Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

01. Where William learns all about photo filters (and threatens to make Est jobless)

Est rolls his neck slowly, trying to get rid of a pesky crick that’s been bugging him for the last five minutes. He tracks the slow crawl of the progress bar across the screen, eyes squinting and strained bloodshot at this point, his entire head weighing a ton on his shoulders. Spending over eighteen hours in front of a monitor does that to a guy. 

With his calendar all clear over the three days that the LYKN boys are away for a concert overseas, it’s his only chance to finally lock in and finish editing his and William’s Chiang Mai vlog. It’s been a whole day of select songs and random effects and the sound of his and William’s voices. Now that he’s just waiting for the file to render, it’s suddenly awfully quiet. 

The pads of his fingers make no noise as they tap-dance restlessly on the desk mat. He keeps eyeing the screen, brows furrowed, waiting with palpable unease. He can unclench when the rendering doesn’t error out like it did the first two times.

It’s so quiet. 

He can play some music or get up and watch something on TV, but he needs to make sure this goes absolutely smoothly this time. He’s not sure how staring down his computer will help with that; all he knows is he can’t pay attention to anything else until this one’s out of the way. 

The still frame behind the glowing status bar catches his eye suddenly. It’s partially obstructed and faded out in the background, but the image William made that day – relaxed and unbridled, stripped of the typical glamorous trappings of their jobs, bathed in sunset palette – is as vivid as ever in his memory.

Unbidden, his mind strays to big eyes full of starlight; a bright, playful smile; baby hands fitting just right in his, carrying the perfect dose of comfort and calm at the tip of every adorable finger.

Est’s hands are cold now, fingers still tap-tapping a steady rhythm like a metronome. 

His gaze flicks over to his phone propped up next to the monitor stand. The screen is black. He turned off all social media notifications except the one for Line the minute he planted himself at his desk so he could focus. It must have buzzed maybe ten times throughout the day – nothing so pressing that he had to respond immediately. Nothing from William.

A very faint ticking sound interrupts the low, steady hum of the air conditioner. Est glances up at the clock.

1 AM.

There’s no time difference between where he is and where LYKN are. He knows this just as well as he knows that William doesn’t fall asleep right away even after an exhausting performance.

He peeks at his phone again. It looks dead, but he knows it’s not.

It is so damn quiet.

“You know what–”

He exhales through his nose, sits up with conviction – as though he’s just made up his mind about a matter of the highest importance – and grabs his phone. When the screen comes alive, he’s immediately greeted by the same Line notifications he’s already seen earlier. He doesn’t fight the downward pull at the corners of his mouth. Something about learning for certain that nothing new came in between then and now makes the creases between his brows deepen. 

The first thing he does is switch his Instagram notifications back on. His phone dings in quick succession: a post from Tui in the LYKN broadcast channel, followed by Lego, then Nut, Tui again, Hong, Nut again–

williamjkp just shared a post

Est taps on the note and the app opens to a set of photos. 

He takes a long, hard pause. 

The first one looks like it was taken at the Suvarnabhumi Airport lounge the morning of LYKN’s flight. It’s followed by one on the plane, with William in the window seat and Nut beside him. The third is of the venue: a sea of empty seats from the vantage point of some sort of elevated platform at the far end of the stage. Est stares as he moves on to the fourth and fifth and back, mouth slightly agape, head tilting to the side, puzzled. 

He has never seen any of these photos before.

There’s a kick of panic in his stomach as he exits the app, pulls up Line, and finds his chat with William. The last message he received was a “GN! Sweet dreams!” from the night before LYKN flew out of Bangkok. Est replied then with “Don’t miss me too much” – which is frankly hilarious now that he’s the one seeking out William’s noise all of a sudden. 

He refreshes the chat once, twice. Nothing. No message. No pictures.

Est wilts in his chair, eyes still stuck on the thread. 

The computer in front of him chimes loudly to signal that the rendering is complete, but he barely hears it over the sinking in his gut. 

He hops back onto Instagram, swiping through the same five photos slowly. Already he can see where he would have cropped a photo differently, or adjusted the contrast a bit to soften the colors, or tweaked the hue and tint to lean slightly warmer. It’s not terrible editing by any means. It’s just– save for strictly promo or ad related posts, he can’t remember the last time William did not send him pictures to look through and edit for him. 

It’s supposed to be their thing. It is their thing. Unless something changed without him knowing, or maybe he did something without realizing.

Est goes back to Line and takes a minute to consider what to write. Preferably something that sounds less deranged than: “Why didn’t you send these to me first? Don’t you want me to edit your photos anymore? Are we okay?”  

Before he can change his mind, he takes a screenshot of one of the pictures. This one was taken at sunset, possibly outside the venue. Nervously chewing on the side of his lip – he has no clue why he’s so nervous; when did William start making him so nervous? – Est starts to type.

Relief quickly washes over him when a message bubble with the typing indicator pops up within seconds. At least he knows for sure that William isn’t icing him out for whatever reason.

Just like that – a few frivolous words, a silly emoji, and a little red heart – it’s like a switch is flipped. 

The chair pivots away from the desk as Est lets the plush backrest catch his weight. Absently, he starts lazily swiveling himself back and forth. He doesn’t realize right away that he’s smiling.

He gets a laughing emoji for that.

Est snickers to himself, amused, as the weight in his chest begins to lift. He doesn’t really mean it – doesn’t want William to do it himself – so he’s secretly glad the offer was brushed off.

A sticker of a puppy with comically huge, teary eyes pops up on the screen.

