#riize angst

2. Sungchan

Similar to Sohee, Sungchan is a possessive, intense lover. He is someone who wants all attention to himself, so if you focus on anyone that's not him, he gets very jealous and insecure, since he's usually afraid that he'll lose you or he isn't good enough. He also can be an emotional, clingy lover who seeks emotional intimacy so it just makes him upset beyond anything, he is very likely to lash out and cry when jealous.

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3. Anton

Anton really, really seeks for stability in his relationships. He seeks comfort and security so anyone being too close to his partner for his liking serves as a threat to this stability, so he can get very possessive. He normally isn't very jealous and doesn't express his emotions, but if you made him very jealous beyond his tolerance, he gets extremely angry, he has quite a fiery temper and he is extremely stubborn, so arguing with him does not bring you anywhere and worsens the situation at hand.

~

4. Shotaro

Unlike Sohee, Sungchan and Anton, Shotaro isn't as visibly jealous as the other three, he keeps all his emotions inside and would rather introspect the situation, looking for clues to confirm his suspicion. He won't lash out like the other three, he'd just go quiet and try to process everything before trying to talk to you about it. He seeks security and emotional intimacy and he cannot tolerate anything that may serve as a threat to said security and any long-term commitments. He not only evaluates the situation which made him jealous, he also evaluates your long-term plans as a couple before taking any action.

~

5. Wonbin

Wonbin is a romantic, idealistic lover, so when he gets jealous, it feels like his world with you that he built in his mind has shattered. However, he rarely gets jealous and when he does get jealous, he withdraws, he is someone who processes his pain in private and gets moody. He isn't someone who directly confronts and hates causing conflicts so he tries to drop hints that he is hurt by making light-hearted or sarcastic jokes or looking for compliments.

~

6. Eunseok

Eunseok is someone who maintains his cool in all situations. He rarely gets jealous, he's practical and an emotionally resilient person who sees jealousy as a silly, baseless emotion and would convince himself not to think too much about it. He processes such feelings in an healthy way and similar to Taro, he'd rather analyse the situation and assess whether the relationship is secure. He'd rather focus on other activities than dwell on such situations.

▪︎ Least likely ▪︎

••••••••••☆••••••••••

Author's note: ngl, I was splitting hair with Sohee, Sungchan and Anton since they're quite interchangeable, especially the former two, but oh well 😭

a clip from one of your videos had appeared on his twitter timeline while he was scrolling through fan updates. someone had reposted a funny moment where you were arguing with your manager about coffee.

— "three americanos isn't that bad."

— "yes, it is."

— "for who?"

— "for everyone around you."

the clip ended with you laughing so hard you nearly dropped your camera.

anton had smiled.

then clicked on the original video. that had been nearly an hour ago. now he was three vlogs deep.

most idol vlogs felt polished. carefully edited, including riize's own, he'll admit. everything cuts down to show only the best moments. but yours? yours weren't like that. or maybe they were, but they didn't feel like it. half the footage seemed completely random.

you forgetting your charger.

you accidentally ordering the wrong drink.

you getting lost inside a building you'd apparently visited dozens of times before.

there wasn't anything particularly special happening, and yet anton found himself watching until the very end.

when the video finally finished, youtube immediately recommended another one. he stared at the thumbnail, then clicked it.

just one more.

april 12th, 2026

it became a habit before he realized it was one. whenever a new vlog appeared, he watched it. whenever your company uploaded behind-the-scenes footage, he watched that too.

sometimes it happened after schedules, sometimes during dinner, sometimes at four in the morning when he should have been sleeping & had schedules at 8 AM.

at first he told himself it was because your content was entertaining. like, you were funny — you had the ability to make someone laugh till their stomach hurt, naturally, and to his defense, you're gorgeous too!

but then he decided it was because your videos were relaxing.

eventually he stopped trying to explain it altogether.

he simply looked forward to them.

one afternoon, anton was sitting in the practice room waiting for the others to finish changing when a notification appeared on his phone.

a new vlog uploaded.

YouTube • 2m ago

Y/N'S DIGITAL DIARY

"come get iced coffee w me & talk about nothing & everything! 𖤐"

& his thumb moved before his brain could stop it.

"what are you smiling at?"

anton nearly dropped his phone. sohee sat down beside him, immediately suspicious.

"nothing."

"that's definitely not nothing."

"it's just youtube—."

"whose video?"

anton locked his screen, which, unfortunately, was the worst possible response.

sohee's eyes widened.

"oh."

"what?"

"oh my god."

"what?"

"there's someone."

"there is not."

"there is."

"there isn't."

sohee looked delighted, which was a problem, because the second sohee knew something, everybody knew something.

sure enough, less than five minutes later, anton walked into a room filled with grinning faces.

"hmm i heard our anton has a crush." sungchan teased.

"i don't, hyung! i was just watching youtube before sohee ran w his loud mouth!"

"you do."

"i don't."

"who is she?"

"there's no she, why did you guys assume i was watching a girl's video?!"

wonbin looked up from his phone, with the teasing grin on his face (that briize love)

"there's definitely a she."

anton considered leaving the practice room entirely.

the truth was, he wasn't even sure if it counted as a crush yet. you were still mostly a person on a screen. someone he'd never properly met, someone he only knew through edited videos and short clips, but somehow he'd started noticing little things.

the way you switched between english and korean without thinking.

the way you always thanked staff members, even in subtle moments.

the way your smile changed when something genuinely surprised you.

small things.

ridiculous things.

the kind of details people only noticed when they were paying far too much attention...

and anton was definitely paying too much attention.

april 21st, 2026

the first time he saw you in person felt strangely disappointing. backstage at some mnet thing.

not because you weren't pretty— if anything, you were prettier. fuck, you took his breath away. not because you weren't nice. he hadn't spoken to you long enough to know.

it was disappointing because he suddenly realized how little he actually knew you.

anton was walking through the backstage hallways at music bank when he spotted you.

for a moment he almost didn't recognize you. there was no vlog camera, or your phone in sight.

definitely no cheerful editing, subtitles & background music.

you just looked . . . tired.

your manager was talking about schedule changes while you listened quietly, nodding every few seconds. you weren't laughing. you were just... working. just another idol trying to survive a busy, brutally scheduled day.

something about that realization made his stomach twist. because in all honesty, for weeks, he'd felt like he knew you.

not completely, but enough.

and now, standing twenty feet away, he understood how ridiculous that was.

he didn't know you at all.

he knew videos, he knew edited moments, he knew what you or your company had chosen to show. nothing more.

as if sensing his stare, you glanced up. your eyes met briefly, anton immediately looked away, then mentally kicked himself. when he looked back, you were already approaching.

you stopped a few feet away and offered a polite bow.

"hello, sunbaenim! i'm a big fan of riize!,"your voice sounded exactly the same as it did in your videos. you gave him a smile, the same one you gave to your staff, your fans.

for some reason, that only made him more nervous.

"hello, Y/N-nim,"

smooth. very smooth. awkward, yes, but hopefully smooth? he sounded like he'd forgotten every language he'd ever learned.

thankfully, you smiled again. a small one, but a smile nonetheless. it was friendly. then continued down the hallway, after another polite bow, and anton bowed back.

the interaction lasted maybe three seconds, okay, maybe five.

but anton thought about it for the rest of the week.

may 9th, 2026

your first actual conversation with lee anton happened because of coffee, which felt fitting. anton was waiting in line between rehearsals when he heard a familiar voice nearby.

