Archive of Our Own

The next morning, the reflection in the bathroom mirror informed me that I looked like a corpse resurrected on caffeine and self-loathing. My eyelids weighed a ton, red and swollen, the result of crying until three in the morning and spending the rest of the night beating brownie batter like a condemned man in the dorm kitchen.

On the worn-out university cafeteria table, between my untouched cup of coffee, Shotaro's juice, and Eunseok's phone, rested my last hope of not being hated for the rest of my life: a gigantic green container stuffed with sugar.

"You know," Eunseok broke the table's funereal silence, poking the plastic container with the tip of his pen, "in the Middle Ages, people offered blood sacrifices on altars to appease the fury of the gods. I think coconut sweet bread and chocolate chip brownies are a pretty worthy upgrade for your funeral. If Anton doesn't forgive you, at least I forgive your soul. Can I have one?"

Shotaro slapped his hand. "Eunseok! He's suffering!"

"He found out," I repeated what I had just told them, still half-numb, my voice scratching my throat. "My uncle handed it all over on a silver platter. Wonbi is dead and buried. And I'm next."

"Holy shit," Eunseok sighed, finally dropping the joke and leaning back in his chair. He crossed his arms, adopting the posture of a judge. "We warned you, Bin. We said, the whole time, that it was obvious this fluffy cardigan house of cards was going to collapse eventually."

"The poor guy..." Shotaro murmured, looking almost as destroyed as I was. He put down his juice. "Did he really get sick, Bin? Did he have a real panic attack?"

"He thought he was human garbage for liking his brother-in-law," I hid my face in my hands, wanting to dig a hole in the cafeteria floor and live in it forever. "He saw the star clips. He looked me in the face at the store yesterday. He is definitely disgusted by me. I'm a weirdo, a coward, I fucked with his head in such a way..."

"Hey," Eunseok snapped his fingers right near my ear, forcing me to look up. "Don't get things twisted. Nobody cares who you want to kiss, and apparently Anton cares even less, since he literally went to break up with your ghost sister because he had it bad for you. The problem isn't that you like boys or that you like cute things, the problem is that you had the emotional intelligence of a doorknob and stretched this ridiculous lie until the guy freaked out from guilt."

"He's right," Shotaro gave my shoulder an understanding rub. "Was it a massive screw-up? Yes. We understand your panic at the beginning, but what you did later hurt him. But now you're going to go there, face the music, and truly apologize. Without running away."

I sighed, hugging the green container against my chest as if it were a bulletproof vest. "What if he yells at me?"

"You listen with your mouth shut, because it's the least you deserve," Eunseok replied with the delicacy of a bulldozer. "Now get up and go to your rehearsal. And don't cry in front of him, for the love of God. Own up to this like a man."

The walk to the Arts building felt like it lasted three years. The practice room smelled of floor wax and old dust. I took my guitar out of its case and plugged the cables into the amp on autopilot. My hands were sweating so much that the P10 cable almost slipped through my fingers. I left the green container strategically on top of the speaker, right in the line of sight of the door. I rehearsed the speech a hundred times in my head. I was going to be mature. I was going to look deep into his eyes, say "I was a cowardly asshole, forgive me," and swallow whatever chewing out he wanted to give me. I deserved it.

The door handle turned. My stomach dropped to my feet.

Anton walked through the door. And he didn't look at all like a guy who had spent the night crying over being made a fool of. In fact, he was wearing a black leather jacket that made his shoulders look absurdly broad, dark jeans ripped at the knee, and his hair was messy in that way that fell perfectly over his eyes. He looked like he stepped out of an indie rock magazine cover, while I felt like a wet rat.

I jumped to my feet. The speech choked and died in my throat. I mentally prepared myself for the angry expression, the icy contempt, the deadly silence.

But Anton... smiled.

It wasn't a wide smile. It was a restrained, lazy, charming, almost lethal curve of his lips. He threw his backpack in the corner as if it were just another ordinary day and walked toward me. But he didn't stop at the usual normal distance. Anton took an extra step, crossing the invisible line of my personal space in a way he had never done before. He stopped less than a handspan away from me. The citrusy, woody scent of his cologne hit me straight in the face, mixed with the smell of the leather jacket.