Est can almost see William sulking in front of him. Admittedly, it makes him feel a little bad.

Est rolls his eyes despite the blooming warmth in his cheeks. He’s quick to stamp out the fluttering in his belly, reminding himself that this is just William being William, and William is a naturally flirty gremlin. It’s just playful banter; he doesn’t mean anything by it.

Est reacts to the message with a laughing cat. Neutral. Playful right back.

And then, because he has to ask:

Something shifted the week after William’s twentieth birthday, though Est still can’t pinpoint what or why, exactly. He’s been oddly hot-and-cold lately. Or maybe lukewarm? Room temperature, but with the AC on low.

Maybe it’s all in Est’s head. William has told him a couple of times before to stop overthinking, and he is trying. The guy has so much on his plate these days, after all: an Asian tour; promo and prep for the ThamePo fan meetings; schedules with LYKN, with Est, and on his own; school. He must be running low on fuel at this point, and so maybe it’s just that.

Either way, he needs to hear it. And if something really is wrong, he has to know. He can’t allow it to drag on for so long that something between them breaks beyond repair.

Est reads that one more time; can almost hear William muttering in the low, raspy, languid way his voice gets when he’s bone-tired. 

He pouts at his phone even as a strange knot in his ribcage begins to unravel when he remembers that they have a schedule together the day after William returns. Maybe he’ll give him a hug then, for emotional support.

Est laughs, breathes easy probably for the first time in hours.

Est feels much, much lighter as he slides back over to his computer. The phone buzzes in his hand just as he’s about to put it against the stand again. 

He finds a short video in the chat. 

William is already tucked under the covers, his washed, unstyled hair a cozy mess on the pillow. His eyes are droopy, but he’s grinning, bare-faced and pink-cheeked and soft.

“Good night, phi! I’ll see you soon!” 

The hand that isn’t holding up the phone peeks out from under the duvet and gives a little wave. 

Est thinks his face might break with how big he’s smiling.

Chapter Text

02. Where William closes the chapter on his passenger princess era (for a day)

Est stops in his tracks and turns to stare at William, thinking he misheard.

Taking down equipment and dismantling the set is a noisy, clattery affair with a handful of people shuffling around the studio. 

It has only been about fifteen minutes tops since they wrapped up an editorial shoot and filmed two different features. They were instructed by P’Ko to not wait around for him as he dealt with whatever managers usually deal with, and so he and William politely said their goodbyes to the crew as soon as they finished changing into regular clothes. 

Their faces are a bit shiny now, but the makeup is still set and the hairstyles are holding up. The day is far from over, after all.

William is several steps behind him – following, but apparently only because this is the one way out of the room and not because they’re actually leaving together.

“P’Jack will take me to GMM,” he says, confirming that Est did, in fact, hear right the first time when he said he’s not riding with him. “He’s down in the basement waiting for me.”

“Oh.” 

William’s family occasionally hires P’Jack whenever they need a driver. Est knows, though, that he doesn’t normally get contracted to take William to his shared events with Est or with LYKN because carpooling is always an easy option in these cases. 

Est shifts his weight to the other foot. The odd feeling in the pit of his stomach from this morning, when he received a message from William saying he didn’t need a ride to the shoot, is clawing its way back. Est does his best to shove it down because this is ridiculous. Sure, more often than not, he does give William a ride on days when they have consecutive schedules together, but it’s not like he does it every single time. 

The next set today will be in the GMMTV building to record promo clips for the ThamePo fan meeting with the rest of LYKN. It won’t start for another three and a half hours, but passing the time in each other’s company is not the most difficult thing in the world. Est was actually sort of looking forward to maybe grabbing some food together. They haven’t met up in days, after all. William doesn’t seem concerned by it at all, though, and it lowkey drives Est a little crazy because that is decidedly out of character.

Typically, when they don’t get to spend any time together for an extended period – which, by their standards, is probably anything longer than three days – William is eager to make up for it as soon as possible. But today, he passed up on going to the studio together in the morning, and now, apparently, they won’t get to go anywhere together at all. They will have some time in between takes at work later, but that’s not nearly the same as catching up, just the two of them, on a drive or over a bucket of fried chicken or whatever junk William wants to treat himself to. They can’t even hang out tonight because William promised to be present at family dinner at his parents’ house.

Maybe William has something else happening that he doesn’t know about, is what Est tells himself. It only makes him feel a bit worse because they tell each other everything, usually.

He sighs quietly, lips pressing in a thin line.

Fuck knows what his face is doing right now, actually – he just hopes he doesn’t look as bizarrely upset as he feels. Luckily, William is too preoccupied rummaging through the contents of his bag to look at him.

“Are you picking up the other guys?” He’s grasping at straws at this point. It’s surprisingly difficult to make himself sound just casually curious.

“Hm?” William finally glances up, phone now in hand, and abruptly freezes in place, realizing late that Est isn’t walking anymore. 

In an instant, Est’s hands are up and braced to foil a potential crash. William doesn’t get close enough for a collision, but he begins to stumble backward in his efforts to avoid it. Est moves quickly, grabbing William’s flailing arms and pulling him in before he completely loses balance. William hangs onto his elbows, giggly and wobbly as he regains his footing. 

“Careful.” Est is chuckling, too, because William’s ears are pink, and he knows that full-coverage foundation is the only reason his cheeks are not. 

William blushes a bright color so easily for any given reason: it’s too hot or too cold; he’s shy, embarrassed, angry, excited, cozy, sleepy, over-exerting, very happy, very sad. Est secretly thinks the blushing is the reason why the color red is perfect for him.

