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at the beginning of your relationship with anton, he felt completely enchanted—but also confused.
at first, it was hard for you.
much harder than you would’ve liked to admit.
when anton hugged you, your shoulders tensed almost instinctively.
not because you didn’t like it—quite the opposite—but because something inside you was triggered with a silent alarm. as if sudden affection were a luxury you didn’t know how to handle. you were afraid of giving too much, only to be left without it later. fearful of getting used to his warmth and waking up one day to find it gone.
and that kept you in a constant contradiction: wanting to be close, but fearing you wouldn’t know how.
you wanted to reach for his hand, but your fingers stayed still.
you wanted to say “i miss you” many times, but swallowed the words before they reached your lips.
there were days when you’d just think: what if i push him away because i don’t know how to love him the way he deserves?
but you tried.
slowly.
even if it didn’t always show.
even if no one else understood.
every small sign of affection was a battle won against your own fears. and somehow, anton knew. that’s why he never pressured you. he just waited. with a patience that sometimes broke you, because you couldn’t understand how someone could love you without rushing you.
he wanted everything with you, but there were moments when his hands turned cold, when he felt you pull away ever so slightly, like you didn’t know how to express love the way he felt it.
you’d been dating for almost two months. although your time together was sweet, anton was starting to feel a silent pressure he didn’t know how to let go of.
so one night, while rehearsing with the guys, he was quieter than usual. it was sohee who broke the silence:
"what’s wrong, anton?"
and after a sigh, he replied:
"it’s nothing serious. i just… feel weird. sometimes i wonder if i’m doing something wrong. i know she cares about me, i do… but there’s something that never fully comes out. like she’s holding back. like she’s scared to give me more."
and one by one, the boys started backing him up.
"that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you, bro. maybe it’s just her way of protecting herself. i know her, you just need to give her time," Sungchan said, throwing an arm around Anton’s shoulders.
"love doesn’t always look the same. but if you can see she’s trying, even just a little… then it’s there," shotaro added while opening a bottle of water.
"talk to her. don’t bottle it up. you don’t have to carry it alone. she might surprise you too," wonbin nodded, serious but sincere.
and that conversation didn't leave his head for a long time.
days later, you were at his house again, helping him organize some things in his room. you were laughing as you found one of his childhood drawings, and he smiled too.
"was this supposed to be a three-legged octopus?" you asked with a breathy laugh, holding up the crumpled-edge drawing.
anton chuckled softly, the kind of laugh that’s with you, but also a little lost in thought.
"that was actually a dinosaur..." he said, scratching the back of his neck.
you moved closer to show him, and as you did, he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear with such gentleness it left you speechless for a second. the kind of gesture that doesn’t say much, but says everything.
but deep down, something was keeping him distant. quieter than usual. every now and then he’d glance at you—then look away right after.
you noticed.
"are you okay?" you asked as you sat on his bed.
anton stood there silently for a moment, hands in his pockets.
"yeah… just tired, i guess."
but you knew him. you knew that wasn’t it.
"is that really it?" you insisted.
he took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair, and sat beside you, still not looking at you.
"i don’t want to sound like an idiot, but... sometimes i feel like i’m holding back all the time," his voice was low, honest "i want to hug you without overthinking. to kiss you without wondering if it’s the right moment. to touch your cheek or hold your hand without second-guessing if you’ll pull away a little..."
you looked at him silently, your heart aching. he finally met your eyes—and in them, there was affection… but also vulnerability.
"i promised myself i’d be patient. and i’m trying, i really am. but it’s hard. it’s hard not to feel insecure sometimes. you make me happy, but i feel like i’m walking on glass. like one wrong step could make you pull away from me."
you swallowed hard, leaning a little closer.
"anton… i don’t want you to feel that way. it’s not your fault. i... i’m learning how to trust. not you—but that i deserve this. that you won’t hurt me. but i swear, i don’t want you to feel like this."
he looked at you silently, jaw clenched like he was holding something in. then he whispered:
"i don’t mind that it takes time… but it hurts to feel like maybe i don’t make you feel safe enough."
that broke you.
you moved closer, took his hand in both of yours, and placed it over your chest—right above your heart. and as he felt your warmth there, he let out the tiniest sigh, like that one gesture calmed him more than a thousand words.
"you’re right here all the time. even if i’m scared to say it out loud."
anton lowered his gaze, then found your eyes again. and in the softest voice, with an almost invisible tremble:
"sometimes i wonder if you know how much i love you… or if i’m just screaming in a language you don’t quite understand yet."
your lips parted in surprise, your eyes beginning to water.
"i’m trying, anton. every day… i’m just afraid i’ll get used to your tenderness and then lose it."