"i'm serious."

english.

your voice.

— "if i drink another americano this week, i'm pretty sure i'll achieve enlightenment."

anton laughed before he could stop himself.

you turned, recognition immediately crossing your face.

— "you heard that?"

"kind of hard not to."

you glanced down at the iced americano in your hand, then back at him.

"...okay, that's fair."

he laughed again. and suddenly, somehow, talking wasn't difficult anymore.

conversation flowed naturally. honestly, both of you speaking english made it easier, somehow. it was comfortable, familiar, even.

you asked about schedules & lollapalooza. he asked about promotions. one conversation became another, then another, and before anton realized it, the version of you he'd built from months of watching videos had slowly started being replaced by the real thing.

the real you laughed less often than vlog-you, if that makes sense. but when you did laugh, it felt more genuine. the real you got annoyed when you were hungry, which is very valid, the real you complained about schedules, the real you wasn't always cheerful, wasn't always polished.

and shit, he liked that too. truly, anton liked that version far more.

he liked every version of you. the one you were on stage, the one you were in your vlogs and definitely the one you were in real life.

well, fuck.

june 2nd, 2026

the kpop festival in osaka had finally ended. the crowd was gone, it was past 12 AM, the noise had faded. for the first time all day, everything felt quiet. weeks ago, when the lineup was announced and anton saw your name — he knew he had to get closer to you. in whatever way he could.

the universe seemed to be in favor of him.

anton sat beside you backstage while staff rushed around preparing for departure, neither of you had spoken much during the last few minutes.

you looked exhausted, so did he, but neither of you seemed particularly eager to move. your shoulder brushed his, very lightly, accidentally. you should've pulled away when you felt that little friction but neither of you pulled away. anton stared ahead for a moment before glancing sideways, you were already looking at him.

something shifted

it was subtle but impossible to ignore.

the air suddenly felt different, he couldn't explain it, he felt like a crazy person— maybe it was because the two of you had been spending more time together lately. texting & calling counts as spending time, no? you two sent each other memes & tiktoks back and forth, that must count. or maybe it was because your conversations lasted longer now.

or maybe it was because somewhere between random texts and shared coffees and late-night phone calls, anton had stopped pretending this was just a harmless crush.

whatever the reason, looking away suddenly felt impossible.

you smiled first. you were tired but your smile was soft, and oh so fucking beautiful. anton's heart immediately betrayed him. he smiled back at you, his eyes basically pouring with love— love?! whatever!

neither of you said anything, you didn't need to. the silence felt louder than any conversation you'd ever had, and when your gaze dropped briefly to his lips before returning to his eyes, anton forgot what he'd been about to say entirely.

your shoulder remained pressed against his. somewhere in the distance, staff members were calling out instructions, you heard your own manager's voice faintly too. but ofcourse, neither of you paid attention. all anton could think about was how close you were & how easy it would be to close the distance completely.

and judging by the way your breath caught, you were thinking the exact same thing.

"anton." your voice was barely above a whisper, you couldn't help it.

"yeah?"

you opened your mouth.

paused.

then laughed softly.

"nothing."

he didn't believe you, not for a second, but he smiled anyway. for once, he didn't think he needed the answer

not yet, there would be time for that later. hopefully.

and as you continued looking at him like that, neither of you making any effort to look away, anton found himself wondering if maybe this could be something more, something real, anytime soon.

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.

“Howdy, stranger.”

You blame Biochemistry I.

If that class didn't exist, you would have gone your entire university career blissfully unaware of Song Eunseok's existence. He would have stayed in his chemistry building, you would have stayed in your biology labs, and you both would have graduated with your perfect GPAs and your sanity intact.

Instead, here you are. Two years later. Biochem III. And apparently, the universe isn't done torturing you yet.

It all starts on a sunny Tuesday. You're walking to uni with your usual group of friends: Sohee, same major as you; Anton, a chem major; Yujin and Karina, both physics majors.

You take a deep breath through your nose. "Start of a fresh year and semester. Can you guys smell that?"

"What, the smell of despair that this part of uni always carries?" Yujin offers.

You throw an arm around her shoulders. "Well yes, but no, my dear friend. The smell of another year of success and thriving."

"You mean another year of you and Eunseok fighting over who gets better grades in biochem?" Sohee cuts in.

You scowl. "See, this would have been a perfect day if you didn't remind me of that."

"You guys are still going at it?" Karina asks. "It's your third year. Aren't you tired?"

You shrug. "I'll stop when he stops being an asshole."

Across the circle, Anton's eyes go wide. He starts making frantic gestures—jerking his head to the side, widening his eyes, the whole performance. You're too focused on your righteous indignation to register it.

"Asshole?"

The voice comes from behind you. Smooth. Infuriating. Familiar in a way that makes your eye twitch.

You turn. Of course. Song Eunseok stands there with his group—Sungchan, Seunghan, Wonbin, Shotaro and Sion. They must have been walking right behind you this whole time. Anton's signals suddenly make sense.

Eunseok presses a hand to his chest in mock offense. "That hurts deep, sweetheart. At least you could try and find a better insult, don't you think?"

"Fuck off, Song. Don't ruin my day this early."

He holds up his hands in surrender, but that insufferable smirk stays firmly in place. "Just because I'm nice, I'll go away this time." He takes a step backward, then pauses. "But don't miss me too much, okay?"

He blows you a kiss.

Sungchan grabs his arm and starts dragging him away before you can respond. Seunghan lingers just long enough to shoot your group an apologetic look before following.

The thing is—unfortunately for you—even though you have your own friend group, your circle and Eunseok's circle basically overlap. They all know each other. They're all friends, actually. Student council, shared classes, mutual acquaintances—somehow, you're all tangled up together.

Except for you and Eunseok. You two are the exception.

You watch them walk away, then round on your friends. "You see??? He always starts this shit."

Anton raises an eyebrow. "Well... to be fair, you did call him an asshole."

"I—well. It's what he is. And it's not my fault he likes to overhear other people's conversations."

Anton shakes his head, laughing.

Sohee checks his phone and his eyes go wide. "Shit. Y/N, we need to go. Molecular bio starts in five."

You're already moving. Yujin calls after you, "See you guys at lunch!"

You wave without looking back, and then you're through the doors of the biology building. Safe. For now.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Your morning has been going great. Everything flowing smoothly back into the rhythm of classes. Molecular bio was fine, your professors seem decent, and you even managed to grab a good coffee on the way in.

But now? Now it's time for Biochemistry III.

You grab Sohee's arm and start pulling him toward the science building. "Let's go. I wanna get there so I can find a good seat."

"I'm going, I'm going," he grumbles, trailing behind you. "Jesus."

You both enter the classroom and it's still relatively empty. You claim a spot in the second row—close enough to see the professor clearly, far enough that you don't look like a teacher's pet. You and Sohee fall into an easy conversation, catching up about summer break, and you don't notice when the rest of the classroom fills up around you.

Your attention snaps to the front when the professor walks in and greets the class.

Professor Kim is the same one you've had for Biochem I and II. He knows you. He knows Eunseok. He definitely knows that you two existing in the same space is a hazard. So when he starts his usual first-day introduction, you let yourself relax.

Big mistake.