William steps back, nudging the bag strap up on his left shoulder. “No, we’re not picking them up,” he answers Est’s question, face scrunching into something horrified. “Are you kidding, that would take like five hours with the traffic. I have to stop by my place first.”

I can drive you back, we have time, Est wants to say, but elects to bite his tongue instead. 

He’s not too sure he’s doing a very good job keeping his sour mood under wraps, so he’s glad when William walks up to his side, throws an arm around him, and tugs him along towards the exit. He can’t see Est’s face anymore now, and if he’s catching anything at all from his silence or the slump of his shoulders, he makes no mention of it.

“I just need to go grab something then I’m heading straight to GMMTV,” William tells him as he pushes the glass door open with his free hand. 

The change in temperature immediately hits the moment they leave the tundral cold of the studio. Still, William stays close to his side.

Est doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure how William is reading that, but suddenly he’s squeezing Est’s shoulder and pulling him closer so that he has to turn into William’s chest. They keep moving, even as his arms come up around William’s middle in a weird sort of ambling half-hug.

The unabashed show of affection soothes Est the way it always does, and yet he can’t completely shake the feeling that something isn’t right. 

William isn’t necessarily doing anything wrong. Something’s just changing, and it’s changing before Est is ready – before he even knows what he’s supposed to be ready for.

William makes them both stop, lets their tangled limbs rearrange into a proper embrace – his arms roped tightly around Est’s body while Est’s hands rest on the base of William’s spine – right there in the middle of the pricklingly temperate hallway.

Est is acutely aware that they didn’t get to do this properly this morning, with the hairstylist and makeup artist in the middle of fussing over him when William arrived. He really wanted to give William a hug after the strenuous few days he’s had, juggling so many things. Est is beginning to wonder now, though – as the whispers of mayhem in the back of his mind gradually ebb away – if maybe he’s the one who needs it.

“I won’t be late, I promise.”

That’s not the problem, Est doesn’t say. He breathes out lightly instead, resigned, and hooks his chin on William’s shoulder, fingers locking together on William’s back.

“You have time if you want to rest a bit. I can call to wake you up.”

He feels William shake his head.

“Nah, I’ll just nap at the company if I need to.” 

Est can hear the satisfied smile in his voice and it’s enough to ease whatever concerns he’s been having about William’s overall state, as stretched-thin as he has been lately. He’s been worried for a while now that William might be pushing himself too hard, taking on too much too quickly. Mostly he keeps it to himself because he knows William wants this. The least Est can do is be as supportive as he can be while also keeping a close eye on things William might be neglecting, like his own health. It means losing time for each other on occasion, but Est knew what he was signing up for when he vowed to stay as partners with someone so ambitious and so incredibly talented.

They let the silence settle comfortably between them for a minute. 

Est can’t help reveling in the weight and warmth of William’s touch. His hands are not moving, not patting or rubbing patterns on his back. They’re just there, pinning him against William’s body. They feel steadier, heavier, than usual. Something about it makes Est’s neck feel hot.

“You should be the one getting some rest, phi. Didn’t you just spend the last few days finishing the vlog?”

Est tries to shrug, but he’s well and properly locked in William’s arms. He honestly doesn’t hate it.

“I finished it the other night and then added the voice-overs yesterday.” He doesn’t mention that he’s a tiny bit disappointed that William had to send him his recordings instead of them doing the voice-overs together. “It’s not a big deal.”

William breathes out something that falls between a sigh and a chuckle.

“So hardworking. That perfectionist streak will get you sick one day, you know.”

He gives William’s middle a light squeeze, ignoring the way his belly swoops at the shade of protectiveness mixed in with the disapproval in his tone.

“Eh. You forget, it won me a bunch of gold medals. Besides, you’re one to talk – you just flew in yesterday morning and then did a live with the guys in the evening. Have you gotten any proper rest at all?”

William hums, almost dismissive. “I’m fine, phi.” 

They had a very early start today, so Est knows that probably actually means ‘not really’. William’s been doing so well with work lately, too – doesn’t even complain and whine to him as much as he used to anymore. Est just wants to pick him up and keep him in his pocket where no one can disturb him while he sleeps.

“I can take naps.”

Est frowns at that, but he knows it’s the best William can do right now.

“You realize you’re giving the rest of us the opportunity to collect sleeping snaps of you for revenge?”

William mock scoffs. “Go ahead. I’m a handsome sleeper.”

Est huffs in disbelief, playfully shoving him away. 

William laughs out loud, smiling the brightest Est has seen all morning. He lets himself indulge in the sight of it for a second. It’s gratifying to see that their hugs still seem to energize William the way they’ve always done. The way they’ve always energized him.

Est schools his expression into an unimpressed one, cocking an eyebrow even as he lets himself be manhandled back into William’s side. 

William slings an arm around his neck again and Est puts his arm back around him. It gets warmer the further they go down the hallway, but they keep at it anyway, walking practically glued at the hip.

“Handsome all the time.” William sing-songs in English as the elevators finally come into view. 

“Yeah, sure,” Est flatly mutters, shaking his head, but he doesn’t actually disagree. “Try to get some sleep on the drive, okay?”

William meets his eyes, just looking at him with that arresting gaze that makes his chest feel tight. William seems thoughtful – he’s been like that a lot lately. And then he smiles that soft smile that makes everything feel better, as though he knows Est is about to spiral into overthinking any second.

