Chapter Text
[Anton’s POV]
Anton had always thought about himself as a laid-back person. Still, he often wondered if there was more waiting for him, or things would always stay the same.
He was grateful. He had a great family: a brilliant mother, a deeply talented father, and his baby brother who lit up his entire world. And yet, something inside his chest felt empty.
Sometimes felt like a low hum just beneath his ribs, quiet, constant, impossible to ignore.
He tried everything his parents wanted, hoping the feeling of emptiness would eventually fade.
He started swimming, learned how to play instruments, practiced singing, studied classical music, all to earn his father’s approval. But no matter how hard he tried, nothing ever filled that void. Even though every applause, trophies and pride.
Anton had always lived in his father's shadow.
He always did the best. It didn’t happen all at once. It started with mornings that felt so heavier than they should. Anton would wake up everyday feeling tired even before the day began.
There were days where he would stare at the ceiling, with this weight on his chest. His schedule was full, starting with classes, then rehearsals, training sessions, swimming, every minute occupied, every step carefully planned by someone else.
Music used to feel like home, everytime he played he felt warm. Now… just felt like an obligation. How could this happen?
Day by day, repeating the same. He sat in practice rooms that smelled like old wood, fingers moving by instinct, pure muscle memory. His body knew what to do even if his head was somewhere else. Every perfect note, precise movements, all the techniques he learned through the years, and yet, something essential was missing.
Sometimes, his mind would drift away.
Imagining turning up the volume instead of down.
Distorted chords instead of clean bow strokes.
He could hear a crowd, screaming his name and singing along.
God that scared him, because these fantasies felt more alive than his reality. So normally dissociating was his escape.
Anton could always see his father standing nearby, correcting him, praising and expecting too much of something he didn’t love anymore. He would just nod, adjust his posture and try. Again, and again. And again.
He was exhausted, his shoulders ached constantly. His hands trembled when they shouldn’t. Some nights, he would just lay awake replaying all the performances in his head. Why does all this success still feel so meaningless?
That was the first time the thought first surfaced, uninvited and terrifying.
‘What if this dream isn't mine?’
He shoved that thought to the back of his mind right away. He tried to ignore it.
So he pushed harder, and did more.
Swimming. Singing. Studying. Competing.
Maybe if everything was perfect enough, he would be fine.
It didn’t work.
Everyday felt the same.
One day after another flawless rehearsal. He stared at his own reflection from the glass of the window.
He lowered his cello and for the first time, he didn’t feel relief. He felt trapped.
Until that moment, it clicked. He wasn’t tired because he lacked discipline.
He was tired of pretending.
Pretending to want something, this dream, that no longer was his.
Realizing hurt more than failure, he was afraid to disappoint his family.
But also there’s this strange clarity. If he kept going like this, there wouldn't be anything left of him to save.
He was his own person.
He had his own dream.
And for the first time he decided he would do something about it. For once, he would pursue his dream, not his father.
Anton would rather risk everything than disappear quietly inside someone else’s shadow.
He thought about it for days, to talk to his father, just the thought would make him sick.
But then, he would remember…
Shoulders back. Chin lifted. Breathing controlled.
Every movement is measured. Like invisible strings pulled his arms into the right position, guided his fingers across strings and keys. Strings that told him when to smile, when to bow, when to accept praise with humility.
A marionette…
He felt like it. He learned not to resist, because resisting only tightens the strings.
The competitions were the worst part.
Even when he performed flawlessly, every time, he could feel the unstoppable judges, their looks, their expressions while he played. Every time it felt like he would never reach the top.
The applause never reached his chest.
By the time he walked into his father’s office. Anton already felt hollow. This eerie feeling in the air. He pressed his nails into his palm, to keep him grounded, reminding him he is there, this body is his and he’s real.
“Dad, can we talk?” Anton says apprehensively. His heart pounded so loud he wondered if his father could hear.
Mr. Lee barely looked up at first, his head deep in his work.
Anton finally spoke about Stone Music College. His father’s reaction was immediate, he had a disbelief look on his face.