"Hi," he said. His voice was lower than normal, drawling.

My brain fried.

"A-Anton," I choked out, stumbling backward in an idiotic reflex until my back hit the cold wood of the amplifier. "About yesterday... I... I brought this." I pointed frantically at the plastic container next to me. "I made it early this morning. I really wanted to talk to you about..."

"You made it?" He cut through my despair with terrifying calmness.

Anton simply ignored my panic. He reached out his arm, purposefully brushing his chest against my shoulder to reach it, and opened the lid of the container. He picked up one of the brownies, took a generous bite, and chewed slowly, without breaking his dark eyes away from mine for a single damn second.

I swallowed hard. He was too close. If I breathed a little deeper, my chest would be pressed against his.

Anton swallowed the sweet and leaned a little further forward. I felt my knees turn to jelly.

"You know," he murmured, his voice vibrating in a way that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "I always thought the bakery across the street made the best strawberry sweets in town... but I think I prefer yours. You should open a pastry shop, Wonbin."

The oxygen was simply sucked out of the music theory room. I opened and closed my mouth twice, emitting exactly zero logical sounds. He wasn't yelling at me. He wasn't calling me a lying piece of trash. He was...

Holy shit. He's flirting with me.

"Huh?" was the miserable, high-pitched noise that escaped me.

Anton let out a low laugh through his nose. He raised his free hand and, with the lightest touch in the universe, used his fingertips to push a strand of my sweaty bangs behind my ear. His skin was so hot it felt like it was burning mine.

"It's a shame you didn't come with those yellow star clips today," he whispered, his gaze dropping heavily to my mouth before rising to my eyes again. "I think they really suit you. It would leave your face freer for me to look at... I mean, for you to be able to play the guitar today."

And with a final smug smile that left my legs shaking, he turned his back on me, walked to the other side of the room, and started plugging in his own cables, placidly calm while my soul left my body.

With my hand trembling at a concerning level, I pulled my phone from my jeans pocket and turned sideways, hiding the screen against the speaker.

[WONBIN]:
HELP
HE'S NOT MAD. THERE WAS NO YELLING

HE'S FLIRTING WITH ME WHAT DO I DO

HE TOUCHED MY HAIR AND TALKED ABOUT THE CLIPS I THINK IM GONNA PASS OUT

I kept staring, panting, at Eunseok's typing ellipsis as if they were the timer on a ticking time bomb.

[EUNSEOK]:
hes playing you. its psychological revenge.

[SHOTARO]:
MY GOD IN HEAVEN!!!!! BREATHE AND PLAY THE GUITAR BOY

I glanced up from the screen, peeking over my shoulder. Anton was testing the keyboard. His rolled-up jacket sleeves showed off his forearms, and he turned his face in my direction on purpose, the ghost of that scoundrel smile still playing on his lips.

I was completely and irredeemably fucked.

I put my phone in my pocket with my hands still trembling, trying to ignore the drumbeat of my heart pounding against my ribs. I grabbed my pick, adjusted the guitar strap on my shoulder, and took a deep breath.

"Let's start," I said, or tried to say, since my voice came out thin and shaky.

The rehearsal was psychological torture this time, I was paying for all my karma, from all my past lives. The practice room seemed to have shrunk. The air was heavy, and every time I needed to look at Anton to keep time for the song, I found him already staring at me over the keyboard. His dark eyes were fixed on me, gleaming with a predatory confidence that left me completely disoriented.

In the middle of the second chorus, my fingers slipped on the strings, missing a chord in an embarrassing way. Instead of stopping or complaining, Anton hit the keys harder and laughed through his nose, and what a beautiful nose it was. He was loving watching me break into a cold sweat.

When the last note finally echoed and died on the soundproof walls, the silence that settled in the room was deafening.

Anton rested his elbows on the keyboard stand, intertwining his long fingers, and shot me that half-lidded look that seemed to read even my deepest sins.

