woneuntonzz - Tumblr blog

woneuntonzz · 29 days

Text

for the first time ˎˊ˗

📞 ; “It's not the piano we share the love for. It's the music, isn't it?”

𖹭 : childhood lover!anton x afab!reader

💭 It's just like seeing her for the first time again...

⤷ contains: fluff, pining, childhood lovers trope 🙈, humor (if

you squint ig??)

⤷ wc: 8k :3 (not proofread :0)

⤷ a songfic, inspired by:

-ˋˏ under the cut .ᐟ ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Not many wonder about what the world was like when the sky’s silent and pure black. It’s all at the top of our heads —the world’s asleep, at least, the part that’s bathing in darkness and the moonlight. But Anton wondered, he wondered what kind of dreams people slept with, what his tired uncle snores about at night.

He remembered being sat on the garage floor with his uncle who wore wounds and dark purple bruises all over his arms. A mechanic at work, and a magician at home. Anton was fascinated with how he could fix everything, everything but his aching heart.

Anton saw the way his uncle looked at the woman that lived across from their house. His uncle became a frequent visitor when their family moved to that neighborhood, and he thought it was because his uncle was just so fond of him. And while that’s a definite truth, he figured it must be because of that woman.

“Do you have a crush on her?” the innocent question fell off of Anton’s lips as he watched his uncle rummage through a box of equipment to give his dad’s car a fix.

“No.” his uncle laughed, and the poor boy wouldn’t be able to sense the hints of frailty in his tone. “How about you? I see you. You’re all eyes for their youngest.”

The youngest child of the family that lived across. Anton had always wanted to approach, but he would get startled the moment that pair of glittery eyes got to him. It made him quake in his heart, and every passing second he’d be feeling for his hair, to feel if it had jumped around making him look so foolish —no, not in front of you.

“She’s really pretty.” uttered through a grin, he starts fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.

“I bet she’s really nice too, like you. You should ask her to be your friend.” his uncle would keep his head under the hood of the car, still meddling with its insides. “Her mom is nice.”

Anton raised his brows as curiosity washed his face. “Is the woman her mom?” and to that his uncle could only nod, and along with his ashed face and wounds and dark purple bruises he wore a bittersweet smile. Anton had seen that smile so often that he thought it was just how he is.

It was at your eighth birthday party when Anton noticed how different his uncle smiled around your mother. And Anton would smile the same way when he would so shyly blurt out, “Happy birthday Y/n.” he felt his heart taking leaps that there were no stops in between his words, just flat but still all over the place. You served him a slice of your coral pink cake. But he could already taste the sugar from your smile alone.

He was forced in there. He would say forced because he had hinted frustration with the way he had dropped his back against the chair at dinner, but truly he was only anxious of meeting you, greeting you, seeing the silk ropes of your hair catching the harsh rays of the sun up close rather than from the window of his living room. He’d tell his uncle, but he was assured that it would all be fine, even if he himself was anxious to be accompanying his nephew to the birthday party being hosted by his greatest love.

Anton watched the adults from a distance, overlooking the inkling pining from his uncle’s actions. His uncle who had refused to see women because of work, not caring if people suspected him of not being into women at all. He valued his heart, yet had never taken care of it. It was not clear to Anton the words said that had left his uncle to lose the whim in him that night. Though, he was sure of one thing. He had got himself a friend.

He found out his friend played the piano, that’s why she had such pretty hands, and had as much passion as he did. He played the piano too. After he arrived from school in the afternoon, he got himself in more comfortable clothes, then he’d be shoving chicken, rice and some seasoned veggies in his mouth. He considered himself careful for not being scolded despite being in a rush. After that he started to walk to the door. It would take him twenty-seven steps. One. To open his door the same time you would. Two. He started to think about what to say. Six. And what not to say. Fourteen. He felt like his pulse was at the same rhythm as his steps. Twenty-seven. He finally opens the door.

He must’ve had godly intuition, or maybe it was fate doing its work. You both surprised each other, doors swiping open being met with the distant sight of each other. The distance was vast, but he could see such amazing and beautiful pictures in your eyes. Now he was about to take fifteen steps to you. He took notice of the way your hair waved back even if it wasn’t a windy day. And it was because you ran to him, your avidness showing through the grin you carried to him.

“Hi Anton!” he had never heard a voice so lively. Somehow it made him feel like he could do anything at that moment, free.

“Hello, Y/n.” his lips were pressed together as his voice started to falter.