“A rock school?” Mr. Lee asked slowly. “After everything we built with the cello? All these years of training? Is this Junmyeon pushing nonsense into your head?”
His voice is calm, but underneath it, Anton knows. A fracture opened.
“I don’t understand, you’re ready,” his father continued. “You’re prepared for international competitions. You could go so much further than I ever did, and now this? You want to throw everything away?”
The words cut his chest deeper than a knife could.
“I’m not throwing anything away,” Anton’s voice trembled a little. “And this had nothing to do with uncle Junm… I’m just tired.”
“Tired?” Mr. Lee frowned. “Chanyoung everyone gets tired, discipline is part of being an artist.
“That’s not what I mean” Anton said quickly, the panic rising in his chest. He corrected his posture, automatically like a reflex.
Then he forced himself to relax.
“I feel like I'm being played,” he admitted. “Like someone is always telling me when I’m supposed to move, every step I take is already planned.”
His throat tightened. He can’t cry.
“I did everything you ever wanted. I learned everything from you, the cello, the discipline, techniques, but I just… I don’t know how to stop being your son and start being myself.”
The silence is heavy in the room.
Mr. Lee stood, crossing the room slowly. “I did every one of those things to protect you,” he said. “The structure, training, competitions. I wanted you to be strong.”
“I know,” Anton whispered. “And I’m grateful.”
His hands trembled.
“But every time I step on the stage, I feel like I’m disappearing. I’m winning but at what cost? I’m losing myself.”
His father looked away.
“What if you’re just afraid?” Mr. Lee asked. “Won’t you regret this later?”
“I already regret staying where I’m right now,” Anton says defeated.
That moment changed everything.
He wasn’t asking for permission anymore. He wanted to be heard…and seen.
Anton stared at his father, bracing himself for the worst.
For rejection, disappointment and silence.
He could feel the bitter taste in his mouth.
“Are you sure?” Mr. Lee asked. “Is that really what you want?”
”I’m sure,” Anton said, his voice steady.
“I love playing the guitar and the bass. I really think I could feel fulfilled making rock music.”
The words felt heavy, but freeing.
He hesitated.
“I’m sorry Dad. I don’t mean to disappoint you. But I need something that actually belongs to me. Not just your legacy.”
His father fell silent. The room felt unbearably heavy, but Mr. Lee didn’t look angry, just thoughtful. The ticking of the clock suddenly sounded too loud.
“You’ll have to talk to your mother about this,” he finally said. “I want you to be happy, Tonnie. But I have one condition.”
Anton stiffened.
“You’ll finish the competition. After that, you can go and do your rock ‘n roll thing.”
“THANK YOU DAD!” Anton shouted, wrapping him in a tight hug. You don’t have to worry. I’ll tell Mom!”
The relief feeling filled his chest so fast it made him dizzy. He laughed, eyes shining.
“I will win one last competition for you.
Then I’ll chase my dream and make you proud, my way.”
He won the competition. Of course he did.
This time, the victory is different, he’s saying goodbye to a part of him.
A good feeling bursted into his chest. And now, all he could think about was everything waiting for him at this new place, the possibility of meeting people who dreamed the same way he did.
Anton had learned how to play bass when as a kid with his uncle Junmyeon, and he knew he was good. At music. At a lot of things.
For the first time, he felt confident and almost complete.
As he walked through the corridors of Stone Music College, adrenaline rushed through his veins. This was it.
The building felt alive. Music leaked from behind closed doors, broken melodies, drumbeats out of sync, voices warming up. He looks at every poster covering the walls, announcing past events, forgotten bands, dreams that either made it or burned out. The floors creaked beneath his steps, as he’s being welcomed by the place itself.
He feels small here. And strangely… hopeful.
As he walks down the main corridor, he notices doors. Each one carries a different sound, a different mood.
One room hums with discipline, classical music, precise and controlled. Another explodes with laughter and feedback, someone yelling “Again, from the top!”
This place doesn’t ask what kind of musician you are. It demands you prove it.