“I will if you promise to get a good rest tonight, too. No detouring after work! No gaming through the night all the way until dawn!”

Est huffs out a laugh. He tries very hard to ignore the burst of butterflies in his stomach as he nods indulgently and pinches William’s cheek.

“Fine.”

“Good.” William gives the back of his neck a gentle, playful squeeze.

"I'm picking you up tomorrow afternoon for the CentralWorld thing we're doing. I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."

William chuckles.

"Okay, phi," he says, poking Est's Adam's apple. He's so used to it now, he doesn't even flinch.

He doesn’t loosen his hold on William’s waist until the very last moment when they finally have to part ways.

Chapter Text

03. Where William gives Est an out (that he didn't ask for)

“This guy over here,” Daou waggles a finger in Est’s direction. He’s leaning over the table – on the verge of tipsy now, Est can tell – grinning conspiratorially at William. “–is so difficult to see these days. Would you happen to know why?”

In the background, Offroad and Tui are arguing right into the mic about which songs to queue in the karaoke machine first. There’s some other commotion happening elsewhere that Est can’t bring himself to pay attention to right now. This is exactly why Daou reserved a private room for their rowdy party tonight.

He keeps a straight face when William glances at him sideways with that mischievous half-grin he knows so well. 

Letting these two spend more and more time together outside of work settings – a direct consequence of Daou being one of Est’s closest friends in the industry and William being his… William – was a crazy idea.

“No clue, phi,” William shrugs, tossing a corn nut into his mouth. “I feel like I barely see him these days, too.”

He’s not wrong, Est thinks. They used to meet up practically every single day at one point. Suddenly going from that to not seeing each other for at least three days at a time can sometimes feel like they don’t see each other at all.

Daou nods as if he understands. He probably does.

“That’s what happens when you date an idol, man.”

Est arches an eyebrow at his friend in a way that says ‘excuse you, who’s dating what?’

“Are you talking to me?”

Daou repays his feigned ignorance with a blank face.

“No, I’m talking to Po. You look awfully identical,” he responds in the flattest tone Est has ever heard him use. “Imagine,” he continues as he grabs his half-empty glass of beer, theatrically round eyes flitting back to William. “He’s even missing our anniversary Phuket trip two years in a row now–”

“Oh, shush, you–” 

Daou sniggers as Est’s hand shoots across the table to grab his wrist, effectively interrupting his ribbing.

“What anniversary trip?”

Est pauses suddenly, catching something in William’s voice. It’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of thing. He bets Daou can’t tell the difference. 

He glances to his side, feeling a little bit like his heart is in his throat. William hasn’t moved: he’s still sitting there with his legs crossed and his arms folded on his chest, lounging in a way that makes the monoblock chair look more comfortable than it really is. Completely normal. He’s not meeting Est’s eyes though, only focused entirely on Daou – which makes sense because the question is directed at him. Est can’t exactly explain the unexpected pinch in his sternum.

He snaps out of it when Daou swats his hand away.

“You didn’t tell him?”

“Tell me what?” William is still half-grinning. Est finds himself observing his eyes intently, as if searching the bottom of the deepest, murkiest pool of water from the surface. 

When they first met and started getting to know each other, he thought William was one of the most transparent people he’d ever met. He was young and easy-going and full of energy. William’s a couple of years older now – fresh out of his teenage years, yet has walked over flaming shards and back already. He’s learned to control his expressions to some degree, but his eyes are still as honest as they’ve ever been.

It’s disconcerting to find that Est can’t quite read them at the moment.

“I mean the anniversary of our first-ever Phuket trip as a group. We all promised to go back every year on the same date, or the closest possible to it.”

“Oh, P’Est did tell me about that.” Their eyes lock for a second before William turns away to reach for his can of soda. He takes a quick sip, gets this look like he’s considering something. “I think it was P’Punch who mentioned it, actually. I didn’t know the exact date, though.”

“It’s the weekend after next,” Daou informs him. “You two are going somewhere, I heard.”

Est loves Daou, he really does – they’ve been bros for what feels like forever – but right now he really wants to shove the entire bowl of chips into his mouth to shut him up.

“Right,” William mutters, sounding oddly pensive, the roguish curve of his lips gone. He doesn’t seem upset or anything, though. Why would he be?

Est watches William reach for a large piece of spicy Dorito, almost startling when he turns to him and asks in a soft voice: “You don’t want to go with them, phi?”

“He doesn’t!” Daou whines dramatically. 

Est picks up a peanut and chucks it at him.

“Oh, shut up, of course I want to! I’ll go next year, I already said–”

“Done! He’s going with you then.”

Est whips back to William so fast– “What?”

He is so confused.

William waves the bitten piece of chip in his direction. “You said you wanted to go,” he says simply, as though it’s enough to make sense of it all. “Our plans were just random, anyway. It’s easy to reschedule. We can go whenever.”

He stares, utterly baffled, as William casually finishes off his Dorito and reaches over for another one, like he doesn’t owe anyone any explanation whatsoever.

“Oh-hoo, what a cool guy!” Daou bounces in his seat, hands clapping. He gives William a heavy pat on the shoulder, shaking him back and forth. “Would this super cool, super popular idol be willing to sing a song with this lowly peasant?”

Est starts, his mouth falling open with the intention of asking William what he meant, if he was serious, but his voice box refuses to work.

Next thing he knows, William is dusting his hands as he gets up on his feet, laughing at Daou’s histrionics.

“Let’s do it.”