He wanted to beat himself up for sounding so enfeebled and it was so not cool. But you giggled at his dainty utterance, and it was like having another slice of that coral pink cake, so sweet.

“How was school?” you had just gone from school too. You were attending a different school, but yours and his still held the same schedule it seems.

“It was okay.” he couldn’t admit that he felt like crying when he was taunted for being too quiet.

“Are you sure?” you followed the steps of your mother, to ask if they were sure if you weren’t so sure yourself.

He shrugs, and you could hear the bottom of his shoes grinding against the stray leaves on the ground from the old oak tree by your house. “I think the kids at school don’t like me.” for a second he thought he had said something wrong with the way your brows knitted from what he said, and so he’d speak again, “But maybe it’s just me. They were joking I think.”

“Well it’s a ridiculous joke. You’re literally so nice. You’re the nicest boy I know.” it was the facts speaking, considering every other boy in your life seemed to fall dumb with throwing balls around and sipping unpalatable liquid while watching other people throwing balls around.

Being the nicest boy in your life would be the bourne of Anton’s living moments for as long as he could remember. He owes you for all the times you’ve given him a smile as bright as day, and when you’d let him run his fingers through the silk of your hair, and when you’d talk to him about whatever came to mind, no matter how arbitrary or unusual. He felt like he was in debt because of how much he’s heard your dear voice. And how he missed it when dusk caught up to your ventures. He wanted to give you the world just for existing.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

You laughed when you heard Anton huff about how typical this essay topic was. You were now thirteen. Also in the same middle school. You stuck by each other like an ant with a pint of sugar. It’s been five years, and he was still the nicest boy you know. You two were the best of friends. Inseparable most times. People believed it would be impossible to keep the two of you out of each other’s wonders and giggles. Every means of socializing would be your world colliding with his. There was no other pair of eyes, or lips, or an angelic voice he looked for within the trifling crowds of students in your class or anywhere else. In his world there was only yours.

“I’ve heard this question so many times. Now I’m not even sure what to answer.” his hands rested on the paper he had laid out, but his eyes were attached to your eyes like he was looking for something in them —which if he were, he would’ve been looking all day.

“How about a swimmer? don’t you want to be that? or a pianist?” his eyes followed the movements of your eyelids that opened a bit more for his reply.

“Well, I guess I could get an athletic scholarship.” the truth was he was too caught up with how comfortably your eyes kept a lock on his. He wasn’t able to actually ponder what he truly wanted. “You?”

He was eager to hear from you. He knew in that beautiful soul of yours you bear such amazing dreams. “Maybe a musician. I love music.”

“I do too.” it was a spur of the moment thing —he mulled his lips, his eyes fluttering down to your coral pink lips. He thought it must be as sweet as that coral pink icing. “I love you too.”

Your eyes would be as wide as the gap that separated the two of you, not exactly broad, but not close enough. “Oh, then, I love you too, Ton.” you had made it out to be as him declaring how much he appreciates you for being his best friend. Because what else could it be?

You’d find out soon enough, you were already fifteen. Fifteen and still oblivious of each other’s affection. Your friends could tell with just a single glance. Even when silence was overbearing, the two of you would dwell deep in each other’s eyes. Now that you’re older —and a lot closer— he’s been a lot more expressive. And you were too, however it would only be for him. His arms were always around you. Wrapped around your shoulders, and if lost in the moment, around your waist. He thought you never noticed how careful and gentle his touch was. You did, all of it. It would kind of sting too. He’d leave an imprint of his zeal on your skin, even if sometimes not bear, it would burn, but in a good way. It would sting the moment it’s taken away from you. The longing, it was something you weren’t so sure how you’d act on.

At sixteen, he was fully focused on his cello. He had given up the piano for it. You supported him throughout everything, but his dubiety would not allow for him to get a good night’s sleep. He thought of what you could’ve felt when he said he wanted to play the cello and not the piano. It was because the piano was something you both loved but you’d affirm to him, “It’s not the piano we share the love for. It’s the music, isn’t it?” he felt foolish about the whole ordeal. Still, you thought it was sweet of him for being so broody.

