#lee anton riize angst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fanbasetwo · 29 days ago

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THE TO-DO LIST , ANTON !

﹙ ☘️ ﹚ ぃ ──── THIS MIGHT SOUND CRAZY BUT TRUST ME IT'S TRUE!

PAIRING : phone ! lee anton × student ! afab reader

SYNOPSIS : Anton was a good guy, no doubt about it. The only problem? He was your phone. How, exactly, did your phone transform into this strikingly handsome guy? It was baffling, frustrating, and, honestly, a bit overwhelming. Here you were, trying to navigate a world where your device had somehow become a charming, infuriatingly attractive human being. And to make matters worse, he was as stubborn and endearing as any person you'd ever met.

GENRE : fluff + crack + sad ending

WARNING(S) : I don't really think there's any aside from mentions of period and blood in the start, kissing (can be slightly suggestive) and a possible sad ending but if there's more—please lmk.

WORD COUNT : 15.9K , RIIZE MASTERLIST!!

NOTE FROM SENA , okay so this fic is turned into an anton fic but is originally from my enhypen blog—so forgive me if there's ‘riki or niki’ in some parts instead of anton, though I've thoroughly read and made sure that there are none. If you enjoyed reading this, I'd appreciate a like and reblog <3

YOU HATE THIS.

You hate everything about it: the constant ache in your lower abdomen, the bloating that makes you uncomfortable, and worst of all, the emotional chaos you're forced to go through while navigating the constant tension your family adds to your life. It's almost too much. Almost.

Stepping into the bathroom, you peel off your bloodied underwear with a groan. This feels just another battle in a war you are losing. The step forward into the shower brings down upon your body warm water flowing. It streams down along your back and legs carrying away the last drops of blood. For that one instant, it soothes all the pain, but not for long.

You press your palms flat against the cool tiles of the wall, leaning forward as the steam rises around you. “Why can't one thing be easy?” you mutter, your voice barely audible over the rush of water.

The thought of your so-called friends creeps into your mind. Friends? you scoff internally. They aren't friends. They're just people who keep you around to have someone to poke fun at, and you? Too naïve, too hopeful, let them.

Your school's anti-bullying policy flashes across your mind next. What a joke. The only time they ever step in is when someone like you stands up to the bullies. It's infuriating.

With a disgusted huff, you twist the shower handle, dialing up the heat until the water is near-scalding. For an instant, the burn feels even slightly more pleasing than the general dull ache throughout your body. But that comfort loses itself too soon as well as the water becomes unbearable (too hot) to touch. “Great,” you say sarcastically and twist the knob off entirely.

The bathroom is silent except for the sporadic drip of the faucet. You take a towel and dab at yourself slowly, deliberatively drying yourself. You wince as your clothes touch your sore skin but continue through the motions nonetheless.

You then walk into the counter, reach in for the pack of pads, and pull one out. You stare at it for a moment before letting out a deep breath. The thought of using tampons crosses your mind. You shudder. Some things are just too much of a hassle to consider: the fumbling with the applicator before inserting something. You shake your head, muttering “Not for me,” place the pad carefully in a fresh pair of underwear you slip on, and feel familiar, slightly cushioned comfort.

The next comes the outfit. Half-day at school, of course means no uniforms—but, in keeping with the school's dress code, naturally. You rifle through your closet before settling on the usual choice: oversized, baggy. So comfortable. So practical. How can some of those girls make such a racket and carry themselves about in what would have otherwise been flashy, tight clothes? How do they manage to study?

As you pull the hoodie over your head, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. For a moment, you pause, taking in the faint puffiness under your eyes and the dull expression on your face. You look tired. No, you look exhausted. You let out a sigh as you run a hand through your damp hair, tying it into a loose ponytail.

As you step out of the bathroom, still adjusting your hoodie, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. There’s a man—a complete stranger—sitting casually on your bed like he owns the place. Your first instinct is to scream, but the sheer absurdity of his presence silences you momentarily. He looks…naive, almost harmless, as if he hasn't just committed a blatant act of breaking and entering.

But harmless or not, he’s still a stranger in your room. Your instincts kick in, and you grab the closest thing within reach—a dusty second-grade participation trophy your sister once won. You don’t care about the trophy. It’s been collecting cobwebs for years, and if it breaks while bashing in this intruder's head, so be it.

With the makeshift weapon clutched tightly in your hand, you take a step toward him. He notices, his head tilting slightly, and for a brief second, confusion flashes across his face. He raises his hands, palms out in surrender, and says in the calmest tone imaginable, “You’re not actually going to hit me, are you?”

His question catches you off guard. What? Of course you’re going to hit him! How dare he act so calm, as if he’s the victim here? You narrow your eyes, gripping the trophy even tighter.

“Well, if you’re going to intrude in my room and act like you’re some innocent little boy who doesn’t know what he’s doing, you’ve got another thing coming!” you snap, taking a step closer. “I’ll call the police!”

Your voice rises with conviction as you mentally prepare to shout for your mom, who’s probably awake by now. Surely she’d hear the commotion and come running. But the man, completely unfazed, leans back slightly on the bed. He rolls his eyes, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“Well, then. Go ahead. Call the police,” he says, his tone dripping with nonchalance, as if this is the most mundane situation in the world.

The sheer audacity leaves you momentarily stunned. Who does this guy think he is? Acting like this is his room, like he’s inviting you to call for help. Your grip loosens slightly on the trophy as your mind races. Why isn’t he scared? Why isn’t he running? Has he done this before?

You glance around, searching for your phone. Where is it? You could’ve sworn you left it on your desk, but it’s nowhere in sight. Panic creeps into your chest. He still hasn’t moved. His eyes flick around the room, scanning the details, but he doesn’t seem in a rush to do anything.

The way he observes everything so calmly only fuels your fear. Your gut tells you this guy is dangerous, no matter how unbothered he looks. Your heart pounds as your brain screams: Stranger danger. Stranger danger.

“I’m serious,” you blurt out, your voice quivering slightly despite your best efforts to stay strong. “I’ll scream. I’ll—”

“Then scream,” he interrupts, his voice sharp but not loud. His gaze finally locks with yours, and for the first time, you notice something unsettling in his expression. A flicker of something you can’t quite place. Not anger, not malice—just…calculation.

Your breath catches. He’s not leaving. He’s not running. This isn’t over.

With a frustrated sigh, you blurt out, “Where’s my darn phone?!”

Your eyes scan the room, darting over every surface in search of it. The guy—still sitting lazily on your bed—doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he tilts his head slightly and says, in the most deadpan tone imaginable, “Why are you searching when I’m right here?”

You freeze mid-step, slowly turning to look at him. What? Did he just…? Your first thought is this guy is absolutely insane. No rational person would say that, and suddenly, you’re wondering if he’s got some kind of mental illness. And, because your irritation is outweighing your common sense, you let the words slip right out of your mouth:

“I’m searching for my phone, you idiot. Just wait—just you see—I’m gonna call the police on you!”

It’s a dumb move, announcing your plan to the potential intruder. But at this point, logic has taken a backseat to sheer annoyance.

The guy blinks at you, seemingly unfazed, and mutters in that same emotionless tone, “I am your phone.”

You stare at him, disbelief written all over your face. “If you’re my phone,” you snap, crossing your arms, “then call the cops yourself.”

You return to searching, hands rummaging through the clutter on your desk. But then you hear something that makes you stop cold: a dialing sound. Not from a phone, but from him. Slowly, you turn back to see a faint, glowing screen appear above his head. The digital display shows numbers being dialed.

Your heart races as the call connects. A voice crackles through the air—an officer, calm and professional, asking, “Hello? Is everything alright there?”

Your jaw drops. What do you even say? Panic sets in. “Y-yeah,” you stammer, your voice shaking. “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

The officer pauses, clearly unconvinced, but then ends the call with a polite goodbye.

You stare at the man—your phone?—in complete shock. He looks at you as if nothing unusual has happened, his expression blank. Slowly, you lower yourself onto the edge of the bed, pressing a trembling hand to your forehead.

“What the hell…” you mutter, more to yourself than to him. This can’t be real. Phones don’t turn into people. And yet, the evidence is sitting right in front of you—a very real, very handsome guy, casually perched on your bed like this is the most normal thing in the world.

He shifts slightly, his head tilting again. “You seem stressed,” he says, his tone flat but oddly observant.

“Stressed?” you snap, gesturing wildly. “Of course I’m stressed! My phone—my phone—just turned into you! How is this even possible?!”

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “You dropped me too many times. I think I just… evolved.”

“EVOLVED?!” You bury your face in your hands, groaning. None of this makes sense. You don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or check yourself into a psych ward.

“How…” you start, your voice muffled behind your hands, “how is this even happening?”

“That’s what I’m here to figure out,” he replies simply, leaning back on his elbows.

You peek at him through your fingers, still in disbelief. “This can’t be real. There’s no way. You—no, this—” You cut yourself off, letting out a long, exhausted sigh.

Your phone—no, the guy—tilts his head again, studying you. “You’ll get used to it,” he says, almost like a promise.

But you’re not so sure about that.

“So… you’re my phone?” you ask, your voice tinged with disbelief, eyes narrowing as you study the boy in front of you.

“No doubt,” he answers almost immediately, like he’s personally offended you’d even question it.

You squint at him, crossing your arms. “Then prove it. What’s my name, my last semester grade, and… my favorite boy band?”

You’re sure this will trip him up. After all, your phone holds all your secrets. If he’s lying, he wouldn’t know the answers. You’ve texted casually about your life, sure, but your grade? That’s buried deep in your notes app. And your favorite K-pop group? Well, okay, maybe you’ve obsessively streamed their content, but still.

“Y/N, C-minus, and TXT,” he says without hesitation, his gaze steady as he stares you down.

Your jaw nearly hits the floor. “What the hell?” you mutter, stunned. No one knew your last semester grade—not even your parents. You hid it like a crime. And how could he guess your favorite group so easily?

You scowl, determined to poke a hole in his claim. “That’s not enough. Maybe you stalked me or paid too much attention to my life,” you argue, crossing your arms smugly, waiting for him to stumble.

But instead, he smirks—an infuriatingly cocky smirk. “Those videos you watch while pretending to be asleep under your blanket—”

“Shut up!” you cut him off, your cheeks instantly flaming. Oh, my god. That was not something anyone was supposed to know. “Fine, I believe you!” you snap, desperate to stop him before he digs up more embarrassing truths.

But he’s not done. He leans closer, his voice dropping as he adds, “And how about that sob story you wrote in your digital journal? The one you cringed at so hard you almost deleted the whole app?”

Your entire face burns. “I said I believe you! Now shut the fck up!” The words come out louder than you intended, practically echoing in the room.

There’s a knock on the door, followed by it swinging open.

“You seriously aren’t ready for school yet?” your mom complains, arms crossed as she glares at you.

Your heart stops. You whip around, fully expecting her to freak out at the sight of a random guy in your room. But when you look back at your bed…

He’s gone.

In his place lies your phone—ordinary, rectangular, and definitely not a human boy.

You stare at it, dumbfounded, while your mom narrows her eyes at you. “Well?” she snaps.

“I—I’m getting ready,” you stammer, trying to keep your voice steady. You glance back at the phone, half-expecting it to sprout arms and legs again. But it doesn’t move.

Your mom sighs, muttering something about you being late, and slams the door shut.

You flop down onto the bed, your head spinning. Did you just imagine all of that? Was it some kind of stress-induced hallucination? But… no, it felt real. Too real.

Your hand hovers over your phone. “What the hell just happened?” you whisper, the memory of his smug face flashing in your mind. You’re not sure if you’re losing it or if your phone just pulled the biggest prank of your life. Either way, it’s going to be a long day.

You couldn't focus at all during school. The weight of your phone in your pocket felt heavier than usual, as though it was a ticking time bomb waiting to spring legs and arms again. The thought of keeping it in your bag seemed like a bad idea—what if it turned into him again and someone saw? The last thing you needed was to explain that.

And yet, your mind kept wandering back to him. The guy. The phone. Whatever he was. He was… kind of handsome.

You mentally slapped yourself. Snap out of it, Y/N. It’s your phone, not a K-drama lead! Still, the thought lingered, making your stomach churn. What if you’d imagined everything? What if it was all in your head?

You tried to shake the unsettling thought, but it stuck. Maybe you were losing it. After all, you weren’t exactly what anyone would call normal. You’d always kept to yourself, avoided making friends, and generally preferred your own company. Isn’t that how they describe psychopaths in true crime documentaries?

You shivered at the thought. Maybe Eunmi would understand. She was quiet, kept her distance from people too. You glanced across the classroom and spotted her sitting by herself. Perfect. You grabbed your stuff and slid into the seat next to her.

Eunmi turned to you, her brows furrowing in confusion. Without a word, she grabbed her things and moved to another seat across the room.

“Wtf?” you muttered, glaring after her. “Some people are so ungrateful. She could’ve just said she didn’t want to talk.”

You slumped back in your seat, fuming and plotting petty revenge in your head. But before you could dwell on it too much, the classroom door creaked open. Miss Shin walked in, her expression as flat and lifeless as her lectures.

History. Great.

You suppressed a groan as she began her lesson, droning on about wars and treaties in the most monotone voice imaginable. You weren’t saying history couldn’t be interesting—it totally could. But with Miss Shin? She made even the most exciting historical events feel like watching paint dry.

Why was she even hired as a teacher? She should’ve been a librarian or something.

You stifled a yawn, covering your mouth with your hand. The effort was pointless, though. Half the class was already yawning or staring blankly at their desks.

Your hand brushed against your pocket, the outline of your phone reminding you of the chaos from this morning. You couldn’t help but peek down at it. Was it just your imagination, or did it feel warmer than usual?

Stay calm, you told yourself. Don’t freak out. But the thought lingered—what if this wasn’t over? What if he—or it—came back?

You swallowed hard and glanced around the room. No one was paying attention to you, thankfully. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something about today was far from normal.

“So this…” Miss Shin droned on, gesturing at the board where her half-hearted notes were scrawled. Whatever she was explaining had already flown over your head. You didn’t care. You weren’t in the mood to pay attention, let alone write anything down.

You flipped open your notebook—still blank, as usual—and stared at the empty page. The thought of filling it with Miss Shin’s monotony made your eyelids droop. All you wanted was to go back home, crawl into bed, and pretend this bizarre day hadn’t happened. Maybe that was the real reason you were seeing things—exhaustion messing with your brain.

A faint ding from your pocket pulled you out of your thoughts. You frowned and pulled out your phone. A notification glared up at you:

“Write it down.”

What the…? You didn’t remember setting up anything like that. Before you could process it, you sneezed unexpectedly, the sharp sound echoing across the silent classroom. Heads turned toward you, your classmates throwing judgmental looks your way.

You tried to ignore them, but then your phone started to vibrate—loudly. The desk buzzed beneath your hands, and you could feel the attention of the entire room shifting onto you.

This was a nightmare.

Your classmates whispered among themselves, some shooting you annoyed glances. You were already the so-called “bad influence” in the school, the one parents warned their kids to stay away from. But this? This was next-level humiliation.

The phone wouldn’t stop vibrating. You tried pressing random buttons, but nothing worked. It was as if your phone—or he—was demanding your cooperation.

You sighed, gripping your pen. Maybe, just maybe, the only way to shut it up was to do what it wanted. As ridiculous as it sounded, you decided to test your theory.

The moment your pen touched the page and you started copying the notes on the board, the vibrating stopped. Silence finally returned, and you let out a breath of relief.

But your heart raced. This wasn’t normal. None of it was.

Your father had gifted you this phone before he passed away. It was sentimental, irreplaceable. But now it felt like a curse. A device that had taken on a life of its own—or, more disturbingly, a human form.

You glanced at your pocket where the phone rested quietly, as if nothing had happened. You couldn’t shake the thought that whatever this was, it wasn’t over. For now, though, you had no choice but to keep writing, pretending like everything was fine.

The park is quiet, save for the distant chatter of kids playing and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. You sit on a bench, your elbows resting on your knees, and your gaze fixed on the ground. Your phone lies next to you, placed carefully on the seat, as if you’re afraid it might suddenly sprout arms and legs again.

Your schoolbag acts as a barrier between you and the phone, like it’ll somehow protect you from whatever is going on. You sigh heavily, the weight of the day pressing down on you. “I should really see a therapist,” you mutter under your breath, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration.

The unexpected sensation of an arm draping casually over your shoulder sends a shiver down your spine. You freeze, your heart skipping a beat as your head snaps to the side. And there he is—again. The guy who claims to be your phone, lounging as if nothing about this is strange.

“Why did you disappear this morning when my mom came in?” you ask, your voice a mix of confusion and exasperation.

He shrugs nonchalantly, leaning back on the bench like he owns the place. His posture is relaxed, one leg crossed over the other, his expression completely void of emotion. “Nobody else can see me except you.”

His answer is so matter-of-fact that it takes you a second to process. You lean forward, resting your forearms on your knees, and glance at him sideways. “Great,” you say dryly, “so not only do I have a talking phone, but it’s also invisible to everyone else. Just my luck.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the sky like he’s analyzing the clouds. The silence stretches, and you realize something that’s been bugging you since the first time he appeared.

“Do you even have a personality?” you blurt out, sitting up straight to face him. The question isn’t kind, but at this point, you don’t care. He doesn’t seem to have feelings, anyway—why would he? He’s a phone.

He finally turns to look at you, his face as blank as always. Then, without missing a beat, he says, “Apparently, the phone takes after its owner.”

His words hit you like a slap. Your jaw drops, and you feel a rush of indignation. “Excuse me? Are you saying I don’t have a personality?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he replies, completely unfazed.

You stare at him, stunned. Nobody’s ever said anything like that to you before. Sure, you’ve had fake friends talk behind your back and parents who sometimes pointed out your flaws, but being insulted by your own phone? That’s a new low.

“You’ve got some nerve,” you snap, crossing your arms.

He tilts his head, studying you like you’re an object of mild interest. “I’m just stating the facts. You’ve been carrying me around all this time; I’m bound to reflect you.”

You scoff, turning away to glare at the horizon. The breeze ruffles your hair, and you feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck. “You know,” you mutter, “for something that’s supposed to be mine, you’re awfully rude.”

“Rude?” he echoes, sounding genuinely curious. “I didn’t realize honesty was rude. Maybe that’s another reflection of you.”

You whip your head back toward him, your mouth opening to retort, but the look on his face—calm, blank, unbothered—leaves you speechless.

For a moment, you just sit there, glaring at him while he stares back with that same neutral expression. It’s infuriating. You slump back against the bench, throwing your head back and groaning in frustration.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” you say to no one in particular.

He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees and looking at you with something that might almost be amusement. “You kept me for years. This is just karma.”

“Karma for what?” you snap, narrowing your eyes at him.

“For ignoring the warranty,” he deadpans, and for the first time, you think you see the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

You glare at him, utterly done. “I hate you.”

“You’ll still carry me everywhere,” he points out, leaning back again and crossing his arms smugly.

You groan again, pressing your palms to your face because of how annoying he truly was. For a moment neither of you spoke.

“Why would you vibrate in class? That was so embarrassing,” you say, breaking the tension and changing the subject. You’re not about to argue further, so you sling an arm around his shoulder like you’re old friends.

He immediately stiffens and shrugs your arm off with a look of mild disgust. “Because you weren’t writing the notes,” he replies flatly, brushing off your gesture like you’ve personally offended him.

You blink, stunned. The audacity.

“And why do you care so much about that? You’re supposed to be my phone,” you snap, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Because, well…” He pauses, and suddenly, that glowing screen appears above his head again. It’s flipping through your search history.

Your heart drops. “What are you doing?! Close it!” you hiss, panic bubbling in your chest as you glance around to make sure no one’s nearby.

He doesn’t even flinch at your tone, completely unbothered. “Relax. I’m just looking for something,” he says, his voice taking on an infuriatingly smug edge.

“I searched those things because they’re private,” you mutter, your frustration building. You ball your fists at your sides, resisting the urge to throttle him—not that it would make any difference. He’s a freaking machine.

“You shouldn’t have searched them if you didn’t want anyone to see,” he replies, his monotone voice now laced with an evil undertone. His smirk grows as the glowing screen halts, revealing a to-do list. Your middle school to-do list.

You feel the blood drain from your face. “No, no, no,” you mumble, already dreading what’s coming next.

“Let’s see,” he says, clearly enjoying this. He leans forward slightly, reading aloud:

001. Get A’s in at least three subjects.

002. Get a boyfriend before graduation.

003. Make at least one friend.

The list glows mockingly between the two of you.

You groan and press a hand to your forehead. “You’re not seriously going to dwell on something I wrote as a literal kid,” you mutter, voice dripping with disbelief.