-----

William keeps singing practically the whole short drive to Est’s apartment. 

The bluetooth automatically connected to his phone the moment it started up and so Est surrendered control of the playlist to him.

William is giddy and loose-limbed, almost in an inebriated sort of way, even though he doesn’t have a drop of alcohol in his system. Est shakes his head at the guy’s antics, but indulges him anyway. Secretly, he’s just glad William was able to join them tonight. He’s also a little too preoccupied basking in the satisfaction of finally getting to do another sleepover after multiple failed attempts to set one up.

By the time Est broaches the subject of their trip, they’ve done a whole weeks’ worth of catching up, face masks have been tossed in the bin, and Est is sitting in his gaming chair, blow-drying his still-damp hair before turning in for the night. They have a 7 AM call time for a magazine cover shoot and it’s almost two in the morning now.

“Huh?”

Est spins around to face William who is sitting on Est’s side of the bed, waiting for his turn with the dryer.

“I said I think P’Ou might have taken you seriously back there about me going to Phuket,” he repeats, making sure the words carry over the current blasting through his hair.

William’s head tilts to the side like a confused puppy. 

“I was being serious. Didn’t you say you wanted to go?”

Est’s brow furrows at that, his lips pressing tightly together. He doesn’t like the creeping sense that his own words are being used against him, although he knows that’s not William’s intention.

“Yes, but we have plans.” He lets a beat pass, reeling in the slightly abrasive edge bleeding into his tone. “You’ve already booked the place and everything, haven’t you?”

William waves a hand about dismissively, like it never even occurred to him that it could be an issue. 

“I can refund everything.” He leans back on his arms and folds his legs under him. Nothing about his body language signals disappointment or unhappiness, but he does look up at Est with half the usual mirth and sparkle in his eyes. 

Est’s hands hang over his head unmoving for a second, caught off guard by the way William looks more grown all of a sudden.

“I didn’t know it was the same date as your anniversary, phi. You should have told me.”

Not for the first time since dinner, Est mentally curses Daou’s alcohol-addled brain. The group trip is no secret, but absolutely nobody had to bring that up tonight, honestly.

“It doesn’t always happen on the same date.” He shrugs. “And, anyway, there’ll be another one next year.”

William snorts out a chuckle. “Sure, that’s usually how anniversaries work.”

Est glowers at him and aims the blower at his face. 

William erupts into a shrill squeak, falling on his side as he swipes at thin air with both hands. It’s very cute – cute enough that it makes Est smile a little. Just a tiny bit. He’s still annoyed.

William is quick to recover as soon as Est pulls away. He brushes his hair back with his fingers, grabs the shark plushie lying next to the headboard, and hugs it to his chest. The child-like gesture is a stark contrast to the seriousness that settles back in his features when he meets Est’s eyes again. Something about it triggers a mild sort of panic in the edges of his subconscious.

“It’s fine, phi. I understand. You guys are celebrating a specific occasion; our Khao Yai thing is just something random we can do any other time.”

The noisy blow of air shuts off. Est averts his gaze under the guise of setting the dryer down on the desk; otherwise, he might not be able to keep his exasperation in check. Might blurt out the first thing on his mind: But I picked you.

He sighs quietly, patiently, and turns back to William.

“Are you sure?”

I want to spend time with you.

“This is the first time you’re planning a trip for us.”

I miss you.

“And your schedule’s pretty tight for the next couple of months.”

William glances down for a moment, looking somewhat pensive.

“Mmh. I know, but it’s fine.” He lets out a breath, more resigned than anything else. Like he has actually given it some proper thought and has come to terms with the fact that this is how things are, at least for now.

Out of nowhere, Est’s mind wanders back to a line Thame says in the show: ...and you’re not even going to ask me if I can handle it just fine, too?

“You must want to spend time with your other friends too, don’t you?” William continues. “You barely get to do that. You spend all your time with me at work and outside of work.”

Est is stumped. Where is this coming from right now?

“I do spend time with them.” He might have done a poor job keeping his tone from leaning a bit defensive, but William doesn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah, well, you only get the free time to do it when I’m away or busy with the group.”

Est finds himself at the end of the very long rope of his patience. 

He recoils in his seat, eyebrow arched, arms folded tightly on his chest – “So?”

You’ve been away a lot with the tour and the constant rehearsals, he doesn’t add because he doesn’t want to sound so irrationally needy. 

They didn’t quite expect that their pairing would blow up the way it has, but they both knew what they were getting into when they agreed to be paired up long-term. From the get-go, Est was very aware of the implications of being coupled with an idol – the leader and main vocalist of LYKN, no less. He was accepting of it then and he still is now. Nothing has changed in the way he wants William to succeed in whatever he pursues.

Perhaps the most unexpected of all is how indispensable they’ve become in each other’s personal lives over time. He really doesn’t want to overthink, but he doesn’t understand why it’s starting to seem like William is trying to push him away now.

“Uiii, phi, hang on, are you mad?” Suddenly, William is on alert. He sits up, tossing the shark plushie to the side, his eyes wide open and sharp as it flits across Est’s face.

Est’s jaw feels tight. “I’m not–”

“Phi, come here–”

In the blink of an eye, William is sitting at the edge of the bed. He grabs the chair by the armrests, using his strength to swiftly pull it closer until Est's knees hit the side of the mattress. William leans in close, chasing Est’s elusive gaze, his own eyes soft and pleading. He makes little whining noises like a sad puppy – Est can’t believe the guy even wonders why the internet thinks he’s a baby dog. 