He took a lot of classes for the cello while you were out practicing for your solos. And soon he’d be practicing for recitals too. It kept you apart, but you knew you’d both be doing something you love. A breath of fresh air if you will. That air would become too hard to inhale eventually. You waited for Anton, just right outside where he and his band practiced. There was a small crack where you could see that he had made a new friend. You knew that friend, she was popular amongst boys. Though, you heard that she was not in for fooling around, it wouldn’t stop you from driving your sanity close to the fear of losing Anton. She’s a dream. Anton loved to talk about dreams, dreams for the future, dreams when you're asleep, even ones when you’re awake. You wondered, was his dream now standing in front of you carrying such luscious locks and sanguine eyes with the stature of a runway model? she held a bow too, which could only mean one thing. She too played the cello. Anton talked about how she taught him this and that, probably about playing the cello in more efficient ways. Either way, you couldn’t remember. Your mind trailed off to the thought that he might start to enjoy practice more than spending time with you.

Your thoughts had led you back to the music room, angry notes flying off the piano as you let your heart lead your fingers. You meant to play a little softer, as to not draw anyone into the room. You failed in doing so. The piano’s song echoed throughout the room, but you had no time to care if it was going through the walls. Lost in song, you weren’t able to catch the sound of the door’s hinges moving along at the pace of your head that tilted with the rhythm of which you played. After laying out the last note, another would follow, and it sounds, “Are you okay, sweet?”

Anton heard the aggressive play even being fifteen steps away from the music room. After those fifteen steps, there you were, sitting on the bench as your fingers worked the music. He had to pinch himself to assure he wasn’t dreaming. You looked like you had just gone down from the heavens. But he saw your nerves seemingly wanting to pop out and the way your brows were knitted too. Before he approached, he was already thinking of reasons. It could’ve been your music teacher putting you through rough practice. Or maybe it was him. He was thinking of everything he had said and done for the past week, the past month even. Then he decides he’d walk up to you towards the end of the song you played.

“I’m fine.” but you ended up closing the piano a little too hard, causing the keys to play by themselves from under. You immediately looked up at Anton, and like what you’d expect, his face reflected his doubt. “I’m sorry. I just have a lot in my mind.”

Your body almost fell limp when you felt the warmth you’ve been longing for the three painfully slow days of continuous practice without seeing him. His arms snaked around you, just above your chest. He rests his chin on your head. “What is it, sweet? Tell me.”

He felt your head move as you sighed. His body responded by getting himself seated next to you, keeping one arm around you. He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. You eyed his gentle hand on you and kept it there when you uttered, “Do you think those kids back in your elementary school still don't like you?”

“Maybe? I don’t know, really.” your question was too random, but he’d let his hand slowly fall on your elbow, and the sensation clouded your mind.

“Anton, I wish I could’ve just told you then.” you felt his grasp grow tighter. He pulled himself closer to you. His breath staggered seeing the thin layer of sea on your eyes.

“Told me what?” he could almost feel your exhaustion, even if your hands were cold when he held them.

You chuckled, but it was so broken that it would only lead to his grasp closing even more. “So what if they didn’t like you? screw those kids. I like you. I have for the longest time, Anton.” you sniffled to fight the waters. “And not as a friend, but more.”

The warmth he had given you all those times you’d feel him were all coming back to him. It was so great. The feeling wasn’t overwhelming. It was utter relief. But it told him two things. One, you’ve both been in love ever since his family moved into that neighborhood. And two, you were both oblivious of your flourishing love. He had thought of the second, that time he told you he loves you —seemingly out of nowhere. Once realizing what he had just said, he thought he had dug his own grave, but you would innocently tell him you loved him too. That moment was a slap to his face. He thought all he’ll ever be to you is a best friend.

The winds of change blew stronger in that room. “Y/n, when I said I love you, I meant it. Then, I was only hoping you saw me the same way.” his fingers drew circles on your skin. You were both red and hot by then, still he was able to take jest of the situation. “This isn’t a prank, is it?”

You laughed, pushing yourself into his neck. It was the heat of your air that had pushed him to hold your chin up, and for the first time your lips would meet. It lasted for three seconds —not that you could count— and he’d hover over your lips for a while. And he’d smile, pressing his forehead against yours. He had to swiftly lick on his lips to confirm a theory. He was stunned to taste your strawberry chapstick. Sweet, you truly were.

“Anton?” only he could hear it with how miniscule your voice was, and it was just right for he was yet to move from where he halted. He chuckles. You laughed. Soon you had your face buried within the crook of his neck.

