genre: romance, slow-burn, neighbors to lovers
summary: y/n's heart has been broken one too many times, and being dumped over her unruly dog max was the last straw. now determined to care for max on her own, how long can this hopeless romantic resist falling for her mysterious yet compassionate neighbor anton especially when he's so good with dogs.
the rain had finally given up after three straight days of turning quezon city into a giant puddle. sidewalks glistened like they’d been polished, air heavy with petrichor and the faint charcoal smoke from someone’s roadside inihaw. you clipped max’s harness with practiced annoyance, he’d already eaten the corner of your favorite throw pillow while you were showering and headed out.
max, golden retriever extraordinaire, trotted ahead like he owned the whole barangay. tail helicopter blades, ears flapping, zero concept of “heel.” your ex’s parting words still echoed sometimes. “he’s too much, y/n. you’re both too much.” you’d stared at the half-empty closet, then at max sprawled across the bed like he belonged there more than anyone ever had. “then leave,” you’d said. he did. max stayed.
two months of single life later, you were still choosing the dog every single day.
the courtyard of your mid-rise condo was quiet tonight, only the drip from aircon units and the distant rumble of edsa traffic. max zeroed in on a suspicious leaf when he suddenly perked ears straight up, body language screaming new friend alert and yanked you toward the wooden bench near the fountain.
someone was already sitting there.
tall. dark oversized hoodie, hood up, earbuds in, legs stretched long. he radiated that rare, unbothered stillness like the universe could be on fire and he’d still just exist quietly. max, never one to read social cues, let out a single delighted woof and launched.
“max, no!” you hauled back, cheeks burning. “sorry, he’s super friendly. too friendly.”
the guy tugged one earbud free. looked up. his eyes were dark and kind, the outer corners crinkling the second a tiny smile appeared.
“it’s cool,” he said, voice low and soft like late-night radio. “i like dogs.”
max was already glued to him. butt wiggling so violently the leash vibrated in your hand. the guy reached down immediately confident but gentle and found the exact ear-scratch spot that turned max into a puddle of happy sighs.
“he’s massive,” the guy murmured. “golden?”
“yep. max. he’s… a full-time job.”
“he’s perfect.” another slow scratch. max flopped onto his back like he’d been waiting his whole life for this exact moment. paws up, tongue lolling, shameless.
you stood there awkwardly holding the leash while this stranger gave your dog VIP treatment. up close he was stupidly pretty sharp jaw, long lashes, dark hair falling into sleepy eyes. the kind of face that made you forget how to blink for a second.
“anton,” he said after a beat, glancing up at you. “4b.”
“y/n. 3c.” you shifted weight. “sorry again. he gets excited around new humans.”
“don’t apologize.” anton’s fingers kept moving in lazy circles through golden fur. “i’ve been missing this. my family’s back in jersey. my old dog choco stayed with them when i moved here for the studio job.”
you nodded. most guys either pretended max didn’t exist or made that tight polite smile that said they were counting the seconds until they could escape. this one was half-kneeling now, giving full belly rubs like it was his civic duty.
max rolled over, nudged anton’s wrist for round two.
“you walk him every night?” anton asked.
“pretty much. otherwise he starts redecorating the apartment. creatively.”
anton laughed, quiet, warm, surprised. “smart. keeps you busy.”
“keeps me broke,” you muttered. “new leashes, new shoes, new sanity monthly subscription.”
he stood up slowly. tall taller than you’d clocked while he was sitting. max immediately leaned his whole weight against anton’s leg like he’d officially been adopted.
“mind if i tag along sometime?” anton asked, rubbing his nape, ears going faintly pink under the courtyard lamp. “courtyard’s nice at night but… kinda lonely. plus.” he nodded at max. “dog withdrawal is real.”
you blinked. “you want to voluntarily walk this chaos gremlin?”
“yeah.” small, shy smile. “if it’s okay.”
something tiny and hopeful flickered in your chest. you stomped it flat immediately. nope. no more. you’d promised yourself after the last heartbreak. max only. no boys. no butterflies. no nothing.
but max was staring up at you with those liquid brown eyes, tail thumping anton’s calf like morse code for pleasepleaseplease.
“…fine,” you said at last. “tomorrow. same time. but if he chews your shoelaces, that’s on you.”
anton’s whole face softened. “deal.”
the next night he was already waiting by the gate same hoodie, but now sporting a little black treat pouch clipped to his waistband like he’d come prepared for battle. max lost every ounce of chill and nearly dislocated your shoulder getting to him.
“brought bribes,” anton said, shaking the pouch. “chicken & rice flavor. vet-approved for sensitive tummies.”
you raised an eyebrow. “you googled his breed’s dietary needs?”
“…maybe.” he looked mildly embarrassed. “i like being prepared.”
you snorted, but your chest felt weirdly warm.
and just like that, the walks became a thing.
every night, 8 p.m. sharp. anton appeared. sometimes with a new rope toy still in plastic. sometimes with his portable speaker playing chill lo-fi he’d produced himself. sometimes just his quiet company and those long-fingered hands that knew exactly how to calm a hyper golden retriever mid-zoomies.
you talked about stupid stuff at first.
his late-night producing sessions in 4b (neighbors never complained because he kept it quiet after 11). your endless battle with freelance deadlines and max’s war on socks. why max despised the vacuum cleaner (it was obviously possessed). how anton once spilled an entire tray of pearl milk tea all over himself during a part-time job in high school.
he never asked about the empty space on your ring finger or why your laugh sometimes cracked when a couple walked by holding hands and matching dog leashes. he just… stayed. matched your pace. let max zigzag between you like living jump rope.
one stormy night you almost bailed.
anton: still down? got the big umbrella. fits three if max behaves.
you met him in the lobby. massive black golf umbrella. when you stepped under it your shoulder brushed his hoodie sleeve. max shook like a wet mop right beside both of you, showering you in droplets.