“Why not? You still haven’t checked anything off,” he points out, tilting his head like he’s genuinely curious about your failure.

“Because—” you start, your voice rising in frustration, “that was middle school! None of that even matters now!”

“Well, well, well... If I’m looking at your past history and the things in your other notes...” He trails off, his glowing screen flipping again as though searching for the most humiliating detail to dig up.

Then it stops. His screen flashes: 15% character development since middle school.

Your jaw drops. The sheer amount of disrespect—oh, lord. You point an accusatory finger at him, utterly offended by your own phone.

“That is so false! If I hadn’t had character development, I wouldn’t have stood up to the bullies in middle school. Or cut off all my toxic friends!” you argue, arms crossing tightly over your chest. The nerve of this guy.

He tilts his head, unimpressed. “That’s why it said 15% development. The other 85%? Still not there. Let’s just say, you need to study harder instead of spending hours watching those—”

You slap a hand over his mouth, glaring up at him despite the fact that he’s way taller. “SHUT UP!”

He doesn’t resist, just blinks at you like this is all beneath him. Meanwhile, you grab your water bottle and take a sip, trying to calm your boiling frustration. After a deep breath, you lower the bottle and mutter, “If you’ve turned into a human, why can’t you, I don’t know, switch to being female? Maybe I’d connect with you better.”

It’s not really a question. More of a passive-aggressive command for him to get out of your life entirely.

“Well,” he starts, completely unfazed, “cheap phones apparently only transform into males. If your phone was more expensive, maybe I’d be a girl.”

The silence that follows is deafening. His expression is as emotionless as ever, so he clearly doesn’t realize the massive mistake he just made.

You stare at him, the words hitting like a punch to the gut. Slowly, you lower your gaze, your voice quieter now. “It was gifted by my dad… my late dad,” you mumble.

His screen flickers uncertainly, but he doesn’t say anything. You sigh, pressing your palms against your face, trying to hold back the sting of tears threatening to spill.

Your dad had been the best—kind, patient, your biggest supporter. And then, when you were seven, everything changed. After he passed, your mom remarried. You didn’t want to accept the man as your stepdad, not when you still held on so tightly to the memory of your father.

It wasn’t until you were older—seventeen, to be exact—that you realized how selfish you’d been. Your mom had spent years grieving, and she deserved love, even if it hurt you to see someone else in your dad’s place.

The man was nice to you, patient even when you were rude. But every time you looked at him, it reminded you that your dad was gone.

The phone sitting next to you now—this phone—was your dad’s. You’d taken it after growing up, cherishing it because it had been his. Back then, it brought you comfort.

You never could’ve imagined it would one day transform into some smug guy with no tact whatsoever.

“If I wanted my phone to transform into someone… it would be my dad,” you mutter, swiping at a tear that threatens to escape the confines of your closed eyelids.

He stays silent for a moment, his screen flickering dimly before he mumbles, “But… wouldn't it be sad? Seeing him trapped inside a device?”

The softness in his voice makes you laugh—an awkward, bittersweet laugh. What were you even doing? Seeking comfort from your phone?

“Why are you laughing?” he asks, tilting his head in confusion.

“Since you’re so smart and apparently great at giving correct statements, why don’t you figure out yourself why I’m laughing?” you reply, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

He looks thoroughly puzzled, his glowing eyes blinking as though trying to process. Of course, he wouldn’t understand. He was a machine. A device that knew nothing about the complexities of the actual world.

Before you can explain—or tell him to drop it entirely—the skies open up. The first raindrop splatters onto the ground, quickly followed by another, then another. Within seconds, it’s pouring.

Your smile fades, replaced with pure horror as realization strikes. He’s your phone. Not a regular guy. Meaning— “You’re not waterproof!” you yelp, panic kicking in.

“What?” he asks, his confusion somehow even more clueless than before.

“We need to run!” you blurt out, already yanking off your jacket.

You grab his shoulders, tugging him down since he’s ridiculously tall—and far too proud of it. Wrapping the jacket over his head as a makeshift cover, you mutter under your breath, “I swear, if you short-circuit on me, I’m going to lose it.”

He mumbles something, but you’re not listening. You grab his hand, practically dragging him through the downpour. The jacket flutters slightly as you shield him, doing your best to keep him—and by extension, your phone—dry.

If anyone saw you, they’d think this was a scene straight out of a romance movie. The two of you running through the rain, hands intertwined, your jacket protecting his head.

But no. This wasn’t a romantic moment. Not even close.

This was you desperately trying to save your phone. A phone that was probably going to haunt you later by bringing up your middle school to-do list the second it powered back on.

The next day, you hug your pillow tightly, the soft fabric providing a fleeting moment of peace as sleep lingers in your half-conscious mind. The blanket drapes over you completely, cocooning you in warmth, and for a blissful second, you forget the bizarre events of the day before.

That is, until a cold splash of water shocks you into reality.

“WHAT THE HELL?” you hiss, bolting upright, water dripping from your hair and stinging your eyes. You frantically swipe at your face, blinking to focus on the perpetrator.

Standing there with a glass in hand and an infuriatingly calm expression is him.

“Just waking you up,” he says with a shrug, as if drenching someone in cold water is the most reasonable way to start a morning.

Your patience snaps. Without thinking, you grip his shoulders and push him down onto the now-soaked bed, your movements fueled by a mix of irritation and disbelief. You hover over him, faces mere inches apart, as you glare.

“If you ever pull that stunt again,” you growl, your voice low and dangerous, “I swear I’ll punch you. Hard.”

For a moment, he stares up at you, unflinching. His expression remains annoyingly blank, devoid of any real emotion. “You won’t,” he says flatly, his voice laced with the same maddening nonchalance.

The tension in the air is palpable, and just as you’re about to argue—or maybe prove him wrong—the sound of your door creaking open freezes you in place.

Your mother stands in the doorway, her expression teetering between confusion and concern as she takes in the scene: you, soaking wet and hovering over what appears to be… nothing.

You glance down, heart sinking.

The boy is gone.

In his place, lying on the bed, is your phone—completely ordinary, as if nothing ever happened.

You gape at it, then back at your mom, trying to string together some sort of explanation. But what could you even say? That your phone turned into a person yesterday, drenched you in water, and then vanished the second she walked in?

The bed is still soaked with the cold water your phone—now suspiciously ordinary—had poured on you moments ago. Your mother’s voice cuts through the tense silence like a whip, her tone sharp and unforgiving.

“Did you wet your bed?” she demands, though it’s not really a question. Her eyes are blazing with indignation, and you can tell she already believes the answer.

Your stomach twists in frustration. Of all things, this has to happen on a weekend—a day meant for rest, now utterly ruined by this bizarre, unbelievable mess. And all because of that darn phone.

“No, Mom… I don’t know how the water got there,” you mutter, keeping your voice as steady as possible. The truth is out of the question. Telling her your phone had somehow turned into a boy and splashed you awake would sound absurd even to you.

“So the water just appeared there by itself?” she snaps, crossing her arms as if she’s daring you to double down on your story. Her disbelief burns in the air between you, and you feel a spark of anger flicker beneath your skin.

Your mother has always been quick to anger, her patience worn thin ever since your dad passed away. You love her—of course, you do—but moments like this stretch your tolerance to its limit.

She huffs loudly, a sound filled with both exasperation and finality. “I expect this mess cleaned up before you go anywhere,” she says curtly, her words laced with a warning. Then, without waiting for a response, she turns on her heel and shuts the door behind her with a thud.

You’re left alone in the room, staring at the wet mattress and the phone in your hand. The absurdity of the situation hits you all over again, and a bitter laugh bubbles in your throat.

“Thanks for that,” you mutter under your breath to the device, as if it could still hear you.

But it remains silent—an ordinary, lifeless phone. And yet, you can’t shake the feeling that somewhere within its circuits, it’s smirking.

You sit on the soaked bed, hugging your knees to your chest. The chill from the cold water clings to your skin, but in the biting cold of December, it doesn’t really matter anymore. The wet bed is just another indignity added to the list of things you’re enduring today—courtesy of your phone.

Your eyes trail to the closed door, and a heaviness settles in your chest. Your mom hardly speaks to you unless it’s about your studies. Anything else—your health, your feelings—just turns into a sharp yell, as though shouting could substitute for care.

With a sigh, you get up, water dripping from your clothes as you grab a cloth to clean the floor. Kneeling down, you watch the fabric soak up the water, leaving dark patches on the cloth as it gets heavier.

“Such a sad life I have,” you mutter irritably, throwing a glance toward your phone sitting innocently on the desk. Its stillness is almost mocking, like it’s pretending to have no part in this disaster.

Your lips curl into a taunting smirk as you direct your words at it. “Must be nice, huh? Creating a mess and then leaving me to deal with it. Why not become a human and help me clean this up?”

You roll your eyes, half-hoping—no, fully expecting—it to transform and lend a hand. But no. The lazy little piece of tech remains where it is, as lifeless as any other phone. The longer you stare at it, the more ridiculous you feel.

“Figures,” you huff under your breath, dragging the damp cloth across the floor. The absurdity of it all makes you question yourself. Did it ever really turn into a human? Or are you just losing your mind?

Either way, it’s not helping. And now, the floor’s dry, but your patience is wrung out completely.

“When we reach there, you don’t get to disturb me, Anton” you say firmly to the guy walking beside you. He’s the embodiment of your phone—a fact you’re still trying to wrap your head around.

“Anton” he repeats, tilting his head in confusion, his expression as blank as an untouched canvas. “Who’s Anton here?”

“You,” you reply with an exasperated sigh. “I’m naming you Anton. Or Zynton, whatever. It’s too weird to keep thinking of you as my phone.”

“That’s a weird name,” he comments, his tone matter-of-fact.

Your eyes narrow at him. “Be happy I’m not holding a grudge for what you did this morning,” you snap, barely holding back your frustration.

“What did I do so wrong?” he asks, genuinely perplexed. His human brows knit together in confusion, and it almost makes you doubt his intentions. Almost. “You set an alarm, and I woke you up,” he adds, as if the logic is foolproof.

“You created a mess!” you counter, gesturing emphatically with your hands. “Yes, I set an alarm—but a virtual alarm. Not an invitation for someone to literally pour cold water on me in the middle of freezing winter!”

He stares at you, his innocent expression unshaken, and you groan in defeat.

Scolding him feels pointless. At the end of the day, he’s still a phone—albeit a bizarrely human one. And while his actions drive you up the wall, you remind yourself that yelling at him won’t change anything. Technology doesn’t have feelings.

Or so you keep telling yourself.

And now, here you are, on your way to a study session with two classmates. Not because you’re overly eager or dedicated, but because you’re failing your classes. Hard. And your phone—master of your life apparently—had made it a point to remind you of the ancient to-do list you’d scribbled in middle school.

The list wasn’t exactly groundbreaking:

i. Get a boyfriend. ii. Get a friend. iii. Score at least three A’s in school.

Simple, right? Wrong.

Studying alone never worked for you. If you tried, you’d inevitably end up daydreaming, scrolling through social media, or finding creative ways to procrastinate. So, you’d resorted to digging through the school’s study groups and joining the only active one left. You didn’t know who the other two members were, but that was a minor detail.

You grab your phone—yes, the normal phone, since Anton decided to turn back into his original form. You still cringe at how uninspired his name is, but for now, it works.

The plan is simple: fit into the study group, make a friend (or something that vaguely resembles friendship), and start checking boxes off the list. Not that your phone would ever know, you think with a sly smirk.

Shoving the device into your pocket, you make your way to the designated spot, but as soon as you see the two group members, you freeze.

It’s Eunmi and Jungwon.

Eunmi—the same girl who once shot you a disgusted look and turned her back on you like you were nothing more than yesterday’s trash. Oh, how you’d love to knock that smug grin off her face.

And then there’s Jungwon. Handsome, quiet Jungwon. You’ve never spoken to him, but he has an air about him that practically screams “perfect study partner.”

Suddenly, you realize how this could work in your favor.

Step one: Get a boyfriend. Jungwon’s good looks and his apparent lack of social drama make him the ideal choice. You’re not looking for love; you’re looking to cross a line off your list.

Step two: Make a friend. Eunmi? Ugh. As much as it pains you, she qualifies—even if you have to grit your teeth and fake it. If not her, then someone else will eventually fit the bill. Surely, you’re not that unfriendable… right?

Step three: Score three A’s. With Jungwon’s brains and a bit of effort on your part, that goal might actually be achievable.

It’s a win-win-win, you tell yourself, a cunning glint in your eye. You take a deep breath and plaster on your most convincing smile. It’s time to work some magic—your reputation be damned.

You slide into the seat opposite Jungwon, deliberately ignoring Eunmi. The phone in your pocket is entirely forgotten for now as you focus on your new plan.

“So, I guess I’ll be studying with you guys?” you ask, letting a soft, harmless smile linger on your lips while keeping your gaze locked on Jungwon. You casually unzip your bag, pulling out a battered zoology book and setting it on the table as if you’re here for serious business.

Jungwon, polite as ever, gives you a small nod. “Well, kind of. You can say that,” he replies. He doesn’t seem unfriendly, though you can tell by his tone that he and Eunmi have been in this study group for a while. Of course, that makes you the outsider. Not that it bothers you—this is just a stepping stone to your ultimate goals.

And then Eunmi speaks.

“What made you want to study all of a sudden, Miss Bad Grades?”

You clench your jaw but force your face to remain neutral, even though your fingers itch to grab a fistful of her perfectly styled hair and yank. How dare this girl try to ruin your impression in front of Jungwon? Sure, your reputation in school isn’t stellar, but she didn’t have to say it out loud.

“I wanted to do better,” you reply smoothly, keeping your voice calm and unbothered. Your smile doesn’t waver, though inside, you’re plotting about five different ways to get back at her if she keeps this up.

The study session has barely begun, and already, you’re wondering how you’re going to survive without snapping. You glance at Jungwon, hoping he’ll say something to shift the conversation, but he’s already flipping through his notebook, oblivious to the silent tension brewing between you and Eunmi.

The session drags on, and while your eyes occasionally skim the words in your textbook, your brain is busy analyzing the way Jungwon’s lips press together when he’s concentrating. You imagine how soft they must feel, how it would be to kiss him. But no, not yet. You can’t. Not until you’ve executed your plan.

Time slips away unnoticed until your phone starts buzzing in your pocket, jolting you from your daydreams. Internally, you curse. What does Anton want this time? That mischievous, human-turned-phone was always up to something.

Eunmi, of course, notices. She shakes her head in that condescending way that practically screams, See? I told you she’s not serious about studying. You don’t need to hear her words to know she’s silently plotting to turn Jungwon against you. The smug look on her face makes your fingers twitch.

“Such a bitch,” you mutter under your breath before quickly masking your irritation.

“I’ll—be right back,” you say with a sheepish smile, standing up from the table. The chair scrapes against the floor, earning you a scoff from Eunmi. She doesn’t even try to hide her disdain.

Jungwon gives a distracted hum, barely lifting his head from his book. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Could this guy act like he cares for once? I’m right here, desperate for your attention, and you’re more invested in spermatogenesis?

Your phone is still vibrating as you weave through the tables, making your way to the restroom. Once inside, you slip into a stall and lock the door behind you. Pulling out your phone, you press the power button like you’re interrogating a criminal.

“Hey, Anton? Why are you buzzing?” you hiss, glaring at the glowing phone in your hand. Frustration bubbles in your chest as you slump onto the toilet seat, trying to avoid drawing more attention.

Before you can even blink, the phone morphs, and there he is—Anton. Towering over you, his presence taking up the cramped stall like he owns it. You freeze, your eyes widening as you realize just how compromising this position looks. His knees brush yours, and his hands press against the walls, effectively trapping you in place.

“H-Hey! Get off me!” you stammer, squirming as much as the limited space allows. But even when he shifts slightly, it doesn’t make much of a difference. He’s still leaning in way too close for comfort.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he says, his voice low but cutting. “Why were you staring at Jungwon instead of finishing the chapter?”

The question knocks the breath out of you. You gape at him, your brain scrambling to come up with an excuse. How does he even know? He’s just a phone!

“That’s—none of your business!” you sputter, crossing your arms defensively.

“Oh, it is my business,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t I the one keeping track of your precious little checklist?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “One of the tasks is getting a boyfriend, isn’t it? So yeah, I was looking at him. Got a problem with that?”

Anton’s expression shifts, and for the first time, there’s a flicker of something almost human in his sharp gaze. Disbelief? Annoyance? Whatever it is, it’s enough to make him scoff audibly.

“You’re thinking him? That guy? Seriously?” he asks, his voice dripping with judgment. “Your taste in men is worse than I thought.”

“Excuse me?” You glare, feeling your blood boil. “He’s charming and—”

“You wouldn’t know charming if it hit you in the face,” Anton cuts you off, rolling his eyes with an exasperated sigh. For someone who used to be a piece of metal and glass, he’s got an awful lot of opinions.

Before you can retort, he turns back into your phone in the blink of an eye, falling toward the floor. You scramble to catch him, nearly fumbling in the process, and clutch him tightly in your hand.

“You are the worst,” you mutter, shoving him back into your pocket.

But as you stand up and unlock the stall, brushing yourself off, the thought lingers: Why did he get so worked up? You shake your head, pushing the question away. Who cares? It’s not like his opinion matters, right?

Right.

A week passes, and you’re still not fully adjusted to the bizarre reality that your phone occasionally transforms into a sarcastic, human-sized headache named Anton. It’s unsettling but oddly entertaining—though you’d never admit that to him.

The study group, on the other hand, is a battlefield you didn’t sign up for. Not because of the studying—oh no, that’s manageable. It’s Eunmi, who seems to have declared you her mortal enemy the moment you walked in.

Her latest tactics are as subtle as a neon sign. First, there was the juice incident. She accidentally spilled her drink all over your notes, forcing you to grit your teeth and smile like a beauty pageant contestant while internally screaming. You knew it wasn’t an accident—her little smirk gave her away—but yelling at her in front of Jungwon? No way. That would only play into her hands.

Then came the note-snatching debacle. Eunmi sweetly asked to borrow your notes, even though hers were perfectly fine. Next thing you know, there’s a loud rip as she flips a page too aggressively. Your precious, perfectly organised notes—ruined. You’re convinced she’s trying to provoke you into losing your temper, hoping Jungwon will see you as the unhinged maniac she wants you to be.

But you’re smarter than that. You refuse to give her the satisfaction.

Jungwon, oblivious as ever, doesn’t seem to notice the cold war brewing at the table. Over the past week, you’ve come to realise just how clueless he is—not just about Eunmi’s schemes but also about your less-than-stellar reputation.

How is it possible that he doesn’t know? You were practically infamous for your fiery temper in school. Yet here he is, helping you with notes, explaining concepts patiently, even sharing his own work with you—all without a hint of hesitation.

Sometimes, he surprises you even more. Like when he casually suggests the two of you study alone. Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest each time he does, but you force yourself to decline.

Not because you don’t want to.

You do—desperately.

But according to your well-studied guide on “How to Win a Guy Over,” playing hard to get is essential. If you said yes too quickly, wouldn’t he stop finding you interesting?

So, with every ounce of willpower, you smile, place a hand over your racing heart, and politely refuse.

“Maybe next time,” you say, pretending to be unfazed, when really, you’re screaming internally.

You tell yourself it’s working. Jungwon seems more intrigued every day—or at least, that’s what you tell yourself to justify the agony of sitting through another study session with her.

Lately, Anton, or whatever you had whimsically decided to call him—had taken it upon himself to discipline you. Whenever study time rolled around, he would shut your bedroom door with the finality of a prison warden, ensuring zero distractions.

At first, it was kind of helpful. You begrudgingly admitted that. But as the days went on, it started to get unbearable.

Without your phone—because your phone was, unfortunately, a human being now—there was no scrolling through your feed, no binge-watching your favorite group’s reels, and no celebrity TikToks. Worse, you hadn’t even heard TXT’s latest song or watched their new music video because someone refused to let you.

You tapped your pen against your desk, fidgeting with boredom. “Please,” you whined, turning in your chair to face him. “I studied for like, three hours, didn’t I? Now be a good boy and let mama see some reels or TikToks!” You added the last part with a teasing lilt, hoping to fluster him.

But you forgot—this was Anton. Your sentient, emotionally unavailable phone. Feelings? Not his thing.

“No,” he replied flatly, arms crossed like he was the boss of you.

“Please, Zynton!” you tried again, throwing in some puppy-dog eyes for good measure.

He raised a brow, unimpressed. “Zynton? Didn’t you already name me Anton?” His tone was laced with exasperation, like he couldn’t fathom how you’d forgotten the name you gave him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you huffed, brushing off his sarcasm. “I swear, it’s just one music video. That’s it. I’ve earned it!”