You two left the music room as you would when you’re together. Significantly close in distance. The only difference would be your entwined hands. You both walked past your friends’ coos in the hallway wearing sheepish grins. It felt as if you were both children again, running towards the exit whilst you held onto each other tightly —just to be sure the other won’t get lost as you sped out into the outside world. Your conjoined ecstasy was heard by the array of students that passed by. If laughter was medicine, you’d both be dead from overdosing. He was careful to lead you out of the public space. He could feel his phone buzzing in his pants since it was practice afternoon for his swimming team. You were aware of their schedule, but he’d keep your mind off of it, ultimately lulling you with a kiss.

It had only taken a giggle for you to be laying on the grass of your backyard. The constellations drew the love emanating from your huddled bodies. He traced it with his eyes. When he looked down, he was tracing your features like he did with the stars. Even with the bed of stars in the sky, and the moon, you still held a shine brighter than all of them combined. He gazed on the bead of light on the tip of your nose. And then everywhere else it scattered. With his eyes he followed the outline of your lips, and the curve of your chin. Then he needed to feel. His palm, soft and gentle, would find its rest on your cheek. You’ve been watching his eyes with your own the whole time, watching for where they trailed.

“Wouldn’t you be in trouble for skipping training?” your voice was mellow. It was the softest and prettiest melody he’s ever heard. His fingers glide down from your cheek to your jaw.

“I don’t think I want to be a swimmer.” he says, caressing your skin whilst he roams your visage with his eyes once more.

“Then what do you want to be, Ton?” his other hand went on top of your head. He moves the stray strands, being delicate with your kind locks.

“I want to be with you.” the tone is low, a lot deeper than when you were thirteen. Baritone and painstaking. Yet it was pure velvet in your ears.

You tittered at his reply. It was a means of covering your flushed face. You moved a little closer and nuzzled your face against his clothed chest. “I do too.” you mumbled into the fabric of his shirt. He heard it, and he grew nervous from you feeling the pounding in his chest because of the proximity. “Seriously now, what do you dream of for the future?” you moved from his chest to look up at him.

“I was being serious.” he propped his head up as he chuckled. Now he hovered slightly above you, elbow resting near the side of your head. He inhales the September breeze as he takes in all of you. “Though I am considering just being a musician. I might have an opportunity in line to be able to do that. To make music.”

You lie with lax on the grass bedding. You noticed that only one side of his face was shone on by twilight. You might have been staring for too long, because then he’d let his lips fall on your forehead, and then down to your lips. Your eyes glittered with the reflection of the stars in them. But he figured, it might be just the image they held. There was no need for stars, or moons, or the sun for you to light up his world. Later that night, his uncle had to come in and retrieve him. His uncle with wounds and dark purple bruises, all of which were now faded. Change had played after your birthday party. Even if it didn’t seem like it, the change was all for the better —even for Anton’s uncle. That night after your birthday party, he admits to his feelings. And your mom granted him closure. It was better than nothing anyways.

The night Anton was fetched from the backyard of your home —the same place where you held your eighth birthday— his uncle finally told him the tragic tale of his greatest love. Once upon a time, his uncle and your mother were like you and him, but sadly fate had worked against them. He had gone away for work. The distance, the time, overwhelmed their love. It plummets quickly after a long time of losing contact. Then your mother had you. Anton’s uncle would assure him that there was beauty in it all, and it was you. It was insinuated that both you and Anton were brought down to earth from the heavens to be with each other. Still, fear proved to be man’s greatest enemy.

With only a very few inches left to seventeen, he took strides. It was hard to keep up even with your hands enclosed with his. You took steps that were just right. But right beside you was him leaping forward to the inevitable. He had you in his arms when he contemplated. It was nothing to contemplate about, he had to tell you. But he feared that his farewell would be the last. What if history repeats itself? what if he leaves today and tomorrow you would no longer love him? he was already grieving over what he could only foresee in his nightmares. Even if his body was as warm as spring, he was cold. You could feel it.

“What’s wrong Ton?” he felt guilt dawning down on him for causing that much worry to you.

“I just have a lot in my mind.” like deja vu, he’d jump slightly from where he sat. He came back to that day in the music room. You played valse sentimentale, he remembered being so lovestruck with how perfect you played, even after finding out it was of great emotion from your fear of losing him. He couldn’t even remember that girl’s name. “I’m moving back to Korea.”

“You passed the audition?” you were genuinely happy for him. But then again, you had expected it. You never doubted his abilities. He is still his harshest critic. “That’s great! you’d have a chance at making music, like you always dreamed of.”

