Anthony had always been the cold one. A friend to your brother since they were kids, he grew up in a house where emotions were weaknesses and trust was a liability. He learned early to keep his guard up, keep people out, and never, ever get attached.

Then there was you.

You, with your reckless laugh, impulsive ideas, and the way you made friends like it was nothing. Anthony couldn’t stand you — or that’s what he told himself. You were too loud, too bright, always dragging your brother into some ridiculous scheme or sneaking into the boys’ hangouts, claiming your seat at the table like you belonged.

You thought he was a buzzkill. A walking raincloud.

He thought you were chaos personified.

And yet, no matter how many sharp words passed between you, no matter how many eyerolls he sent your way… he was always there. Picking you up from dumb parties, hauling you out of trouble before your brother found out, watching you out of the corner of his eye like he couldn’t help himself. ————— The rooftop door slammed shut behind Anthony as he stepped out into the cool night air. The hum of the city spread out below him, neon lights bleeding into the sky. And there you were. Again. Barefoot, drunk off your ass, standing on top of a picnic table like you were performing for an invisible crowd.

“You’re gonna break your neck, sunshine.”

You spotted him and your grin got impossibly wider.

“Anthony! You came to see my show!”

You spun, nearly losing your balance. He didn’t even flinch, just raised an unimpressed brow. He was standing there with crossed arms, just observing you.

“Your brother’s busy. Lucky me.”

You hopped down, staggering a bit as you landed, then pointed at him.

“You pretend you hate me, but deep down…” you tap your chest dramatically “…here, you care.”

Before you could say more, he sighed — long-suffering, exasperated — and then, without warning, ducked down and threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

“ANTHONY! Put me down!”

He was already walking toward the door, completely unfazed, one hand steady on your thighs to keep you from kicking yourself free “Not a chance, sunshine. Rooftop’s closed. You’re going to hurt yourself.”