throat as you open your mouth. You know it’s not right to think this way, but you feel that it makes it even worse to speak it into real life, like somehow it’ll make it even more real, as if your feelings aren’t already real enough. You also don’t want to risk Anton looking at you like that again.

“Baby... words please? You're worrying me.” Anton pleads.

“I fucked up on my exams again. I can’t get anything right. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” It all comes spilling out at once, like some twisted confession.

He frowns even more at that. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he murmurs, hugging you even tighter and adjusting your stance so you can bury your head into his neck. He shifts more of your weight onto his arm so he can begin to walk you both inside, away from your apartment neighbors.

“Let’s move inside, angel. Come on."

Awkwardly stepping back, he makes sure you’re able to stand and takes a step back to look at you properly. Your eyes are hollow, clearly sleep-deprived from the past few all-nighters you've spent reading fine print from your textbook, and your lip quivers as you try to hold the sobs at bay. He still thinks you’re so beautiful, but his heart breaks at the way a sense of depletion possesses your stature.

Somehow, your brain twists and makes you feel even worse at how gentle he’s being with you. Your mind fills with self-hate before you can stop it. The thought that Anton is walking on eggshells around you because he can tell you’re about to explode any second makes you want to hurl. How is he so good to you? Why is he so good to you? Doesn’t he know you’re not worth it?

Unable to take the sadness in his face anymore, you break eye contact, peeling your eyes away from him and go to sit on the couch, curling up next to the huge cushion you have.​

Anton holds his hands up, one of them hidden behind his back, and you didn’t notice he’s been carrying a big brown bag that looks a little too familiar this whole time. The tension in your body melts a bit.

“Brought takeout. Your favorite. Can you eat with me?”

With perfect comedic timing, your stomach lets out a low grumble. It completely slipped your mind that you haven’t eaten dinner, or lunch for that matter. After the morning cram session you had where you shoveled some eggs and toast into your mouth for quick carbs, the post-exam stress and the feeling that you did even worse despite how much you studied occupied your mind so much that food was the last thing you wanted to think about.

“Please.”

You're grateful that he doesn't push further and that you can finally fill your stomach.

Already familiar with the layout of your apartment, he busies himself with grabbing two paper plates, deciding there was no need to break out the fine china when you’re already overwhelmed enough with tasks and piled your food onto them, giving you a little bit of everything from all the various containers.

You start to feel a bit of the exhaustion melt away in his presence, and an appetite creeps up. He brought Thai food, your favorite thing to have when you felt like shit. The smell of the pad thai and the tom yum soup fills your nose, and you’re already feeling significantly more at ease. A lot of that is also because your boyfriend is here, the tender action to bring you your comfort meal even though you’ve kept him in the dark, not going unnoticed by you. After he’s done, he beckons you over, which you follow like a soft, lost puppy.

He pulls out the chair and positions it close to his so he can watch you eat.

“How’d you know?”

“Hmm?”

“How’d you know Thai food is my comfort meal?”

“When I took you out to my favorite Thai place, you told me your family always had Thai food whenever you guys celebrated. Just supposed it’d hold good memories, and when does pad thai ever seem like a bad choice?” He shrugs.

“Thank you, Anton. You’re so good to me.”

His tone suddenly becomes much more serious.

“Baby, I love you, but please stop with whatever you're thinking. It hurts me when you go through things alone. Please share some of that burden with me. I’m not going anywhere.”

He reads you too well, and you have nothing else to say, so you both eat in silence for a while. His heart feels a bit lighter at the way you’re able to eat properly, knowing you most likely haven’t eaten after breakfast. You never do on exam days; too much food and your stomach starts giving you a hard time because you’re already anxious enough.

After you finish eating, you motion for him to sit down on the couch while you take care of the leftovers. Packing them away to put back in the fridge gave you something to do with your hands and a chance to work in silence, but you still felt his eyes burning a hole the side of your face. He tried to argue with you, protesting that he could help too, but when you looked at him, your eyes pleading with him to obey silently, he retreated and found a spot to sit.

“Can we talk about it now?”

“Anton…”

“Baby, please. I’m just worried.”

“It’s nothing. I’ve just been on edge because of my exams. I’m really sorry I didn’t text you all day. I couldn’t look at my phone.”

“As long as you have a reason, I’m not mad, angel. I’m just worried about what this stress means for you. It’s one thing to get test anxiety, and it’s another thing not to be able to eat all day and lock yourself in your room when everyone else is celebrating the end of midterms.”

"It's just that what I want to do with my life is so taxing. I'm constantly thinking about whether I'm getting anywhere, especially when my coursework keep demanding so much. It also doesn't help that I didn't do well on the first midterm, so I need to do well on this one to get a good grade in the class overall."

After four years of undergrad and stretching yourself thin to max out your extracurricular, research, volunteer, and clinical hours—you plan on taking a gap year before applying to medical school. But being from NYU, the acceptance rates are extremely low and you can't help but feel hopeless at the thought that numbers are keeping everything out of reach from you. Everything just feels so far out of your control, and it's terrifying to sit still and feel like any efforts made are all in vain.