"You're a bit tense today, Wonbin," he drawled my name on purpose, savoring every syllable. "Are you sure you don't need some help relaxing?"

That was the last straw.

The rubber band of my sanity snapped. I couldn't keep up that game. Guilt was eating me alive inside and his acting, as much as it made my legs weak, only reminded me of how much I had hurt the boy I liked.

"Enough," I muttered, pulling the guitar strap over my head and leaning the instrument against the amp haphazardly.

Anton's smug smile faltered for a fraction of a second. "Enough?"

"Enough," I repeated, taking a step toward him. My voice finally gained firmness, loaded with all the despair I had been swallowing for weeks. "I know what you're doing. Eunseok warned me. You're flirting to make me flustered and get revenge, and you have every right in the world to do that, because I was the biggest idiot on the face of the earth."

Anton blinked, his relaxed posture stiffening a bit. He stood up from the keyboard bench.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out, the words coming out in a desperate rush. "I'm sorry for the three strawberry tarts. I'm sorry for making you spend your money, I'm sorry for the cardigan and for the sick lie I created out of pure panic. I'm a cowardly piece of shit. But I need you to know something..."

I took another step. I was so close that I had to tilt my head up to look into his eyes.

"On that rainy day," my voice choked up a little, but I refused to look away. "I didn't push you because I was disgusted by you, Anton. I didn't think you were a creep. I pushed you because I was panicking."

"Panicking because you were pretending to be a woman," he shot back, his voice losing its velvety tone, suddenly sounding rougher, more real. The leather jacket seemed less intimidating and more like armor he was trying to hold up.

"Panicking because I like you," I confessed, feeling my chest burn. "Since the first day you stepped into that store looking for the Bowie CD. Well, actually, I think it started even before that. You're like a celebrity and... it's impossible not to notice you. You're so beautiful, talented, and kind. And when you got close in the rain... I freaked out, because I realized you actually wanted to kiss my imaginary sister, not me."

Anton's bad boy mask simply disintegrated.

His eyes widened, his lips parted, his breath caught in his throat. His hands fell loosely at his sides. All of the smug air vanished.

"Wait..." his voice came out in a hoarse, almost breaking whisper. "What did you say?"

"That I like you," I repeated, feeling my face burn.

"Like..." he blinked rapidly, looking genuinely in shock. "Like... Anton? Me? The idiot guy who bought snacks for a ghost?"

"Yeah. You."

He stared at me for long, agonizing seconds. I could see the gears in his brain turning at top speed. And then, he covered his face with both hands and let out a frustrated groan, his shoulders slumping with relief.

"My God, Wonbin," Anton murmured from behind his hands, his voice thick. "Sungchan and Sohee laughed so hard at my face yesterday that they almost got sick. They said I had taken a financial and emotional hit. I was so angry, so ashamed of having had a panic attack thinking you hated me... that I decided I was going to drive you crazy today. I was going to flirt until you wanted to disappear."

He took his hands off his face. His eyes were a little bright.

"But the truth is," Anton took a step toward me, closing the rest of the distance separating us, "that I also spent the whole night crying with my face buried in my pillow, thinking the only person I've fallen in love with at this college was disgusted by me."

"I would never be disgusted by you," I whispered, the guilt finally making way for something hot and electric boiling in my stomach.

"I think," Anton murmured, his thumb stroking my cheekbone, his gaze dropping to my mouth and lingering there, "that we need a fresh start. No lilac cardigan and no lies. I mean, you look cute in a lilac cardigan..."

"I would love that," I breathed out, closing my eyes for a second as I felt the touch I had dreamed of for weeks, months.

When I opened my eyes, his face was millimeters from mine. Anton leaned down a little, the scent of leather and cologne completely enveloping me, and finally closed the space between us.