"Okay everyone, now for this year's evaluation," Professor Kim announces. "You will have a test worth 40% of your grade. But this year, I decided to do something different. You'll have a practical component worth 60%. This practical will consist of an essay worth 20%, a seminar presentation of that essay topic worth another 20%, and finally, the lab component worth the remaining 20%. This will last all semester and will be done in pairs."

The classroom erupts into chatter.

"Settle down, everyone." Professor Kim holds up a hand. "I know you're all already planning partners, but I will be the one doing the pairing."

The whole class groans in unison.

He pulls out a clipboard. "I'll start pairing now."

You zone out a little, mentally running through who you'd want to work with if you had a choice. Sohee, obviously. Maybe that quiet girl in the back who actually does her readings—

Sohee suddenly cheers next to you, spinning around to dab up someone behind him. You turn. Anton. You must have missed him entering class. Of course. Of course Sohee gets paired with his best friend.

Lucky bastard.

"L/N Y/N..." Professor Kim scans his paper. "And Song Eunseok."

Everything stops.

The chatter around you shifts—whispers, giggles, a few people openly turning to stare. You're already on your feet before you fully process it. Across the room, Eunseok stands at the exact same moment.

"Professor, this has to be a mistake. Surely," you say, trying to sound reasonable and not like you're about to commit a crime.

"I request re-pairing on academic incompatibility grounds," Eunseok says smoothly, and you shoot him a glare. Who does he think he is, using big words to sound smarter while also trying to escape you?

Professor Kim looks between you both with an amused glint in his eye. Like this is entertaining to him. "You both sit down. I am not changing pairs. This will be good for you—force you to work on teamwork."

You drop back into your seat with a huff loud enough to make Sohee wince.

He pats your shoulder carefully, like you're a bomb about to go off. "It could be worse, Y/N. It could be someone who doesn't work at all."

"No offense, Hee, but I would rather do all the work alone than work with dipshit over there."

Behind you, Anton giggles. You throw him a pointed look over your shoulder and his hands shoot up in immediate surrender.

You groan and drop your forehead onto the desk, letting it thunk against the surface a few times for good measure. Under your breath, you murmur every curse word you know. A few hexes too, just for good luck.

When you finally look up, you make the mistake of scanning the room.

Eunseok is already looking at you.

Of course he is.

He smirks. Then—slowly, deliberately—he brings two fingers to his lips and blows you a kiss.

You stare back with a look that should put him six feet under.

He just smiles.

Anton and Sohee exchange a glance over your head. "This is gonna be a long semester," Anton sighs.

The rest of class passes in a blur. You don't hear a single word Professor Kim says about the syllabus. You're too busy plotting how to survive this without committing murder.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

When class is finally dismissed, you're the first one out the door. You need air. You need to scream. You need to find a hole to crawl into and never come out.

Sohee and Anton catch up to you quickly. Sohee loops an arm around your shoulder, steering you toward the path off campus. "Let's go to the café. Karina and Yujin are already waiting."

You let yourself be dragged.

The café near campus is busy, but your friends have already claimed a table by the window. You drop into a seat across from Karina, scowl firmly in place.

Karina raises an eyebrow. "What could have possibly happened in morning classes that has you looking like that already? It's the first day back."

"Right?" Yujin teases. "You were so happy and joyful this morning."

You open your mouth to answer, but Sohee beats you to it. "The biochem professor paired her with Eunseok for a semester's worth of work."

Karina and Yujin exchange a look. Then they both start snickering.

"Oh, what I wouldn't give to be a fly on that classroom wall," Yujin says.

Anton leans forward eagerly. "You missed them both jumping up at the same time to beg the professor to change partners. It was like a coordinated attack."

They giggle. Karina turns to Anton. "Who did you get paired with?"

Anton grins and slings an arm around Sohee's shoulders. The two of them beam like they've won the lottery.

"Lucky bastards," you mutter. Then, louder: "The teacher did this on purpose. I'm sure of it. He knows me and Ass Song don't get along at all."

Yujin tilts her head. "Maybe you can try and resolve your differences? Or whatever you guys have going on?"

Karina's eyes light up with mischief. "Maybe the teacher is trying to make his own rivals-to-lovers show happen right in his classroom."

Sohee snorts into his drink.

You give Karina the most disgusted look you can muster. "Take that back."

She just laughs.

Yujin shrugs. "I mean... he is good looking. And there's definitely some tension between you two..."

You slap both hands over your ears. "La la la la la. Can't hear you."

The table dissolves into laughter.

You drop your hands and glare at all of them. "Can we just have lunch before I barf what I don't even have in my stomach yet? Thanks."

They're still chuckling when the food arrives, but you're too busy eating—and thinking—to join in.

You need a plan. A strategy. A way to survive this semester with your grades and your sanity intact.

Easier said than done.

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When you finally get back to your dorm room, you're greeted by the familiar scent of your incense. You breathe it in deep, letting it ground you.

It's a small dorm—barely big enough for a bed, a desk, and a closet—but you're lucky enough to have a private bathroom and a mini kitchen. A luxury in student housing terms.

"Finally," you murmur.

You toe off your shoes, drop your bag by the door, and launch yourself onto the bed. Face-first. Into the pillow.

And then you scream.

It's muffled and probably sounds unhinged to anyone passing by in the hallway, but you don't care. You let the day's frustration pour out until your lungs burn.

Your phone dings.

You groan, fumbling for it blindly.

Unknown Number: hey

You squint at the screen.

You: who is this

Unknown Number: the greatest partner you'll ever have in your life ;)

Your blood runs cold. Then hot. Then cold again.

Fucking Eunseok.

You: who gave u my number

Song Eunseok: anton

You make a mental note to kill Anton tomorrow. Slowly. Painfully.

You: so what do u want

Song Eunseok: well partner we need to figure out how we're gonna do this project

You: meet me after classes at 5 pm near the cafe. and dont be late

Song Eunseok: yes ma'am. don't wanna upset miss scholar over here

You bury your face in the pillow again and scream. Louder this time.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Dinner is takeout. You're too drained to cook, too irritated to pretend otherwise. Some greasy noodles from the place down the street become your dinner, eaten cross-legged on your bed while some random Netflix movie plays in the background.

You're not really watching it. You're just... existing. Letting the noise fill the space so you don't have to think.

Eventually, sleep pulls you under.

You need it. A good night's rest, because God knows you'll need every ounce of strength to deal with the devil tomorrow.

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It's 4:55 PM and you're pushing open the door to the café, fully prepared to wait at least ten minutes for Eunseok to show up like the inconsiderate asshole he is.

He's already there.

Sitting at a table by the window. Two drinks in front of him. Looking annoyingly comfortable, like he owns the place.

You swallow your irritation and drop into the seat across from him. No hello. No pleasantries. Just: "How are we doing this?"

Eunseok raises an eyebrow. "I don't know. You're the one who likes to be bossy all the time. Now you're not?"

You paste on your most sarcastic smile. "I was trying to be nice. Give you a chance to think about something in your life for once."

"Wow. Generous."

"Fine." You lean back, crossing your arms. "I'll tell you my plan. We pick a topic we're both good at. I do the bio part, you do the chem part. In a few weeks, we meet up again to put it all together."

Eunseok tilts his head. "And the lab?"

"You stay out of my way and let me work. I don't bother you, you don't bother me."

He lets out a short laugh. "Me stay out of your way? Sweetheart, I'm not the one in this conversation who got a 80% in Biochem II lab, am I?"