He passes a wall covered in photos. Old ones. Black-and-white at first, then slowly gaining color. Bands on stage, students mid-performance, candid shots of people performing. Some faces are crossed out with markers. Some are circled, names scribbled underneath like a quiet promise: remember this one.
He stops walking and for a moment imagines his own face there. Imagines belonging.
He stopped by the secretary’s office to get his schedule, nerves buzzing beneath his skin. Excitement and fear tangled in his chest.
“Hello Mrs. Kim. It’s nice to see you”. Anton said as he spotted Kim Taeyeon, an old friend of his uncle.
“Chanyoung!” she exclaimed. “What a surprise. I’m so glad you made it, Suho says we have a diamond on our hands.”
“Oh, please,” Anton laughed shyly. “Uncle Jumn is overreacting. But… I’m really happy to be here.” And he meant it.
“Since it’s your first day, Taehyun will give you a full tour,” she said, gesturing toward a wide-eyed boy standing nearby. ”If you have any questions, Taehyun knows everything about this place.”
“Hi, Chanyoung. It’s really nice to meet you,” Taehyun said warmly. “I heard you’re a cello star.”
“Oh please, call me Anton,” he replied, shaking his hand. “And… I just have some skills.”
Taehyun showed him every corner of the academy.
Each room felt like an individual world, soundproof walls vibrating with ambition, instruments worn down by countless hands.
When they passed the music room, Anton’s eyes lit up instantly, his fingers itching like muscle memory waking up. Like that’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.
“I see you already found your favorite place,” Taehyun teased. “But now I’ll show you mine”.
They stopped in front of a door labeled as Photography Room.
“Here Anton is where the real magic happens,” Taehyun said proudly. “Come in”. As they got in Anton looked around the room, taking in all the scattered photographs, the different types of cameras and a huge amount of tripods.
“Sohee!” Taehyun's smile widened as he greeted a short boy dressed in grey sweats and a backward cap.
“Taehyunie!” Sohee replied softly.
“Anton, this is Sohee, my best friend and my partner in crime. He’s also the biggest Naruto fan you’ll ever meet.”
Sohee beamed. Anton caught a glimpse of Taehyun’s extroverted side for the first time. The warmth between them made everything feel less intimidating.
“Nice to meet you,” Anton said shyly.
“Anton? As in Chanyoung Lee? The guy who won the cello competition?” Sohee’s eyes widened. “Dude, you’re famous!”
“Oh, no, not at all,” Anton laughed. “But I’m really glad to be here.”
“Where’s Beomgyu?” Taehyun asks Sohee. “I wanted to introduce him to Anton too” He looks around.
“He was just here,” Sohee replied, sounding unsure. “I think Soobin came looking for him or something.”
“Well, Anton,” Taehyun continued, turning back to him, “Gyu actually started here in photography. But now he signed up for the band auditions, the Battle of Bands is starting soon.”
“Battle of Bands?” Anton asked, immediately interested. “Can I join?” That made his heart beat faster.
“Oh, that fast?” Sohee said, widening his eyes dramatically. “Aren’t you even giving us a chance?”
“Don’t mind him,” Taehyun laughed. “He likes stealing every new student for our department.”
Then he added, more seriously, “And yes, you can join the battle, but first, you’ll need a band”.
That’s his plan, get a band.
The hallway outside the classroom suddenly felt too quiet. Anton stopped in front of the door for longer than necessary, fingers tightening around the strap of his bag. From inside, he could hear muffled voices, chairs scraping against the floor, someone laughing.
A life already in motion, just waiting to swallow him whole.
When Anton finally stepped into his first classroom, his heart nearly stopped. He felt this tight feeling on his chest, not exactly fear, but the weight of expectations. ‘This is my choice’, he reminded himself.
“Eveyone, pay attention,” Mr. Kibum announced cheerfully. “This is our new student. I’ll let him introduce himself.” The attention turned down on him like heat. He was used to applause, judges, stages, but this felt different. This wasn’t admiration. It's pure curiosity, all these eyes on him. For a brief moment, he wondered if he truly belonged here.