When he doesn’t let his guard budge, William reaches for his wrist, forcing his arms to uncross. He holds Est’s hand on his own knee, caressing his fingers soothingly.

He does this sometimes when he can tell something’s wrong somehow but doesn’t quite know how to use his words to fix it.

Est feels his armor crack. He looks closely at William, finally: nearly fresh from the shower, cheeks flushed, damp hair sticking in random directions, eyes big and shiny, lips pillowy and pink. 

He is so beautiful. 

Est tries not to get too distracted by that. He sighs lightly.

“I’m not mad. You’re just being weird.”

William’s eyebrows knit together, genuinely confused. 

“Because I want to let you spend time with your friends?” There’s a shadow of distress all over his face.

It dawns on Est then without a doubt that whatever brought this on, whatever William’s trying to do here, he’s doing it for him. The very last thing William wants is to hurt him – that much hasn’t changed.

Est leans in, thawing completely. His elbows perch on the armrest as he takes William’s hands in his. He lets their fingers weave together, squeezing lightly to let William know they’re okay.

“Do you want to cancel our trip?”

William squeezes back.

“Not cancel – just reschedule. I still want to visit Khao Yai with you.”

It’s Est who tilts his head at William this time, desperate to understand what exactly is going on in his mind.

“You really want me to go with them instead?”

“I mean,” William looks down at their hands for a moment, thoughtful. “I want you to do what you want. Don’t worry about me or whatever arrangements I’ll have to make, I really don’t mind. You spend so much time with me already, anyway, right? You haven’t visited Phuket in a while – you mentioned just the other day that you missed it – and you skipped your anniversary trip last year, and you said tonight that you wanted to go. So.”

To be fair, he’s right on all accounts. He really does miss Phuket something fierce; he’d go right now if he could. But usually William likes it when Est chooses him over other things, so much so that it’s almost a point of pride for him and – to be completely honest – Est likes that. He lowkey enjoys it when William acts territorial over him. He’s never a hundred percent sure if William really means it or not, but he likes it anyway. It’s funny – everybody else thinks so, too. Sets off fluttery feelings in his belly, even.

He can probably chalk this all up to William growing more mature or something. Just one of those things that happen when a boy’s worldview expands, or whatever threshold it was William crossed when he turned 20 and became more and more comfortable in his own skin; more sure about his place in his career and the steps he’s taking. It’s not that this William feels like a stranger; it’s like hearing a new version of an acoustic song he’s always loved, now with deeper layers of percussion and strings and chords he’s never heard before. Still amazing, still something he’ll listen to and love every day, but might take a minute to get used to.

Est quietly watches him for a second, still deciding exactly how he feels about all this.

William quietly watches him back. 

It’s a kind of silence that would have been uncomfortable if they weren’t them. What they lack in words they make up for in the way their fingers tighten and loosen around each other, the pads of their thumbs constantly, tenderly stroking each other’s skin.

A part of him is waiting for William to say it’s all a prank, but a bigger part of him is convinced it’s really not. 

Something he said during a live around the time of William’s birthday echoes in his mind out of the blue: “I already give him so much of my time that I don’t know how to give any more.” He meant it then. They were seeing each other practically every single day, whether for work or not. Now he kind of wishes it were still true. Wishes he never pointed it out at all. 

It makes Est wonder if William thought he was frustrated over that somehow. Is that what this is all about?

“You can come, too,” he hears himself saying, at the very least to express in some way that no matter what, he does very much want his company.

William hums, noncommittal. “Are any of them bringing outsiders?”

Est shoots him an incredulous look. “You think you’re still an outsider?” 

There is literally not a single soul in Est’s closest circle that William isn’t friends with now, too. 

William chuckles, knocking their joined hands down on Est’s thighs. 

“No, you know what I mean, phi,” he grumbles, sounding a lot more like his usual self again. “So are they?”

“I don’t know,” Est lies at first, but thinks better of it and adds: “I don’t think so.”

“Mmh.” William nods decisively. “I’ll pass then. It’s okay, really. You guys go have fun.”

Est’s eyes follow William as he moves to get up from the bed; watches carefully as William walks around where he’s sitting and towards the desk. He wants to make sure he isn’t actually upset about any of this. 

William is typically forthcoming about how he’s feeling, whether intentionally or not. He’s simply easier to read than most people Est has met in his life. But he knows even that can change at some point.

William seems completely fine, though. Est can’t decide whether he’s more relieved or disappointed about that.

“What will you do?” He asks, knowing full well that they originally locked in those specific dates because it’s a rare weekend when neither of them has anything scheduled.

William shrugs, back still turned, as he picks up the hairdryer.

“I don’t know. Sleep?”

Est snorts. “Turning into an old man so quickly.”

William twists around, an impish smirk on his face.

“I have to catch up to you somehow.”

Est’s jaw drops, eyes narrowing in equal parts disbelief and outrage. “Did you just call me an old man?”

William cackles as he tries – and fails – to dodge the shark plushie that Est lobs at his head.

Hearing the delight in William’s laughter – seeing him enjoy being here with him – it’s somehow enough to reassure Est that they’re okay. 

He decides that’s all he really needs right now.

Chapter Text

04. Where William gives Est some space (that he didn't ask for, either)

When preparations for Love Out Loud begins, it’s only William and Est rehearsing together initially. Everything goes well; their chemistry sparks and crackles so strongly and so naturally without them really having to try. The instructor lets them keep going even when they miss a blocking or two because they somehow always stumble back onto the right track eventually.