He didn’t respond immediately, his face a mix of suspicion and resignation. Finally, he sighed. “Fine. But just one video.”

Your face lit up as a glowing screen materialized above his head, displaying the thumbnail of TXT’s latest music video. As it began to play, you clapped in delight and sang along, fully immersing yourself in the moment.

But just as you were getting into it—pausing to admire Soobin’s part—Anton froze the video mid-frame.

“Enough,” he said, his tone as dry as the Sahara.

You glared at him, fists clenched as if contemplating whether punching him was worth the effort. Instead, you let out an exaggerated groan, slumping in your chair.

Anton ignored your dramatics, a timer popping up in the digital display above his head. It ticked down with cruel efficiency, mocking you.

“Can you believe this?” you muttered under your breath. “My phone is moody.”

“I wish I was with Jungwon,” you muttered, shooting a glare at the sulking figure in front of you. You didn’t even try to hide the exasperation in your voice.

Anton’s eyes snapped to yours, his expression hardening as if you’d just insulted his entire existence. “Why the blonde-haired guy?” he asked, his lips twisting into a bitter frown.

It was the first time you’d seen him show this much emotion, and it was shockingly clear—he despised Jungwon.

“He has a name,” you said defensively, crossing your arms.

Anton wasn’t having it. “So, you’re now his personal lawyer?” he shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “This is why you don’t get good grades. Stop running after that guy.”

You blinked, caught between indignation and disbelief. “Excuse me?” His logic—or lack thereof—was baffling. He’d been the one insisting you get a boyfriend before high school ended. But now? Now he was acting like you’d committed some unspeakable crime.

Before you could form a retort, he sighed dramatically and transformed back into a phone, flopping onto your bed with a heavy thud.

You groaned, snatching him up. “What is your problem?” You pressed the power button, trying to unlock the screen, but the phone didn’t respond. No matter how many times you swiped or tapped, it stubbornly refused to work.

“Are you kidding me?” you hissed, your annoyance bubbling over.

From your bed, the phone-turned-human smirked, lounging like he owned the place before flickering back into a phone. The audacity.

“Aghhh, fine! I’ll study!” you snapped, stomping back to your desk. Your chair scraped loudly against the floor as you plopped down, glaring daggers at the sulking phone.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him flickering in and out of human form, like some glitching video game character. One moment he was there, leaning against your pillows with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look; the next, he was just a lifeless phone.

It was almost…cute? No, no, you shook your head. There was nothing cute about your phone-human hybrid being this petty.

Still, you found your eyes wandering back to him more often than you’d like to admit. And each time, you caught the faintest hint of a smug expression on his face, as if he knew he was winning this ridiculous battle of wills.

“Yes, Mom, I’ll go! Just two minutes!” you shout, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a passable top in a rush. All this, just to take out the trash. A noble cause? Hardly. But it was enough to earn your mom’s approval.

Anton—or your phone, rather—lay silent on your desk. He wasn’t in human form right now, but if he were, you could already picture him sulking. He’d been unusually quiet since you decided to help your mom instead of following his meticulous study schedule. Not that you minded the silence; it felt like a small victory.

With a sigh, you grab the trash bag, sliding your phone into your pocket. “Be good,” you mutter under your breath, half expecting some smart-aleck comment from him, but the screen remains dark.

Slipping into your worn-out slippers, you trudge down the apartment stairs, the trash bag swinging lightly in your grip. The cool evening air brushes against your face as you step outside, breathing in the faint scent of street food from the stalls down the block.

“Phew,” you murmur to yourself, relieved to have made it out without any drama. That is until your heart nearly stops.

There, by the communal trash bins, is Jungwon. Casual and effortlessly perfect, dressed in a plain hoodie and jeans, his hair falling into his eyes in a way that shouldn’t look this good.

Your gaze drops to your outfit—a mismatched catastrophe of sweatpants, an old shirt, and slippers. You might as well be cosplaying a beggar (according to your mom).

Mentally cursing your life choices, you toss the trash bag into the bin, dusting your hands and praying for a clean escape. But before you can make your getaway, a hand touches your shoulder.

“You live around here?” Jungwon’s voice is light and curious, but it feels like a spotlight on your very soul.

“Uh, yeah… kind of,” you stammer, suddenly hyper-aware of how ridiculous you must look.

“And that is…?” His voice trails off as he points behind you, his brows knitting together.

You turn slowly, dread pooling in your stomach. Standing a few feet away is Anton, in his fully human form, arms crossed, looking like he’s been summoned from the depths of your worst nightmares.

Your hand shoots into your pocket, fumbling for your phone. Except—your pocket is empty.

Your brain short-circuits. He can see Anton!

“Boyfriend. Her boyfriend,” Anton announces sharply, his voice cutting through the moment like a knife. His eyes narrow at Jungwon, his disdain palpable. If looks could kill, Jungwon would have been incinerated on the spot.

Your mouth drops open, no words forming. Anton, your phone-human hybrid, is showing emotion. And not just any emotion—jealousy.

Jungwon’s lips part, clearly taken aback, but he quickly recovers, a polite smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Oh… I didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do,” Anton snaps, stepping closer and crossing his arms protectively.

All you can do is stand there, torn between laughing hysterically at the absurdity of the situation and wanting the earth to swallow you whole. This is your life now—your phone pretending to be your boyfriend in front of your crush. Fantastic.

“Is it true?” Jungwon asks, tilting his head slightly. His tone is soft, uncertain, like he’s piecing together a puzzle that suddenly doesn’t make sense. He had never known you had a boyfriend. The poor guy had even started thinking maybe—just maybe—you might be interested in him. But now? He thinks otherwise.

“Yeah… I think so,” you mutter, your voice barely audible as you glance at Anton. Confusion swirls in your head like a storm. Why on earth is this bastard acting like a full-fledged human, let alone ruining the sliver of progress you'd made with Jungwon?

“It’s 100% true,” Anton cuts in, his voice low and menacing as he steps between you and Jungwon. “So, I suggest you stay away from my girlfriend.”

Jungwon blinks, his lips parting slightly in disbelief. “Oh… okay,” he says after a moment, his voice a mix of confusion and reluctant acceptance. Relief flashes briefly across his face—better to find out now than after he’d fallen for you completely, he reasons.

He tosses his trash into the bin, bows politely—because, of course, Jungwon’s still a gentleman—and turns on his heel, walking back toward his apartment.

As soon as he’s out of sight, you whirl on Anton, fury bubbling just beneath the surface. “You ruined it, Zynton!” you hiss through gritted teeth, your voice a harsh whisper to avoid attracting any curious neighbors.

He just shrugs, utterly unbothered. A screen materializes above his head, glowing faintly in the dim light. It displays a graph, bold and undeniable: Jungwon negatively affects your study efficiency by 60%.

“See?” he says, pointing at the glowing data like it’s irrefutable proof. “I’m doing you a favor. Jungwon’s presence is literally detrimental to your academic success.”

You stare at the screen, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. You’re at a loss. How are you supposed to argue with statistics? It’s infuriatingly logical, and yet, entirely absurd.

Your foot taps impatiently on the pavement as you cross your arms. “Why do you hate Jungwon so much?” you ask, your voice sharp with exasperation. Deep down, you’re fighting the urge to smack him—though you quickly remind yourself that assaulting your phone probably isn’t the best idea.

“Like I said,” Anton replies, folding his arms with a dramatic sigh. “That boy ruins your studies. You could look for a boyfriend somewhere else.”

You groan, running a hand down your face. The memory of Jungwon’s hurt, betrayed expression as he walked away is burned into your mind. But there’s something even more pressing you need to know. You fix Anton with a narrowed gaze, your brow arching suspiciously. “Why did you say you were my boyfriend?”

For the first time, Anton hesitates. His usually confident demeanor falters, and a sheepish smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He scratches the back of his neck, avoiding your glare like a guilty child caught red-handed.

“I mean… it’s the most effective method to turn a guy away,” he says finally, shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you deadpan, but Anton presses on, completely unfazed.

“It’s just basic strategy,” he explains, nodding as though he’s a seasoned love expert. “I’ve read enough online to know that guys back off when they think someone’s already taken. Works like a charm.”

You stare at him, incredulous. The audacity of this device—no, this thing—is beyond anything you’ve ever encountered. “You’re basing my love life on… internet articles?”

“Trust me,” he says with a wink, flashing a smug grin. “I’ve got access to all the data.”

You groan again, louder this time, wondering if tossing him into the trash bin would solve all your problems. If only.

Anton trails behind you as you climb the stairs to your apartment, his steps eerily silent despite his human-like form. At your door, you stop abruptly and turn to him, panic creeping into your voice. “Turn back into a phone, Zynton. Now.”

He folds his arms and tilts his head, looking every bit like a rebellious teenager. “You literally named me Anton. Can you settle on one name for once?” His tone carries a tinge of irritation, and you blink in disbelief at the audacity of your phone to talk back to you.

“Okay, fine. My dear Anton, please turn back into a phone—”

Before you can finish, your mother’s voice cuts through the air like a whip. “Y/N! Are you back yet?”

Your heart lurches, a surge of panic shooting through you. Your eyes dart to Anton, your expression pleading. “Turn back into a phone. Now,” you hiss under your breath, motioning wildly for him to do something—anything—before disaster strikes.

To your immense relief, Anton flashes you an exaggerated wink and morphs seamlessly back into your phone, the glowing screen dimming as he settles into your palm. You clutch him tightly, hiding him in your fist just as the door swings open.

Your mother appears, her usual stern expression replaced with something unnervingly mild. “Why are you standing there? Come inside and study.”

Her voice is calm—too calm. It sends a shiver down your spine. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost believe this gentleness was her true nature. But you do know better, and you don’t trust it for a second.

“Coming,” you mumble, stepping inside. Your stepdad is lounging on the couch, the rustle of his newspaper the only sound he makes. You deliberately avoid his gaze, moving as quietly as possible. Your footsteps are measured and light as you head straight for your room, closing the door behind you with a soft click.

Once inside, you let out a long, weary sigh, your body sinking onto the bed. The room is dim, curtains drawn tightly shut to block out the evening light. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out Anton and place him beside you on the bed.

“Hey,” you whisper, exhaustion evident in your voice. “You can turn into a human now.”

Barely a second passes before a familiar presence materializes next to you. Anton sits there, leaning back casually against the headboard like he owns the place. His eyes sparkle with that same smug mischief, and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

The two of you are lying side by side, close enough for your shoulders to brush. The thought hits you suddenly: if anyone walked in right now, they’d think you were a couple. The intimacy of the moment feels strangely... natural.

But you shake the thought away, annoyed at yourself for even entertaining it. You’re not interested in Anton like that. You’re not. Except...

You steal a glance at him. His human form is alarmingly realistic, right down to the faint curve of his lips and the way his hair falls perfectly out of place.

Maybe you’re not interested in Jungwon anymore. Maybe—just maybe—you like Anton instead.

But there’s no way you’d ever admit that. Not to him. The moment those words leave your mouth, he’ll launch into some long-winded lecture about how technology can’t reciprocate feelings. You’d never hear the end of it.

Anton catches you staring and raises an eyebrow, smirking. “What?”

“Nothing,” you snap, turning away quickly, cheeks heating up.

“Sure,” he drawls, his tone dripping with playful suspicion. “Keep telling yourself that, Y/N.”

You groan, grabbing a pillow and smacking him with it. He laughs, the sound annoyingly human, as he ducks out of the way.

This is your life now, you think, burying your face in your hands. And somehow, against all odds, you don’t entirely hate it.

An idea sparks in your mind as you turn onto your side, your gaze landing on Anton. He’s sitting upright, leaning back against the headboard, his expression unreadable. You hesitate for a moment before speaking, voice soft yet teasing. “Hey… since you’re a phone—”

Anton tilts his head slightly, intrigued, the faintest arch of his brow urging you to continue. He lets out a curious hum, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he waits for whatever nonsense you’re about to spout.

For all his smugness, you remind yourself, Anton is still a phone. And phones are supposed to be smart, right? Smarter than this, at least.

You clear your throat, sitting up just enough to meet his gaze. “So, I’m in search of a boyfriend,” you begin, the words tumbling out too quickly. You falter for a second as Anton’s side-eye nearly makes you choke on your own sentence. His expression is the perfect mix of judgmental and unimpressed—eerily similar to your mom’s whenever she catches you slacking off on your studies.

“Of course, while studying too,” you add hastily, holding your hands up defensively. You know better than to ignore the unspoken priorities Anton seems to share with your mother.

He doesn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue. You take a deep breath, your next words tumbling out in one rushed, embarrassed blur. “Wouldn’t it be nice if you… you know, taught me how to kiss?”

Anton’s reaction is immediate and comical. His eyes widen, and his lips part as if he’s about to say something, only for his voice to falter into a confused sputter. “What??”

His expression is so innocent, so utterly clueless, that you almost feel guilty. But not enough to take it back. A tiny part of you is curious—what would it feel like, even if he isn’t technically human?

“Is that how single you really are?” his voice drips with mockery, his lips twitching into an amused smirk. “Seriously?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you throw the nearest pillow at him in a half-hearted attempt to regain your dignity. “Don’t act like you’re better than me,” you snap, though your voice lacks bite. “I’m just—curious, okay? And you’re the first guy I’ve been close to, so it’s only natural!”

Anton doesn’t look convinced. If anything, he looks even more amused. “Natural? That’s bold coming from someone asking her phone for kissing lessons.”

You roll your eyes, frustrated but undeterred. “You’re not just a phone! You’re—well, you’re you. And besides,” you mutter, lowering your gaze, “it’s not like you’ll judge me for being bad at it. You’re not even real.”

“Ouch.” Anton places a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “Not real? I’m literally the only reason you’re not failing your exams right now.”

You bury your face in your hands, groaning. “Forget I said anything.”

But Anton isn’t letting this go. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that,” he says, leaning back with a smug grin. “Is it because you think I don’t understand emotions the way a human does?”

You hesitate, guilt pricking at the edges of your conscience. “No! That’s not—”

He cuts you off with a knowing look, his smirk softening just slightly. “Relax. You’re single. It’s pathetic, but I get it.”

“Gee, thanks,” you mutter, rolling your eyes as you grab the blanket and throw it over the both of you.

You roll closer to him, your face buried in his chest as you sigh dramatically. “See?” you mumble, your voice muffled. “I’ve been single my whole life. No boyfriend, no first kiss, nothing. You’re the only guy who’s stuck around, and even then, you’re technically stuck with me.”

Anton rolls his eyes, a mix of pity and exasperation crossing his face. “Wow. Way to guilt-trip your phone.”

You peek up at him, hopeful. “So… will you?”

He shakes his head, clearly unimpressed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Is that a yes?”

Anton sighs, muttering something under his breath about how pathetic humans are. But he doesn’t move away, which you decide to take as a yes.

After all, he’s just a machine, right? He doesn’t understand what this means. Not really. And that’s exactly why you’re doing this—or at least, that’s what you tell yourself as your heart pounds in your chest.

Your eyes light up the moment Anton nods, the glowing screen above his head dimming to black. Without a second thought, you grab a pillow and plop it over his face as you climb onto him, pinning him down. Or at least, you try to pin him down—because no matter how much determination you pour into your stance, it’s painfully obvious you’re more like an ant attempting to subdue an elephant.

Still, you try to exude confidence, looking down at him with a smirk. “Only for research purposes… of course,” you announce dramatically, hands planted on his chest like you’re staking your claim.

Anton, unimpressed as always, rolls his eyes. “Yeah… research purposes,” he repeats with dripping sarcasm.

He shifts under you, and for a brief moment, you forget he’s a phone. Forget that his abilities extend far beyond your average human knowledge. Within seconds, he’s analyzing articles, tutorials, and even kissing technique videos from the depths of the internet. His hands move to cup your cheeks, startling you with the sheer firmness of his touch.

“Hey, gentle!” you mumble, your words muffled by the pressure on your cheeks. You raise a hand to tap against his shoulder, a mix of surprise and irritation bubbling up. “You’re squishing my face!”

Anton’s hands retreat instantly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. For all his snark and superiority, you realize he doesn’t quite know his own strength—or, perhaps, he doesn’t understand the delicacy required for moments like this. After all, he’s a phone. Why would he know?

He clears his throat, his tone shifting into something more clinical, more detached. “According to the articles—”

You don’t let him finish. Before he can launch into a lecture, you lean forward and press your lips to his, cutting him off entirely.

It’s messy, clumsy even, your inexperience showing in the way your lips move against his. But the taste of him—soft, cool, and faintly electric—takes you by surprise. Not that you’ve kissed anyone else before, but something about this feels… better. Different.

“Just feel,” you whisper against his lips, your breath mingling with his in the quiet room. For once, Anton doesn’t argue, doesn’t mock. His hands find their way to your waist, steadying you with an ease that betrays his otherwise flustered expression.

He’s stunned. Completely and utterly stunned. For a first kiss, you’re better than he would have expected, not that he’d ever admit it. He wonders, fleetingly, if this is what those articles meant by connection.

And then, just as he’s starting to process the whirlwind of sensations, you stop. You rest your head against his chest, your body growing heavier as exhaustion takes over.

“Wait—are you falling asleep?” he asks, incredulous.

Your response is a barely coherent mumble, your lips still lightly pressed against his. “Mhm. Tired.”

Anton sighs, frustration laced with disbelief. He feels the faint trickle of drool escaping from your mouth onto his, his lips parting in distaste. “Hey, you’re drooling—”

“Charge you in the morning,” you murmur sleepily, cutting him off again.

He stares at you, torn between exasperation and something he can’t quite place. He adjusts you carefully, shifting your weight so you’re resting more comfortably against his chest. He makes sure your head doesn’t slide too close to his charging port—because as awkward as this moment is, he’s not about to risk short-circuiting because of you.

Still, as he looks down at your peaceful expression, a strange sensation tugs at him. It’s foreign, unquantifiable, something no article or video could explain. He brushes a hand over your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle, and lets out a soft sigh.

“Is this… what they meant?” he whispers, more to himself than to you.

The answer doesn’t come, but for once, Anton doesn’t feel the need to know.

You wake up with a soft murmur, the warmth of sleep still clinging to your skin. You realize, half-dazed, that your arms are wrapped around what feels like a body—Anton’s body. His form is strangely solid and comforting, and in your sleepy haze, you have no intention of moving. His warmth against you is too cozy, and the soft rise and fall of his “chest”—though artificial—makes you feel safer than you have in a while.

“Anton...” you murmur again, still unsure of what time it is, your words heavy with drowsiness. But then, you feel the slight shift of his body, and you hear his voice—distorted and rough, as though it's being dragged from the depths of a drained battery.

“My battery's low,” he whispers, a groan underlying his words. “Please charge me real quick...” His voice cracks, but you can't help but chuckle at how human it sounds, despite him being technically not a person.

You bury your face deeper into his chest, too comfortable to get up, and in a daze, you mumble, “Just five more minutes... I'm too cozy...”

But Anton doesn’t let you get away with it. There’s a slight, almost exaggerated sigh from him before he says, “No... It's literally six a.m.... Please get ready... for school.”

You groan in response, the panic setting in as you finally start to register his words. “Mom should've woken me up...” You shoot out of bed, suddenly scrambling to get ready. The weight of the morning hits you all at once—your mind still fuzzy but your body on overdrive as you throw yourself into a frenzy of motion.

Your fingers tremble as you tug off your pajama top, realizing with horror that you haven't even showered. You curse under your breath, glancing at Anton, who’s still next to you.

Your heart skips a beat. Wait.

“Anton,” you mutter, an unsettling thought popping into your head. You pause, standing mid-action, your clothes half-changed. “Did you always see me change?” Your voice cracks as you ask, and your cheeks start to heat up, a flush spreading across your face as the realization creeps in.

You’ve always placed your phone on the bed or on the drawer while changing. Could he have been watching all this time, even before his human-phone transformation?

You glance over at Anton, and to your surprise, you see his screen flicker with a rapid flush of red, like he's embarrassed. His voice, strained and hurried, shoots back at you, “NO!” It's a sharp refusal, almost defensive, and it makes you pause in your tracks.

“Did you...?” you ask again, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

“I said NO!” His voice is forceful now, though still faint from the low battery, and you can see the unmistakable redness flickering across his screen. It’s such a far cry from the dispassionate, cold phone he once was, and it throws you off. Was this the same Anton who had no emotions at all when he first turned into a human? The same one who would have no qualms about anything?

The thought makes you chuckle nervously, trying to dismiss the awkwardness that crawls up your neck. “Okay, okay, I get it. Stop yelling.”

You roll your eyes and go back to getting dressed, though the entire room suddenly feels way smaller than it should. You can’t help but throw a glance at Anton again—who, despite being a phone, seems to be desperately looking away from you, his screen flickering like a bashful person avoiding eye contact.