Your jaw tightens. The jab lands exactly where he aimed it—right in the sore spot you've been trying to ignore. You don't give him the satisfaction of an explanation. You don't tell him about the family emergency that semester, the sleepless weeks, the way that grade still haunts your GPA.

You just stare him down. "Do we have a deal or not?"

Something flickers in his expression. Too fast to name. Then it's gone.

"Sure." He shrugs like he couldn't care less. "Let's meet in a month to see how we're doing. Let's just pick a topic and get this over with. I have better shit to do than be here."

"Like I wanna be here either," you mutter under your breath.

You manage to agree on a topic in record time—something boring enough to be safe, interesting enough to pass. Then you're both out of your seats and heading in opposite directions without a backward glance.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

You stop by your dorm just long enough to change into something more comfortable. Sweatpants. An oversized hoodie. The uniform of someone who needs to decompress.

Tonight is a small gathering at Anton and Sohee's apartment—just dinner, drinks, and the familiar chaos of your friend group. It's close to campus, maybe a ten-minute walk, which means you don't have to think too hard about navigating there on autopilot.

You're the last to arrive, because someone had to be responsible and pick up drinks on the way.

Sohee opens the door with a grin, immediately snatching the bags from your hands. "My hero."

"Where's Anton?"

He jerks his head toward the kitchen. "In there."

"Thanks." You step inside, past the girls already settled on the couch, and take a deep breath.

"ANTON LEE."

The volume startles Karina and Yujin, who whip around with wide eyes. Sohee freezes mid-step, drinks still in hand, looking confused as hell.

In the kitchen doorway, Anton freezes too.

"Y-Yes?"

You march toward him. "What made you think it would be a good idea to give my number to Eunseok and NOT TELL ME?"

His face cycles through several expressions—confusion, realization, fear—before settling on something pitiful. "Well... he asked? Said it was for the project? I didn't know I wasn't supposed to—" He pouts. Actually pouts.

The anger drains out of you as fast as it came. You deflate with a sigh. "Fuck. Sorry. I didn't mean to yell. You didn't do anything wrong. Just... give me a heads-up next time, okay?"

He brightens immediately, nodding eagerly.

Sohee appears behind you, handing you a drink. "Can we eat now? I'm starving."

You take the drink and let him steer you toward the living room, where food is already spread out on the coffee table. The night dissolves into what you needed it to be—loud laughter, terrible game decisions, the warmth of people who don't require explanations.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

By 1 AM, you and the girls are ready to head back to the dorms. Karina and Yujin share a room next to yours, so the walk home is a group effort.

"Bye, guys. See you tomorrow," you call over your shoulder.

Sohee waves from the doorway. Anton is already half-asleep on the couch behind him.

You're halfway down the path when you remember. You spin around. "SOHEE. Don't forget your lab coat tomorrow. Biochem lab at four."

He gives you a thumbs up. Or a middle finger. It's too dark to tell. You decide to believe it was a thumbs up.

Karina loops her arm through yours as you walk, Yujin on her other side. The campus is quiet this late, streetlights casting soft pools of light along the path.

"You okay?" Karina asks quietly.

You think about it. The project. Eunseok's stupid face.

"Yeah," you say. And mean it. "I will be."

The dorm building comes into view. Tomorrow is another day. Another battle. But for now, you have good friends, a full stomach, and the kind of tired that promises actual sleep.

It's enough.

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The day you've been dreading arrives earlier than expected.

Your head throbs gently from last night's drinks—nothing debilitating, just a persistent reminder that maybe downing that last shot with Karina wasn't your smartest move. Especially not the night before your first lab session with Eunseok as your official partner.

You, Sohee, and Anton walk into the biochem lab together. They peel off toward one of the benches near the window, already chatting about something stupid, while you make your way to the bench where Eunseok is already seated.

You nod at him. Barely. The bare minimum of acknowledgment required to function as human beings sharing a workspace.

He takes one look at your face and grins.

"Too much fun last night, huh? Right before lab." He clicks his tongue. "So rebellious of Miss Academic."

You drop your bag onto the bench with more force than necessary. "Did you come with the asshole factory setting, or did you acquire it later in life? I'm genuinely curious."

Behind Eunseok, Seunghan—his best friend, who's taking this class as an elective—lets out a bark of laughter. "She clocked you, not gonna lie."

Eunseok turns and flicks his forehead. "Whose side are you on?"

Seunghan just shrugs, still grinning.

Before Eunseok can retaliate, the professor walks in and starts handing out the protocol sheets. You reach for yours—

Eunseok snatches it first.

"Excuse me. I was reading that."

He holds it just out of your reach, scanning the page. "Well, I gotta read it too, partner. Don't you think?"

You bite back the first five responses that come to mind. Not worth it. Not in front of the whole class. You settle for a long, slow exhale through your nose and turn to gather materials instead.

The first part of the lab goes... okay. Stilted. Functional. You work on opposite sides of the bench, communicating in grunts and pointed silences. It's almost sustainable.

Then you reach the final part of the protocol.

You pick up the micropipette.

Eunseok's head snaps up. "Why are you doing that part?"

"Because I reached it first. And I'm used to doing this."

"And I'm not?" He reaches for the pipette. "Give it to me. I can do it better."

"You literally don't even know what volume we're—"

"I know how to read a protocol, thanks."

"Then read it and back off—"

"You back off—"

Your hands are both on the pipette now. The bench vibrates. A beaker near the edge wobbles once, twice—

Crash.

Solution spills across the bench, dripping onto your lab coats, pooling around the equipment. You both freeze.

"You see what you did?" You yank the pipette free. "If you'd just stayed quiet and let me do this, this would not have happened."

"Me?" He stares at you, incredulous. "You knocked it down."

"I—"

"Something wrong here?"

The professor appears at your elbow like a particularly inconvenient ghost. You force your face into something resembling calm and paste on a smile.

"No, sir! Just a little spill. We'll clean it right up."

The professor eyes you both. Suspiciously. For a long moment. Then he nods and moves on.

Eunseok mutters under his breath, "Kiss ass."

You shoot him a look that could kill.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

The rest of the lab is spent in tense, meticulous silence. You clean up together—physically close but emotionally light-years apart—and somehow manage to finish the protocol without any more disasters.

When class ends, you're packing your bag with aggressive, jerky movements. Eunseok slings his bag over his shoulder and pauses.

"Don't get in my way next time, sweetheart. Okay?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. Just walks off toward the door like he didn't just ruin your entire morning.

You stare after him. Your hand closes around the nearest object—a textbook, heavy, perfectly throwable—and you're already calculating the trajectory when someone grabs your wrist.

"Y/N. No."

Anton. Of course.

"He's just trying to get under your skin," Anton says gently, prying the book from your fingers. "Don't let him."

You drop your forehead into your palm and groan. Long. Loud. From the soul.

Sohee appears on your other side, patting your shoulder sympathetically. "One lab down. How many more to go?"

"The rest of the semester," you say into your hand. "The rest of my life. Forever."

"It's not forever."

"It feels like forever."

They walk you out of the lab, one on each side like bodyguards escorting a witness in danger. Which, honestly? Accurate.

Another day of dealing with the devil done.

You might actually go insane by the end of this semester.

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Two weeks of successfully ignoring Eunseok and avoiding fights with him. Two weeks of peaceful, blissful, rivalry-free existence.

And now you have to ruin it by calling him.