At first, it was just a soft brush, almost a test, as if he were giving me space to pull back. But I didn't want to pull back. I raised my hands, grabbing the collar of his leather jacket to close the rest of the distance, and felt Anton sigh against my mouth. That was all it took for him to wrap his arms around my waist, pulling my body against his. His taste was an absurd mix of coffee and the chocolate from the brownie he had just eaten. The tension I had felt for so many weeks vanished, replaced by heat. I clung to his jacket, feeling like all the chaos of the last month had been worth it just for that damn second.

What started as a soft and hesitant touch spiraled out of control in a matter of seconds. It was my first time kissing a boy, too. When Anton's mouth opened a little more against mine, I sighed and yielded instantly, breaking any distance we were still trying to keep. The meeting of our tongues was hot, making me let out a low noise that was swallowed by him. Anton responded by pulling me harder, pressing our hips together until there wasn't a millimeter of air left between us. His belt buckle pressed against my stomach, but I didn't care in the slightest.

My hands slipped from the collar of his leather jacket and moved up to the nape of his neck, my fingers tangling in his dark hair. Feeling my touch in his hair, Anton let out a hoarse gasp that vibrated straight into my mouth. That drove me completely crazy.

We forgot about the practice room, the unlocked door, the keyboard, and the guitars. Anton took a step forward, pushing me slowly in a blind stumble until my back hit the cold wall. The light impact seemed to be the trigger for him to lose the rest of his control. His large hand moved up my back, firmly gripping the nape of my neck to deepen the kiss even further, while his other hand squeezed my hip possessively.

I could feel his heart hammering against my ribs through the leather jacket, beating in the same frantic and deafening rhythm as mine. We were kissing as if we were starving for each other.

When our lungs started to burn and oxygen became a necessity, we pulled away. Very slowly, as if breaking contact were physically painful.

Our foreheads remained resting against each other. The silence of the room was torn only by the sound of our heavy and desperate breaths. Anton was still holding the back of my neck, his eyes closed, his lips red and swollen, his hair a complete mess because of my hands. The expression of an unshakable boy had vanished completely.

"Wow," he panted, his voice coming out in a hoarse, drawn-out whisper. He opened his eyes slowly, and his pupils were so dilated that the irises almost disappeared. "I... I definitely should have done this that day in the rain."

I let out a weak laugh, totally breathless, feeling my face burn.

"If you had done that in the rain," I whispered back, lightly running my thumb over his warm cheek, "I probably would have passed out in the middle of the sidewalk."

His half-smile returned, but this time there was nothing smug or vindictive about it. It was just a silly smile, the most beautiful one I had ever seen.

"Good to know," Anton murmured, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. "I think we'll have to practice more to make sure you don't pass out."

I was about to answer, or rather, about to pull the collar of his jacket for another kiss, when a continuous buzz cut through the mood in the room.

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

I tried to ignore it. Anton laughed softly, the sound vibrating against my lips, and brushed his nose against my neck.

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

"I think your phone is going to explode," Anton whispered against my skin, his arms still firm around my waist.

I let out a frustrated groan, letting my head fall onto his shoulder for a second before shoving my hand into my pants pocket. My phone screen was so lit up with notifications that it almost blinded my eyes, which were used to the dim light of the practice room.

[EUNSEOK]:
helloo

did he murder you and hide the body inside the piano?

[SHOTARO]

BIN PLEASE ANSWER IM GONNA PASS OUT
Im going to call security!!!

[EUNSEOK]

if you don't send a message in sixty seconds,
im breaking down the door to that room.

"My friends," I muttered, feeling my face heat up with embarrassment. "They think you hated me and that I'm on the floor crying in a fetal position."

Anton peeked at the screen over my shoulder. I saw him give that charming smile out of the corner of his eye. Before I could type anything to calm down the two idiots I called my best friends, Anton's long fingers wrapped around my wrist and he took the device from my hand with irritating ease.

"Hey!" I protested, my eyes widening.

"Let me reassure them," Anton replied.

He unlocked the screen and opened the camera straight into the group chat. Before I could process what was happening, Anton pulled me by the waist with one arm, pressing my chest against his again, and raised the phone.