“perfect,” you groaned, wiping your face. “we’re all soup now.”
“still worth it,” anton said quietly. his eyes were on you, not the rain. “you look cute even when you’re grumbling.”
your heart slammed once, hard. you looked down at max instead. “traitor,” you muttered to the dog.
weeks folded into a month. max started planting himself by the door at 7:55 p.m. every evening, whining like the world was ending until you harnessed him. you caught yourself smiling at nothing remembering the low way anton laughed when max tried to catch raindrops, or how his pinky brushed yours when you both reached for the same treat at the same time.
one sticky, jasmine-scented evening after the longest loop yet, max finally flopped onto the courtyard grass like he’d run a marathon. tongue out, sides heaving happily. you and anton sank onto the bench. thighs touching now. neither of you moved away.
after a comfortable silence, anton spoke, voice barely above the crickets.
“i used to think i sucked at this. people. talking. all of it. too quiet. too… inside my own head.”
you glanced sideways. “you’re pretty good with max.”
“max is safe.” fond smile. “dogs don’t care if you’re awkward. they just want you present.”
he turned to face you properly then. eyes steady. a little scared.
“but you…” he swallowed. “being around you feels easy. like breathing. i didn’t expect that.”
your throat closed. “anton—”
“i’m not asking you to decide anything tonight,” he rushed out. “i just needed to say it. i like our walks. i like seeing your face every night. i like the way you talk to max like he’s a person. and i think—” another swallow. “i think i really like you.”
max lifted his head. looked from you to anton like he was watching a very important tennis match.
every single breakup memory flickered past. the “you’re too intense,” the “i can’t handle the fur everywhere,” the suitcase wheels rolling over your heart. but anton had never once recoiled. he’d researched max’s food sensitivities. bought the durable kong toys. laughed when max stole his beanie and paraded around the courtyard like a king. stayed.
“my last ex left because of max,” you said quietly. “said we were both too much work.”
anton went very still. then he reached over slow, careful and covered your hand with his. warm. steady. faint guitar-string calluses on his fingertips.
“max isn’t too much,” he said simply. “and neither are you.”
you looked up. his eyes were soft, open, terrified in the best way, like he was handing you his heart and hoping you wouldn’t drop it.
you turned your hand over. laced your fingers through his. small. tentative. real.
he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for years. small, relieved smile.
max barked once, sharp, celebratory. tail thumping the grass like drums.
anton laughed under his breath. “that’s a yes?”
“that’s a heck yes,” you said. “he’s been campaigning for team anton since night one.”
“smartest dog alive.” anton leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to back out.
the first kiss tasted like relief. like rain that finally stopped. like coffee from the 7-eleven you sometimes split. careful at first, then deeper when you slid your free hand to the back of his neck. he made this quiet, surprised sound against your mouth and pulled you closer.
when you separated, foreheads touching, breathing uneven, max had wedged himself between your sneakers, belly-up, paws dangling like he’d personally orchestrated the entire scene.
“package deal,” you murmured, smiling against anton’s lips.
“best one i’ve ever signed up for,” he whispered back.
the walks stretched longer after that.
sometimes anton brought his acoustic bass and played quiet riffs while max dozed in a sun patch. sometimes you brought two iced coffees and one straw, passing it back and forth while your pinkies hooked under the table. sometimes it rained and you shared the big umbrella anyway, shoulders pressed, laughing when max tried to catch every drop.
max still destroyed at least one thing per week. you still cursed when he pulled too hard on the leash. anton still showed up every single night, treat pouch full, smile soft, patience endless.
but now there were three shadows under the streetlights instead of two.
and when the next big typhoon rolled in weeks later, flooding half the city and turning the courtyard into a kiddie pool, you didn’t even hesitate.
you: rain walk? or are we calling it?
he appeared twelve minutes later rain jacket, biggest umbrella, shy grin.
under the canopy, rain drumming above, max splashing ahead like it was his personal beach day, anton slipped his hand into yours.
“still worth the wet socks?” he asked, voice almost lost in the downpour.
you looked up wet hair plastered to his forehead, eyes warm despite the cold.
“still the best part of every single day,” you answered.
max tugged once then sat obediently like he understood the assignment.
anton cupped your face with both hands gentle thumbs brushing rain off your cheeks and kissed you slow and deep under the umbrella. tasted like rainwater and chapstick and promises.
when you broke apart he rested his forehead against yours.
“i’m not leaving,” he said quietly. “not because of max. not because of rain. not because of anything.”
you closed your eyes. believed him.
because for the first time in forever the hopeless romantic hiding inside your ribcage didn’t feel pathetic or embarrassing.
and max chaos incarnate, destroyer of pillows, professional third wheel just wagged his tail so hard his whole back end shook.
like he’d known from the very first woof that this was how the story was supposed to end.
three shadows. one umbrella. one very smug golden retriever.
and love messy, loud, tail-wagging love finally feeling like home.