"that’ll never happen. just… promise me you won’t leave me guessing all the time. even if it’s silent—let me know you love me. that you’re here."
you nodded, softly.
"i promise, anton."
he rested his forehead against yours.
silence.
a suspended space where only your breaths and unsaid words existed. then he whispered:
"thank you for trying. teally."
and even if you still weren’t ready to be overly expressive, you kissed him. slowly. a soft kiss—gentle, but intentional. as if saying without words: i don’t know how to do it all right yet, but i want to learn—with you.
and him… even if it still hurt a little, even if the insecurity didn’t completely vanish, he knew that your gesture was another step forward. for him. for both of you.
and that was enough.
a couple of weeks had passed since that conversation.
since then, anton noticed every detail.
that you didn’t hesitate as much to hug him.
that you looked for him more often.
that even in your silences, there was love.
and that day, you were walking together after dinner. you stayed outside talking, under a streetlamp, with that soft breeze messing up your hair a little.
anton held your hand, fingers interlaced and playing with yours. you weren’t talking about anything deep—just a movie you both wanted to see… but in the middle of the conversation, you suddenly said:
"you make me feel safe, you know?" he went quiet. that phrase—from you—meant the world. and you knew it.
so when you looked up and saw him looking at you like that… with that mix of tenderness, pride, and restrained desire… you smiled. anton stepped closer. his hands cupped your cheeks. and you didn’t pull away. you didn’t look down. you didn’t freeze.
you just looked at him—straight on. then hid your face in his chest, laughing softly, and he murmured: "you’re worth the wait. every time."
another time, anton was sitting in the living room with his guitar, you lying in front of him while he shared his progress with you, strumming absentmindedly... until he felt your arms around him from behind. you hugged his back, leaned your cheek against him and whispered:
"i’m really happy to be with you…"
he froze for a second. not because he didn’t want the moment—but because it was hard to process that you were now the one reaching out. that you were the one giving yourself without reservations.
he set the guitar aside. turned to face you, eyes filled with love, disbelief, and pride. he caressed your face and whispered: "you have no idea what this means to me…"
he kissed your forehead. then pulled you onto his lap, as if needing to hold you close. as if now he couldn’t quite believe it.
"i swear i feel like the luckiest guy in the world. not just because i’m with you—but because i got to see you bloom… to have your love like this, with no walls." and you, looking at him with tenderness, said: "thank you for not giving up when i was the most scared." and anton, voice cracking slightly, could only say: "i never would. never."
since then, whenever you went out with the boys, they started noticing too. they saw how you laughed more freely when you were with anton. how you finally hugged him first. how one day, without thinking, you reached for his hand.
every little moment was a victory they lived with him. every small step you took toward anton brought shared smiles and knowing glances among the boys. sometimes they’d even nudge him with a grin, like:
"did you see that? she’s breaking through the barrier." and Anton… he just watched them, nodding with that goofy, proud little smile. because yes, it was you. and even if at your own pace… you were getting closer.
until one day, at the end of a hangout with the boys, just as you were leaving, you turned back on your own and gave him a spontaneous kiss on the cheek. just you. on your own initiative.
and when you walked out, everyone screamed, hugged him, lifted him like he had just scored the goal of the century.
anton just laughed, covering his face, mumbling “stop it, stop it,” while his heart whispered: finally… she’s starting to let go of the fear.
later, coming back from lunch with the guys, you were in anton’s room. sitting on the floor, backs against the bed, sharing a little blanket he’d had since childhood —one of those with the frayed edges but still smelled like home.
it was raining gently outside, and there was a calm in the air that wrapped around you both, like the world had turned down its volume just to let you breathe.
he was drinking coffee. you, hot tea. your knees brushed against his every now and then, but you didn’t pull away anymore. you were talking about a strange dream you had —one with colorful birds and floating trains.
anton looked at you with that soft, tilted smile he only wore when you had him completely mesmerized without even trying. he listened like you were telling him the most important secret in the universe.
at some point, you paused. looked at him.
"hey…" you said softly.
anton raised his eyebrows, curious.
you set your cup aside, swallowed hard, and before you could overthink it, you moved closer. rested your head on his shoulder, and from there, you whispered:
"can i tell you something?"
"always."
"i don’t think i ever thought i’d be here. that i could feel so… at peace, so happy, just sitting next to someone. with you. it feels like there’s no rush. like everything’s okay even if i don’t say much. and that… makes me want to stay."
he didn’t say anything at first. he just took your hand, gently, and kissed it. then, pressing his forehead to yours, he whispered:
"stay as long as you want. i used to dream about this too."
you set your cup down on the nightstand and didn’t waste another second before melting your lips into anton’s.
he kissed you with so much intensity and love, like the whole world depended on not letting go of that moment.