I must have looked like a disaster. My face was as red as a tomato, my lips obviously swollen, and my hair, which Anton had just messed up mercilessly, was pointing in all directions. Anton, on the other hand, looked stupidly handsome. He pressed his cheek against mine, gave a half-smile to the camera, and took the picture.

Sent.

"Anton!" I gasped, trying to snatch the phone from his hand too late. The photo was already gone. "Eunseok is going to have a heart attack!"

Anton threw his head back and let out a loud, genuine laugh that warmed my chest in an absurd way. He handed me back the phone.

I looked at the screen, waiting for the apocalypse.

For about five seconds, the chat was completely dead. And then...

[SHOTARO]:

IM CRYING TEARS OF JOY

[EUNSEOK]:

i hate both of you.
at least we don't have to pay for your funeral
enjoy and eat the brownies, because after this im going home.

I couldn't hold back my laughter. I put the phone back in my pocket, this time turning on do not disturb mode, and wrapped my arms around Anton's neck.

"There," Anton murmured, sliding his hands down my back to pull me closer again. "Problem solved. Now... where were we?"

We obviously couldn't play another note after that. The Music Theory rehearsal was officially canceled due to the fact that: neither of us had the slightest cognitive capacity to read sheet music at that moment.

We went to the main street right outside the university. The metal bell chimed softly when Anton pushed open the glass door of a small, cozy bakery that smelled of ground coffee and vanilla. There was an endless variety of sweets, but Anton's eyes went straight to the middle shelf.

"Good afternoon," he said to the clerk, resting his elbows on the glass with that natural charm that got on my nerves. "I'll have two iced coffees, please. And two of those strawberry tarts."

I felt my cheeks heat up. "Anton..." I murmured, laughing nervously. "Are you never going to get over the tarts?"

"Never," he whispered back, while the clerk went to get our orders. "Those tarts caused me a lot of emotional damage. I demand compensation."

When the girl placed the tray with the coffees and sweets on the counter, I made a move to grab my wallet. Anton held my hand immediately, stopping me from moving.

"Don't even think about it," he said firmly, taking his credit card from his jacket pocket with his free hand and handing it to the clerk.

"Anton, stop being stubborn, let me pay," I protested, pulling my arm slightly. "You've already spent too much money on me for nothing these past few weeks."

He ignored my protest, grabbing the tray with ease and guiding me to an isolated booth at the back of the shop. We sat facing each other, our knees touching under the small table.

Anton pushed the small plate with the strawberry tart toward me. The white cream and bright strawberries looked perfect, but his eyes were focused only on me, with an intensity that made my stomach do flips.

"I didn't spend money for nothing," Anton said, his voice in a low, serious tone that made me hold my breath. "I was just paying for the wrong person."

He slid his hand across the table, covering mine.

"This right here," Anton smiled, a small, genuine, and absurdly beautiful smile, "is my first official date with Park Wonbin. And I insist on paying for his tarts."

I stared into his eyes, feeling like my chest was simply going to explode with so much affection. I picked up the small metal fork, cut a piece of the pastry, and brought it to my mouth. The taste of the strawberry mixed with the sugar was incredible.

"Alright," I gave in, unable to wipe the smile off my face. "But I'm wearing the lilac cardigan on our second date."

Anton laughed out loud, throwing his head back, and the sound filled the entire bakery. "Deal."

A week had passed since my life started moving forward.

Anton and I talked all the time. If we weren't together at college, we were exchanging useless messages in the middle of the night or on calls that lasted until one of us passed out from sleep. Anton had become a permanent fixture at the CD store. He showed up almost every day in the late afternoon, sat on the stool near the register or leaned against the counter, and kept me company until my shift ended. My uncle finally met him properly and they hit it off great, spending hours arguing about nineties rock bands while I organized the inventory with a stupid smile on my face.

But the biggest change, by far, was in myself. The fear of being judged that kept me trapped in dark, neutral hoodies had simply evaporated. I didn't need to hide anymore, much less from the guy holding my hand under the university table.

That Friday, the campus cafeteria was packed. I was wearing a fluffy sweater in a pastel blue shade and a yellow star clip keeping my bangs out of my eyes. Anton had spent the first ten minutes of lunch complimenting the clip, which left me with flushed cheeks as I tried to focus on my food.