But at night when he dreamed, he saw paradise. He saw you. He had brought those dreams under the light of day. He thought about it whilst he meddled with his cello. He thought about it while he studied. He had even smiled so foolishly in the shower imagining it occurring in real life. That dream he had was under the moonlight. Maybe it was because of that night in your backyard, but in his dream you weren’t on grass. You were at some place small. It wasn’t exactly cramped per say, but it wasn’t of great space either. It was nothing important at first. He was more focused with the light that bounced off the skin on your face. When he dreamed of it again, it fed his fears. You were all tears in this dream. He wondered if he was seeing the future. There were no words spoken. It made it hard for him to decipher what that dream meant. It kept him awake for more hours than he should've. He could only hope it wasn’t a foreshadowing of a fallout.

At the departure area of the airport is where you held him with all the vigor you had left in you. You were both seventeen already. Now he was to be flown to his dreams, though it would not be the dreams he had of you. The tears had already been drained from both of you days prior, now he could only savor the remainder of his thirty-minute wait with you.

“Take care, Ton.” you utter against his temple so softly as your fingers brushed his hair. “I know they’ll take good care of you there too.”

“I wish I could be with you.” he had his eyes closed, head lying on your shoulder. He had his whole weight on you, but it was very much the opposite of a heavy burden. “You could take care of me better than anyone.”

You lightly pushed his shoulder that hung in the open whilst giggling. And he smiled against the scent of your cologne. The smell was sweet. It could’ve been because he was so convinced sweet is just what you are. But even so, he drowned in it. The thirty minutes was up, and he was headed for the sky. With exchanged I love yous and a lengthy farewell, he was off. He was in no mood for the plane movies. He had the memories he’s made with you that he kept on rewind in his head as he flew. He had dozed off, soon he was dreaming again. He woke up from it. He saw you in a dress, like the one you liked to wear when you were kids. Blue with the bows. Missing you was dreadful, but maybe, just maybe, landing would be a little nicer. Then it would be a little easier for his longing to subside.

He was training all over again. It was none like swimming, but there were even more restrictions. Have a consistent diet. Never miss practice. Monthly evaluations are held every month’s end, and do not miss it. No sneaking out, and most importantly, no dating. But there was no rule stating he couldn’t miss you, there was no rule that stated he should break up with you. All he had to do was bear a secret. It was easier said than done, but he made it work. He had too. Only seeing and hearing you through his screen was incomparable to having you in real life. If he had a superpower, it would be being able to teleport. He wanted to so badly when he had called you as you studied for your midterms. You listened to his tales of training, how his fellow trainees were and all. You were being so good to him, he just wanted to have his arms around you again. To console you from the thousand words you read through while still having ears open for him. You were now eighteen. It’s been a year. Growing tired of this setting was not inside both of you. You would both treat it like the new normal now, but it was anything to keep your boat stable.

“I miss you so much. I want to go home. But they say I can’t. Not yet.” he hugged himself like how he saw you with yourself. You had your own arms around your body, trying to make it up as his. But it wasn’t the same. Painful is all it was, but he was there right in front of you. Not quite for being on the screen of your laptop, but he was there.

“I miss you too.” was all you could say. You hoped he could sense your yearning through what he could see from his own screen.

It’s his smile that told you he yearns for you just as much, if not more. “I’ll visit you as soon as I can.” he wanted to see your face taking in the light of your surroundings again. He wanted to feel your gentle skin and your silk hair again. Its ghost lingered on his fingers that held onto his sides. “I love you, sweet.”

“I love you too, Ton.” you wondered if he could see it. Your eyes brimmed with water, but you were yet to let it fall. And you wouldn’t be able to when his smile grew wider. Your lips curved, an imitation of his.

You were off to college when he told you he was up for debut. Not exactly where his dreams lie, but it was the closest he could get. An idol. He fits the job well you thought. You knew people would love him, though not as much as you did. You’d be his number one fan, always. It was when you had fixed your dorm room when he called you, gushing about the guys he was going to debut with, all while he tried to scan around where you were. It’s where he could’ve been too. Now it’s quite an impossibility.

“I bet you’re even more handsome than all six of them combined.” you furrowed your brows in jest, determined to have him keep him show you his underlying confidence.

“You’re reaching.” you’d both laugh as his obviously quoted response. “But thank you. You must be telling the truth. You always stare at me.”

You guffawed even if he was stating facts. “Yeah, but you must’ve known by then that I was only imitating you. You’ve had your eyes on me, since like, what? since we were children right?”

