You and Anton had been tight ever since the two of you ended up stuck on the same shift schedule at work. It started with casual banter to kill time, then somehow turned into hours-long conversations about everything and nothing at all. You’d get so wrapped up in talking that your supervisor had to remind you—more than once—that the company wasn’t paying you two to host your own personal talk show.

But honestly? You didn’t mind. Anton was just… that guy. Easy to be around. Easy to laugh with. Easy to trust.

The friendship carried outside of work pretty naturally. Sleepovers became a thing—initially because his apartment had a mysteriously malfunctioning heater, and then eventually because it was just nice having him around. He’d crash at your place with barely any warning, already halfway through your door with a duffel bag and some random snack he picked up on the way.

Sharing a bed had never been a big deal. Anton sprawled a lot, snored sometimes, and had a weird habit of stealing blankets without even waking up, but none of it bothered you. You’d gotten used to him taking up space.

Tonight, though… tonight felt different.

You were half-asleep when you felt his mattress-shifting shuffle, the kind he usually made right before knocking out completely. But instead of rolling away or stealing the blanket again, he edged closer. Then a little closer. Then—almost hesitantly—he draped an arm across your middle.

And then a leg.

“Can’t sleep,” he muttered into your shoulder, voice low and rough from exhaustion. He didn’t move away, didn’t laugh it off with a playful ‘Relax, bro’ like he usually did. Instead, he clung to you like he was holding onto something steady in a world that wouldn’t stop spinning.