"Baby... you're juggling so many things. It's okay to slip up now and then; your GPA doesn't account for all the other facets in your life, and it's certainly not a measure of your worth."

“Anton, I know it’s just a number. But it’s about what that number means…" You suck in a deep breath before gathering the willpower to continue.

“What if I’m not meant for this after all? What if I can’t help my future patients? What if I let my parents down? What—,”

“Breathe, baby, breathe.”

You're throwing up words now, finally spilling out everything you've kept to yourself this semester. The mountains of self-doubt that you couldn't hike over, the anxiety that eats at you every day, the way your face has become hollow and the piles of hair you keep finding on the floor—you lay them all out on the table for Anton.

You take a second to breathe, trying to prepare yourself and shake off the fear that has kept this thought in the back of your mind for the longest time.

“What if I’ve lost my passion for this along the way?”

“Baby. Remember what I always say?”

“Mmmm... One day at a time?" You sigh at how he's handling you like you're a kid, but you know it's all in good intent.

“That’s right. One day at a time and—I’m always with you. I’ll always be here. You can’t ever get rid of me.”

Anton continues, knowing that you need to be told way more than anything that you're competent enough to get through this. He already knows that his girlfriend is hyper-independent. It's part of what made him fall for you. He loves the way you don't hesitate to advocate for what you want and never shy away from speaking your mind. You get it from being the eldest daughter, and the first in your family to navigate the world of higher education. It's one of your biggest strengths, but also a deep cut for you on bad days.

“Babe, you’re the smartest girl I know. You’re president for your professional fraternity, and you’re head coordinator of your volunteer organization. On top of that, you have the biggest heart and spirit out of everyone I know. They’d be missing out big time if they didn’t let you in. It’s just a matter of time, angel; I know it. You’ve checked all of the boxes, and you have the devotion to prove that it’s not just for show either.”

You allow his words to settle in. You’ve always pushed yourself so hard, even though everyone around you told you to have nothing to worry about. Still, nothing ever felt like enough. You were never satiated with the extent of your efforts, placing the most pressure on yourself to succeed. For what though? Your passion is being actively translated onto paper, so why did you feel so empty most days?

Sensing that you’re deep in thought again, Anton pushes your chin up now to look at him, as if to convince you with his eyes that what he's saying is 100% the truth. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your lips to further close the deal.

“Let the work you’ve put in show up for you–even on the bad days, hmmm?”

You’ve been chasing the high of being a high-achiever too long, and it’s finally caught up with you. You’re here, wallowing in your own self-made pool of exhaustion, beyond burnt out to see how good you have it. You go to a top school with insane opportunities, you have a small but tight group of friends who you all picture at your future wedding, and a boyfriend who quiets all of the worries bouncing around in your head.

“It’s kinda annoying that you always know what to say.”

“Then I guess I’m happy to be annoying.”

You both laugh at that, the air around you already feeling lighter. Your chest feels less heavy, and you're so lucky you have your boyfriend to thank for that.

“You know I always want you to be happy. So if whatever you’re doing right now doesn’t make you happy, it’s okay to step away and pivot. Chase what feels right to you; I’ll be right here supporting you. It’s gonna feel scary and foreign... and I can’t promise that it be easy, but like everything, you’ll get the hang of it because you’re capable, baby.”

“How do you know that, Toni?”

“How do I know what, Y/N?”

“That I’m capable?”

“How do I know that you’re capable?”

He repeats your question, pausing to let you answer him, as if he really can’t believe he has to spell it out for you. When you fall silent, he answers it for you.

“I know because I’m in the same boat. I’ve thought about pursuing music production over and over. Sometimes, I don't sleep because I'm worried. Will I make enough money? Am I ready to pursue this? Should I quit and be more practical? I question my decisions all the time.”

Anton orients himself so he’s looking right as you as he says, “And every time, you’re the one who pulls me out of that hole. You tell me that we’re all going to die and that I’d regret putting my dreams on hold and not giving myself a worthwhile shot. So that’s why, baby. That’s how I know.”

“Damn, I don't remember wording it so darkly.”

You flash him a small smile, already feeling so much better at the reciprocation of your thoughts being thrown back at you. You could tell Anton that isn’t just trying to make you feel better and that he truly believes in you.

All the words you utter to Anton when he comes to you for guidance- how could you forget about them? You know in your heart of hearts that it’s true because you would never lie to him just to ease his worries. You’ve been so stuck in your own world of self-deprecation and feeling like you’re too incompetent to get cross whatever barrier comes next that you forgot what you always tell him.

That’s the nice thing about dating Anton. He’s never shy of love thanks to you, and he reciprocates every ounce of the love you pour and speak into him. Even when you were in the wallows of feeling like you can't find a way out of the darkness, you have never let yourself think for a second that he’s not going to support you.

“I guess you’re right. I’ll just take it one day at a time.”

“There’s my girl.”

“Okay, that’s enough preaching from my end. Let’s do something about the fact that you haven’t slept. Come here, baby.”

Anton motions for you to join him on the couch and tucks you in with the weighted throw blanket you always have on there. You bought it off Amazon and kept it out on the couch for the nights you pass out from exhaustion after classes and don’t make it to your room. He steps away for a second, before emerging from side of the apartment with his acoustic guitar and a grey hoodie of his that you keep in your closet.