He hummed an approval to your question. Art imitates life. You were the most beautiful painting, the only worthwhile movie, and the most pleasant song. You were all of those that depicted the love he had for life. His own and yours. “You’re so beautiful and sweet. I want to see you so bad.”

You’ve always wondered why he called you sweet, my sweet, he’d often say referring to you, or to call for you. But his words and the way his eyes worked around you, the way the ends of his lips rose for you, it was telling. It told you everything there is to know. You thought maybe it was his influence that had driven you to study psychology. He also couldn’t believe what he was hearing when you told him about your major. It was again, something he wasn’t able to foresee before. If him being an idol seemed like a stretch, you studying psychology would’ve been a reckless swing that went thirty miles off your expectations. You thought psychology was intriguing. Though you really didn’t need the books to understand Anton, you wanted to study the nature of man. Would it be possible that there’s anyone in this world as precious as he could be?

Other than that, you wanted to understand dreams. Dreams vary for everyone, and there are dreams people share, dreams that carry definitions that are listed in websites and reiterated in YouTube videos or in mini series of shorter videos on TikTok. You wanted to have a deeper understanding of how it worked. Where sometimes it’s sheer symbolism, and other times it’s a vision of the future. The people that you studied with were so different yet held much of the same curiosity as you. You were all aware that it was nothing fantastical. It was a bearing of life. And it was what made it beautiful. You found friends in them. You would always mention a lover that had ventured off to pursue his dreams. But you weren’t allowed to say his name, or what he did. All to avoid any mishaps in the future. It was something Anton would thank you for, even though he wished both you and him could show off each other like you did with the superficial belongings you wore. But it wouldn’t be superficial for him, it would be a yell to the world that you were for him just as he was for you.

Your dreams were always so specific. One night you had dreamed of the skylight at the airport. A year later you saw the same view. Another pivotal moment was from your childhood. You had dreamt of a boy, the one that lived from across your house. He ate cake with you on the patio. Days later you sat next to him as dusk approached, munching on what was left of your birthday cake. Last night you had a dream. It was somewhere you couldn’t recognize. It was long after the day had fallen and the sky drew black. Anton was there, and he cried. He held your hand so closely to his chest too. He said something, but it came out blurry. When you tried to speak for yourself, you woke up. Taking another breath, dewdrops escaped your eyes. It was one that led you to exert more effort on your studies. To understand what that dream meant. Because if it were the future talking to you, it could be something very dear or it could be the end of something beautiful.

Your doubts would get the better of you. Your calls would mostly be just staring into the light of your screens, and the talk couldn’t be anymore typical. He grew more and more insecure by the day, what if his fears were being answered? but it should not be be that way, he could still talk to you every night and whenever he could. Things shouldn’t end like how it did for his uncle. A phonecall and a cold evening was all it took for you to realize how much your thoughts ate both of you up.

“I think I can go home for my birthday.” it was an unsure statement, but he sounded firm. He was turning nineteen, and close to debuting too. And before giving his life away to stardom, he wished to spend all time possible with you.

The look in your eyes made his heart shrink, and it almost came crashing down when you told him, “You should spend your birthday with your dad, your family. I’m gonna be very busy, Ton.” you voice was as gloomy as the view outside his window. “It’s study season, but I’ll keep contact with you.” your gloom washed over him, but still he was thankful that you didn’t say you would just try, but you will.

He wouldn’t reply but, but instead you’d see him just staring. He did it the way he always would with you. Back when you were still close enough to see even the smallest cracks of your faces.

“I have something for you too. To which adress Ton?” when you lift your head up from your paper, you were met with the reflection of his screen in his glossed eyes. “Ton?”

“Dorms.” it was one word, and you still heard the crack in his voice.

“Anton, I really wish I could see you too. But It would just be this time. After this you can see me whenever you’re available.” he felt your hands holding his cold ones. He felt warmth that wasn’t there. “I love you, so, so much.”

“I love you more.” he did truly. And he was dying to prove it to you, and to the world.

It was a busy week, for you and for him. He was subjected to hours of practice, and he used it to distract himself from the dread. He was deprived greatly of your loving. But he knew you struggled too. He knew college didn’t treat you fairly. That’s why you were always on late-night calls. Even if you fell asleep he’d stay. For a while he’s looking over you. And after a few blinks he’s off to dreamland. His last dream kept repeating, over and over again. He tried his best to not let it show through his speech and his face. His face that everyone paid him great attention for. It was hard, painful even. His eyes, instead of tracing the lines of your lips, were tracing the lines of the practice room mirrors.