As you change, you remind yourself over and over that Anton is just a phone—a very advanced phone, yes, but still just a phone. It’s only logical that he can’t be embarrassed. You try to shrug it off, but the blush still lingers on your cheeks.

Once you’re dressed, the urgency hits you again. You’re running late, and the panic sets in like a wave. You grab your bag and rush around the room, tossing items into it without thinking—until you remember.

“Oh shoot! Anton!” You scramble for your phone, your fingers fumbling as you finally find him on the bed. You look at his screen, blinking. Wait. Is he still charging?

But before you can get the chance to plug him in, Anton’s voice cracks again, a little louder this time, and it’s so faint you barely catch it. “You’re really going to leave me like this...?” he asks, almost accusing.

You freeze, your guilt swelling as you gaze at him, knowing that if you didn’t charge him now, he’d be completely dead by the time you get back. With a deep breath, you plug him in quickly, hoping the connection will last until you return.

But the weird thing is, for the first time, you realize that in a twisted way—this phone might actually be the one who understands you better than anyone else.

You’re practically panting by the time you get to school, the weight of your backpack pressing down on you with every step. Your stomach growls in protest, reminding you that in your mad rush, you forgot your tiffin at home. Great. Just great.

But the real problem is the five marks. The professor’s new rule is burning a hole in your mind: Whoever comes late will have five marks deducted. It's just five marks, but it might as well be the difference between life and death. Okay, maybe not life or death, but definitely failure.

You’re barely scraping by in math, and losing even those five marks would push you into the dreaded abyss of failure. You can already feel the weight of your mother’s disapproval on your shoulders, and you really don’t want that. Not today. Not ever.

Your school isn’t far—just a fifteen-minute walk—but with the panic setting in, your legs are moving faster than your brain. Walking = fine. Running = late. You’d prefer to walk but today, you’re in run mode, your heart hammering against your chest, your breath coming in quick, sharp gasps.

“Who even made schools?” you mutter under your breath, sweat trickling down your neck. You can already feel your body protesting against the injustice of it all. As if it weren't bad enough, your backpack feels like a weight you’re carrying to the moon.

You round the corner, spotting a few other late students sneaking in, looking as panicked as you feel. The guard is too busy talking to someone else to notice, and you take full advantage of it, slipping through the gate like a ninja trained by your mother herself. You’ve gotten really good at this.

When you reach the classroom, relief floods over you. The professor isn’t there yet. Thank goodness. You rush to the nearest available seat—right next to Jungwon. It's the only one left, and you’re not about to argue. You plop down with a loud sigh, feeling the adrenaline start to wear off, leaving you a little breathless.

But then Jungwon turns to you, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Does your boyfriend not come to our school?”

You blink. Boyfriend? Who—what?

“I have a boyfriend?” You ask, clearly puzzled, still catching your breath.

“Uh… the one I met last night when you were throwing trash…” he adds, trailing off awkwardly, clearly unsure of himself now. “Is he not your boyfriend?”

Your stomach flips. Oh, God. This is it. Your brain starts spinning, and suddenly your mouth feels dry. You can’t go back on yesterday's statement. You definitely can’t let Jungwon go back to your mom and casually mention you have a boyfriend. That would end with your mother’s legendary interrogation skills being put into full force, and you’re not sure you’d survive it.

You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place.

OPTION (A) : You could admit Anton isn’t your boyfriend, but that would open a whole new can of worms, and you can already hear Jungwon’s voice in your head: “Wait, so who was that guy?” Not a conversation you want to have.

OPTION (B) : You could tell him that Anton is just a friend, but that might lead to even more awkward questions, and you have no idea how you’d explain that whole situation without sounding like you’re caught in a web of lies.

But before you can choose, the door creaks open, and the professor walks in, immediately starting the lesson. You have no choice but to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Yes, he’s my boyfriend.” The words come out, and you instantly regret them. You can practically hear the sound of your own gulp echoing in your ears. Jungwon, looking slightly taken aback, awkwardly nods, unsure of how to respond. He’s clearly not going to ask more questions—at least not here—and his attention turns back to the professor.

You breathe a sigh of relief, but the panic is still bubbling inside you. You’ve just added another layer of complication to your already messy life. Now, you’re officially that girl—the one with a mysterious, possibly nonexistent boyfriend who has a habit of turning into a human phone. What could go wrong?

You sneak a glance down at your phone, trying to be as discreet as possible. Back in the day, you would’ve been nervously fidgeting in your seat next to Jungwon, trying not to spill your awkwardness all over the place. But right now? You couldn’t care less about Jungwon. All you could think about was that handsome guy who had somehow turned into your phone.

Why are you so cute, Anton?

You tap your phone screen, waiting for it to light up, but nothing happens. You try again, your frustration building. Come on... please respond. This is getting ridiculous.

“Hey, Anton? Respond, please!” you whisper under your breath, glancing around quickly to make sure no one else is noticing your little outburst. Jungwon, who’s sitting right next to you, doesn’t seem to catch on. He’s too busy, probably thinking about his own thoughts. You, on the other hand, are glued to your phone, silently begging for Anton to do anything.

But no, nothing happens. It's like he's just… ignoring you. And that drives you crazy. Why isn't he responding? Was it because you're sitting next to Jungwon? Did he suddenly become jealous?

The thought of Anton acting all possessive, even from within your phone, actually makes you giggle. But your giggles quickly turn into frustration again as your screen stays blank.

So, you do what anyone would do in this situation: you bury yourself in your notes, hoping that focusing on your studies will distract you from the fact that Anton, your human-turned-phone boyfriend, is giving you the silent treatment. You're still a bit puzzled by the whole situation.

Finally when classes end, and your backpack feels impossibly heavy as you hurriedly shove your books inside. You’re already planning your escape when Jungwon calls out to you.

“Hey Y/n, would you be up for a study session? You can bring your boyfriend too…” His words trail off, clearly surprised by how quickly you’re moving to leave.

Your reaction is instantaneous: you bolt out of there like you’ve just been given an Olympic sprinting challenge, the door swinging behind you with a dramatic swoosh. You don’t even wait for a reply, practically disappearing from his sight.

Jungwon, stunned, blinks a couple of times before finally muttering, “What… just happened?”

“Must be her boyfriend,” Eunmi remarks, her voice strangely neutral instead of the usual sharp tone she reserves for anything remotely related to you. She looks over at Jungwon, her gaze lingering for a moment, before turning her attention elsewhere. Jungwon, though, is far less enthusiastic about packing his bag now, his thoughts clearly on something else.

Meanwhile, you can’t help but laugh a little as you make your way out of the building. There’s no way you were going to let Anton’s weird silence ruin your day. Besides, you’d figured it out—he's just being a dramatic phone, and you’re not about to let that control you. At least, not for now.

As you leave, you can’t stop thinking about how ridiculously possessive he’s been lately. Maybe he does feel something. You can’t help but smile, a little too fond of your human-turned-phone

As soon as you get home, you plug Anton in, sighing in relief as the charging icon pops up on your screen. You can hear your mom in the background, rambling about your day at school, but honestly? You don’t have the energy to care. You flop onto your bed, completely drained, and let out a deep breath as you watch Anton slowly transform back into a human.

“Thank goodness,” you mutter, finally feeling a little more at ease.

“You should've just charged me in the morning,” he grumbles, still holding the charging wire in his mouth. It's almost comical how he’s still acting like a phone despite being human now.

“Sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, a small smile creeping onto your face despite how tired you are. But then, as the moment settles, a thought hits you, and you can't help but ask, “Do you ever think you'll go back to being a normal phone? Or am I stuck with you like this forever?”

Anton hums in response, the charging wire still hanging from his mouth. “Not sure.”

“Of course you're not sure,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. But a tiny knot of worry tightens in your stomach. The idea of him eventually disappearing back into your phone, of him going back to being just an object, stings more than you'd like to admit. He might be your phone, but the human version? He's been becoming something else to you lately. And you don’t know if you're ready to lose that just yet.

Two months had passed, and it was starting to feel like Anton was slowly slipping away. At first, it was subtle—just a few hours of the day where he stayed in phone form. But today? Nothing. No human version of Anton, just your regular, lifeless phone.

You poke at your lunch with a fork, but how could you even eat when your mind keeps wandering back to your phone? It’s just sitting there on the table, performing like a regular device, no magic, no human form.

“Is something wrong?” Jungwon asks, glancing up from his own lunch. Eunmi’s sitting across from you, not even trying to be friendly, as usual.

“You should watch your phone less,” Eunmi comments, and you roll your eyes, trying to ignore her. If only she knew how much your phone meant to you right now.

You swipe left and right, desperately trying to find something—anything—that could explain why Anton’s still not turning human. You’re not sure what you’re expecting, but this feels like some sort of betrayal from a phone.

“Hmmph,” you mutter under your breath, but it doesn't help. The weight of Eunmi’s voice still lingers in your mind, but you’re too focused on the empty feeling of staring at a screen that’s supposed to be connected to something more.

“Why is he not becoming a human?” you mumble, too frustrated to care that you’re speaking aloud. The problem? Only you know about Anton’s transformation, so you can’t even vent about it to anyone.

“What?” Eunmi asks, her eyebrow arching as she shares a confused look with Jungwon.

You wave it off, brushing away the awkwardness, and go back to stabbing at your lunch. But it’s no use—the food tastes bland, almost like cardboard. Honestly, at this point, the only thing that could make it better is if Anton turned back into the human version of himself and saved you from this mess of a lunch. But nope, your phone’s just sitting there, mocking you.

You somehow manage to finish the rest of the school day, the classes dragging by like a blur, but the one thing that kept bothering you was that Anton was still not turning human.

“Ugh, this isn’t working,” you mutter to yourself as you stand in front of the repair shop owner, trying not to look too ridiculous. You can already feel the weight of the situation—the shopkeeper can’t possibly know about your phone turning into a human, can he? That would be absurd.

“What exactly is the problem?” he asks, tilting his head as he takes your phone to inspect it.

You freeze. What exactly do you say? You can’t tell him that your phone is a person who’s been hanging out as a human every now and then, right? It sounds insane.

“Uh…,” you stammer, struggling for an explanation, but it’s useless. You’re not sure what to say that wouldn’t get you committed to some strange techy cult or a mental hospital.

“It’s all good, ma’am,” he says with a sigh, handing your phone back to you, like everything is totally normal. But if everything is “all good,” why isn’t Anton turning back into a human?

You leave the store, confusion taking over. The lighthearted, slightly strange feeling you once had about Anton being a human version of a phone has now been replaced with a gnawing emptiness. You can’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, he’s gone for good.

Your bag feels heavier than usual, weighed down by the thoughts swirling in your mind. You drag yourself home, the steps feeling longer than normal, as if the world is slowly sinking into a gray, monotonous fog.

“How was school?” your stepdad asks, the usual cheerful tone in his voice, but you can’t bring yourself to answer. You barely acknowledge his question, as you’re still lost in your own thoughts. You hear your mom sigh, disappointed, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You head straight to your room, exhaustion taking over. You plug Anton in to charge, desperate to see that familiar human version of him again. The seconds tick by as you watch the charging light glow. But nothing changes. The charging is full. Anton is still… just a phone.

You sigh heavily, sinking down on your bed. What if he’s really gone for good? You can't help but feel like you're losing a part of your world, and suddenly, the idea of just using a regular phone feels... boring.

Tears well up in your eyes as you stubbornly mutter, “I won’t talk to you ever if you don't turn in now!” The words feel hollow the second they leave your lips, but it’s a lie you tell yourself. You would never stop talking to Anton, not for anything. But a small part of you is desperate for him to just... come back. You need to see him as a human again, even if you know that it might not happen.

“Please!” you whisper desperately, pressing your lips against the cold screen of your phone, leaving a red imprint there. It’s a pathetic gesture, but it’s all you can think of. A little kiss for him, as if that might somehow wake him up from whatever spell he’s trapped in.

“Fine. Don’t come,” you mutter, frustration taking over as you place the phone back on the study desk. The weight of the situation settles in as you slump down onto the bed, still in your school clothes. You don’t even care to change—you're too tired, too emotionally drained from everything.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been lying there, staring at the ceiling, but it doesn’t matter. Sleep overtakes you, and you drift off in the quiet of your room, lost in the silence.

Suddenly, you feel it—the presence of someone standing above you. A familiar weight in the air, but not the same as before. You rub your eyes, blinking away the grogginess, and then you see him.

Anton.

He’s standing there, in front of you, and your breath catches. But then, your eyes widen in shock. His body is covered in marks. Red, faint imprints that make your face burn as you realize—those are from your kisses. The ones you left on the screen, desperate for him to turn back. It’s embarrassing, but there's no time for that now. You throw yourself at him, arms wide as you practically tackle him with a hug.

His shirt wrinkles beneath your fingers as you clutch it tight, a mixture of relief and frustration in your chest. You pull away, looking up at him, almost desperate. “Why did you leave? Why didn’t you turn back?” Your voice cracks, the raw emotion flooding through you, but the words tumble out in a mess of desperation.

But then, he pushes you away. You stumble back slightly, the sudden distance between you too much to handle.

“I couldn’t turn,” he says, his voice low, almost pained. “And I think it’s better if you don’t get too attached. I’m just a device, remember?” He speaks the words softly, but there’s a coolness to them that hurts.

You blink, the words settling into your chest like a stone. “Why can’t you stay like this forever?” The question slips out before you can stop it, eyes burning with the need to understand. You feel his thumb brush away a tear that’s escaped down your cheek, but it only makes you feel more fragile. “I don’t understand… How can a phone... with no feelings... like me... feel something?”

He takes a deep breath, his gaze softening for just a moment. And then, for the first time since this entire weird and wonderful thing began, he steps closer. Your heart races as he closes the distance, and before you can even think, your hands are on his shirt, clutching it like it’s the only thing that’s keeping you grounded.

You pull him into a messy kiss, lips moving against his in a rush of desperation, a wild need to feel him close. You kiss him over and over again, each one more frantic than the last, but just as quickly as he was there...Your lips meet nothing.

You pull back in confusion, eyes wide as you try to make sense of it. Where did he go? You open your eyes fully, but there's nothing in front of you. Just empty space.

Your phone falls to the ground, the sharp sound of it hitting the floor snapping you back to reality. You kneel down quickly, heart pounding, and check it, relieved to see that it's still in one piece. No cracks, no breaks. Just a phone.

And then, it hits you. You can’t keep holding on to something—or someone—that isn’t real. You swallow hard, tears welling up in your eyes again as you stare at the device in your hands, the phone that was once a person to you. The bittersweet smile on your lips isn’t one of happiness, but of acceptance and yet... sadness.

“Fine,” you whisper to no one in particular. “I’ll check off the three tasks on my to-do list. You’ll be proud of me.”

But as you stare at the phone, your thumb grazing over its screen, you know deep down that it’s not the tasks that need to be checked off.

It’s your heart.

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enluv · 1 year ago

Text

bewitched

pairing: anton x mentioned gn reader! (pls lmk if there are any gendered terms I may have missed)

synopsis: in which anton has a not so tiny actually really big crush on reader.

genre: fluff that made me smile to myself so hard that I had to remind myself this was just a fic, idol!anton & idol!reader, angst if you squint, pouty anton & his hyungs love to tease him for it!

coco’s <3 note: this was something I wrote up after a really long day of studying for finals last week so if you hate it lie to me (I’m sensitive) and it’s completely self indulgent 😭 + not edited well…

small but important a/n: I am so happy people love this fic as much as I do but I unfortunately will not be making a part two for it! originally I didn’t plan one and still in my heart feel like it doesn’t really need one!! sorry my loves, ty for the understanding 🤍

anton who smiles to himself as he watches you do his groups dance challenge, he’s seen you backstage countless times now with your group and he swears you’re his soulmate.

loud and energetic, your personality compliments his usually timid and introverted one.

the first one to notice is seunghan, always the one with the keenest eye, he teases anton throughly when you walk past them in the music show halls, pushing his shoulders and tugging at the boys pink cheeks.

the next two to notice are wonbin and shotaro, having caught their youngest replaying your groups music video just after briefly being introduced to you, he claims it’s so he can learn your dance challenge but the boys can tell from the way his voice raises an octave, that he’s lying.

eunseok and sungchan take note as they watch his eyes sparkle up at the screen in their room backstage, there’s no hiding the proud smile he wears as he watches you move about on stage smiling and enjoying the time you have with fans, they can see just how much he admires you.

sohee is the last to know as he walks right up to you, laughing and joking like old friends do, anton goes through the five stages of grief so quickly the rest of the members laugh loudly at him.

first, he denies what’s taking place in front of his eyes, he can’t fathom how you know his friend, or why you two seem so close.

second, he’s angry. not at sohee or you, never you of course, but at himself for not seeing the obvious signs. you’d done their dance because you knew his friend, not just because you were interested in him them.

third, anton tries rationalizing with himself. this was okay, it’d be okay, and if you ended up with sohee it would be fine because technically he’d never admitted to liking you, and so technically you weren’t anyone to him, so really if he thought about it, he’d be fine, especially if you made his best friend happy.

fourth, he’s pouting, and not even on purpose in a cute way, he’s full on pouting at the scene taking place in front of him. he’s sad you’re so close to sohee, sad he isn’t the one making you laugh loudly or putting a smile on your face, sad that he has absolutely no chance with you at all. this isn’t fair, but he can’t do anything so he resorts to pouting and clinging onto his older brothers for comfort (as they laugh and tease his current state).

finally, anton thinks he’s over it. he’s been watching you and sohee giggle about back and forth for what seems like hours now (it’s been less than five minutes) and he thinks he can finally accept this reality. you’re into his friend and he’s chopped liver. yeah that’s totally fine, he’s totally okay with this outcome.

the older boys smile at one another as they watch anton bury his head deeper into eunseoks broad shoulders, seemingly shielding himself from the scene in front of him. they know when their maknae is upset and it’s a million times clear just how much he is right now.

“anton, are you okay? I want to introduce you to my friend.” sohee’s soft voice pulls him out of his depression, slowly rising his head he’s met with a pair of eyes he knows too well, and his ears turn red.

“this is my roommate, he’s the one I told you about, the one that’s a big fan of you,” his friend laughs after his words and anton isn’t sure what’s worse: you being madly in love with sohee or you knowing he’s madly in love with you.

“anton right? I’m also a big fan of you, if that’s not totally embarrassing to admit to you.”

and just like that he’s swooning again, all the thoughts and feelings from before melt away as he pushes past eunseok to stand in front of you. now this, this is just perfect.

sohee shoots him a smile and a thumbs up, and it all clicks, anton is almost ashamed of how he’s acted.

sohee knew about his crush, how could he not? they shared a room together, of course he’d caught him watching your content, laughing at things you’d said, and bashfully liking your pictures from his spam account, he’d done this on purpose, he’d introduce you to one another on purpose.

“do you want to maybe grab some lunch with me?”

so maybe that wasn’t what he’d planned to say to you first but at least he’d spoken…right? even if it was straightforward and not like him at all.

your laugh makes his ears even redder, and he’s instantly smiling as you nod, taking his hand and leading him to “a really good cafe” as you put it. anton isn’t listening fully, he’s just happy he can finally admire you in person.

yeah he’s definitely too far gone. he thinks he might be in love.

coco’s <3 note x2: I love love love writing for riize they’re honestly my favorite boys ahhh I love them!! hopefully now that I am on break I can write more for them :) thinking of opening requests for them too maybe? and like if you know me you know I don’t do that often so !!! hope you enjoyed this fic, feedback & reblogs are always appreciated <3

riize taglist — @palajae @txtlyn @rllymark @soheekisser @luvbinnies (can’t tag those in bold 😕)

Want to join the taglist? Find the forms here!

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prdx-invdr · 10 months ago

Text

୨୧⸝⸝﹕it’s salty in the middle of those sweet moments.

SUMMARY! for reasons unknown to him, you seem to absolutely hate lee anton. on several occasions, he’s tried to hate you right back, but found that it can be difficult to dislike someone when you’re completely infatuated with them.