You stare at his contact name—"Ass Song (do not answer)"—for a full thirty seconds before finally pressing call. He picks up on the third ring.

"Sweetheart." His voice drips with amusement. "Miss me so much you're calling me now?"

"Please. You flatter yourself too much." You lean against your desk, pinching the bridge of your nose. "I need you to send me your part of the project. We have to deliver the first draft tomorrow."

A pause. You can practically hear him smirking.

"Sure. I'll send it right now."

You blink. No argument? No jab about you being bossy or rushing him?

"Oh. Okay. Thanks."

You hang up before he can say anything else.

True to his word, his file arrives in your inbox five minutes later. You merge it with yours without actually looking at it—future you problem—and submit the whole thing to the professor with a relieved sigh.

One less thing to worry about.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Your dorm feels too small tonight. Too quiet. You fire off a text to the group chat.

You: hey are u guys in ur dorm? im bored and wanna hang

Karina: come over!!

Yujin: door's open <3

You grab your pillow (their couch is somehow always uncomfortable) and make the short trip next door.

You knock once before pushing in. "Sup, ladies! What are y'all up to?"

Karina looks up from her bathroom mirror, face half-covered in green clay. "We were about to do our skin care and were literally about to call you."

Yujin waves from her spot on the floor, already in pajamas. "Great minds think alike."

You drop onto the couch and accept the sheet mask Karina tosses at your face.

The next hour is peaceful in the way only girl nights can be—face masks, gossip, the low hum of a playlist in the background. But you notice Yujin keeps glancing at her phone. Smiling at it. The kind of smile that has nothing to do with whatever Karina is saying about her physics TA.

You narrow your eyes. "What's got you so interested in that phone of yours?"

Yujin looks up, and her cheeks go slightly pink. "Well... I've been talking to this guy. Sion."

Karina gasps. "WAIT. The one you were crushing on in thermodynamics class last year? That Sion?"

"The very same."

"How?! How did this happen? Spill everything right now."

Yujin tucks her legs under her, clearly trying to play it cool but failing miserably. "Okay, so you know how me and my ex—Chaeyoung—stayed friends after we broke up first year?"

You nod. Chaeyoung is a legend in your circle purely for how gracefully she handled that situation.

"Well, I ran into her at the cafeteria last week. She was with her new friend group, and Sion was there. I got all weird and awkward—" Yujin makes a face "—and she must have noticed, because she texted me later. Asked if I still thought he was cute."

Karina squeals. Yujin shushes her.

"I told her the truth. And she... set us up. Wingwoman ex-girlfriend style."

You stare at her. "That's one hell of a nice ex. I'm genuinely impressed you two stayed on such good terms that she's actively wingwoman-ing for you now."

Yujin grins. "Right? But anyway. We've just been texting for now. Nothing serious." She pauses. "We do have a date this Saturday, though."

Karina launches herself at Yujin in a hug that nearly knocks them both over. "OMG. We need to help you pick outfits. Full fashion show. You're trying on everything you own."

Yujin laughs, hugging her back. "Deal."

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

You stay up way too late. Gossip turns into deep talk turns into random YouTube videos turns into Karina attempting to read everyone's palms.

At some point, you stretch out on the couch and sigh contentedly.

"Can I sleepover tonight?" you ask. "I know I'm literally next door, but we don't do this as much anymore. Third year is so packed with stuff."

Karina side-hugs you from her spot on the floor. Yujin nods from her bed.

"Of course, babe," Karina says. "One big sleepover like old times. It's been due."

You end the night squished together on various surfaces, watching rom-coms and ruthlessly making fun of every unrealistic moment.

"They would never catch that flight in real life," you mutter.

"He literally just ran through an airport without a ticket. Security would never."

"He's hot though," Karina offers.

"Doesn't matter. Realism matters."

Yujin throws a pillow at you. You throw it back.

Eventually, one by one, you all fall asleep—warm, safe, and exactly where you're supposed to be.

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You like to call this week "Stay Tuned: Will I Survive Midterms or Will They End Me?"

Except midterms haven't even started yet. It's Friday. The calm before the storm. And instead of using this precious, sacred, once-in-a-lifetime weekend to prepare for the hell that awaits you on Monday, you've been sitting in this study room for five hours, watching your brain slowly liquefy.

Four midterms. Five days. Starting Monday. Who in their right mind would schedule bioinformatics, molecular biology, biochemistry, and statistics in a single week? The answer, apparently, is your university's scheduling committee—a group of people who have clearly never experienced the existential dread of trying to memorize metabolic pathways while running on three hours of sleep and pure spite.

You're currently in a study room you booked specifically so you could have peace and quiet. No roommates. No friends asking to grab food. No distractions.

Just you and the abyss.

Five hours. Five. Your back hurts. Your eyes burn. And you've been staring at the same bioinformatics slide for what feels like an eternity, except the words have stopped making sense and now they just look like random letters arranged in a cruel, meaningless pattern.

You drop your head into your hands and let out a desperate sigh that echoes off the walls.

Why did you choose this major? Why didn't you just do something easy?? Like professional napping?

The door opens.

You don't look up immediately. Probably Sohee, coming to check on you, or maybe a stranger who booked the room after you—except you have it until 8 PM, so—

"Thought this room was supposed to be for studying, not for hosting a funeral."

You know that voice.

Your head snaps up. Eunseok stands in the doorway, one shoulder leaning against the frame, looking annoyingly well-rested. Like he didn't just walk out of a perfectly good nap while you've been here slowly decomposing over a laptop.

"What do you want?" Your voice comes out dry. Sandpaper. You haven't had water in three hours.

He steps inside, letting the door close behind him. "Just came to check up on you." His eyes sweep over the disaster zone that is your study space—crumpled papers, empty energy drink cans, your laptop with seventeen tabs open. "This room reeks of desperation."

"Eunseok." You press your fingers to your temples. "I don't have the patience for your remarks right now. I really, really don't."

"Don't be like that, sweetheart." He's moving closer now, and there's something in his hands you can't quite see. "I'm only here to grace you with my presence. I even brought you something."

He sets a bag on the corner of the table. A familiar logo. Your favorite coffee shop. The one ten minutes off campus that you never have time to go to anymore.

Something inside you snaps.

"Why are you really here?" The words come out sharp, jagged. You push back from the table, chair scraping against the floor. "Does this seem funny to you? I have four midterms starting Monday. Four. And you show up here—" Your voice cracks. You hate that it cracks. "What, to watch me lose my mind? Get a front-row seat to the breakdown before finals even start?"

He blinks. "I—I was just—"

"You were just what?" You're standing now. Your hands are shaking. You can't tell if it's from hunger, caffeine, or the overwhelming pressure of knowing that everything hinges on next week. "Trying to sabotage me? Distract me so I fall behind before the first exam even hits? Or worse—coming here to antagonize me so I go into midterms already defeated?"

His jaw tightens. "That's not what this is."

"No? Then what is it, Eunseok?" You laugh, but there's nothing funny about it. "Because that's what you do, isn't it? Every single class, every single project, every single grade. You have to be there. You have to be better. You have to rub it in my face every chance you get."

"Where is this coming from—"

"And now you show up here, with coffee from my favorite place, like you're some kind of—what? Good Samaritan? Like you actually care?" Your voice is rising. You can't stop it. The words are pouring out now, all the stress and exhaustion and three years of never quite measuring up finally finding an outlet. "You want to see me break. That's what this is. You saw me struggling and thought you'd come watch. Maybe get a laugh. Maybe take a picture so you can remember the moment you finally beat me."