He puts it over your head and carefully threads your arm through it before pulling at the strings so that your face is all squished for him to laugh at.

“Hey!” You yell out.

He’s nearly folded in half, hand clutching his stomach as he makes a performance out of laughing at your silly face.

“Sorry, baby. I can’t—It’s too funny.”

“Anton.” You say sternly.

“You literally look so cute. Like a pretty Michelin man or Baymax.”

“Excuse me?”

He continues laughing, clearly satisfied with himself, but loosens the strings so the hoodie sits on you normally. Although, normally is a bit of a stretch—the outerwear sits as normally as his extra-large hoodie can fit on your frame. You’re practically drowning in the soft grey fabric, with the hem of it sitting around your mid-thighs and his sleeves reaching far beyond your arms.

It ended up in your closet after he handed it to you during a late-night ice cream run when he noticed goosebumps forming on your arm and the slight shiver you were trying to hide, and you ended up being way too obsessed with it to let it go at the end of the night. You asked Anton if you could hold on to it for a while, and he agreed immediately, saying he loves when you wear his clothes and wouldn’t mind letting you keep it for good. Now and then, you return it to him so his scent can permeate through it again. Most days, you wear it to bed with nothing else and allow his fresh laundry smell to envelope you, feeling like he’s holding you.  

The two of you cuddle in silence for a bit, just letting his breathing even out with yours. He tucks the strands of hair that messily frame your face to the side and behind your ear, tracing your helix ever so slightly while admiring your multitude of piercings. Anton pauses for a moment before planting the softest kiss on your forehead, which makes you hum out in contentment.

Infatuated by how gentle he’s being, you feel overcome with the need to express your love to him too physically. You delicately wrap your arms around his small waist like a koala and give his abdomen a gentle squeeze, which makes him laugh so sweetly in your ear. It’s the best sound you’ve ever heard.

You plant a few kisses all over his face. One on the tip of his pretty nose. Another few on his cheek. And you end with one on his lips for good measure. A couple of minutes pass by like this—just the two of you existing in each other’s spaces in peace, before Anton shifts slightly to reach for the guitar he left at the foot of the couch. He pulls it over to his lap, and shifts so it isn’t obstructing your hold on him, which means it’s sitting a bit on your hip now, but you don’t mind.

The reason why it’s at your place is because a week ago, you asked Anton if he could let you hold on to it for a while since you convinced yourself that you could learn a few songs during your winter break despite having no prior experience.

“Of course, but are you sure you don’t need me to teach you?”

“You’ll be busy, baby. How are you going to teach me over the phone when you're visiting your family?”

“I could make it work. Don’t doubt me.” He says confidently.

“No one’s doubting you, baby. I want to learn on my own. I promise I’ll call you if I need help, though, okay?” You reassured him.

That seemed to settle his apprehension at the time, and you wish you had made more of a big deal about it all. Because learning the guitar by yourself seemed like a good idea on paper. It was all part of your big scheme to utilize every second of your rest time and “hobbymaxx,” as you called it, as if it killed you to sit down and just watch a movie. But you never got around to reaching for it; the mental wall of not having any experience and not knowing where to begin loomed over you. You were still in your prideful phase, not wanting to ask your boyfriend for anything or take away from his time with his family during the holidays.

After readjusting for the last time to tuck your head onto his shoulder before grabbing the guitar, you giggle about how the two of you are a mess of limbs thrown over each other, while he starts fiddling with a few random chords. It’s been a while since he’s played, especially since he grew out of playing strings and spent most of his time perfecting the big music production project he has planned for his senior thesis.

You can hear a few hums come from him, and then he’s softly singing to you, his voice barely above a whisper. It comes out breathy and soft, enveloping you and calming you down immediately. Your body melts a bit more into his side, and you can feel the pressure of his smile press down on your head. Your weight on his chest almost makes his tone drop a bit more, and you begin to sing along too.

I need you in the morning You know that's right (you know that's right) I need you in the afternoon and every night, you know I do (ooh) Yeah, you know, yeah, you know, yeah, you know, yeah You know without loving I can't do without, I can't numb the way that I feel, oh-oh None of that dress, oh, none of them heels, oh-whoa, whoa, oh-oh Never loved you more than I do right now All these feelings just wash away, my baby It's not complicated And those feelings won't fade away, away (oh-oh) I do, I mean it when I said that I do Nobody gets to touch you, I do You will always be the one that I choose

With your limbs entangled with Anton, you feel infinitely lighter compared to before he arrived. You feel at ease with yourself in a way you haven’t felt all semester. Harboring the truth and reality about what you’ve been dealing with is a mistake you’re never going to make again—not when your boyfriend is so willing to carry some of the weight.

You realize the deadlines will never let up. There will always be more to do, more to achieve, more ranks to climb—so for today, you can give yourself some grace and relax. You're allowed to breathe.

You’re lulled to sleep by his light, airy voice and you feel the tender press of his lips on your forehead before you knocked out. Curled up against your warm boyfriend, you get the best sleep you have all semester.