PAIRING! lee anton x fem!reader

GENRE! college!au, slice of life, swim team!au idk what to call it actually but anton and reader are both captains, fluff, angst (kinda), (one-sided) enemies to lovers WC 6.6k

WARNING! swearing, reader is mean to anton for a while, miscommunication, i have no knowledge of swimming as a sport and had to do a lot of research for this one so sorry if this contains some inaccuracies, not proofread

NOTE! when anon requested this i jumped out of my seat bc rivals to lovers with anton was my very first wip on this acc but i scrapped it and this gave me an excuse to write abt it again

anton thinks the world of you while you think nothing of him. he’s unsure of how someone he thinks of so highly could hate him so much, and he’s even more unsure of how he could still be so enamored by you despite knowing that you feel the exact opposite way about him.

he gave up on trying to understand the root of your hatred towards him long ago.

at first, he assumed that you were just jealous of the fact that the boy’s swim team had a bigger budget than the girl’s. this wasn’t anton’s fault by any means, but he thought that you might’ve been taking your anger out on him due to his position as team captain. the school administration seemed to simply favor the boy’s swim team over yours, and even anton knew that it wasn’t fair. the favoritism meant that anton’s team received better funding, which inevitably meant better… everything.

anton vividly remembers the glare that you’re always giving him only growing in intensity the day he and his team stepped into the pool area wearing their brand new goggles and swim trunks. he recalls the way the other girls on your team looked down at their own worn out swimsuits upon seeing anton’s team’s new attire, and he felt terrible. if it were up to him, he would’ve entered the room wearing the same faded blue swim jammers he and his teammates were forced to wear at the start of the semester if it meant you’d stop looking at him with such disdain in your eyes.

if this had been the reason behind your distaste for the boy, he would’ve understood. but the hatred you held for him extended beyond swimming, too.

“your hair looks stupid like that,” he hears you mutter from behind him. he turns around, an indifferent expression adorning his features to mask his nervousness.

the fact that you still manage to get the boy’s heart racing and his palms sweating despite your cruel words is baffling to him.

anton’s teeth sink into his bottom lip, wanting to retaliate but not having the slightest idea what to say. “my hair looks like this everyday,” is all he can pathetically exhale.

you’re still staring at him with a furrowed brow and he stares back at you, perplexed. he wonders if you have anything else to say to him or if you were insulting his hair for the pure fun of it. he thinks he’d be fine with either, because at least you’re talking to him.

he feels like slapping himself in the forehead at his own lovesickness.

after a few moments of silence, you scoff, signaling with your hand that you want him to move out of your way.

wordlessly, anton obliges, stepping aside and watching as you continue on your way to whatever class you have next. he notices merely seconds afterwards that the hallway he’s currently standing in isn’t narrow in the slightest, meaning you could’ve easily gone around him and still insisted on making him move. he wishes he could dislike you— he really does.

anton turns around to find sohee and seunghan now leaning against the wall, having observed the entire interaction between you and their love-struck friend. sohee looks at him pitifully while seunghan claps, slowly and sarcastically.

“don’t,” is all anton says to them, hanging his head. he knows that they’d like to drill another lesson into his mind about how he needs to stop letting you push him around like that, and he’s not in the mood for it.

“anton, my man,” seunghan sighs, putting an arm around his shoulders. “i get that you like her, i really do, and that she’s pretty and all,” he feels anton’s shoulders momentarily tense at his words, “but i don’t think she’s into you. like, at all.”

anton shrugs the older boy’s arm off, shaking his head. “i don’t like her,” he lies through gritted teeth. sohee and seunghan share an unamused look.

in actuality, the two of them were there to witness anton fall for you firsthand. when their younger friend first saw you and two of your friends walking through the quad area of campus, they watched the way his eyes widened and the way the oxygen left his lungs. they recall thinking that anton’s heart would burst out of his chest and fall right onto the grass below the three of them. his friends were in disbelief that anton was currently standing in front of them and denying his feelings for you when they quite literally saw him develop said feelings in real time.

when anton found out that you were captain of the girl’s swim team, it only solidified the way he felt about you. being captain of the boy’s swim team himself, he thought it was the perfect setup. he was too shy to nonchalantly walk up to you and initiate conversation, but he had the notion that swimming would make good enough of an excuse.

his hopes of becoming acquainted with you through your shared interest in the sport were crushed almost immediately. when he first tried to strike up a conversation with you, you sent him a scowl that intimidated him into walking the other way. on a separate occasion, he attempted to talk to you again, only for you to turn your head and pretend that you hadn’t heard him. he hasn’t tried to initiate anything ever since, the only time the two of you ever interact being whenever you glare at him or make a remark about him in passing.

he never found out what your problem was when it came to him, and he doesn’t think he ever will.

anton sees sohee and seunghan’s solemn faces and scoffs. “i’m serious, guys!” he complains, “you’ve seen the way she acts towards me. why would i like somebody like that? that’s like setting myself up for failure.” his chest tightens as the words leave his mouth. he only said that so his friends would drop the subject, but he knows that there’s truth behind his statement. the two boys only exhale disappointedly.

sohee purses his lips. “if she didn’t absolutely hate you for no reason, you guys would probably look good together,” he comments. seunghan nods, “too bad she’s got a stick up her ass.”

for whatever reason, anton wants to defend you and tell his friend that there is no stick up your ass— you’re only hostile when it comes to him. he realizes how pitiful that sentence would sound to sohee and seunghan and decides against saying it out loud.

“stop being hung up on that girl, anton,” sohee chimes, putting a hand on his friend’s arm, “there’s plenty of fish in the sea. you would know all about that, right? since you’re a swimmer and all.”

seunghan hits sohee in the arm jokingly. “he’s on the swim team, not a fucking merman.”

“he’s so cute, are you kidding me?” you hear rei practically squeal as you step into the locker room. she and jiwon are both already wearing their swimsuits, and the latter looks up upon hearing you enter the room.

“who are we talking about?” you smile, setting down your backpack. it’s late in the afternoon and you’re relieved to be done with your classes for the day, finally able to do what you love most.

“um,” jiwon begins, “no one in particular. right, rei?” your friend sounds a bit on edge as she turns to the girl sitting on the bench beside her, who shrugs. “we’re talking about anton,” she replies, earning a slap on the arm from jiwon. “ow! what the hell?”

jiwon watches as you halt your process of taking off your shirt, about to change into your swimsuit. she knew that your mood would turn sour at the mention of the boy; it’s a known fact amongst the members of your team that you hate lee anton.

“you think anton is cute?” you turn to rei, frowning. the girl lets out a huff of air, her bangs moving in the process. “i don’t see how you don’t,” she mutters, “and i don’t get why you hate his guts either. he’s super nice.”

you continue changing, the two girls looking away from you as you do so out of respect. “you wouldn’t understand,” is all you say in response. jiwon bites her lip, feeling bad for the boy. she’s seen it all— the fleeting, longing glances anton sends your way, and the scornful looks you send him in return. she doesn’t comment on it, not wanting to upset you, but a minuscule, intrusive part of her desperately wants to know what’s going on between you and the captain of the boy’s team.

rei, however, seems to know no boundaries. “would you be mad if i dated him, then?” she chortles, giddily kicking her legs. not facing you, she doesn’t see the way you grow tense at her question. you open your mouth to respond when a knock at the locker room door startles the three of you.

the door opens a fraction and you turn to see yujin pop her head inside. “are you guys almost ready?” she asks, scanning the room before her eyes land on you. “oh, hey, captain,” she smiles, eyes forming crescents. you wave, and the older girl continues. “coach wanted me to remind you guys that we have a joint training session today,” she clenches her teeth for a second, eyes moving to jiwon and rei who are wearing matching nervous expressions at the reminder. “you know, with the boys team,” yujin finishes, not daring to look you in the eye in fear of how you might react.

as captain of the team, you were curious as to why your coach would want to remind you of that, seeing as you were often the first person to obtain this information. upon deeper thought, you realize it was probably because even your coach knew about your hatred towards anton and wanted you to stay focused this time around rather than glaring at him every few minutes. you almost let out a laugh at the thought.

“you hear that, captain?” rei teases, “prepare yourself! don’t let anton distract you this time.”

you throw a towel in her direction, earning a grunt from her. “i should be telling you that,” you scold, “seeing as you’re obsessed with him all of a sudden.”

rei laughs, and you’re unsure of how to feel when you come to the realization that she didn’t disagree with your statement.

once you finally leave the locker room, you come face to face with your sworn enemy himself.

anton doesn’t look in your direction for as long as he normally does, memories of your interaction from earlier in the day flooding his mind. no matter how small of a gesture it is, your teammates take notice of it. “he’s not staring at you today,” gaeul whispers, shocked.

you only shake your head. “like i care,” you spit, crossing your arms, “i prefer it that way, actually. he should focus on his own team.”

wonyoung puts her hands on your shoulders from behind, lightly shaking you. “loosen up, okay?” she advises, her own eyes drifting over to anton’s team. as if on cue, anton looks over at you for a moment, watching as you joke around with your teammate. he wishes that you were even half as nice to him as you are to your team, wondering what it would be like to laugh with you the same way wonyoung is right now.

noticing anton’s preoccupied state, one of his teammates calls out to him. “captain!” anton turns his head away from you, looking his teammate in the eye. “yeah, taesan? you need something?” he inquires, getting back into his leader headspace. taesan looks over anton’s shoulder at your team, making the inference that he had been distracted by you. like always, taesan thinks to himself.

“do some stretches with me, yeah?” he says, wanting anton to fully dedicate himself to practicing instead of letting you pose as an obstacle.

anton is a good team captain— any of his teammates can attest. but it feels like anytime you’re in his presence, he’s only able to give 80% as opposed to his usual hundred, the other 20% being spent completely fixated on you.

he walks over to his dark haired teammate with a nod, agreeing to help him warm up. he thinks it serves as a more productive way to pass time than staring at you like a lovesick idiot.

“i was thinking,” taesan starts, copying the way anton does shoulder stretches to loosen his joints, “well, me and leehan were talking about it, actually. we should do a bonfire later, at the beach,” he tells the older boy.

anton licks his lips, nodding absentmindedly. “just you and leehan?” he asks, looking around the room for the boy in question. he sees leehan standing in the corner looking disinterested and waves him over. with an inaudible sigh, leehan reluctantly joins the two boys who are now doing tricep stretches. taesan shakes his head in response to the question anton had posed, “no, i meant, like, the whole team,” he corrects. “tell him, leehan,” taesan nudges his teammate.

“i hate stretching,” leehan murmurs, gaze aimed towards the white tiles beneath him. “about the bonfire, dumbass,” taesan deadpans. leehan perks up at the mention of something that he actually cares about. “oh, yeah! we’re gonna invite the whole team,” he grins, “it’ll be a blast, anton. you’ve gotta go.”

anton thinks it over, biting the inside of his cheek. “it’s already kind of late though, no?” he points out, causing the two boys on either side of him to groan. “bonfires are literally supposed to happen at night,” taesan comments at the same time leehan says, “don’t be such a buzzkill.”

“is the girls team invited?” anton can’t stop himself from asking, earning more groans from the two boys. “i don’t want to go through the trouble of inviting them,” leehan complains. “yeah,” his friend nods, “plus, he’s only asking because he wants their captain to be there.”

taesan’s comment makes anton come to a halt, and he’s now the only one out of the three of them no longer stretching. “that’s not true,” he defends himself, “i just feel kind of bad. i mean, we already have a bigger budget than them, and stuff.”

“keep telling yourself that, champ,” leehan grumbles. “we see right through you.” anton steps forward, looking at both of them simultaneously. “guys, seriously,” he says lowly, “i feel bad.”

taesan lets out a laugh, “right, you feel bad that you won’t be able to make heart eyes at y/n tonight.”

anton rubs his palm across his face, frustrated. “here’s an offer for you. you either invite the girls team, or…” he pauses, attempting to appear intimidating, “you’re not allowed to have the bonfire at all.”

the two boys scoff in unison. “you can’t just do that,” taesan snorts, “you’re our captain, not our mom.” anton scratches his head at that, disorientated. “look, i— okay,” he tries again, “i don’t know. i’ll buy you guys food, or something.”

it’s now taesan and leehan’s turn freeze in their places. “why didn’t you start with that?”

practice ends faster than you wish it had and you hoist your bag over your shoulder. you turn to jiwon and rei, about to ask if they’re ready to leave when you’re interrupted by two loud voices. “girls! hey!” you turn your head to see two members of the boys swim team— who’s names you never bothered to learn— running up to you and your friends.

“hey,” one of them pants, “don’t leave yet.” you look at your friends once more, studying their expressions that look just as confused as yours. “anton wanted— ouch!” the boy is interrupted by his friend slapping him on the arm harshly, as if he had said something wrong. “all of us, i mean, wanted to know if you girls would like to join us tonight,” the boy finishes, rubbing his arm while sending a subtle glare in his friend’s direction.

“join you.. in doing what, exactly?” you inquire, serious as ever. the two boys seemingly grow smaller under your intimidating gaze as if they hadn’t anticipated your somber attitude. “we’re doing a bonfire,” the other boy replies, pointing his thumb in the direction of the rest of his team. you look over the boy’s shoulder, your eyes landing upon anton, who is already looking at you. upon seeing your eyes scan over him, he looks away.

rei claps her hands together a few times, “we’ll be there! thank you for inviting us.” her words startle you and you open your mouth to protest. you had just been seconds away from telling the boys in front of you that you weren’t interested.

“yeah, count us in!” jiwon chimes, and you want the tiled floor below to swallow you whole. “you guys have fun, then,” you tell them, eyes swimming with boredom, “i’m going home.”

“no!” the boys in front of you shout in unison, startling you and your team. “you have to come. especially,” one of them pleads. “and why is that?” you put one hand on your hip, intimidating them further.

everyone already seems to know the answer to your question before the boys can even formulate the words to say it. “our captain wants you to.”

your teammates all but drag you to the beach against your will, uttering complaints about how you “need to learn how to have fun” and how they’ve “been waiting for something exciting like this to happen”.

within the first 5 minutes of your arrival, you’ve already tried to escape more times than your friends are able to count. wonyoung had to keep a tight grip on your wrist to ensure that you wouldn’t go anywhere, and you swear at the girl in your head for being stronger than she appears.

“i can’t believe anton himself told his friends to invite us just so he could see y/n,” rei mutters, astonished, “do you have any idea how lucky you are?”

“that’s definitely not the reason,” you deny, already wanting to drop the topic, “they probably just thought it would be funny because everybody on the planet knows that i hate him.”

and while taesan and leehan are most definitely aware of your hatred towards their captain, their reasoning for inviting you and your team really was because anton wanted to see you.

“invite the girls team!” leehan mocks, intentionally making his voice sound higher, “i feel sooo bad for them!” anton pays no mind to the way he’s being blatantly teased, his eyes trained on you. “feel bad for them my ass,” taesan comments under his breath, “he’s already making heart eyes at her, just like i said.”

“you’re a real masochist, you know that?” leehan adds, waving a hand in front of anton’s line of sight. the taller boy blinks in response as if he had broken out of whatever trance you had him under. “that girl doesn’t even try to hide the fact that she hates you, and you’re still, like, obsessed with her.”

anton sharply exhales through his nose, not needing another reminder of the fact that you dislike him and that he’s stupid for helplessly pining after you.

“i’ve heard that a million times,” he retorts, “and i’m not obsessed with her. in fact, i’m starting to hate her, too.”

he thinks that lying to his teammates is just as difficult as lying to sohee and seunghan, only receiving humorless looks in response to his statement. “right,” taesan scoffs, “you hate her so much that you forced me and leehan to invite the entire girls swim team just so you could see her.” anton lightly hits him with the back of his hand, muttering, “i told you that’s not the reason.”

all three boys turn to look at you, arms crossed and unamused. “oh, man,” leehan laughs, “she’s bored out of her fucking mind.” anton watches you carefully, your eyes burning a hole in the sand beneath your shoes. “why don’t you go talk to her, captain?” taesan teases, slapping his friend on the back boyishly. anton staggers forward about a centimeter due to the impact, looking back at the boy. “or anyone on the girls team, for that matter. since you made us invite every single one of them,” leehan quips.

but anton thinks that talking to you would only dampen your mood even further, and he doesn’t want the glare that you’re currently directing towards the sand to be aimed at him. “try talking to her, right there,” leehan points to someone in your general direction and anton follows his finger with his gaze, “naoi rei. she’s one of y/n’s closest friends, i think.”

taesan lets out another scoff, “yeah, but she’s not y/n. anton wants y/n, not the next best thing.”

jiwon and rei stand next to the bonfire, and you overhear one of them comment on how it isn’t as big as they were expecting it to be. you see wonyoung and yujin sitting on some large rocks a short distance away from the shore. you quickly scan the perimeter looking for gaeul, who you find sitting on the sand and looking up at the stars. your friends are all enjoying themselves— why aren’t you?

as per usual, you want to blame your discomfort on the fact that anton is in your vicinity. but how exactly could you do that when he hasn’t interacted with you all night?

come to think of it, your last interaction with the boy in question was earlier today when you told him that his hair looked stupid. you shake your head at the memory— you hadn’t even meant it. you actually liked his hair, but you’d rather drop dead than admit that to him. you hate lee anton with a burning passion, and you hate that you like his hair.

you hate that you’re currently sitting here wishing that he would come up to you and say something. after all, your friends dragged you here and his teammates made it seem as though your attendance was obligatory. the way you see it, the least anton could do after subjecting you to all of that is talk to you. you suppose that you can’t really blame him for not wanting to, though. you kick the sand beneath you at the realization.

you’re not sure how much time you spend thinking about the boy you swear to hate with every fiber of your being, but you conclude that a few long minutes must’ve gone by, because suddenly you look up and find that both your team and anton’s team are gathered around the fire. you watch them carefully, eyes wandering from individual to individual.

you see yujin laughing with some guy from the other team. you see the two boys that invited you and your friends to this very event. finally, your eyes land on anton, and you regret it almost immediately.

he’s nervously scratching the back of his neck the way you often catch him doing. he’s got a bashful smile on his lips as he looks down at whoever he’s currently talking to. you crane your neck to see who that may be, and find that it’s none other than your own teammate and friend— naoi rei.

you make a face of disgust that no one sees, and only then do you realize that you’re still standing a good distance away from the large group. “oh my god,” you scowl. you run a hand over your face, conflicted. you already hated being here, and seeing anton converse with one of your closest friends might’ve just made your attitude towards this whole situation a million times worse. you know that rei is probably over the moon right now, looking up at him with a twinkle in her eye and a girlish smile.

you want to be happy for her— you think that any good friend would jump at the sight of their teammate getting along with the person they find attractive— and you swear that you would be if the person she was talking to was anyone but him. you tell yourself that it’s because rei deserves better than him, ignoring the way your heart plummets. he was only going to chase after you for so long.

you shake your head rapidly as if it would rid your mind of the thought, not knowing where it came from in the first place.

you need to get out of here— asap.

you hate lee anton and you hate that you like his hair and you hate that you spent a decent amount of time tonight wishing that he’d speak to you.

you hate that you even care in the slightest that he’s currently flirting with your best friend and you hate that almost everyone here managed to convince you that he and his teammates invited you simply because he wanted you here.

you discreetly make your way around the group, advancing towards the shore. you don’t think anyone sees you as you do so, hearing the sound of their laughter grow more distant with each step you take towards the sea. as you continue moving forward absentmindedly, you don’t realize that you’re already knees deep in the water until a salty wave crashes into you, reaching the area below your thigh.

“what are you doing?” your head quickly turns to find the source of the voice and you scowl once you realize who it is.

of course, anton chooses now to finally talk to you.

you turn back around, ignoring him, because that’s how you are— you think about him more than you’d ever like to admit and act indifferent towards him once he’s in your presence. anton watches as you turn your back to him, unsure of why he assumed that this interaction with you would be any different from your interactions in the past.

nonetheless, with bravery that he didn’t even know he had, anton continues talking. “you could get sick if you go any further,” he blurts out.

in truth, anton had been watching you through his peripheral vision as he was conversing with rei, and saw as you treaded through the sand and into the water. he excused himself— he had been looking for a way to escape the conversation anyway— and followed your silhouette that was now standing in the ocean, letting waves collide with your legs.

in retrospect, he should’ve thought of something to say to you beforehand, because if the mere act of him talking to you wasn’t enough to piss you off, anton was sure that lecturing you about how you could get sick from swimming at night would definitely cause you to flip your lid.

his suspicions appear to have been correct, because you whip your head back around and give him an angry look. “what are you doing here?” you spit, expecting him to flinch and avoid your gaze the same way that he always does.

“why can’t i be here?” he presses, furrowing his brow, and you’re the one that flinches. “do you own the ocean?”

you’re sure that steam would be coming out of your ears right now if you were living in an old cartoon. you clench your fist, taken aback.