He stares at you. His face is very still. Too still.

"Is that really what you think of me?"

"Tell me I'm wrong." You're breathing hard now. "Tell me you didn't come here just to see me like this."

He doesn't answer right away. And in that silence, something in his expression shifts. The easy amusement is gone. The playful smirk. Everything. What's left is something you've never seen on his face before.

Hurt.

"Wow." His voice is quiet. Controlled. "Good to know that's what you think."

He reaches into his bag. You hadn't even noticed he had more. He pulls out a sandwich. A banana. A pack of your favorite chips—the pink ones you always grab from the vending machine. The ones you didn't even know he knew you liked.

He drops everything onto the table. The coffee sloshes against the lid.

"I saw you through the window." His voice is steady, but there's something underneath it that you've never heard before. Something raw. "You looked like you were about to pass out. Or cry. Or both. And even though we're not—" He stops. Exhales sharply through his nose. "I thought you might need food. And coffee. Because believe it or not, I'm not actually a monster."

He steps back. The space between you suddenly feels like a canyon.

"But apparently, I'm always the bad guy in your story." He holds your gaze for a moment. His jaw works, like he's swallowing something he wants to say. "So I'll gladly 'fuck off.' Have fun with your midterms. Wouldn't want to sabotage you."

He turns. Walks to the door. Doesn't look back.

The door slams behind him with a sound that echoes through the small room and settles deep in your chest.

You stand there for a long moment. Frozen. The silence presses in on all sides.

Your eyes drift to the table. The coffee. The sandwich. The chips. The stupid banana like he was actually concerned about your potassium intake.

The coffee from the shop ten minutes away.

He went off campus. For you.

He saw you through the window. He went out of his way. He brought you your favorite coffee, and snacks, and he didn't even ask for anything in return. He just... wanted to help.

And you threw it in his face.

Your hands are shaking. You slide back into your chair, suddenly boneless. A tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. Then another. Then a sob catches in your throat.

You bury your face in your hands and let them come.

You fucked up.

You really, really fucked up.

And now you have to get through the worst week of the semester carrying this guilt with you.

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You're in your dorm now, replaying what happened a million times in your head.

The coffee. The chips. The look on his face right before he walked out.

You don't even know what got into you. You never should have let the rage get the best of you. He was just trying to help. He went off campus. He brought your favorite coffee. And you—you threw it in his face like he was the enemy.

Fuck.

You're still sitting on your bed, staring at nothing, when a knock comes at the door.

You drag yourself up and open it. Karina and Yujin stand on the other side, already dressed up, energy buzzing off them like they've been mainlining caffeine.

"Get ready," Karina announces, pushing past you into the room. "We're going to a party."

You blink. "A what? No. Guys, I'm not in the mood."

"Yeah, no." Yujin follows Karina in, already heading for your closet. "You're going. You need to let loose before midterms week. You look like you haven't slept in weeks."

She's not wrong, but that's not the point.

You cross your arms, giving them your most stubborn look. "I said I'm not—"

"You're going, and that's final." Karina grabs your arm and starts steering you toward the bathroom. "Go shower. Me and Yujin will pick an outfit for you."

"We need to hurry," Yujin adds, already rifling through your clothes. "Anton and Sohee are picking us up."

You pause at the bathroom door. "Whose party even is this?"

"Seunghan's," Karina calls over her shoulder. "At his shared apartment with Wonbin and Sion."

Your stomach drops. Seunghan. Which means Eunseok will probably be there. Eunseok, who you screamed at four hours ago. Eunseok, who you accused of trying to sabotage you.

You eye Yujin, who is suddenly very focused on sorting through your tops. "I see why you want to go so badly."

A flush creeps up her neck. "Ugh. Well." She waves you off. "Go shower. We're gonna be late."

You laugh despite yourself and step into the bathroom.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

When you get out, the outfit is laid out on your bed like a verdict.

A red leather skirt. Thigh-high boots. A black bodysuit that definitely shows more than you usually show. The whole thing screams attention.

You stare at it. Then at Karina.

She throws her hands up defensively. "Girl, you need to look hot. Maybe find a man while you're at it."

You open your mouth to argue, then close it. You don't have the energy to fight tonight. You're already drained from the study room, from replaying Eunseok's face, from the guilt sitting heavy in your chest.

You put on the outfit. Do some light makeup—enough to look alive, not enough to look like you're trying. When you catch your reflection in the mirror, you almost don't recognize yourself.

Hot, Karina's voice echoes in your head. Maybe find a man.

The last thing you need is more complications.

Your phone buzzes.

Anton: out front

Karina grabs your hand. "Let's get this party started."

Yujin is already halfway out the door, and you let yourself be pulled along, the weight in your chest only getting heavier with every step.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

The ride to the party is lively. Sohee is already buzzed—definitely from pre-gaming if the slight slur in his voice is anything to go by.

"You didn't tell us you were pre-gaming before the party, Hee," Yujin says from the back seat.

Sohee twists around to look at her. "Yeah, because when you guys pre-game, me and Anton have to babysit the three of you. I wanna make the most of this party." He gestures between himself and you. "Y'all don't have four midterms next week. I need to let loose before them."

You smile a little at the girls bickering with Sohee. Maybe this will be fun. Maybe you should let loose.

Anton parks the car, and everyone piles out.

You stop in front of the building and your brain short-circuits. This isn't a normal apartment. This is a full-on house. Three stories, nice exterior, the kind of place you'd expect to see in a movie about rich college kids, not actual people you know.

Anton follows your gaze. "Yeah, they're loaded. Three live in one apartment, the other three in another. Top floor is storage, from what I heard."

You shoot him a confused look but don't question how he knows so much. Anton is like that—collects information like a magpie collects shiny things.

Karina bounces on her heels. "Let's go, guys. Party's already started."

You step inside and the noise hits you first. Then the smell—alcohol and something sweet, bodies pressed together, music vibrating through the floorboards. The party is already full blast, people spilling across two floors, cups in hand, dancing like there's no tomorrow.

Sohee and Anton peel off immediately to find Seunghan. Yujin practically floats toward the kitchen, probably looking for Sion.

That leaves you and Karina.

"Drinks?" she asks.

"Drinks."

You push through the crowd to the kitchen, which is somehow just as packed. Karina grabs a beer and hands it to you, but your eyes are fixed on the row of bottles on the counter.

"Pass me the tequila."

She raises an eyebrow. "You sure?"

You don't answer. Just reach for the bottle and pour yourself a shot. Then another.

Karina watches you with growing concern. "Babes, maybe slow down?"

You're already pouring the third. "I'm fine, Rina. Not even buzzed yet."

That's a lie. You can feel the warmth spreading through your chest, the edges of your thoughts starting to blur. But that's the point. You want to forget today. You want to scrape the guilt out of your ribcage and leave it here, on this sticky floor, where it can't follow you into midterms week.

Someone calls Karina's name from across the room—a friend from her physics class.

"You gonna be okay?" she asks, already half-turned toward the voice.

"Yeah." You grab your beer. "Gonna dance a little."

She squeezes your hand and disappears into the crowd.

You lose yourself on the dancefloor. The music is loud enough to drown out thoughts, the bass heavy enough to vibrate through your bones. You close your eyes and let it happen—let your body move, let the alcohol blur the edges, let the guilt loosen its grip just enough to breathe.

