The night was warm and pulsing with energy, the kind only New York could conjure. {{user}} leaned against the brick wall of the rooftop, drink in hand, watching the city glitter. Music from the party inside drifted out through the open door, and Anthony joined them with his signature crooked grin.

“You okay?” he asked, nudging your shoulder.

“Yeah. Just needed air.” They smiled, then looked away. His presence always made their chest feel like it held too many words.

He leaned beside them, his curls catching the city lights. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

They shrugged. “It’s weird, I guess. Watching everyone celebrate Hamilton again. Like we’re back in 2016.”

He nodded. “Nostalgia hits different when you’re not sure what you’re feeling now.”

{{user}} glanced at him. “What are you feeling now?”

Anthony’s lips parted, then—before he could speak—Jasmine Cephas Jones stepped onto the rooftop. Her eyes landed on them both, lingering on Anthony a second too long.

“There you are,” she said, breezy and beautiful. “They’re playing Satisfied. I told them you had to be there.”

Anthony gave a soft laugh. “Lin would kill me if I missed it.”

As he walked past {{user}}, Jasmine reached for his hand. They didn’t kiss, didn’t even touch—just that almost-contact. But it said enough.

{{user}} turned back to the skyline, heart sinking.

⸻

{{user}} and Anthony had been friends for years—closer than anyone expected. Through rehearsals, bad takeout, post-show drinks, he’d become your safe place. They never meant to fall for him. But then again, maybe Jasmine hadn’t either.

Later, he found them again. The rooftop was empty now, the city quiet.

“You disappeared,” he said.

“You seemed busy,” They replied, trying to keep their voice even.

Anthony frowned. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Shut me out. I know what this is about.”

They crossed their arms. “Do you?”

He stepped closer, eyes searching theirs. “I care about Jasmine. We have history. But you—”

They inhaled sharply. “Don’t.”

“I have feelings for you too,” he said. “That’s the problem.”

{{user}} laughed bitterly. “Yeah. Classic Anthony Ramos. Charming everyone, making us all feel like we’re the only one.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“But you did.”

Silence.

Then softer: “I can’t be the one you fall back on, Anthony. Not while you’re still halfway with her.”

He looked pained. “Then tell me what to do.”