They’ve grown to know each other like the palm of their own hand – their strengths, weaknesses, idiosyncrasies – it’s only natural that they have great synergy and actually have fun doing what they do, as long as they stick together.

And so, on the third day when group practice commences, and William is suddenly constantly hanging off of Perth or Pond or giggling at something with Santa, Est feels bizarrely off-balance.

They both have to practice with other people, so they’re not always attached at the hip. Still, he keeps finding himself expecting William to beeline back to him in between brief run-through pauses or during longer breaks. Whack him on the arm and knock his hands away so that he can sit on his lap. Jump on his front, or on his back, and cling onto him like a koala clings to a tree. Instead, William – vibrating with energy, as he typically is – has been expending the extra buzz in his veins with pretty much anyone but Est. 

Est makes a very conscious choice to not think too much of it. 

The minute a break is called, he walks over to the empty chair near where he left his bag next to the wall. He rolls his left shoulder back, grabs a towel, and proceeds to wipe the sweat off his whole face and around his neck, like normal. He pulls out his phone next, pours all his attention to it, most certainly not moping.

“P’Est! P’Est! Phi!” 

He looks up at the frantic, gasping call of his name and finds Gemini, awkwardly folded at the waist and practically wheezing in the middle of the floor. William is piggybacking on him, unmoving like a sack of potatoes, his face hidden behind Gemini’s jaw. 

Something in Est’s chest starts coiling up in a tight knot. 

“Help! Phi!”

Est schools his expression into one of neutral amusement, at best. He lets a chuckle slip past his lips for good measure.

“Sorry, Gem. He’s your koala now.”

William unburies his ruddy face from the poor guy’s neck to look at him, grinning. Even from a distance, Est recognizes the unease that quickly flashes in William’s eyes as soon as they meet his, the upturned edges of his lips faltering just a fraction of a second. Est is not sure what that’s all about. Even so, a whiff of satisfaction sweeps through him knowing he hasn’t completely lost his touch just yet, as far as catching William’s tells is concerned.

Gemini lets out an exaggerated grunt of relief when William clumsily wriggles off of him.

Est goes back to scrolling away on his phone, sensing rather than seeing William walking towards him. He’s on Instagram but not really looking at anything in particular, suddenly strangely hyper-aware of how close William is getting. He completely ignores the happy little skip his ridiculous heart does in his ribcage.

Est would have let William fight for a seat on his lap and win, but he plops down on the floor next to his feet instead. He is not disappointed by that at all.

William slaps his leg in jest and demands in mock offense: “You’re giving me away?”

Est huffs, fishing out a clean towel from the duffel bag sitting on his knee.

“You looked like you were having fun being someone else’s koala,” he comments, probably with a little more sarcasm in his tone than intended, and roughly swipes the towel over William’s face.

William jolts with a choked noise of surprise and quickly clutches the piece of cloth before it hits the ground. He grumbles something that sounds a lot like, “you meanie,” in a tiny voice that almost makes Est smile. Almost. 

William dabs the towel on the base of his skull, where the sweat-drenched ends of his hair are sticking to his skin, before haphazardly throwing it onto his shoulder. Then he turns to Est again, chin jutting up in a challenge, lips in a stubborn little pout. 

Est very nearly whines. It’s unbelievably unfair how disarming those eyes are. How terribly handsome William is, bare-faced and overheated and dishevelled and all. 

It’s not easy, but Est manages to power through with a straight face.

“I thought I was a puppy?”

“Not clinging like that, you’re not.”

“Oh-ho…” William rocks sideways until he’s almost close enough to perch his chin on Est’s thigh. He cranes his neck in pursuit of Est’s impassive gaze, mischief glinting in his dark eyes. 

Est already knows what he’s going to say.

“Phi, are you jealous?”

The answer comes instantly and with no inflection whatsoever: “Yes. Yes, I am.”

William laughs, probably taking it as the joke Est means to make it seem like. He’s not exactly kidding, but the guy doesn’t need to know that.

He reaches for the towel hanging over William’s shoulder and wipes off a sweaty spot on the side of William’s neck that he missed – much gentler this time. Insane how he’s not quite so crabby now that William’s close to him.

Suddenly, William falls quiet. It’s one of those thoughtful silences that he’s been slipping into more frequently these days. Est can feel his eyes on him like a tangible weight, watching his movements as he drapes the towel around William’s neck. Not for the first time in the past few weeks, Est is unnerved by how it has gotten harder to figure out what he’s thinking lately.

“Are you okay, though?”

William sounds so serious, it baffles Est even more.

“Hm?”

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

Est’s forehead creases. “What, from rehearsals?”

William nods and Est finds it so ridiculous it’s honestly cute. He’s been through the most grueling training regimen since he was a child; the dance practice they’re doing doesn’t come close to his competitive training warm-ups. It must show on his face how absurd he thinks the question is because William is frowning at him now. 

Est blinks, swallows, positive he’s about to get scolded – something that doesn’t happen very often between the two of them. Certainly something that doesn’t usually make him nervous, but he’s given up on expecting the usual these days when it comes to William.

“Just because you’re a national swimmer doesn’t mean you’re invincible, you know,” William chides, the frustration in his pointed stare belying the teasing in his voice.

Est pauses, properly chastised, but also confused. 

“I know that, and I’m fine,” he insists, the words coming out just a tad more brittle than he means to sound.

William narrows his eyes at him. 

Est arches an eyebrow in return. 