At nineteen, he woke up. He got up from the left side of his bed, where there was less space. His foot hit one end of his bedside table. He winced, but it was not one for grumbles. He walked to the bathroom, then he brushed his teeth. He had to look again because he thought his toothbrush changed colors. It did, and it was Sungchan’s. He brushed his teeth again, this time minding the colors whilst he thought of how he would explain the whole incident —or if he should even explain at all. He got behind the shower curtains just for a quick wash. After that he’d go back to his room to slip in some practice clothes. Once his loose hoodie had gone over his head, his eyes stumbled upon the calendar. It was his birthday. Almost forgot. He was off to practice, not minding the date. It was just like any other day, or birthday for that matter. Even then it seemed like nobody even knew it was his birthday. So he figured there was no point to dither.

He was nineteen when he was given heavy scolding for not being precise with his dancing. It wasn’t the first time, but this has been the worst he’s ever gotten. Everyone was not aware of the heavy load he’s been carrying in his heart. Their dance teacher’s yell would make it even heavier. The six others were supposed to come out with a cake with three candles, and balloons that read ‘19’. After a few times of brushing back his hair with his fingers and fighting back the tears. And when the first drop seeped out, he stood up from the floor and with staggered steps, he got out of that place. He was off somewhere, where he had dreamt of.

He thought that place in his dreams was utter imagination. But it was real. Maybe he did see the future. But you weren’t there, on the balcony of his room. The balcony faced another building that shunned all others. All he could really do was look up. He ignored the countless notifications that came pouring out of his lockscreen. It got too much that he’d silent his phone, turning on the do-not-disturb function. Before he could lock his phone though, he’d stare at his wallpaper. It was a photo of you, a very discreet one at that. It showed only a small portion of your face. Your wispy lashes and the curvature of your nose. And your eyes. His reflection when he took the photo was caught in it. And he was smiling, the way he should’ve been for his birthday. But now all he could think about was his uncle’s story. Despite the assurances that pointed to all directions that led him to you, he felt as if one day he’d be forcing himself to forget. But he could never forget you. Not even by great force. A ringing would dawn in his head. It took another drop of salt before he realized that the ringing was from the doorbell of their complex.

It was not his first time answering the door. And he counted, from his room to there, it took sixteen steps. It always made him reminisce about that day in the music room. How you thought he’d be interested in anyone else that was not you. He had no space in his heart for any more interests because it’s filled with you and the music you both grew up loving —but never as much as you grew to love each other. He’d count his first step out of his room as one. He wondered if it would be his angered manager or his worried groupmates that would come through the door. Two. He was already wary of the consequences. Six. His birthday is long gone now, all he could think about was how he was going to explain himself. Twelve. Or maybe if he should call you late at night. Fourteen. He hoped once he’s dialed you, it won’t go straight to your inbox. Fifteen. He remembered you said you would send him a gift. Maybe, just maybe, it’s your gift waiting for him behind that muted door. Sixteen. The door opens slowly. He expects a box, small, big, anything. Or maybe he’d a screeching yell, or stressed apologies.

When he’d the door was barely a peek and wide open, he saw blue. Blue, but somehow bright and lively. A pair of glittery eyes. And lips of his favorite color —coral pink. A hug is what he’d receive, and his eyes would continue to dispense his sorrows. He held you, like it was the first time all over again. And he led you to his room’s balcony, while still holding a box. He’d looked at you, like it was the first time. It felt like back when your houses faced each other. When he followed the same routine religiously, every single day, just so he could open that door the same time you would yours. He was happy that he’s able to let his eyes draw along your features. At the same time he was terrified. “Please tell me this isn’t a dream.”

Tears swelled from his eyes. You tried your best to keep your jubilance, but your grin falters when you catch a glimpse of his dreaded countenance. “It’s not, Ton.”

You placed a hand on his cheek, and it was warm. He touched it with his own, and you’d flinch with how cold he was. He brought your hand from his cheek to his lips, leaving his fervor on your skin with a kiss. Suddenly you were brought to tears. The scene was all too familiar. An instance of deja vu.

“I’m not dreaming?” almost in a sob, he’d ask you. His eyes pierced through your psyche, not harshly, but like he begged. You pulled him close to you, and there after a wistful eternity, he felt your silken lips against his.