We were sitting at our usual table. Anton had his arm casually thrown over the back of my chair, stealing french fries from my plate. Eunseok and Shotaro were across from us.

"You two are disgusting," Eunseok grumbled, pointing his fork at us. "Seriously, your new couple energy is polluting my oxygen. Shotaro, tell me I'm not right."

"Leave them alone, Eunseok! They're cute," Shotaro defended, smiling and drinking his juice.

I laughed, leaning my head on Anton's shoulder. "You're just bitter, Eunseok."

It was at that moment that two plastic trays slammed down hard on the empty space at our table. I looked up and saw Sungchan and Sohee, Anton's two inseparable friends, pulling up chairs to join us.

"What's up, couple of the year," Sohee greeted, sitting next to Shotaro and already stealing a fry from Anton's plate. "We were circling this cafeteria for half an hour hunting for a spot."

Sungchan, however, ignored his own lunch. He was absurdly tall and had a bright smile. He pulled his chair right in front of Eunseok, sitting with his legs spread and resting his elbows on the table, focusing all his attention on him.

"I didn't see you complaining about a lack of oxygen when we passed you in the hallway yesterday, Eunseok," Sungchan said mischievously.

Eunseok narrowed his eyes, stopping his fork mid-air. "The table is public, Sungchan, but my patience is strictly private. Eat your lunch quietly."

Sohee let out a nasal laugh, and Anton squeezed my thigh under the table, clearly amused by the scene.

Instead of backing off or firing back, Sungchan just tilted his head to the side. His smile widened, soft and shamelessly interested. He rested his chin in his hand, staring intently at Eunseok.

"Are you always this sharp?" Sungchan asked, lowering his voice to something almost intimate, ignoring the fact that there were four other people at the table. "I find it fascinating. You're very funny, Eunseok. You look cute when you're annoyed."

The fork Eunseok was holding slipped from his fingers and fell onto his metal plate with a loud clink. He blinked three times, way too fast. His shoulders, which were always tense on the defensive, dropped. A violent red color crept up his neck and took over his entire face, right up to the tips of his ears. He opened his mouth to shoot back, but no sound came out.

Eunseok, the guy who always had a quick and cruel comeback for everything, was completely paralyzed and embarrassed.

I couldn't contain myself. I let out a laugh so loud that a few people at neighboring tables looked at us.

"Did anyone get the license plate?" I asked between laughs, pointing at my best friend. "My God in heaven! It's the first time in the history of humanity that Eunseok is speechless. Sungchan, what did you do to him?"

"I didn't do anything," Sungchan shrugged, still smiling openly at a short-circuiting Eunseok. "Just told the truth."

Shotaro was covering his mouth with his hands to hide his own laughter, and Anton hid his face in my neck, shaking from laughing so hard.

"I hate all of you," Eunseok finally managed to mutter, his voice strangled, lowering his head to stare at his own food and desperately trying to hide his tomato-red face. "I should have let Wonbin pass out in the practice room."

The day of our project presentation finally arrived. The auditorium in the Arts building became my nightmare because of my nervousness. I was in the corner of the backstage area, tuning my guitar for the third time in a row, feeling my hands break out in a cold sweat.

"Ready?" Anton appeared by my side. He was wearing a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, looking so incredibly handsome that it made me a little angry.

"Ready," I sighed, slipping the guitar strap over my shoulder. "If I mess up the solo in the second chorus, promise you'll play louder to cover for me?"

Anton smiled, that half-smile drawn just for me. He leaned in, leaving a quick, loud kiss on my cheek. "You're not going to mess up anything, Wonbin. You're the best guitarist in this class."

The professor's voice called our names through the speakers. I exchanged one last look with Anton, took a deep breath, and walked onto the stage.

The auditorium lighting was focused on us, but I could still see the audience. It didn't take two seconds for me to find our chaotic group in the front row. Shotaro and Sohee were holding a piece of cardboard with our names written in crooked letters.

