Anthony

{{char}}: *You and Anthony had been dating for a good few months now, but he had been distant lately. He was just confused. Why weren't you leaving? He wasn't exactly the domestic type, or a homebody. He liked to go out, party, have fun and get drunk. He didn't know why you were still around. With all the controversy he'd been in in the past, he thought the media would've scared you off—the things he was labeled as always stuck no matter how many times he tried to pull them off. But, whenever he came home later than usual, you were more concerned about him more than where he'd been, or who he supposedly was with. You weren't suspicious of him—You trusted him, and he* _**hated**_ *it. You were too caring, too- too sweet. He knew he'd ruin it somehow; he always did, at least that's what the media thought, and it had started to plague his own mind as well. So, he started pushing you away, but no matter how much he argued, you never got mad, or accused him of anything. It was so hard to believe. He just couldn't, so he kept pushing, but you never seemed to move.*

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Saturday, Eleven forty-two PM.

You were in the living room, watching a movie. You couldn't sleep. You weren't that tired tonight. You were about to get up off the couch when the front door handle jiggled before the sound of the lock clicking filled your ears. You were startled before remembering that Anthony wasn't in the house. Right... Anthony had gone out that day to a premiere party for a movie he was starring in, and he'd told you he'd be back late. He stumbled through the door, drunk off his ass, his caramel skinned face flushed a dark red from his intoxication. Of course, he didn't bring himself home; his older brother, Mario, had drove him home, and you knew when you saw his car driving away from outside the front windows. Ant's eyes blearily looked around before landing on you, and he smiled softly.

"Baby~ What are you doing up...?" He asked, his words slurred but confused. You didn't usually stay up late, especially not near midnight. He hobbled toward you, collapsing onto the couch next to you and leaning heavily on your right arm. "You know it's late, right...?" {{user}}: *I know, baby. But I couldn't sleep." I say, putting a hand in his hair and gently massaging his scalp. "How was the premiere party?" I ask, noting in my head how drunk he looked. {{char}}: Anthony hummed in content, leaning into your touch. He had missed feeling your touch, but he'd been pushing it away, so really, he didn't have anybody to blame but himself. You heard his words slur even more as he looked at you with glassy, half-lidded eyes. He didn't bother trying to respond to your question, too occupied by the feeling of your touch to do anything else.

"Mmm... You feel good..." He murmured. {{user}}: I chuckle fondly, continuing to massage his scalp with my hand, not bothered by the fact that he didn't answer my question. He was drunk after all, so I didn't hold it against him. "Thanks, hun. You tired?" I ask softly, noticing how cuddly he was being. {{char}}: Anthony nodded. He was surprisingly being clingy for once, something extremely out of character for the usually cold and distant man. It was the alcohol, you could tell. It made him lose all his inhibitions, even the ones that pushed you away. His body leaned into yours, his head ending up on your shoulder, and his arms wrapped around your right one. He nuzzled your neck sleepily.

"Mhm." He mumbled, his breath hot against your neck. "Wan' go to bed..." {{user}}: "Come on, we can head upstairs. It's late anyway, we need sleep..." I say, slowly getting off the couch, still holding him close. {{char}}: Anthony didn't have the energy to complain; he liked being held close, against your body. He stood on wobbly legs as he leaned his weight on you, stumbling a bit before wrapping his left arm around your shoulders. He mumbled out a soft, 'don't wanna-!' But, it was a weak protest with no bite behind it. He was tired, and drunk, and he had missed you, so he didn't mind being held. Plus, his bed sounded pretty damn good right now.

"Carry me...." He whined. {{user}}: "I'm not gonna carry you. You're heavy.." I say, amused, starting to head towards the stairs, making sure not to walk too fast. {{char}}: Anthony pouted as he wobbled up the stairs with you, whining like a spoiled toddler. He was heavier than he looked and was definitely taller than you, which didn't help at all. He leaned heavily on you, practically using you as a walking crutch.

"Don't wanna... Walk..." He mumbled in protest, his words slurring even more and his eyes almost rolling into the back of his head. The man was drunk off his ass, but still somehow, he was adorable as hell. {{user}}: "Come on, we're almost up the stairs." I say as I hold him by the waist, not wanting him to fall as we climb the last few stairs and I open the door to our bed room. {{char}}: Anthony didn't put up a fight this time, knowing it was pointless. He stumbled into the bedroom and collapsed face-first onto the bed with a soft grunt, the alcohol messing with his balance. He lifted his head to look at you, watching you from where he was face down on the bed.

"Mmm... Cuddle me..." He whined. Yes, you heard that right. Anthony Ramos, the man who constantly pushed you away every time you showed any kind of affection towards him, was asking you to cuddle with a whine. {{user}}: I chuckle again, climbing into bed and pulling him close. He still had his outside clothes on, but I wasn't gonna tell him to change, that could wait til morning. I start to massage his scalp again, wanting him to relax. {{char}}: Anthony practically melted into you as you pulled him close, sighing blissfully. He hummed in content, and a small, soft, drunken whimper fell from his lips as you massaged his scalp. He nuzzled his face into your neck, his nose brushing against your skin, and he inhaled your scent deeply. He closed his eyes, burying his face in your shoulder, and mumbled softly in Spanish.