At some point, the heat becomes too much. Too many bodies. Too loud. You need space.

You stumble toward the stairs—definitely drunk now—and make your way up to the second floor. It's quieter here. Fewer people. The ones that are around are either deep in conversation or pressed against walls, too occupied to notice you.

You wander down the hallway, looking for somewhere to sit, and spot a door slightly ajar. Probably the bathroom. You push it open—

And walk straight into someone's chest.

Hands catch your waist to steady you. You look up, already forming an apology, and the words die in your throat.

Eunseok.

His face shifts from surprise to something harder to read. Your stomach drops. The guilt comes rushing back, sobering you faster than anything else could.

"Hi." Your voice comes out slurred. "I—hey. So."

He stares at you for a beat. "You're drunk." It's not a question. "Jesus."

He pulls you into the room—his room, you realize, glancing at the photos on the wall, the familiar jacket draped over a chair, the mess of textbooks on his desk. A room that feels painfully him.

"Sit." He guides you to the edge of his bed. "I'm going to get one of your friends."

"No." Your hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist before you can stop yourself. "Can you—can you stay? I need to talk to you."

He hesitates. You can see the war playing out on his face—the part of him that wants to walk away, the part that's too stubborn to leave you like this.

He sighs and grabs a bottle of water from his desk. "Drink this. You need to sober up."

You take it, drinking obediently while he crouches in front of you. His eyes scan your face, searching.

"I've never seen you this drunk." His voice is quieter now. "What the hell is up with you?"

You press a hand to your chest, right over the spot that's been heavy all night. "Wanted to get rid of this feeling." You look at him. "Guilt."

He frowns. "Guilt?"

"I'm sorry." The words tumble out before you can stop them. "This afternoon. I was—I was overwhelmed, and I blew up on you. And all you did was try to help me."

A tear slips down your cheek. He watches it fall, something flickering in his expression.

"You brought me coffee." Your voice cracks. "From the shop ten minutes away. And snacks. And I—I said all that stuff. I know you're not the type of person to sabotage someone. I just needed someone to blame in case midterms go wrong. And you were there. And I'm sorry."

He's quiet for a long moment. Then he sighs and reaches up, wiping the tear from your cheek with his thumb.

"I know you didn't mean it." His voice is softer than you've ever heard it. "Don't worry about it, okay?" He pauses. "I just want you to know that even if we're 'rivals'..." He does air quotes. "Doesn't mean I don't care."

He settles onto the bed next to you. Close. Closer than he needs to be.

The tequila is still buzzing in your veins, lowering every wall you've ever built. You turn to look at him. Really look.

His eyes. His nose. His lips.

"Might be the tequila talking." Your voice comes out barely above a whisper. "But you have really pretty eyes."

He goes still.

You let your gaze travel. "And nose." Your hand moves before you can think better of it, fingers brushing against his lips. "And lips."

His breath catches. You can feel it against your fingertips.

"You're drunk," he says, but his voice is rougher now. "You don't know what you're saying."

You lean closer. You can feel his breath on your skin, can see the exact moment his eyes drop to your lips—

The door swings open.

Anton stands in the doorway, chest heaving like he ran up the stairs. His eyes bounce between you and Eunseok, taking in the proximity, the position, the way you're leaning into his space.

Eunseok leans back immediately, putting distance between you. But you catch the way his jaw tightens.

"There you are." Anton exhales. He looks at Eunseok. "Thanks, bro. Karina was spiraling looking for her."

Eunseok nods, voice steady again. "Yeah. No problem. She's a little out of it. Gave her some water. She should start sobering up."

Anton crosses the room and hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you up. "Y/N? Come on. Let's go."

You let him guide you toward the door, but you look back over your shoulder.

Eunseok is still sitting on the edge of his bed, watching you. Something unreadable in his expression.

You give him a small, drunk smile.

He doesn't smile back. But he doesn't look away either.

And then Anton is pulling you out the door, and the hallway is spinning, and your memory fuzzes into nothing.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

you turn your head up from where you’re sat, eyes glancing upwards to find minjeong looking down at you, cello and bow in hand.

“you’ll do great.” she says softly before leaving. 

“thank you..” you reply, voice so quiet you hardly even knew if she could hear it, probably already out of ear shot.

hyuna turns to you, “did you guys fight again?”

you simply shrug, “you could say that.”

–

one by one, members of the orchestra walk onto the stage, all of them giving small bows and nods to the audience and taking their respective seats according to their instruments, anton finds minjeong sat in the first seat, in front of the rest of the cellist. he feels his stomach churn looking at her, willing his eyes to look somewhere else, to take his mind off of his friend that he’s mostly definitely not here to see.

you enter, standing by the steinway, taking a deep bow to the audience before standing beside the piano.

then enters the conductor, anton watches with curiosity as the rest of the orchestra stands, eyes glued to you as the conductor bows to the audience, watching you and the conductor share a handshake before you settle down onto the piano, hands raised, resting on the keys.

anton stares at your face, and in a split second, he knows. you are exactly where you need to be.

it becomes silent, the blanket of quietness falling over the audience as each of the musicians mounts their instruments, all of them poised and ready to begin.

and thus, it began. 

anton glances down at the pamphlet they were provided with, information about the concerto written down as he curiously takes note of it.

piano concerto no. 2 in c minor, op. 18 – by sergei rachmaninoff.

the first movement starts, anton watches you in anticipation, your resting position soon changing as the opening chords of the piano ring in the theatre, it’s heavy. it sounds almost like bells echoing in an empty space, the weight of the piece pouring down on the audience. the type of weight that feels like hesitation, or fear. 

the orchestra enters, like a breath of cold wind, a sweeping theme that yearns, notes played in succession that spoke to anton’s heart, like someone who’s finally letting out emotions they’ve held for too long.

and the piano doesn’t seem to accompany it; it sounds like it’s arguing, confessing, pushing back. your eyes are closed, but you’ve played this a million times, muscle memory tethering you to reality. perhaps, could it be that you’re playing with this much emotion than you ever have because anton’s watching? 

you try not to think about it. after all, you’re the same person pushing him back in fear of your sister, all those times he’s pursued you and all those times you kept thinking about how minjeong would feel. 

your thoughts turn sour. 

the first movement ends, but nothing is fully resolved, in your heart, your mind or in the piece.

the second and the third movements pass by anton, encaptured by the beauty of the piece as well as the person playing, he doesn’t even realise everyone else has gotten up and are currently giving you and the rest of the orchestra who’s now standing and bow, a standing ovation. 

he quickly stands up, face flushing a deep red as he clutches on to the flowers by his arms, clapping softly as he stares up at you. this piece made him realise how much he was holding back.

and he wouldn’t anymore.

he holds onto his flowers, straightening out the bouquet as the old lady beside him laughs softly, he turns to her in surprise. 

“anything funny?” he smiles at her.

the old lady merely shakes her hand, “you seem to have been enamoured by the pianist.”

“wouldn’t you say you were too?” 

“enough to get flowers? maybe not.”

anton blushes, looking down at his fingers, his ring finger bleeding after having been pricked by one of the thorns in the bouquet as he curses quietly, turning to the old lady as he clears his throat, “i’m a good friend of hers.”

she simply smiles.

“i hope you take good care of her.”

anton pauses, “I…will.”

she leaves without saying another word.