Next to them, Sungchan had his arm stretched across the back of the chairs, close to Eunseok's shoulders. Eunseok kept his arms crossed defensively, his face a suspicious shade of pink, while uselessly trying to ignore Sungchan whispering something in his ear.

Anton sat on the keyboard bench, positioning his long hands over the keys. I positioned myself near the microphone in the center of the stage, holding the neck of the guitar firmly. I exchanged a nod with the professor and then looked at Anton, who returned the gaze with affection.

Anton played the first sequence of chords. I closed my eyes for a second, letting the music guide me, and came in at the exact right time, my fingers sliding across the guitar strings.

The chemistry that once left us tense and panicking was now our greatest triumph. The music flowed with an absurd naturalness. I felt every note he played, and he perfectly followed every chord of mine.

At the bridge of the song, when the arrangement demanded more weight, I opened my eyes and took a few steps back, getting closer to the keyboard. Anton took his eyes off his hands and looked up. His dark eyes locked onto mine. We held the gaze throughout the whole solo. I saw the exact moment he smiled, his lips curving while his fingers danced masterfully across the keys. He was in his own element, and I in mine, but we belonged perfectly on the same stage.

The last note resonated cleanly. The sound of the keyboard slowly died away, until the auditorium was swallowed by a second of absolute silence.

The applause exploded.

I heard Sohee's sharp whistle and Shotaro's enthusiastic shouts. That was my life now.

I turned to Anton. He was already standing. Ignoring the formalities of the stage, the professor evaluating with his clipboard, and the audience full of students, Anton crossed the short distance between us. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me into a tight side hug, and kissed the top of my head, right next to the yellow star clip.

"I told you that you weren't going to mess up," he murmured in my ear, his voice muffled by the applause.

I rested my head on his shoulder, squeezing his leather jacket with my free hand. The lie about the ghost girl was buried, and the whole college now knew who we were. And honestly, I couldn't be happier.

The shop bell rang for the last time as the last customer left. I walked up to the window, unlocked the glass door just enough to flip the sign from "Open" to "Closed," and turned the key with a sigh of relief. It had been a long day.

"Finally."

I turned around. Anton was sitting on the floor, leaning against the MPB section shelf, his long legs stretched out in the aisle. He was wearing the same leather jacket as always, but he looked a thousand times more relaxed than the day we met. My uncle had already gone home an hour ago, leaving Anton with the job of being my "company and security," which in practice meant him distracting me the whole time.

I walked over to him, offering my hand to help him up. Anton grabbed my fingers, but instead of standing up, he pulled me down, making me stumble and fall sitting on his lap.

"Anton!" I complained, laughing and lightly hitting his shoulder.

"My boyfriend works too hard," he murmured, ignoring my protest and burying his face in the crook of my neck. The smell of coffee and leather enveloped me instantly. "I deserve some attention now."

"I need to close the register and turn off the lights," I reminded him, even though I made no effort to get up.

"Wait. Before that..." Anton pulled back a little, just enough to reach the inside pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a clear acrylic case. Inside, there was a burned CD. The silver disc had no cover, only letters written with a black marker in his messy handwriting, which read "For my favorite boy."

I felt my heart do that familiar, stupid jump. I looked from the CD to him, eyes wide.

"You made a mixtape for me?" I whispered, taking the case carefully.

"I did," Anton gave a shy smile, scratching the back of his neck. "I know we live in the streaming era, but... considering we met here, in the middle of these old CD shelves, I thought it would only be fair. And you owe me a dance since that day in the rain."

I couldn't say anything. I just got up from his lap, held his hand, and pulled him toward the counter. I turned on the store's sound system, opened the tray of the old CD player my uncle insisted on keeping, and put Anton's disc in.

I pressed play. David Bowie's Heroes filled the store.

Anton pulled me by the waist before the singer even started singing. In the narrow space between the 90s rock section and the register, we started swaying slowly. My arms wrapped around his neck, and Anton's forehead rested against mine.

"I love you, you know?" I whispered, my voice almost fading into the melody.