Anton stood up, cheeks warming as dozens of eyes turned toward him.
“I’m Anton,” he said quietly. “I started with cello, but now I’m looking for a different scene.” Anton’s gaze drifted across the room, instinctively searching for something he couldn’t name.
A familiar pull tugged at his chest, sharp and sudden, like when an old wound recognizing the knife before it even touched skin.
And then he saw him. Wonbin. He would recognize those eyes anywhere, even in the dark.
Anton froze, then cleared his throat. “I also like swimming… and, um, it’s nice to be here.”
Wonbin smirked. That single expression hit him harder than words ever could.
It wasn’t warmth. Not even anger.
It was recognition, something unfinished.
He heard a chorus of welcomes, voices overlapping, faces smiling, even faces realizing who he is. But none of it really reaches him. His eyes betray him, drifting back to Wonbin.
God, how could he be even more handsome than the last time Anton had seen him?
Sharper somehow. Colder. Like someone who learned how to survive alone.
Anton swallows, suddenly aware of every breath he’s taking.
“You can sit over there, with Sungchan” Mr. Kibum said, pointing toward an empty desk.
Anton walked over, his back burning under invisible stares. He sits down, heart still beating a little too fast.
“Hi,” he said softly to Sungchan, who greeted him with an easy smile.
“Hey man,” Sungchan said. “You’re kind of a legend, if I may say so. Nice to meet you.”
The class began. Mr. Kibum started lecturing about the history of music, but Anton barely absorbed a word. His eyes kept drifting back to Wonbin. Again and again.
Jesus this was supposed to be easy, it was supposed to be his year.
“Do you know where your dorm is?” Sungchan asked once class was over. Walking by Anton’s side trying to start a conversation.
“7G” Anton replied.
Sungchan’s face lit up. “No way, we’re in the same complex! That’s awesome.”
He started walking, then glanced back when he noticed Anton lagging behind.
“Are you coming? I’ll show you the best cafeteria on campus.”
The cafeteria was loud, making him feel alive.
Endless conversations, trays clattered, music played faintly from someone’s speaker in the corner. The smell of coffee, fried food and something sweet lingered in the air. Posters for upcoming gigs and band auditions were taped to the walls, some half-torn, others freshly hung. He can’t help but imagine his own audition poster in some of those walls.
Students crowded the tables, some arguing about chords, others humming melodies under their breath, notebooks and instruments everywhere like extensions of themselves.
Anton followed as Sungchan rambled on about the year ahead, how he dreamed of joining the Battle of Bands, even though all he had was a keyboard and hope. Anton listened, nodding along, as his eyes wandered around the room.
Bands were being born at nearby tables, making something inside his chest stir, not emptiness this time. Possibility.
“What if we start one?” Anton cut in suddenly, suggesting to Sungchan what he was already doing.
Sungchan stopped dead in his tracks. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” Anton said shyly. “I play guitar and bass… and I can sing. A little.”
Sungchan’s eyes widened.
“Oh thank God,” he said. “Finally. Someone can distract people from watching me fight my keyboard.”
Anton chuckles softly, not expecting that.
Sungchan broke into a wide grin.
“Anton, I think we’re going to be really good friends.”
He pointed toward an empty table. “Come on, let’s plan everything.”
Sungchan gets his notebook noting everything about their brand new band.
[Wonbin's POV]
Wonbin stormed across campus, searching for his friends who hadn’t been in class, someone to ground him before his thoughts spiraled out of control.
The campus felt different now, too bright, too loud, like it was mocking him. Students passed by laughing, talking about assignments, bands, lunch plans, some people even waved and smiled at him, completely unaware that his world had just crumbled.
His footsteps echoed too sharply against the pavement as he walked faster than necessary, jaw clenched, hands shoved deep into his pockets as if he could physically hold himself together.
He hated how easily it happened.
Just one look, one voice. One name.
And suddenly he was fifteen again, waiting for someone who never came back.