Forever is only possible in fiction, but he believed there was forever in you, and he sought for it in your essence. He felt like he was going crazy, and from chilling, you felt his body grow hotter as he lost himself in you.

With a gentle push, he pulled away. But almost in a whine, he utters, “Why?” he wanted to cry again when he heard that sugared giggle of yours.

“Calm down, Ton.” you reply, still tittering at him.

His hands cupped your face as he peppered it with kisses from your forehead to your chin. And he ends it with a kiss to your lips. “This is the best gift ever.” his breath crashed with yours, sending heatwaves to your rosy faces.

“Actually, your dad helped get here.” you kept your voice low, laying your head on his chest. “He was worried. Your group mates were messaging him too. They asked if you were home.” his eyes would dilate just enough as he hears for you. His fingers found their way through your hair. He’s never seen or felt anything like it before. “I don’t know if I should be saying this, but they meant to prank you. It’s a part of the surprise.” he heard him breathe a little louder.

“They yelled at me for a prank —to surprise me?” he stammered with his words. His mellow voice made you nuzzle closer to him. “The prank didn’t work.”

“Yeah. I know.” you pulled away from his embrace. You faced him once you were sat up. “You’re debuting soon.”

“If soon is September, then yeah.” his eyes grew larger, and he could see an image of the stars in your backyard. “It’s our anniversary.” you gave him a weak nod, the next second your eyes released a river. He hurriedly swiped his thumb over them, “I’ll try my best to be around. It’s a busy month.”

He was perplexed with how you laugh at yourself, replacing his hands with your own and wiping the tears away. “I thought we’re breaking up.” he made you yelp with how quick he got you enclosed in his arms again.

“No, no. I can keep a secret. You can too.” you felt the movement in his throat as he gulped. He was choking back tears. “No one’s breaking up. Not in this universe.”

He allowed for your tears to continue falling on his forearms, it was hot, but forgiving. “I dreamt about this very moment. I thought it meant something bad. Because in there you were crying like earlier, and I felt so bad…” he ends your sobs with another kiss.

“I did too.” he felt his fears creeping up behind him, but they would all go away when he met eyes with the girl he fell in love with through his living room window. “I dreamed about it every night, thought about it everyday. And I dreamed of a future where we’d share a cake on our own patio.”

His presence was like a meadow, so peaceful and warm, and comforting. His dream of eating cake with you like you had back then made you laugh louder than before, and he took it all in, making sure no other sounds drowned out his favorite song.

He still wondered about what lies beyond the darkness of night, how dreams choose their explorers and nightmares crawled for their victims. But now he understood where dreams lie with him. Sometimes what seemed like a nightmare waiting to happen might just be a glimpse of his sweetest dreams. That dream he had where he thought you’d be there to end it all with him, it had only driven him to finally grasp on what it meant to dream. It was what his heart truly wanted.

Maybe that dream was bound to come true. Because at nineteen, he received the biggest surprise of his life. And he ate a coral-pink cake with the girl that used to live from across his house. He believed it was foreshadowing, but still, he had it in him to make it come true.

≈

Dreams could be a symbol of some psychological conflict we’re having within ourselves, but on the night of March 21st, year 2023, I found out that it could be a vision of the future. Though it would be discreet, just enough for you to have it mistaken as a future barricade. I may be wrong, I could’ve been just lucky to have someone as passionate about dreams as I am —I got this passion from him anyways— but the best way to deal with the weight it forces upon us is to just let it play out. It could be the catalyst for the dreams you’re set to build. I dream of owning a home, with a wealthy meadow, with blue and pink butterflies. I want a patio where it would be a comfort to lie and stargaze, where it will be comfortable to eat too. Because my fiancé loves cake, but he loves me even more. (Y/s/n. To Live A Dream. 2039)

≈

End.

what if this is a true story tho very late bday post for anton my loveydoves <3

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woneuntonzz · 29 days

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hi... i am alive... i have 12 drafts also...

#i was spending time with my family #still have a lot of work to do lmaoooo completely forgot abt them almost smh #don't be like me and study!!#i wanna write my sungchan fic so bad tho...

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woneuntonzz · 1 month

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i need help for my new fic. vote pls 🙏

it's for a sungchan fic i have in my rqs 😁

#riize #briize #riize fanfic #riize x reader #riize au #riize sungchan #jung sungchan

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woneuntonzz · 1 month

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i might start writing for piwon...

#i entered the fandom three days ago #i love soul #we're having a test in 5 minutes too i should be studying #p1harmony