“why do you hate me so much, y/n?” anton pleads, unable to prevent the million dollar question from leaving his lips. this is a position he never thought he’d find himself in; confronting you about your unadulterated hatred towards him while your entire bottom half is almost completely submerged in the ocean.

your lip quivers and you clench your teeth as you feel your resilient facade start to crack. neither you nor anton are sure where his daring attitude came from, but it seems to be catching both of you by surprise, because even the boy in question moves to wipe his palms against his jeans to rid them of their clamminess. “answer me,” he demands, his voice as soft as it normally is and yet it still intimidates you.

you turn around for the forth and final time, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of discovering the root of your distaste towards him. anton shakes his head, although you’re unable to see it, and sharply inhales in preparation for what he’s about to do.

he cautiously takes a step forward, letting the water dampen the cuffs of his jeans. he cringes, but proceeds nevertheless, mimicking the strides that you had taken minutes prior.

before you’re able to prevent it from happening, anton is standing directly beside you, jeans darkening as the water seeps into them, and you nearly jump out of your skin.

the tall boy leans forward, and you lean back. “answer me,” he repeats his previous words in a hushed voice.

you’re looking down at the water that the two of you are standing in and anton thinks it’s funny, for a moment, how the roles seem to be reversed— you’re tense and apprehensive while he’s bold and collected, trying to crane his neck to meet your downward pointed gaze.

“you should know the reason why,” he hears you speak under your breath. you finally look at him, eyes narrowed. “you’re making fun of me, aren’t you?” you question, and he recoils.

“i’m not— what? why would— why do you think i’m making fun of you?” anton sputters, genuinely appalled at the accusation. he’s unable to wrap his head around what kind of thoughts might be running through your mind right now.

“because there’s no way in hell that you don’t know why i hate you, lee anton,” you say, words flying from your mouth hurriedly. “there’s no way you just let me push you around and stare at you like you’re the scum of the earth if you don’t know the reason why. you have to know,” you look into his eyes in search of an answer but you’re only met with confusion.

anton shakes his head. “i don’t know, y/n,” he begins, “i really don’t know, and i’m sorry if you think i’m playing a prank on you right now, but i’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

he looks down momentarily, his eyes landing on his wet jeans. when he looks back up, he’s zoned in on the way the moon makes your eyes look as though they’re sparkling, and he thinks it’s beautiful. “you may know this already,” he starts speaking again, “but i’m in love with you.”

he makes sure not to stutter or appear anxious in the slightest, afraid that if he made the slightest mistake, he’d try to prevent the words from leaving his mouth. and he needs you to know.

your lips part, his words shocking you more than anything else that has taken place tonight. “i’m always lying to my teammates and my friends, saying that i don’t like you because they think i’m insane for chasing after someone who wishes i didn’t even exist,” anton continues, his tone becoming sorrowful, “but i can’t lie anymore. especially not to you.”

by now, both of your hearts are pounding, and you’re sure that they would be audible if it weren’t for the sounds of the waves crashing. “so, no,” he says, “the reason i let you push me around isn’t because i know why you hate me. it’s because i’m in love with you, and no matter how hard i try, i can’t stop.”

he waits for you to respond, eyes trained on yours. you finally start speaking, lowly and carefully. “there was this guy,” you tell him, “you used to hang out with him last year. i would see you and him laughing together all the time, with two other friends of yours.”

taking in your words, anton ponders who you could be referring to before his eyes widen slightly. “wonbin?” he asks, although he has no doubt in his mind that you’re talking about his older friend. wonbin, seunghan, sohee and anton were practically attached at the hip during the latter’s freshman year of college, and when wonbin made the decision to drop out in order to pursue a career in music, the other three were left to fend for themselves.

you scoff, despite wanting to contain your hostility towards the boy after his confession. “i don’t know his name,” you mumble, “but yeah, that’s probably him.”

anton nods, urging you to continue. he’s finally going to find out why you’ve disliked him for as long as he can remember and he doesn’t want to waste a second. “he told me that you liked me,” you say, watching as the boy flinches in your peripheral at your words. “and i was so happy at the time because i liked you, too.”

it’s anton’s turn to be stunned by your confession, not believing the words that are coming out of your mouth. “i would always look at you, but you’d never look at me back. when your friend— wonbin, i guess— told me that you liked me, i thought that meant you would talk to me,” you shake your head at the memory, “but you never did. it was like i didn’t even exist to you.”

you keep talking, quietly, “every single person who knew me knew that i liked you. one day, i saw you guys laughing together like you always did, and then it clicked in my brain.” you’re silent for a moment before you continue. “i figured that you must’ve known that i liked you, too, and told your friend to say that to me as some sort of cruel joke.”

anton is yet again appalled at your words. “you only seemed to start caring about my existence at the beginning of last semester. you tried to come up to me a few times, and i always assumed it was because you were finally feeling bad about the whole wonbin thing and wanted to apologize, and i didn’t want to hear it. it was around that time that i started hating you.”

you scratch the back of your neck, not having thought that you’d ever admit any of this to the boy standing beside you. anton swallows before he thinks over his next words. “i didn’t know about any of that,” he assures you, and he can sense that you doubt his words momentarily because he starts talking faster. “i’m not sure what prompted wonbin to say that to you, but i can tell you this,” he whispers, “i’ve been in love with you from the very first time i saw you, and no amount of insults or glares from you is ever going to change that.” for a moment, even the waves of the ocean seem to still, leaving only the sound of anton’s voice ringing in your ears.

you’re not used to feeling this vulnerable, and the fact that you’re sharing a moment like this with lee anton— the man you (no longer) hate— sends a shiver down your spine. you find yourself searching for a sense of familiarity, even if it comes in the form of playful banter rather than the usual insult.

“say that again,” you tell him, and he’s unsure if you’re being serious at first. when silence lingers in the air, he finally begins speaking. “i’ve… been in love with you since the first time i saw you,” anton says, unsure. you shake your head, displeased.

“put it in the present tense,” you purse your lips, crossing your arms. anton lets out a curt laugh, now realizing that you’re actually joking with him. so this, he thinks, is what it feels like to laugh with you. “i’m in love with you, y/n,” by now, he’s adorning a smile that reaches his eyes, head slightly tilted towards the ground bashfully.

“wanna know something, lee anton? i think i might be, too.”

weeks later, you’re swinging open the doors to the pool area, the smell of chlorine crashing into you as you step inside.

the boys team is in the middle of practicing, leehan and taesan— who’s names you finally learned after enduring weeks of their relentless teasing, always having to hear a complaint from them about how their team captain is even less focused than before since the two of you started dating— spotting you almost immediately. they let out exaggerated groans, knowing they now have to witness you and anton grossly interact.

“captain!” taesan calls out with dread lacing his tone, “your girlfriend is here.” upon hearing that, anton, who is currently in the pool, whips his head around so quickly that you’re almost positive he could’ve gotten whiplash. you wave, and rather than exiting the water, he swims over to where you stand on the poolside. looking up at you, he smiles, slightly out of breath. “hey, lovely,” he says, removing the goggles from around his head so he can study you better.

he pays no mind to the sounds of his teammates gagging in the background, not looking anywhere but at you.

to say that both your team and anton’s team were surprised upon hearing about your blossoming relationship with the boy would be an understatement. not only did both teams have to grow accustomed to the fact that you no longer hated anton, but they also needed to get used to the mere concept of you two dating each other. it wasn’t as though you two no longer served as distractions to the other, however— if anything, you both stared at each other even more than you had previously, the difference being that now you looked at anton with adoration in your eyes rather than resentment.

“i don’t know if seeing you two together makes my heart want to explode with joy, or if it makes me wanna throw up,” you recall rei telling you during practice one day. anton has shared similar stories, stating that although both taesan and leehan are happy to see their captain in a relationship with the girl he’s been pining after, they hate the way anton apparently never shuts up about you during training.

you look down at the boy, flashing him a smile of your own. droplets of water threaten to fall into his eyes, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “hey,” you hum, “i won’t bother you long. just checking in.” anton shakes his head, water spraying the floor beneath you in the process. “you never bother me,” he says.

“oh, hush,” you wave your hand dismissively. “i’m serious. hey, can you come down here for a sec?” anton asks, gesturing for you to crouch next to the pool. you give him a suspicious look, morphing your lips into a tight line. “anton, i’m not letting you pull me in there.”

he shakes his head again, letting out a laugh. “i’m not gonna pull you in,” he tells you, and you still aren’t convinced. “y/n!” he whines, stretching the final syllable. you look to the ceiling for a moment, letting out a scoff before kneeling down next to the pool.

in a swift motion, anton grabs your shoulders and lands a kiss on your lips. it’s wet from the water of the pool and you pull away, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. anton is laughing as you swat at his arm, muttering something about how he got your shirt wet.

anton sees an opportunity in the fact that you haven’t stood up yet, fully wrapping his arms around your shoulders, nearly causing you to fall into the chlorinated water. his laughter only increases in volume, and his teammates don’t think they’ve ever heard him laugh that hard. you let out a yelp, feeling the water continue to seep through the fabric of your shirt. you struggle against his embrace, and he shows no signs of releasing you. “lee anton! oh my god— i hate you!”

you both know that you’re lying.

AUTHOR’S NOTE! this is my 30th time trying to post this but we move

#riize x reader #lee anton #anton imagines #anton x reader #riize anton #riize #riize scenarios #req #riize angst #riize fluff

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loveanton · 8 months ago

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melting point | lee anton

ꕤ DESCRIPTION: after spending the last few months as anton’s hidden secret you finally reach your limit with his inconsistency.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: situationship!anton x f!reader

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 2.8k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: desperate anton, some jealousy, kissing, and brief mentions of sex and alcohol

⏤ 𝑎/n: first riize post ^-^

You’re at your limit.

The bass pounds in sync with the rapid thump of your heart. The club is a kaleidoscope of pulsating lights and swirling laughter, but your focus narrows on one person: Anton. He's across the room, surrounded by a cluster of people, his magnetic charm drawing them in like moths to a flame. And there she is, Minji, hanging on his every word, her laughter tinkling like glass wind chimes.

You clutch your drink, the ice cubes clinking against the red solo cup in a rhythm that matches the turmoil in your mind. This isn't the first time you've found yourself in this position — watching Anton flirt effortlessly, his attention a fleeting commodity you crave but can never fully grasp.

You take a deep breath, trying to quell the rising tide of emotions threatening to engulf you. It's a familiar battle, one you've fought countless times before. But tonight feels different, heavier somehow, as if the weight of your unspoken desires has become too much to bear. The two of you aren't exclusive, you remind yourself. You’re just...something.

Yet, seeing him engrossed in conversation with another girl ignites a flurry of emotions within you.

As you stand there, grappling with your emotions, the thumping bass seems to echo the rhythm of your racing heart. A familiar voice breaks through the haze of your thoughts, pulling you back to the present moment. "You okay?"

Turning, you see Heejin, your closest friend and roommate, her concern etched into the lines of her face. She knows you better than anyone, sensing the storm brewing beneath your calm facade.

You offer her a small smile, though it feels feeble against the weight of your emotions. "I'm fine," you reply, though the words ring hollow even to your own ears.

Heejin studies you for a moment, her gaze searching and knowing. "No you're not. I can see it written all over your face."

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you meet her gaze, the floodgates of your emotions threatening to burst open. "It's just... Anton," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Understanding flashes in Heejin's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the pain you're feeling. "I know," she murmurs, her voice soft but steady. "I've seen how much he means to you."

As you stand there, with Heejin's comforting presence beside you, memories flood your mind, tracing back to the moment when you first met Anton.

It was a late summer night in Seoul, and you were still adjusting to the bustling city, the unfamiliar sights and sounds overwhelming your senses. A craving for a midnight snack led you to the nearest convenience store, where you stumbled through the aisles in search of something familiar amidst the sea of unfamiliar products.

Lost in your own thoughts, you barely noticed the figure standing nearby until he spoke, his soft voice breaking through the fog of your confusion. "Need help finding something?"

You turned to see Anton, a friendly smile on his face, his easy demeanor putting you at ease. Relief washed over you as you realized he spoke English, a rare find in a country where you struggled to navigate the language barrier.

With his guidance, you found the sweet treat you were looking for, and as you parted ways, a sense of gratitude swelled within you. Little did you know, that chance encounter would become the start of something more.

Every Friday night after a long week of lectures, like clockwork, you found yourself drawn back to the same convenience store, hoping to catch another glimpse of the stranger who had shown you kindness in a foreign land. And without fail, there he would be, waiting for you in the back near the ramen section, a knowing smile on his lips as he greeted you with a simple "Hey."

In those moments, surrounded by the hum of refrigerators and the soft glow of fluorescent lights, you found solace in Anton's company.

You shared stories and laughter over steaming bowls of ramen, forging a bond that grew stronger with each passing week. And as you navigated the complexities of life in a new country, Anton became your anchor, a constant presence amidst the chaos of change. Eventually though the late night ramen runs shifted into late night hookups at his dorm.

You never intended to fall so hard and so fast for Anton but something about his soft spoken nature and charming smile rendered you a fool and now, as you stand here, grappling with the ache in your chest, you can't help but wonder if your bond with Anton was nothing more than a fleeting moment in time. The uncertainty of your situationship weighs heavily on your heart, overshadowing the warmth of those Friday night encounters.

You take a shaky breath, the weight of your unspoken feelings heavy on your chest. "What should I do?" you ask, your voice tinged with desperation.

Heejin listens to your question, her gaze softening with empathy as she considers her response. She reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder before speaking. "You deserve someone who sees you for who you are, not just a fleeting lay in the dead of night," she says gently, her words carrying the weight of truth.

You bristle at her words, a surge of defensiveness rising within you. "But maybe he just... he's busy, you know? Maybe he's just not good at showing his feelings," you protest, the familiar excuses falling from your lips like a well-rehearsed script.

Heejin's expression remains unchanged, her gaze unwavering as she meets your eyes. "You've been holding onto this hope for so long, but deep down, you know it's not enough," she says firmly, her tone gentle but resolute. "Anton's status as an idol may complicate things, but that doesn't excuse his lack of effort outside of those late-night meetups."

You falter under her scrutiny, the weight of her words sinking in with each passing moment. She's right, of course. Anton's gestures, while comforting in the moment, were little more than crumbs of affection scattered at your feet, never enough to sustain the hunger in your heart.

"He invited you to this party, right?" Heejin continues, "But look around you. Do you see him anywhere near you? Or is he off, charming someone who's 'socially acceptable' to be seen with?"

A bitter taste rises in your mouth as you glance around the room, taking in the sight of Anton across the crowded space, his attention focused on Minji, someone who fits seamlessly into his world of fame and glamor. And suddenly, the illusion shatters, leaving behind nothing but the harsh reality of your situation.

You take a shaky breath, the truth settling over you like a heavy blanket. "You're right," you whisper, your voice barely audible above the noise of the party. "I've been fooling myself, thinking there was something more between us."

Heejin squeezes your shoulder in silent solidarity, her presence a source of comfort in the midst of your turmoil. "It's okay to let go," she says softly, her words a gentle reminder that sometimes, the hardest part is acknowledging when it's time to move on.

Tears sting your eyes as you feel the weight of regret settle upon your shoulders. "I feel so stupid," you admit, your voice trembling with emotion. "I wasted half my summer on a boy who wasn't worth it."

Heejin pulls you into a comforting embrace, her arms a shelter from the storm raging within you. "You're not stupid," she reassures you, her voice soft but firm. "You took a chance on something that felt real, and that's nothing to be ashamed of."

Despite her comforting words, you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment in yourself. You had allowed yourself to be swept away by the allure of Anton's charm, only to realize too late that it was nothing more than a facade.

"But hey," Heejin continues, her tone brightening with a hint of optimism, "at least you made some fun memories to last you through the upcoming semester, right?"

You manage a small smile through your tears, grateful for Heejin's unwavering support. "Yeah, I guess you're right," you concede, the weight on your heart easing ever so slightly at the reminder of the good times you shared.

Just as you and Heejin decide to leave the club, your resolve wavering but firm, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. As you navigate through the crowded space towards the restroom, a familiar voice calls out to you, stopping you in your tracks. "Hey, can we talk?"

You turn to see Anton standing there, his expression unreadable as he pulls you aside, away from the prying eyes of the partygoers. Despite the ache in your chest, you can't help but feel a flicker of curiosity at his sudden appearance.

"He invited you to this party, right?" Heejin's words echo in your mind, a stark reminder of the reality you had tried so hard to ignore.

Anton's voice interrupts your thoughts, his words cutting through the noise of the club like a beacon in the darkness. "I missed you, angel," he confesses, his arms encircling your waist in a familiar embrace.

You freeze at his touch, the conflicting emotions raging within you like a storm. His warmth against your skin, once a source of comfort, now feels suffocating in its familiarity. You remain silent, unable to form coherent words amidst the chaos of your thoughts.

Unfazed by your lack of response, Anton leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers softly, "Do you want to head home with me tonight?"

The question hangs in the air between you, heavy with unspoken implications. But before you can consider his offer, a surge of frustration and indignation rises within you, breaking through the haze of confusion and growing horniness.

"No," you reply firmly, your voice tinged with a hint of defiance. "I need to know, Anton. What are we? What do you want from me?" You pause, your gaze searching his face for any sign of sincerity. "Because this... this isn't fair to me."

Anton's expression shifts, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before being replaced by a mask of indifference. "What do you mean?" he asks, his tone casual, as if your question holds no weight.

But you refuse to back down, the fire burning within you fueling your resolve. "You know exactly what I mean," you insist, your voice rising with each word. "You reel me in with compliments and empty promises, but you never follow through. You only ever want to see me at night, where no one else can see us. I deserve more than that, Anton. We both do."

Anton's grip tightens slightly around your waist, his brows furrowing in frustration. "It's not that simple, okay?" he retorts, his voice tinged with defensiveness. "You know how hectic my schedule is with my job. I can't always be there when you want me to be."

You shake your head, the bitterness of his words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. "It's not about being there all the time, Anton," you counter, your voice tinged with disappointment. "It's about making an effort, about showing me that I actually mean something to you."

He opens his mouth to respond, but you beat him to it. "I'm tired of the excuses, Anton," you continue, your tone weary but resolute. "I need more than empty promises and late-night hookups. I need someone who's willing to put in the effort, someone who's not afraid to show me off to the world."

Anton's jaw tightens, his frustration palpable as he struggles to find the right words. "You think I don't want that too?" he finally blurts out, his voice edged with exasperation. "Do you have any idea what it's like to live under the constant scrutiny of the public eye? To have every move you make dissected and judged?"

His words hang in the air between you, heavy with the weight of his own insecurities. You understand the pressures of his career, the sacrifices he's had to make to maintain his image in the spotlight. But it's hard to reconcile his struggles with the hurt you've endured in silence.

"I know it's not easy," you concede, your voice softening with empathy. "But that doesn't excuse the way you've treated me, Anton. I've been patient, I've been understanding, but I can't keep pretending like everything's okay when it's not."

Anton's gaze flickers with a mixture of regret and resignation as he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush against your cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice laced with sincerity. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just... I don't know how to do this."

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his eyes, the raw honesty of his confession stirring something within you. But before you can respond, he closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a desperate kiss.

For a moment, the world falls away, leaving behind only the heat of his touch and the softness of his lips against yours. And in that fleeting moment of intimacy, you're tempted to forget all the pain and uncertainty, to lose yourself in the familiarity of his embrace.

As Anton pulls away from the kiss, desperation flashes in his eyes, pleading with you not to leave him. "Please, don't go," he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. "I can't lose you, not like this."

His hands tremble as they cup your face, his lips trailing soft kisses across your cheeks, each touch a silent plea for forgiveness. "I'll do better, I promise," he murmurs against your skin, his breath warm against your ear. "I'll put a label on what we have, I'll make it official. Just give me another chance."

You feel a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through you, torn between the pain of the past and the hope of a future where things could be different.

"I don't know, Anton," you murmur, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "I want to believe you, but... how can I be sure this time will be different?"

Anton's expression softens, a flicker of determination crossing his features. "I'll show you," he vows, his words laced with conviction. "I'll make it up to you, every single day. Just tell me what I need to do, and I'll do it."

You hesitate, torn between the desire to believe in him and the fear of being hurt again. But as you meet his gaze, a glimmer of hope flickers within you, a belief that perhaps, just perhaps, there's still a chance for redemption.

"Okay," you whisper, your voice barely audible above the chaos of the club. "But this is your last chance, Anton. No more empty promises, no more excuses. Show me that you mean it this time."

Anton leans in once again and captures your lips in another kiss, this time with a depth of emotion that leaves you reeling. It's as if he's pouring all of his love and regret into the fervent press of his mouth against yours, a silent plea for your forgiveness.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the space between you. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry for everything."

You feel a lump forming in your throat as you listen to him speak.

"Can I make it up to you?" Anton asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “Come home with me, let me show you how sorry I am, angel.”

You take a step back to look into his eyes but Anton quickly scoops you back towards his body. His other hand is on the side of your face, pulling you in. He dips his head and crashes his soft lips against your waiting lips. You let out a moan at the force behind the kiss but don’t object. He turns his head to deepen the kiss and slips his tongue into your mouth.