Of course Chanyoung would show up out of nowhere to ruin everything.
He remembered the day Anton stopped answering. No goodbye. No explanation. Just silence.
That stretched for weeks, then months, until anger slowly replaced confusion, at least anger gave him something to hold on.
It was easier to hate Anton than to admit how much it had hurt.
He had spent years convincing himself that he was over it. That whatever they had was nothing.
Seeing Anton again shattered that lie in seconds.
Just thinking about him made Wonbin nauseous, a sick, sinking feeling twisting at the base of his stomach and he hadn’t even eaten yet.
Wonbin exhaled sharply, relief flickering in his chest at the sight of something familiar. He needed them. Someone to remind he was here and not stuck in a nightmare.
He spotted Seunghan and Shotaro at their usual table. One look at Wonbin’s face was enough for them to know something was wrong.
He dropped into the chair harder than necessary, running a hand through his hair, heart racing like he was running from something.
“What’s wrong, Binnie?” Seunghan asked, sitting down. “Sorry I was late today…I had a movie night with Sohee and I didn’t want to walk into Mr. Kibum’s class late.”
“Did someone die?” Shotaro asked, concerned.
“Yes,” Wonbin replied flatly. “Me.”
Both of them blinked.
“You two miss one class,” Wonbin continued, words spilling out,” and I walk in to find out that the so-called ‘famous’ new student is Chanyoung Lee.”
For a split second, his vision blurred.
He wasn’t in the cafeteria anymore, but in the front of his house, rain-soaked, his phone lighting up with nothing. Again. Nothing, no call, no message.
Wonbin clenched his teeth forcing the memory back down before it could surface completely.
Their shock fueled him.
“I told you something felt wrong. This was supposed to be my year, and of course something had to happen to ruin it.”
He didn’t stop to breathe.
“He’s ridiculous. He goes by ‘Anton’ now, like changing his name will fix his personallity. He says he’s here to ‘look for a different scene’ whatever that’s supposed to mean.”
Wonbin’s jaw clenched.
The name still felt wrong in his mouth.
Anton.
Too soft. Too familiar… He hated that it fit.
His voice stayed sharp, fingers curled so hard against the table his knuckles whitened. He refuses to let his presence shake him this easily.
“And Mr. Kibum paired him with your boyfriend Taro.”
“He’s here?” Shotaro asked quietly “With Channie?” Sungchan is not his boyfriend, they have a thing. A thing Shotaro wishes could be more.
“Who’s with me?”
Sungchan's voice cut through the tension as he approached. Anton right behind him.
“Chanyoung” Wonbin said sharply.
The moment his eyes landed on Anton, the air went still. Heavy. Suffocating. Wonbin’s chest tightened painfully.
Anton looked older. Different, but his eyes, his damn puppy eyes were the same.
And that was the most infuriating part of all.
But Sungchan, blissfully unaware of their history, smiled.
“Oh! Anton’s here. I wanted to introduce him, we’re competing in the Battle of Bands. You know, for now me, him and Mrs. KeyB”.
Of course he had an obvious nickname for his keyboard.
“These are Shotaro, Wonbin and Seunghan.” He gestured around the table.
Wonbin sucked in a sharp breath. Anger rushed in like a reflex, fast and familiar.
It was easier dealing with the ache pressing against his ribs, than admitting that a part of him never stopped waiting for him.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he snapped. “You’re competing? You just got here.” His eyes narrowed.
“And as if you could play anything other than classical. This is ridiculous.”
“Jesus Bin, don't be rude,” Sungchan said.
“Hi,” Anton said quietly as he looked straight at Wonbin.
“Long time no see.”
Wonbin swallowed hard.
For a tiny moment, he almost answered with the truth. ‘You left, how could you’.
Instead, he straightened his armor back in place.
Hope and regret tangled in Anton’s voice.
“Don’t worry about me, Wonbin. I’m more than capable.”
Sungchan frowned.
“Wait… do you know each other?”
And at that moment, Anton knew this was going to be a long year.