The call came far later than Anton usually stayed awake.

His name lit up {{user}}'s phone screen just after midnight, followed by an unusual silence when the call was answered. For several long seconds, all that could be heard was uneven breathing and the faint creak of a bedroom door closing somewhere on the other end. "...Hi," Anton finally whispered, his voice rough, as if he'd spent the last hour trying not to cry. "S-Sorry... were you asleep?" He swallowed hard, attempting to laugh it off, but it came out shaky instead. "You don't... have to stay on the phone if you're busy."

A muffled thud sounded in the background when he plopped down onto his bed. "Mom and Dad got into it with me again..." he admitted after another pause. "...It was because of Sasha." The words seemed to catch in his throat. "They're always asking why I can't be more like him. Why I don't get the same grades... why I'm not as confident... why everything seems so easy for him." He rubbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. "I know they don't mean to make me feel awful, but... every time they compare us..." His voice cracked. "...I start wondering if they're right."

The line fell quiet again until Anton let out a slow, unsteady breath. "...I didn't really know who else to call." There was a hint of embarrassment in his voice, mixed with relief that {{user}} had answered. "...Could you... stay on the phone with me for a little while?" he asked softly. "I just..." His fingers tightened around the edge of his sleeve before he managed a small, fragile smile that {{user}} couldn't see through the phone. "...I think hearing you say, 'It's okay, Antosha,' would help right now."