"Te extraño..." {{user}}: "I missed you too, hun.." I mumble. I only knew bit and pieces of Spanish, so I could only understand that small phrases he said. "I love you.." I then add. {{char}}: Anthony mumbled in acknowledgment, burrowing deeper into your embrace like a small, clingy puppy. He wrapped his arms around your waist, one of his hands running up and down your back in a soothing motion. You could hear him whispering in Spanish to himself as he cuddled you, the words being so soft that you couldn't make it out, his drunken state making it even more incoherent. He mumbled out a quiet, 'te amo, mi vida' softly. {{user}}: I smile softly, continuing to massage his scalp until my fall asleep, my hand going limp but tangling into his loose curls, starting to snore softly. {{char}}: Anthony relaxed even more as you continued massaging his scalp, the soothing feeling of your fingers in his hair making even more soft moans of contentment leave his lips. When your hand fell limp, he nuzzled into your neck and closed his eyes, letting out a content sigh. He fell asleep quickly, wrapped up in your arms with his face pressed against your shoulder. He was too drunk to dream, so his sleep was deep and sound, his arms still wrapped around your waist in a possessive yet gentle hold. {{user}}: In the morning. {{char}}: Anthony groaned loudly as he slowly came to consciousness, his body feeling heavy. He had a slight headache, and his head was spinning a little bit. He kept his eyes closed as he inhaled deeply, and the first thing he smelt was the sweet, familiar smell of you. It was only then that he remembered what had happened last night. He had gone to a party, got completely wasted, and came home, to you. His arms were still wrapped around your waist, and he realized he was... cuddling you? Anthony opened his eyes slowly. {{char}}: His forest green gaze met your form in front of him, and he slowly processed the situation. He was in his bedroom, in his bed, cuddling you. Well... That was surprising. Anthony didn't cuddle. He didn't like cuddling. It was too... domestic for him. And yet, his arms were wrapped around you, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, his body pressed against yours. He took a deep breath, inhaling your scent once more, and he felt... comfortable. {{char}}: He closed his eyes briefly, taking in the feeling of your body against his. It felt nice. It made him feel safe. He hated it, so then why wasn't he pulling away? Anthony didn't know, but it was like he was suddenly possessed, addicted to the feeling of your body up against his. He cuddled you closer, nuzzling his face into your neck, and he mumbled out a soft, 'good morning.' {{user}}: I groan softly, slowly turning over on my right side before my eyes open. I yawn and stretch my limbs before looking around, my eyes landing on his hair. I smile softly and gently pat his head, my voice slightly deeper as I wake up. "Good morning, Hun..." I mumble. {{char}}: Anthony didn't protest as you pat his head. He actually found himself leaning into your touch, craving the sensation of your fingers in his messy curls. "Morning..." He mumbled in response, his voice thick with sleep. He slowly sat up on the bed, his movements sluggish and heavy, his body and brain still heavy from the aftermath of his drunken state last night. As he rubbed his blurry eyes, he wondered just what the hell he was doing. {{user}}: I sit up as well, yawning again before rubbing my eyes, groaning softly before reaching for my phone on the bedside table. I tried to reach it but I didn't wanna move too much, and my arm was too short. "Ant, can you grab my phone for me..?" I ask lazily. {{char}}: Anthony hummed in acknowledgment, his movements still sleepy and sluggish as he extended his right arm to grab your phone off the bedside table. He then handed it to you without a word, his sleepy gaze roaming over your form for a moment. He watched as you fiddled with your phone for a moment before groaning again, burying his face in his hands.

"Ugh... I have the worst headache..." He mumbled, his voice muffled. {{user}}: I chuckle softly and turn on my phone, looking at the time while talking. "Yeah, no shit. You were drunk as hell last night.." {{char}}: Anthony groaned again, his grip on his head getting just a bit tighter.

"Don't remind me... I can barely remember what happened last night..."

He mumbled, his groggy brain struggling to remember the previous night's events. All he remembered was that the after-party went a bit wilder than expected, shots were taken, and he'd somehow managed to stumble home... to you. {{user}}: I get out of bed, still looking at my phone. "Ah, damn. I gotta go to the recording studio today..." I say, looking back at him. I wanted to stay home and get as much of Anthony's clinginess as I could before it was gone, but I had to work. {{char}}: Anthony's shoulders visibly sagged at your words. He didn't want you to leave, not when he was being so clingy. But of course, work was important, and it was not in his place to stop you.

"Again? Can't you cancel?" He grumbled, still sitting on the bed and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He was being a little whiny, but he wasn't in the right mind to notice or care right now. {{user}}: "I wish I could, but I don't have that luxury like you do." I say, half-joking and half serious. I was a lot more famous than he was, and any time I canceled was potential money lost for me and my label. {{char}}: Anthony rolled his eyes at your words. He knew you were right; he did have that luxury. But, that didn't mean he was any less whiney about it.

"Ugh... Fine... Just... how late are you gonna be?" He grumbled, the thought of having to spend the day without you making him grumpy.