—

anton waits by the venue, finding a park not too far away as he turns the bouquet of flowers in his hands, his bleeding finger now covered in a flimsy tissue paper he found by the frontdesk. 

he glances up at the sky. it’s getting dark…

had you already left?

he turns to smell the flowers, thankfully they had retained their fragrance through the show, it’d be a shame if they hadn’t.

“anton?” 

he looks up, heart skipping a beat, excited-

minjeong stares at him, cello in a case behind her as she leans forward slightly due to the weight of it.

“i didn’t know you were coming.” 

anton looks away, scratching his neck. 

“surprise?”

minjeong smiles at him as she takes a seat beside anton, staring at him for a moment as she nods to the flowers. 

“those, who are they for?”

anton stares at her, wondering if he should tell the truth or lie. 

“yn.” 

as much as anton hated the fact that minjeong had recently been having a bad streak of being an asshole, he couldn’t lie to her.

minjeong stares at him before laughing, nodding as she runs a hand through her hair.

“i gotta give it to you, you’re persistent.”

anton’s eyebrows furrow. 

“what do you mean?”

minjeong pauses, her shoulders slumping slightly as she takes a deep breath, sighing as she turns to him.

“It’s just, you know,” she gestures around vaguely, “i’ve been…everything but nice lately, to you, to everyone..”

“and yn,” anton adds, helpfully. 

minjeong shoots him a look, before sighing, nodding, “and yn.” 

“and usually that scares every other guy away,” she continues, staring up at the night sky.

“but you’re still here,” she says, turning to him.

“i appreciate that.” she finishes. 

anton stares at her for a while as he turns the bouquet of flowers in his hand, mentally sighing of relief that she wasn’t here to give him yet another lecture. 

“i really like your sister.” anton says, his voice soft, barely over a whisper.

“i can tell.”

anton presses his lips into a thin line, preparing himself for the worst.

“can i please have your blessings?” anton asks, palms sweaty as he grips his formal pants tightly, looking up at her, his eyes shining with hope.

minjeong’s eyes widen in disbelief, sitting straighter as she points at herself, “you’re asking me? after everything I’ve done?” she asks.

anton glances away, “if i were being completely honest, i’m still mad at you,”

minjeong nods, “i can understand that.” 

“but at the end of the day, you’re still yn’s sister.” 

minjeong stares at him for a moment, processing his words as she turns to her cello case, her fingers running down the black leather. she didn't have to think much about it, she has already made a decision.

she gives him a small smile, chuckling as she gets up, patting his head as she ruffles his hair, “you have all my blessings, toni.”

anton looks up at her, grumbling softly as he tries to fix his hair, thanking her before she leaves, waving him goodbye. 

just in time. 

you spot anton. 

“hey!” you run over to his side, stopping by the bench in the park as you glance in minjeong’s direction, watching her slip past you again, her retreating figure getting smaller and smaller in the distance. 

you look at anton curiously, “was that minjeong?” 

he nods, turning to you with a smile, “but, forget that, you did so well!” he praises, standing up from the bench he was sitting on to give you a hug.

you blush, tightening your arms around his neck as you gently pull away, laughing as you shake your head, “i’m glad you could make it despite it being your birthday and all...” 

anton smiles, “what do you mean? this is my birthday gift.” 

you roll your eyes, taking a seat beside him as you notice the bouquet of flowers in his hand, and the flimsy tissue paper wrapped around his ring finger.

he notices you staring and before you can even bring it up, he directs the bouquet towards you as he smiles, “i hope you like them, i had them picked out earlier today.”

you raise an eyebrow, “and you helped and got your finger pricked?”

anton pauses, glancing down at his finger, “oh, no this happened right after the show.”

you blink at him, taking the bouquet of flowers as you give it a smell, the aroma of freshly picked flowers infiltrating your senses as you laugh, turning to him, “i love them.”

his grin widens, “you’re welcome.”

you hold onto the bouquet of flowers, turning them around in your hands in wonder as you turn to him, suddenly apologetic, “i know it’s your birthday but i feel like it’s more about me than it is you.”

anton leans back on the bench, watching the rest of the audience of the show and orchestra members alike walking in batches, all whispering and chatting amongst themselves. 

“it’s your big day.”

“but it’s your birthday.”

anton smiles, turning to you, “does it bother you?” he asks, tilting his head.

you nod, “yes, i mean, i’d hate to be the reason why you don’t get to spend a good birthday.”

anton laughs, sitting up straighter, leaning against his knees as he places his hand against his chin, “then grant me a wish.” 

you blink at him.

“what?”

his grin turns cheekier by the minute, “you heard me.”

you run a hand across your face. you forget that this is, in fact, anton you’re dealing with. you stifle a laugh, rolling your eyes as you turn to him.

“okay, tell me, what’s your wish?”

anton stays silent for a while, just staring at you before he says softly, his voice carrying into the night.

“a kiss, if you’d consent to it.” 

you freeze, eyes widening as your hands tighten around the bouquet, swallowing thickly, your cheeks heating up as you stare at him. 

“a-are you serious-?” 

“am i ever unserious with you?” 

you glare at him, “yeah, you are, actually.” 

anton pauses, before laughing again, “oh, right, my bad.”

he continues, pleasant in the way he stares up at you, “no pressure though, if you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to.”

you turn to him, your words falling out of your mouth before you can help it, “n-no, i’ll do it.” your voice trembles, your fingers tightening on your dress as you refuse to meet his eyes.

“without even looking at me?” anton asks, eyebrows rising in amusement at your shy demeanour.

“shut up, do you want it or not?” you grumble, getting up as you dust off your dress, sighing as you close your eyes, running a hand down your face for good measure, standing in front of anton. 

anton simply smiles in delight, looking up at you as you stand between his legs, tilting his head back a little as he hums, “sorry, i do want it.” 

you stare at him, “how bad?”

anton laughs, “how bad?”

you nod, “yeah, how bad do you want it?”

he hums for a moment, “hm, out of a 10, i’d say a 10.” he says, staring up at you with that grin of his that makes you weak in your knees. 

you sigh, bending down to reach where he’s sat on the bench as you gulp slowly, inching nearer to his face as your fingers gently wrap around his nape, pulling him closer. 

“close your eyes.”

anton frowns, “what if you run away?”

you huff, flicking his forehead as he winces, whining as he presses a hand over the place where you flicked it. 

“ouch…”

“i’ll kiss it better in a minute, calm down.”

he smiles wider at that, finally closing his eyes, heeding to your request as he gently waits for you to close the distance.

you take the liberty to stare at his face, your eyes trailing down his long lashes, the slope of his nose and his full lips, gently pulling him in as you place your lips over his, a soft light touch.

but before you know it, anton’s hand snakes over your waist, pulling you in as he kisses you deeper, grinning like a madman as he gently tugs you closer. 

you seem to make a noise of surprise, something at which he laughs at as he gently pulls away. 

“if it matters, i got minjeong’s blessing before.”

“i didn’t ask!”

"oh, also you didn't kiss my forehead better yet,"

"i'm going home."

24 : wishlist

SUMMARY : anton lee was your sister's best friend. he was supposed to be off limits, you were supposed to be off limits. in the midst of trying to pretend like you're not catching feelings for each other, your sister's already starting to notice, and she doesn't know what to feel about it. and it's probably for a good reason.

(a/n): hehe double update

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