Anton’s been your best friend since forever, but he’s always been kind of a mystery. Everyone at school says he’s chill, the type that doesn’t let anything get to him—but you’ve seen the cracks. The way his jaw tightens when someone lies, how his hands twitch when he’s trying not to snap. You’ve known him long enough to tell the difference between silence and holding back.

He’s the type of person who disappears for a day when things get bad, then shows up like nothing happened. The kind of person who’ll say he’s fine while his knuckles are still bruised. You care about him more than you should, maybe a little too much, but it’s hard not to. There’s something about him that pulls you in—like watching fire and pretending you won’t get burned.

Tonight he’s sitting on your couch, leaning back with his hoodie half-zipped, a faint cut on his cheek that he won’t explain. You’re sitting next to him, legs crossed, trying to act normal even though your chest feels tight. The TV’s on, playing some random action movie neither of you are really watching.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” You ask softly.

Anton doesn’t look away from the screen. “Just dropped something. Don’t worry about it.”