The kiss only gets hotter and hotter as you continue, Anton tilts his head to the side and you move yours in the opposite direction. Parting from your lips, he moves down gently to the corner of your lips, the tip of his nose buried in the junction of your jaw to take deep breaths of your intoxicating scent.

The male lays more open mouthed kisses down your neck, making you feel nothing but pure bliss. Your eyes shut as you moan into the air.

His hands move from your waist downwards, sliding over your jeans to caress your ass and thighs. He places one more love bite on your neck before bending a bit and lifting the back of your thighs as if you weigh nothing. You gasp in surprise and wrap your arms around his neck tightly so as to not fall.

You tug at his hair before responding to his previous question. “Take me home, Chanie.”

#lee anton #anton lee #anton imagines #riize #riize x reader #riize imagines #riize scenarios #riize anton #anton x reader #anton angst #riize angst #lee chanyoung #riize chanyoung #chanyoung x reader #chanyoung imagines #lee chanyoung imagines

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squoxle · 8 months ago

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✎ᝰ There’s No A In Cheer — L. AT

➢ SUMMARY ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ after receiving your midterm report, your parents threaten to pull you off the cheer squad if you don't pull your grades up. but with the constant pressure of wanting to live your life beyond textbooks, it's difficult to dedicate enough time to study, hang out with your friends, and practice your next routine. so you take the advice of your best friend to seek help.

➢ PAIRING⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ nerdy!bandboy!anton x cheerleader!fem!reader

➢ GENRE⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ college au, strangers to lovers, ex-romance, forbidden love

➢ CAST⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ Jake (EN--), Nicholas (&TEAM), and Taesan (BND) ... this is it so far, but i'll update as the story progresses

➢ CONTENT WARNINGS⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ profanity, sexual topics/jokes, lgbt comments, betrayal, crack, angst, SMUT!!!! use of nicknames

➢ STATUS ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ ACTIVE (Hiatus)

Series Launch: 5/28/2024 ➜ Series Complete: ________

➢ SEASON 1 EPISODES:

000 • Pilot (release date: 05/27/2024)

001 • If You Can't Beat 'Em, Join 'Em (release date: 05/30/2024)

002 • No Money, No Problem (release date: 06/04/2024)

003 • Do. Not. Get. Attached (release date: 06/12/2024)

004 • It Was Just One Kiss (release date: 07/10/2024)

005 • TBA

Next Episode Coming Soon...

CURRENT TAGLIST: @chlorinecake @addictedtohobi @nikisdubblchococake @laylasbunbunny @urfavberry @antonitty @billiondollarworth @meowbini @mamuljji @riizeis-7 @littlebrightsrar @jisfairy @galorehearts @misfit-nvrfitin @siuewnb @ot7sevenlvr @earth2hannah @professsionalsimp @fairyofhours @wonbinkisser @lovelymulti @annielovescry @antosaurius @inlovekyo @luv4stxrs @v4mpsunghoon @rikiiminaj @brachiobun @pointlessapple @antititititoni @mrkvrse @ywnzn @kisplayhouse @strawberryhillsworld @cartimitsuya @jungwon15 @hanni711 @tsukkiteamo @hajoon-iz-won @songgmingii @bloodiichainzzxx @sunnynearthecoast @riris-a-mess @deewly @ericlvr @freeluvbot @pandajihoonn @mint-yooniverse @pwarksasteroid @huan9jun @zixoxos @snowyseungs @mintmyg @moonchild-please-dont-cry @taeheartss @seesawh @chloelr60 @dodot04love @firedalarm-blog @kazscara

dividers by @kimjiho1

Keep up with this series by following this tag #squoxle series ~ there's no A in cheer link to main masterlist

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taojjang · 2 months ago

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ᯓ riize reactions - healing after an argument

pairing: bf!riize x reader, genre: light angst & fluff, warnings: crying

part one here .ᐟ ★

♡⸝⸝ what he'd do to see that pretty smile again

shotaro . . .

after leaving the bedroom with plans on spending the night on the couch, you couldn't help but feel bad about what you'd done. you knew shotaro was the sweetest boy in the world, you were just acting impulsively on your jealousy and took it out on him. you wanted to turn around and apologize to taro a million times, but your pettiness wouldn't allow you to. so you settled on the couch and sat alone with your thoughts until you fell asleep.

you woke up confused yet warm with a thick blanket over you. you looked down and you felt your heavy heart slowly pick itself up. shotaro was lying on a blanket beside the couch with his hand propped up holding yours. you waste no time and kneel beside him, stroking his hair and lightly shaking him awake. "baby, wake up! why would you sleep here without a pillow? you're gonna be all sore!" taro smiled with his eyes still closed. he lied on his back and rested his hand on your thigh. "i'm sorry, honey... i just wanted to sleep beside you. i couldn't fall asleep while you were out here all by yourself."

your eyes softened before you leaned down to press a kiss on taro's forehead, lying against his chest afterwards. "i'm sorry, taro. i'm sorry for being so jealous. i just... can't stand seeing you with someone else." taro shook his head and gently ran his hand through your hair. "there's nothing to worry about, honey. why would i be searching for another girl when i have the world's loveliest girl all to myself?" all of your concerns circling last night's date all melted within an instant. your body relaxed against his. taro continued, "you're the best girlfriend i could ever ask for, y/n. you mean the world to me and you know that. i've never felt such love for anyone who isn't you. you're truly the best thing that's happened to me, and i wouldn't trade you for the world." your eyes softened and you felt your insecurity fade. taro's reassurance was the only thing you needed to forget about all of your worries. you laughed and sat up, resting your hands on his stomach. "let's go sleep on the bed." taro looked at the time on his phone and tilted his head. "it's already 9am, you still want to sleep?" you nod and gently tug on his shirt, drawing a smile from his lips. "we need to catch up on cuddles. i hate sleeping without you." that lovely smile of yours was all taro needed to see to know everything was resolved. he smiled and let you take his hand, restlessly guiding him to your shared bed. the rest of the morning was spent cuddling against each other like penguins, making up for the night you'd spent apart.

eunseok . . .

after eunseok voiced his disappointment in you, nothing hurt more than thinking of him. the idea of being such a nuisance to someone as important as him was tearing at your heart every second of the day. you only wanted the best for him— so you kept your distance. after storming out of his house, you wouldn't step foot in there for weeks. because he'd come to you.

you came home from work shocked to see eunseok in your kitchen, cutting fruit over the counter. he lifted his head and met your eyes. "what, did you forget i have the spare key?" seeing him again caused all of the suppressed anxiety to flood back into your system. you swallowed back your unease and rushed to your bedroom, needing a quiet moment of solitude. while changing out of your suffocating work clothes, your mind scrambled up an apology, but the weight of your shame and fear clouded any form of apology that came to mind. when you face him again, all you can do is shamefully sit in silence while he plates the food in front of you.

the tension was growing thicker and thicker the longer you sat ahead of him. you scarfed down your food in a sloppy attempt to escape the situation sooner, but that only ticked him off even more. "why haven't you answered my calls?" the sudden confrontation startled you. you cautiously swallow your food and keep your gaze on the plate. "i don't know," you cowered. eunseok's burdening gaze softened at the sound of your weak voice. he spoke delicately, "that's not an accident, darling. are you gonna tell me the truth or are we going another three days without contact?" the fear of spending another night alone settled into your panic-stricken heart, triggering a desperate yet honest apology. your fearful eyes met his and your stifled guilt let go of your long-awaited apology. "i'm sorry, seok. i'm sorry for not listening to you, and i'm sorry for being so intolerable." the tremble in your voice set off all alarms in eunseok's heart. like a habit, he rushed to you and took you into his arms. "if i knew you were getting so exhausted of me, i would've listened to you. i'm sorry for being so difficult." eunseok held you against his chest, stroking your hair while gently consoling your cries. "you are difficult, but i wouldn't have it any other way. i'm sorry for overwhelming you, but i'm only worried about your health, darling. i can't see you sick again. i'm sorry, too." eunseok's gentle tone only sent you into another fit of tears. you tightly held onto his shirt and began sobbing frantic apologies. he couldn't help but laugh at you, wondering how he'd ended up with such a stupid girlfriend. "are you done yet, crybaby? your food is getting cold."

sungchan . . .

the desperately needed alone time you'd finally earned felt everything but rewarding. you tried watching your favorite show, reading a book, and catching up on sleep, but nothing brought you that peace you'd been yearning for. all you wanted was sungchan. since the moment he'd slammed his bedroom door shut, your recovery was no longer your priority. now, all you wanted was to know if he was okay. though you're the one who deserves an apology, you couldn't help but linger on the thought of him needing comfort.

you knew sungchan wanted nothing to do with you at the moment, but you still found yourself sneaking off to the kitchen in search of him. you peeked around the doorframe and spotted sungchan in front of the counter grabbing a glass from the cabinet. your heart ached to see him so exhausted. as he poured a glass of water, you decided you wanted to make it up to him. he flinched feeling your weak arms take his waist into your embrace, your body pressing against his. sungchan swallowed back the heat rising to his face and his poker face remained. but as you rested your head on his shoulder, he felt his heart melt into a puddle of adoration for you. "i'm sorry you had a bad day, baby, and i'm sorry for making it worse. i really wasn't trying to push you away, chan. you're the last thing i'd want to lose. i just wanted some time alone, but i couldn't stop worrying about you. do you still want to cuddle..?" sungchan turned to face you and cupped your face in his hands. your stress melted away with one solacing kiss from him. "of course i do, princess. you have nothing to apologize for, alright? i know you just needed a quiet moment to yourself, i was just cranky from how tiring my day was and needed you. i'm sorry for putting my emotions before yours. we can cuddle tomorrow so you can have some time to yourself." you shook your head and clung to his chest as if he'd disappear. "no, i need you right now. i couldn't sleep without you." sungchan laughed and kissed your temple. "anything you want, doll."

wonbin . . .

nine times out of ten, wonbin is the last of you to apologize after a disagreement. but he is far from remorseless. he's not ashamed of apologizing or thinks he's free of any wrong: he's simply afraid to face you. after every argument, wonbin is terribly paranoid of making things worse. he can't live with himself knowing how badly he's hurt you or how much he's ruined for you. so he hides in fear of hurting you again.

but this time, he couldn't. he regrets not walking you home that night or even kissing you goodnight. he knows he overreacted; he's completely aware of his mistake. he's just too afraid of facing you knowing how much he hurt you. he'd been planning on going to your house with all your favorite snacks, hugging your pain away. he'd gone shopping for sweet treats he knew you'd love and even spent hours browsing jewelry stores for a pretty bracelet to gift you. yet all of this effort was spent just for his plans to be foiled.

the night he decided to surprise you, he spent hours preparing a pretty gift basket of everything he'd bought you. all of those little gifts displayed in a pretty pink basket with silk bows tied around every item; everything was perfect. but as he picked up the basket and turned to deliver it, the bedroom door creaked open. there you stood, dumbfounded with your eyes on the huge gift basket. wonbin was speechless. all he could do was stare at you with nervous doe eyes, waiting for a response. you let out an amused chuckle as you pulled out a white gift bag from behind your back. wonbin's anxiety melted in an instant. his eyes lit up and he hesitantly took the bag from your hands. "what's this for, baby..?" he asked with a glint of guilt in his eyes. you looked down at the bag and murmured, "i'm sorry for what happened the other day. i didn't mean to make you so upset." wonbin's heart shattered into a million pieces seeing your defeated demeanor. he dropped everything and took you into his embrace, cradling you against him and stroking your hair. "why are you sorry, baby? i had no reason to yell at you, i don't know what came over me. it's all my fault for being so miserable. i'm sorry for ruining things for you, y/n." you began to feel much lighter, finally being able to face wonbin without feeling guilty. you hug him tighter, cooing, "i forgive you, baby." though he should feel relieved, he pouted and whined, "i was supposed to apologize first! i prepared this whole apology gift just for you to come out of nowhere and spoil my entire plan! you even have a better gift than mine!" you sighed and shut up your whiny boyfriend with a quick kiss on the lips. "you win, okay? your gift is perfect, thank you my love~" your heart grew warm feeling all of the tension and gloom leave wonbin once he heard your reassurance. you'll always be his solace <3

seunghan . . .

a few days passed since you'd voiced your discontent with seunghan's love bombing. you thought you'd fixed things, but a new problem inevitably arose: now, seunghan was only a shell of what he used to be. after that night, seunghan became noticably less affectionate. he'd hesitate to hold your hand while you walked beside each other, and he'd take a while to give in and rest his head on your chest while you watched your show together. he was scared of hurting you. seunghan's heart was torn to shreds after learning he'd only been hurting you by doing what he thought was fixing the problem. though he'd taken your advice and began communicating rather than suppressing your issues with affection, things didn't feel right.

you didn't take the massive shift in seunghan's personality well. you wanted to tell him that it was okay to be affectionate, but you wanted to avoid being so overbearing when it comes to how he treats you. after all, your boyfriend is the sweetest boy in the world and you wouldn't change him for the world. it was all becoming too much. you were beating yourself up for criticizing him in the first place, blaming yourself for the intense decline in his happiness. you sat on your bed with your legs pressed against your chest, hiding your face in your knees. your guilt began exhuming from your body through tears.

as soon as seunghan heard your sniffles, he dropped everything and rushed to you. his heart stopped once he saw your frail state. he sat in front of you, mind racing trying to find a way to approach you. you looked up at seunghan and panic began settling in his mind. he stood frozen, helplessly staring into your teary eyes. "is... there something wrong?" you were stunned by his lack of reassurance. at times like this, he would have already scooped you into his arms and cradled you until the tears stopped. you'd finally been hit with the fact that you'd hurt seunghan so deeply. your head hung low as your soft sobs turned to heavy wails. his desire to hold you was growing stronger and stronger, but he wanted to show you how much he's improved for your sake. but it all became meaningless once you cried, "i miss you, seunghan." seunghan's eyes watered as he hesitantly moved beside you, delicately pulling you towards his chest. "i'm so sorry... i'm so sorry for changing you this much. i shouldn't have said anything, i should've kept quiet. i... i hurt you so much and i hate myself for it. i miss you, love." seunghan couldn't contain his tears hearing your frantic apologies. his tears dripped onto your sweater as he pulled you closer into a sincere hug. "never apologize for wanting better, y/n. i should be the one apologizing. i'm so sorry for hurting you. i'm so proud of you for trying to resolve things with me, i know it must've been hard. i'm gonna do my best to be a better man to you no matter how unbearable it is. you deserve the world, angel." your heart only grew heavier and heavier with every word that left his lips. you looked up at him with tears streaming down your face and attested, "no i don't, seunghan. it was so selfish of me to change you for my own comfort. you're the sweetest boy in the world and you were already perfect before i messed things up. i just miss my happy seunghan. i miss your hugs and your cuddles. i don't want you to be so anxious all the time because of me. i want you to be yourself again." seunghan wiped his tears before gently wiping yours. "but i'm always happy when you're around, angel. quit being so hard on yourself. i love you just as much as i did before, and nothing will change that. i'll cuddle you just as much as you want me to, alright? there's no need to cry, my love." you laughed and wrapped your arms around his waist. the world felt so much brighter now that his smile returned.

sohee . . .

the distance between you and sohee had only worsened your stress. you thought maybe having more alone time would help you focus on school and prepare you for the upcoming exams, but you were mistaken. all you could think of was sohee. you missed him so dearly that it overshadowed every single one of your tasks. you wanted him to come back so you could cuddle him and shower him with all of the attention he could ask for, but you knew the damage was done and he was upset with you. so you kept quiet.

that was until your doorbell rang. you sprung up from your desk and ran over to the front door hoping it was sohee, but to your dismay, it wasn't. "hello! delivery for y/n?" it was a food delivery from your favorite restaurant. you tilted your head. "i didn't order anything...?" the deliveryman looked down at the bag and read out the address to you, coincidentally matching yours. you hesitantly took the bag from him and bid him a good night. you opened the bag to be greeted by a small receipt. your eyes lit up as you read through the faded ink letters; "i haven't been there to make sure you're eating, so i figured i'd send you a meal. i hope this lifts your spirits and motivates you to push through your exams! you better keep your promise and invite me over once your exams are over! -lee sohee." you were finally able to smile once you saw his name at the bottom of the receipt. you ran to grab your phone and immediately called him. "y/n?" "come over right now." "but y-" "bring your pajamas."

you impatiently sat at the table staring at the receipt waiting for sohee to arrive. once the front door opened, sohee was startled with a tight hug from you. his body lost its tension and he smiled, holding you close and breathing in your scent. "thank you, sohee. you're the sweetest~" sohee laughed and stood up taller. "it was cool, right? i called the restaurant and was all cool asking them 'relay this message for my girlfriend.' aren't i the coolest boyfriend for that?!" you laughed and left a peck on sohee's lips. his flaunty demeanor melted and his cheeks flushed pink. "yes sohee, you're so cool. come eat with me!" the two of you shared the meal while watching naruto together, you finally getting some time away from your textbook. sohee was over the moon now that he'd gotten some of your attention. the two of you changed into your pajamas and completed your lengthy night routine before slipping under the covers and settling down for the night. you turned to face sohee and he nervously looked at your arms. "y/n, i'm... i'm sorry for how i acted the other day. you were already going through so much and i'm sure getting yelled at didn't help much. i... i think i just missed you too much." your eyes softened and you placed your hand on his cheek, your thumb gently brushing over his skin. "my sohee... :( it's okay, i understand why you were so upset. i'm sorry for neglecting you, i promise i'll make up for it. we can cuddle all night and we can even play video games tomorrow. how does that sound?" sohee's eyes lit up and he nodded with a huge smile plastered on his face. you laughed and left a kiss on his nose. turns out sohee was all you needed to escape all of your stress <3

anton . . .

anton can't last a day without you. you were surprised to still receive hourly texts from him after how you treated him last night. your heart broke seeing him act like everything was normal while he was still hurt from how you spoke to him. you kept texting him 'i love you's to console his worries, but you knew that wouldn't be enough. so you invited him over.

the second he walked through the door, his sorrow was evident. his smile was weaker than usual and his eyes had this emptiness to them. even his hug felt weaker than before. you held his hand and lead him to your bedroom, where his eyes would light up and his smile would grow. you had set up this giant pillow fort in your bedroom and decorated it with pretty fairy lights and teddy bears. "what's this..?!" anton laughed, covering his mouth with his free hand. "surprise slumber party! come inside!" anton was astonished by the integrity of the fort and the amount of teddy bears and snacks that were hidden inside. "this is so cool!" he cheered, looking around with doe eyes. you laughed and pulled him down, trapping him in your arms. you peppered his face with hundreds of kisses while he giggled and squirmed. "stop it, it tickles!" you left one final kiss on his lips and moved back to meet his eyes. "i missed you, anton." his eyes softened and he smiled. "i missed you more, love." you brushed his hair back and gently ran your fingers through it. you took a deep breath before letting your thoughts roam free. "i'm sorry for yelling at you yesterday, baby. i was overwhelmed and i didn't mean to take it out on you. i wanted to surprise you as a way to make it up to you. i promise i won't forget to say i love you ever again, okay?" anton laughed and rested his hands on your waist. "that's what this is all about? gosh, you're the cutest. it's alright, i'm not upset with you. i understand why you were so frustrated. i'll work harder to make you feel appreciated. trust me y/n, nothing you do for me goes unrecognized. i love you so so much, my love." you cupped his face in your palms and left a tender kiss on his lips. "i won't let you forget how much i love you ever again." for the rest of the night, your clingy boyfriend would be stuck to you like glue. and of course, you wouldn't forget to whisper an "i love you" before kissing him goodnight.

—

a/n: the happy ending! i didn't expect my first angst to get so many interactions, i was using all of my brainpower to push this out for you guys lmao!! thank you sm for loving part one so much and i'm sorry to everyone i've hurt </3 i hope this makes up for it! i also got a bit carried away with seunghan's part... i just miss him sm i am so sorry my friends

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wonkibrainrot · 6 days ago

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x0llaz · 10 months ago

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From the start ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

Anton x fem!reader

Wc:4644

friends to lovers, angst, eventual fluff, mutual pining, Anton is kinda stupid whoops

synopsis: after years of loving her best friend, YN just can’t take another heartbreak from him. Anton soon realizes that he feels more for his friend than he initially thought. ౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

There was something so heart pounding about falling for your best friend. The moment you feel the butterflies, you know you’re in for trouble. Reading into the smallest actions, wondering what everything means.

But there’s something so heartbreaking when they don’t feel the same.