"are you okay?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
you nodded, unable to speak. his eyes were shining—not just because of what had just happened, but because of what it meant. everything you had kept inside out of fear, everything you had held back because of pain, had crumbled with the first brush of his lips. and still, it felt… peaceful.
"anton…" you said, searching his eyes.
he swallowed hard, as if every part of him was struggling to stay steady.
"are you sure?"
you looked at him with the kind of honesty that only comes when nothing else matters anymore.
"yes. please… make me yours"
anton kissed you again, this time with more hunger, more restrained emotion. his hands slipped under the fabric of your coat, and you clung to his shirt, pulling him closer.
the kisses grew slower, deeper. breaths heavier. the barriers disappeared in soft touches at first—shy—then bolder, more desperate.
he gently laid you down on his bed, as if you were too delicate, never once breaking the kiss. your bodies spoke the same language, as if they had been waiting for this moment forever.
your hands tangled in his hair, and he let out a sigh against your lips when you felt his fingers brush the skin beneath your blouse.
"tell me if you want me to stop," he said again, his voice rough, his forehead resting against yours.
"don’t stop," you answered—without fear, without hesitation.
then Anton looked at you like you were the only person who had ever mattered. and with overwhelming patience, he began to undress you slowly, as if each layer was a shared secret, a promise to stay—even when it hurt.
the dim lights, the silence of the room, and the warmth of your bodies created a new kind of intimacy—one where there was no space for ghosts, only for the two of you.
and for the first time, your scars didn’t ache when they were touched.
your blouse fell to the floor unhurriedly, as if time itself had surrendered to you both. anton’s gaze never left you for a second. there was no lust in his eyes—there was something else… admiration. care.
"you’re shaking…" he murmured, tracing your collarbone with his fingers.
"so are you," you replied with a faint smile.
the warm lights in his room were soft, as if they, too, wanted to protect that moment. outside, the rain had begun to tap against the windows, creating a slow, intimate rhythm.
a melody that wrapped around you both.
anton lowered his head and kissed your neck, leaving wet caresses on your skin, soft at first... until his lips became more determined. each kiss was a confession he dared not say out loud.
your hands slipped under his shirt, pulling it up little by little. He took it off without breaking contact, letting your breaths mingle in the silence.
when you were both half-naked, you stood like that for a moment, facing each other, no longer touching. just looking at each other. as if seeing each other for real was also undressing.
anton kissed you again, this time deeper, more desperate. he held you by the waist and pulled you to him, until you felt every heartbeat, every breath. he moved down your body, leaving wet kisses on the exposed part of your breasts your bra didn't reach to cover, on your stomach, slowly descending, worshipping every corner as if it were sacred.
you moaned softly as you felt his mouth lower, and your thighs trembled at the contact with the warmth of his tongue. He paused for a second, looking up.
“are u all right, baby?” he whispered, brushing the tip of his nose against your wet folds.
you nodded with parted lips, cheeks burning.
“don't stop... please.”
and anton listened to you as if every word was a divine command. he started to eat you out, you with urgency, with devotion, with tenderness. his tongue moved with a perfect blend of slowness and pressure, as if he wanted to memorize every sound that escaped from your mouth.
your hips moved of their own accord, seeking him, yearning for more. one of your hands clung to the sheets, the other to his hair.
it wasn't long before you reached your peak of pleasure, releasing you and anton didn't hesitate to take it all as if he needed it to exist, causing you to be overstimulated.
“anton…” your broken voice made him raise his head, his breath hitching.
“toni...” your broken voice made him raise his head, his breath hitching.
“may i...?” he asked, brushing his cheek against yours.
"Yes... please. i want to feel you closer."
he kissed you as he positioned himself on top of you again, both of you still trembling. the first brush was slow, almost awkward from nerves. you pressed him tighter against you, moaning as you felt him enter you fully.
your bodies clicked together, as if they were made to meet like this. slow at first, as if each movement was a promise. then deeper, more urgent, as the breaths became gasps and the silence was filled with your names.
“don't look away," anton asked, his voice breaking. just look at me.
and you did, even as your body arched with pleasure, even as tears mingled with sweat and sighs.
because in that instant, between the trembling of your bodies and the rubbing of your souls, you knew each other more than two wounded people.
they recognized each other.
they chose each other.
they were love.
his forehead rested on yours, your breaths still uneven, his trembling hands on your waist.
and you stayed like that, no more words. because sometimes love didn’t need shouting or grand gestures. sometimes it only needed a rainy afternoon, two warm cups, and the kind of safe silence that blooms when someone finally feels… at home.