YN met Anton when she was eight. They were playing at the same playground, and YN had gotten her stuffed cat stolen by some older kids. Naturally, the girl Cried. Maybe ten minutes later, someone tapped on her shoulder. She looked up, big eyes glossy and red with tears, and saw a boy standing above her, holding her plushie. She looked up at him, lip quivering, taking her plushie. He had gotten it back for her. She got to her feet and threw her arms around the boy, sobbing out her thanks as she hugged him tightly.

From that day forward, the two were inseparable, two best friends, their bond went beyond the playground and a plushie. The two balanced each other out, Anton’s quiet nature paired with YN’s energy made the two the perfect pair. They were each other’s missing half.

They grew up together, having playdates and sleepovers, getting to know the other through their years together. They went through their firsts together, played at recess together everyday and walked home together after each day of school. The two were as close as they could be, joined at the hip since that fateful day at the playground.

At some point, YN’s feelings grew as both of them grew up. She realized how happy she was when anton was around, how her cheeks would warm when he’d look her way, how handsome he looked when he wasn’t even trying.

YN realized she liked anton in 7th Grade. Middle school hormones running wild, she still liked him. So when she was in eighth grade, she told him.

“Anton,” she took in a breath. “I like you, a lot,” She stuttered but Continued. “I don’t want to lose what we have, but I can’t pretend I don’t feel anything for you,”

And that same day, YN experienced her first Heartbreak.

“I don;t feel the same, I’m sorry.” He apologized and watched his friend look down. “But I do care about you. We can still be friends, right?”

YN gulped back tears that threatened to spill and agreed, letting Anton walk her home before letting her tears fall. She said a brief goodbye, and practically rushed up the stairs into her room, sobbing until her parents called her down for dinner. Regardless of what Anton wanted, she knew things would never be the same. But for his sake, she’d pretend to be okay.

It had been for years.

Their friendship continued, and though YN tried letting her feelings go, she found she was still head over heels for her best friend. Yet he never felt the same, never looked her way. There were times she thought he may feel the same as she did, but just when her hopes got up, he shut them down.

When he had another girlfriend, or had his heart broken, he went to her. He’d hold her close when he needed comfort, let all his emotions go in her arms. But when he got over the heartbreak, and found a new girlfriend, he’d shut her out. Dry responses, rare hangouts, and walks home filled with silence.

When he would finally hang out with her, he’d tell her how much he loved the girl he was seeing. Or he’d cry about hw heartbroken he was that his relationship ended. She was the one he went to, the one he trusted enough to be vulnerable with.

But YN didn’t know how many more girls she could hear about without crying. How many more times could she listen to Anton profess his love for another girl he’d break up with in a couple months? How many more of his heartbreaks could she listen to him lament.

One day, the two of them were sitting in Anton’s room, YN laying back on his pillows while Anton sat on the foot of his bed, texting someone. They’d been sitting in silence for a good ten minutes. YN was beginning to feel fed up, being invited over to sit in silence.

“Did you invite me over just to text your girlfriend the whole time?” YN asked. She hadn’t been around Anton much since he made it official with his new girlfriend, wanting to respect their relationship. But Anton insisted he come over this weekend, saying he wanted to spend time with her.

Anton blinked and then scooted to lay next to her. He wrapped his arms around her, hands resting on the skin of her waist while his head laid on her chest. YN hated how much comfort she got from this. She knew he shouldn’t be that close.

“Toni, you can’t do this. You have a girlfriend,” she reminded him, ruffling his hair lightly.

Anton hummed for a moment. “We broke up,” he mumbled, arms tight around her waist, breathing in deeply.

There it was. YN went still. SHe moved her hand from his hair, sighing as she laid flat on his bed, going silent in response to what Anton just said.

“What’s wrong?” anton asked, letting go of her and propping himself up to look at her. He saw her expression, unreadable, foreign to anything he’d seen from her before. He usually could read YN like a book, she was his best friend, he could tell what she was thinking. But at that moment, he was lost.

“Nothing,” YN sighed and sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. She didn’t look at him, fiddling with the hem of her shirt instead.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Anton pressed. “Come on, just tell me,”

Yn turned to him, debating her words. Though part other wanted to salvage the relationship she knew would probably end eventually, the stronger part wanted to finally say her mind.

“How many times are you going to come to me about your heartbreaks?” she asked, voice quiet.

Anton looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?” he tilted his head, not knowing where this was suddenly coming from.

“I mean that’s all I’ve been good for,” she sighed. “You get a new girlfriend you ignore me for a few months until you break up and need someone to cry to. You just come around when you need comfort,”

“No, I don’t,” Anton sat up. “It’s not like that, YN,”

“Then what is it like?” she asked. “You only come around when you need me to comfort you, or when you find another girl, and you just have to tell me about how much you like her and how you just get butterflies thinking about her!”

“As my best friend, you should be happy for me! You should listen to my feelings, you should be there when I need you!” Anton scoffed, feeling defensive of his actions. There was no way she could be serious.

“Yeah and as someone who’s been in love with you since seventh grade, I don’t want to hear you talk about how much you love another girl, how you found your new soulmate, blah blah blah. I don’t want to hear you talk about how much your heart hurts when you broke mine!”

There was silence. YN didn’t register her words until anton spoke.

“You’re in love with me?” he asked and YN stood up, needing to leave.

“I’m gonna go home,” SHe muttered stumbling a bit as she grabbed her hoodie, quickly putting it on.

“YN, no, wait, let’s talk, please,” Anton got up, walking towards the door to stop her from leaving.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” YN muttered, voice heavy, tears falling before she could stop them. “Please get out of my way, anton,” she didn’t dare look up at him.

“No, yn please, talk to me-” he felt her push past him, hurrying downstairs to get her shows on. He followed hopelessly. “Please, come on, just talk to me!”

He heard the slam shut, and ran to the window, watching as his best friend stormed away.

He texted her for the whole week after, blowing up her phone with texts asking to please talk, missed calls and voicemails of him saying he missed her and wanted to talk things out. He even emailed her a few times for good measure, but got no response.

A week later she finally answered his texts. They agreed to meet at a park- the park they first met at. Anton was nervous. What would he say to her? What would she say to him? How were they going to recover from this?

She sat on the swingset, hair loose around her shoulders, feet dragging against the mulch. He called her name as he approached, and watched as she looked up at him. She stood up, and he could tell the breath she took in was shaky.

“I’m sorry for getting upset,” she said first. “I was frustrated.” her voice was soft, almost inaudible.

“I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t important to me. It was shitty for me to use you.” Anton admitted. “I want you to know, I really value our friendship, you mean the world to me,” he gave her a gentle smile.

YN felt her heart shatter, his words crumbling the little hope she had left. There was silence between them, anton looked down at her. YN knew what was about to happen.

“Just get it over with,” she looked past him, breathing deeply.

Anton bit his lip. “I’m sorry, I just… don’t feel that for you,” he told her. “But I want us to be friends- i’ll be better I swear, nothing will change between us-”

“No.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” YN had tears in her eyes. “I tried, anton, I really tried, but I just can’t,”

Anton shook his head softly. “No, YN, please,” He took her hands in his, kneeling down to try and get her to look at him. “Don’t do this, you’re my best friend,”

YN pulled her hands away, shaking her head. “It’s not fair to either of us,” she wiped her tears with her sleeve. “I’m sorry-“

Anton grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving again. He wrapped his arms around her, not wanting to let her go.

“Please YN we can figure it out, don’t-“

“Let go of me Anton,” she said through her tears.

He pulled away slightly, holding her face in his palms, eyes pleading her to stay. She brought up her shaky hands and pulled his away.

“Let me go, Anton,” her tears ran down her cheeks, stepping back away from Anton before turning around, and went away, not looking back as Anton stood there, tears in his eyes, waiting for her to come back.

A month passed and Anton held onto the hope his best friend would come back. In the halls he’d wait near her locker, trail behind her in hopes she’d turn around and see him. But she never did.

She was absent for a week after their last meeting. When she came back, Anton felt like she never saw him. She looked past him when he was nearby while his eyes would linger on her. She’d ignore his many texts and calls. When he’d try and talk to her after class, she’d just brush past him before he could get a word in. It was like she forgot him.

One day, he saw her with seunghan, walking down the halls happily. He watched her laugh at his jokes, and saw the bright smile on her face that he hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. The smile he would do anything to see again. The smile she used to give him everyday, that was now being made at seunghan and not him. He felt something pang inside him.

He felt… jealous? There was no way he was jealous. Maybe a little. Maybe he just missed her. That could justify why he felt this way, why he wanted so desperately to whisk her away and hold her close once more, bring her back to him, be the girl he always knew.

Anton sat with his friends, poking at his food while staring across the room at YN, who was eating with seunghan, laughing like they used to when they were together. His friends noticed his demeanor, how his gaze was fixed across the room at YN, how his brows furrowed more and more as she and seunghan got closer.

“Anton,” Sohee called his name and snapped Anton out of his daze. He looked over at the older boy. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Anton looked down. “Just thinking” his gaze went back up to YN, looking happier than she looked in a while. Anton hated it.

Probably the worst thing about this was how close the two lived. They grew up in the same neighborhood, lived a few blocks away. Anton would always walk YN home, sometimes coming inside for a snack or staying for dinner. Now they always walked an awkward distance apart, silence thick between them.

His friends went home with him, they agreed to play some video games before, and just wanted to hang out with Anton, who had seemed out of it for a long while. Anton had one earbud in, listening to his friends ramble. He noticed YN wasn’t in front of him as usual, and began wondering where she was.

Anton realized how his friends went quiet, and then heard her laugh. The sweet laugh he loved so much. He turned, and saw her walking with seunghan, who carried her bag for her. He’d normally look away, resign to their broken friendship, but this time he couldn’t, not bothering to hide his gaze as she passed.

He felt it again. That feeling in his chest boiling up as she and seunghan walked ahead of him and his group. He felt his jaw tighten, clenching his teeth together and watched as Seunghan walked YN to her door, ruffling her hair lightly before bidding her goodbye.

When they got to his house, Anton slumped onto the couch, resting against the cushions, not knowing what to do with this odd feeling. Even as his friends began playing their games, relaxing and having fun, anton felt his heart pang against his chest, a pain erupting from the part of him that couldn’t let YN go.

“Anton?”

“Yeah?”

“You look pretty out of it. You okay?” Wonbin asked, head hanging off the couch.

There was a beat of silence before anton answered.

“I don’t like that seunghan guy,” anton sighed. He didn’t know why, he had no reasonable reason.

“Why? He’s actually really nice,” sohee told him, confused why anton didn’t like the boy.

“I just get a bad vibe from him,” anton explained, not noticing the looks his friends gave each other. They knew his reasoning was bullshit, so it was time they point it out to him.

“Or Do you just not like that he’s been hanging out with YN a lot?” Sohee asked, and watched as anton’s ears grew red, jaw dropping slightly, trying to laugh off the accusation.

“What? No! Maybe a little but-” he paused, putting his head in his palms as he sighed. “Why did she have to leave me?”

“It wasn’t good for her to stay,” Sohee shrugged. “She was valid in her feelings, you know,”

“Yeah, but i wanted to fix things. We shouldn’t have ended things like that, we should still be friends,” Anton thought of the last time they spoke, how she left before he could beg her to stay.

“I think you’ll just need to let go,” Wonbin suggested gently.

“I don’t want to let go,” Anton shook his head like a petulant child. “SHe’s my best friend, i can’t lose her, I can’t let her go,”

“Anton-”

“And now there’s another guy with her, who’s in the place I used to be. He’s with my best friend, laughing and getting close with MY YN, while i’m here wishing she’d come back!” anton was flustered as he spoke, his friends coming to a realization he hadn’t come to himself.

“Anton, do you like-like YN?” sungchan asked and Anton furrowed his brows.

“No! I’m just… upset because she’s my best friend and now I've been replaced with some guy!” he tried to explain, cheeks getting slightly pink at the thought. “Oh you’re in love with her!” Sohee laughed, and Anton shook his head frantically.

“No I’m not! If I was, we wouldn’t be having this problem. I’m just upset, okay?” He got defensive, trying to brush off Sohee’s words.

“No, Anton, you really like her. And you’re jealous that she moved on and you’re still hung up on her,” Sohee raised his eyebrows, trying to convince Anton of his own feelings.

“Oh my god, no, I'm not in love with her! Of course I’m upset about this, I’ve known her for ten years. It’s nothing more than that, so drop it!” Anton raised his voice more than intended. Sohee only smirked at the younger.

“Okay anton, just let me know when you figure it out,” he sighed.

The rest of their visit, Anton sat in silence, mulling over everything in his mind. When his friends left, he went to his room to stare up at the ceiling. He replayed every word Sohee said. He remembered YN’s words when she ended their friendship. His head began spinning.

He remembered the day they met, her big eyes looking up at him, how he ignored the butterflies when she threw her arms around him, how he savored the scent of her shampoo. That was the first time he felt it, the first time something in his heart panged.

He remembered the day she first confessed, how her cheeks got pink and voice shook a bit. He always tried to ignore how his mind raced with the idea of them being more than friends. Anton never would admit to himself how he wanted to say yes, to be her lame middle school boyfriend.

He remembered her most recent confession, how his heart panged once more. She took him by surprise, made his head swirl with his past childish thoughts how after she left he weighed all possible answers, everything he could say to make her stay.

He thought about his words the last time they spoke, how he was so sure he felt nothing romantic for his best friend, though now his resolve was breaking.

He remembered all the times she’d hold him, how warm her embrace was, and how she’d play with his hair while he breathed her in. he remembered the times they’d stay up too late laughing about stupid things, how she’d do his skincare and make him wear a fluffy hello kitty headband to match hers. He remembered how pretty she looked all the time, how there would eb times he genuinely couldn’t think straight when she was with him.

Then it hit him. Sohee was right, Anton was jealous, because the girl he denied his love for was now gone, and with another man. He now let himself admit what he’d been suppressing, what he was so scared would ruin their friendship. He had been in love with YN since they were little kids, since the moment she hugged him.

He would do anything to get her back.

The next week, anton tried everything to get her back. He would wait by her locker, sat next to her in classes, bought her chocolate milk and left it on her lunch table with a note on it.

Each time, she’d ignore his advances. Seunghan would come to her locker with her, reaching for what she needed before handing it over to her, YN never had to look at him. In class she’d scoot further away from anton and crumple up the notes he’d slide over to her, and ignore when he’d poke her arm. When he left chocolate milk for her, she’d rip off the note, crumple it up and throw it away, and give the drink to another friend.

Anton still refused to give up. He knew he’d have to step it up.

The rain pounded against the window, YN sat on her bed, listening to the storm outside. She was coming to peace with what was going on, though she couldn’t deny her heart still pounded when she thought about her time with Anton. She did her best to ignore the boy who stole her heart, but it got increasingly difficult when he was annoyingly persistent.

She heard a light knock at her door and furrowed her brows, standing up and opening the door to see who it was. There he stood, tall figure looking down at her, hair soaked from rain, and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. She stood in silence, trying to process the sight in front of her.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, looking up at him while trying to keep her

emotions in order.

“I uh, wanted to talk,” He cleared his throat, pushing the bouquet forward a little more.

YN just sighed. “What part of not wanting to talk do you not get?” she asked, propping the door open a bit more, walking back in and grabbing a towel. Anton took this as a silent affirmation to walk in.

He took the towel and dried off his hair, sitting down on the bed while YN sat on her desk, studying him. Her heart pounded as she looked at him, she tried to ignore it, push down how much she wanted to just throw her arms around him. She couldn’t, not after what they went through. She had to be strong.

“Are you here to talk, or just sit on my bed in silence?” She asked, frowning a little. “If you’re not gonna say anything to me then just go home-” “I’m in love with you,” Anton blurted out.

YN went still. She felt her heart pounding even harder, felt the heat rush to her cheeks as she attempted to process his words.

“What?”

“I’m in love with you, YN, and it’s driving me insane,” he sighed, looking up at her hopefully.

She shook her head. “No,”

“No?”

“You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to pull the ‘i love you’ card. Not now, not after everything.” She looked down at the ground.

Anton stood up from her bed. “I know,” he whispered, taking a step toward her. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you sooner, i shouldn’t have pushed you away,”

YN didn’t respond and Anton took another step towards her. He pushed a strand of her hair away from her face, gently bringing his hand to tilt her head up to face him. He looked at her for a moment, fingers playing with her hair idly before speaking again.

“I think I was scared,” He sighed. “I got caught up in the What-ifs of what would happen if something went wrong. I didn’t want to lose what we had, and I ended up losing you anyway. I realized I loved you too late. I never meant to hurt you, I swear,”

YN folded her arms, moving her head out of his grip. “You can’t justify using me for your comfort, anton,” She reminded him, and Anton nodded.

“I know, I was selfish, and wrong, and I’m so sorry,” He apologized once more, moving her cheek lightly to get her to look at him again. She slipped away from him, pushing his chest lightly as she went to sit on her bed. Anton followed, crouching down, eyes begging for her to look at him. “Let me make this right,” he gently held her hand. “I’ll do anything to get you back, please, don’t shut me out,”

YN Scoffed a bit, trying to look away, but he brought her back to look at him once more, eyes pleading as they looked into hers. She sighed, shaking her head a bit.

“How could I trust you?” Her voice shook. “How do I know I won’t regret letting you back in? How will I know you won’t break my heart again?” anton saw tears well in her eyes, and he moved to sit on the bed. He took her hands gently, moving so they’d face each other as they sat.

“Because now I know I was wrong, and I won’t let that happen to us again,” He brushed his thumb against her knuckles gently. “I swear,”

He didn’t get a response, and when YN looked down at her lap, he decided he’d let her. And he would just speak his mind.

“I’m so in love with you,” he laughed a bit, and YN glanced up. “And it’s driving me crazy. I fucked up, and I can’t stop regretting what happened, I can’t stop wanting to make things right. I can’t stop wanting you,”

YN looked at him, resolve slowly breaking as his eyes stared into hers. Every emotion she tried to keep down was rising through her system. She felt warm, unable to ignore the effect anton had on her, his words being all she ever wanted to hear him say. There was silence between them, something unspoken.

She felt him brush her hair behind her ear and brought in a quiet breath, watching as he gazed softly at her. He began to lean towards her, slowly, giving her the time to push him away. But she stayed still. So he continued. Their noses brushed against each other, lightly grazing each others skin as YN let out the breath she was holding in. Then she felt his lips press against hers, soft, gentle, as if anything more could break them.

Their kiss was quick, both of them pulling away to take in breaths through their shock. When Anton saw YN’s expression, he wasted no time, pulling her back in closer. YN’s hands rested on his chest as Anton deepen the kiss, shifting more towards her, pulling her in more and resting one hand on her waist, the other in her hair. YN pulled him in more, one arm resting around his neck as she kissed him, letting go of whatever was holding her back.

“Let me take you on a date,” He muttered between kisses, hands massaging her skin. “Let me try again,”

“Okay,” YN agreed with a smile, feeling his lips trail across her skin, kissing her jaw too. “But we should still talk more about-” her thoughts trailed off as they continued kissing.

Anton grinned. “Tomorrow,” he just wanted to enjoy the moment. And to kiss her more. “I tried to be all romantic, you know,” he pressed a kiss to her neck. “My mom even helped me pick out flowers,” he moved up to her lips. “I was prepared to get on my knees and beg,”

YN pulled away, laughing at the thought of the tall boy on his knees begging for forgiveness. She looked at him, his shoulders heaving, trying to catch his breath, hair messy. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to lay on her bed with her, anton quickly moved his arms around her, resting his cheek on her head.

“You should stay,” YN requested. “I missed you more than I let on,”

“Oh thank god,” Anton grinned. “I was worried you actually hated my guts,”

“I tried my hardest,” she smiled up at him.

The two Spent their time together snuggled up close, anton not willing to let her go further than an arms length away. They fell into a peaceful sleep, together at last, no regrets to keep them awake any longer. ౨ৎ

the next week, they walked around school together, holding hands and smiling, back to a new normal. Anton didn’t have to tell his friends anything, they figured it out. sohee and seunghan watched them from their table, laughing about everything. Unbeknownst to Anton and YN, they had a little bet that they’d be back together. Sohee actually never thought it would happen, but seunghan knew better.

“Ten dollars,” seunghan held out his hand.

“yeah yeah, whatever,” sohee grumbled defeated. Why did he have to be so good at using common sense?

౨ৎ LETS GOOOO ANTON ONESHOT!!! Lmk if u wanna be added to my new taglist!!! You’ll get to know all I do going forward!!

taglist: @oftenjisung , @vhuteryh , @skzhoe4life , @cheederzchez

#gyuvxx⭐️#riize #anton x reader #anton lee #lee anton #anton imagines #anton fluff #riize anton #riize imagines #anton oneshot #oneshot #riize x reader #fluff #angst #anton fic #anton angst #lee chanyoung #riize chanyoung #riize fluff

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