They stare each other down like that for a while, in a wordless battle neither of them is willing to concede. Est isn’t quite sure what exactly they’re battling over, though. 

William is the first to turn away, sighing heavily as he pushes himself up on his feet. A corner of his mouth turns up in a lopsided smile, but Est detects a wisp of sadness there beneath the surface. It’s like a sixth sense of sorts that he seems to have quickly honed as he patiently accompanies William through whatever phase this is he’s in right now. 

Est has to fight the compulsion to rub at a spot in his chest that’s suddenly smarting. But then William lightly chuckles. He reaches over to press a thumb between Est’s furrowed brows, forcing them to relax, then quickly pokes his cheek with his index finger. 

“Sometimes you’re so used to feeling beat up and sore you don’t pay attention to it anymore,” William remarks equivocally before heading off, leaving Est staring at his back, bemused.

“Want me to get you some water, phi?” William calls out as he twists around and proceeds to walk backwards.

“Ah… Sure, thanks,” Est responds blankly, like a zombie, thrown off by the rapid shifts in William’s mood. He doesn’t take it back even when he snaps out of it and remembers that his water bottle is still a little over half-full. 

“Watch your step, you!”

William flashes that charming grin and gives him a thumbs up before turning back around.

Est still can’t puzzle out what that whole conversation was all about, but neither of them brings it up again over the last hour or so of rehearsals. It’s like it never happened at all.

That night, when he gets home and pulls out damp clothes and towels from his duffel bag to toss in the washer, he notices something fall out among all the dirty laundry. He moves to bend down, but an irritating tightness in his left trapezius, around the base of his neck, makes him stop. He sets his laundry down on the dining table and reaches out with his right arm instead.

What he finds in his hand is a brand new box of pain relief roll-on – the same brand he typically uses. 

There’s a note stuck to it in what is unmistakably William’s handwriting.

You’ve been favoring your right side since yesterday. You’re not saying anything, but I’m guessing it’s your shoulder. If you won’t let me take care of you, then please take care of yourself, Mr. Shark. I’m worried.

It’s signed, “Your chubby puppy koala (nobody else’s!)”.

Est’s mouth drops open in a quiet gasp. Things start immediately clicking in his mind. 

He gently rolls his left shoulder but abruptly stops once that annoying sting expectedly hits. He really didn’t think much of it, knowing it’ll fade away in a couple of days, but of course William noticed. Of course. That’s why he wasn’t all over him all damn day. 

Est’s brain plays back that whole weird conversation they had over the break – only it doesn’t seem so weird anymore now.

He stares down at the note again as he processes the pieces that have fallen into place, and randomly gets stuck on the words: ‘if you won’t let me take care of you…’

“This silly–” He bites his lip; doesn’t bother curbing the half-devastated, half-absolutely-fond whine that bubbles up from deep in his chest. He feels incredibly light all of a sudden, he’s surprised he isn’t floating away. Then again, his whole heart is so warm and so full – maybe that’s what’s keeping him anchored in place.

He chuckles to himself, covers his eyes with the hand holding the note, smiling so wide and trying his best not to melt into a puddle of goo on his kitchen floor.

As young as William is, he is fiercely protective in a way that isn’t loud or overbearing. Est sees it in how William is always easy-going yet does things that makes him know he pays attention. It’s in the gentle press of a hand on his back or on his arm to make sure he’s not straying too far. The constant check-ins whenever they have to be away from each other for a while. The way he doesn’t ever let Est speak badly about himself. The quiet but unwavering reassurances. Simply being present to offer support and comfort when Est needs it, even if he doesn’t ask for it outright. The way he teases a lot and all the time, but will be the first to make sure Est is never, ever hurt.

Est might be falling in love with him for many reasons, but largely because of that. 

It’s becoming increasingly impossible to pretend it isn’t happening.

Later, after a nice, hot shower, he takes William’s thoughtful little gift – never mind that he has a used bottle of the exact same product in his medical kit – and applies a good amount over the area in his neck and shoulder where he feels some strain.

Crawling onto the bed, he stretches out on his stomach, chin resting on the back of his left hand. He takes a selfie like that: nose scrunched in a duck face, making sure the camera catches his bare shoulder, still with a thin layer of sheen from the minty compound. 

He sends off the photo to William and writes: “Don’t worry, my chubby puppy koala. You take care of me just fine. Thank you for the pain relief. 💙”

He really means more than just the roll-on gel. William soothes aches that run deeper than any pain relief product in existence can reach, and he probably doesn’t even know it.

In seconds, William reacts to his message with a red heart and sends back: Love you 😚😘

Est’s ears burn, his cheeks hurting now from smiling too much. He burrows his feverish face into his arms, the whimpering noises that escape him smothered by the cool duvet.

He knows William likely doesn’t mean it like that, but it makes his heart skip anyway.

Chapter Text

05. Where William gets on the strong, independent woman train (and leaves Est in the dust)

10:15 in the morning. 

Est looks up from his watch with a quiet exhale. In an instant, he catches sight of a stack of massive boxes heading his way fast. He barely manages to swerve out of the way in time, but somehow he does. Brain still reeling from the close shave, he spins around with his hands pressed together high, bowing in apology to the staff member behind the cart. 

It’s a bit of a circus backstage at IMPACT Arena. Hard not to be with stage crew, stylists, wardrobe people, managers, other backstage staff, and over a dozen artists going about their business all at once.

William has a schedule with LYKN in the morning and Est was told he won’t be showing up for dress rehearsal until around noon. Both of them have the same call time, which means Est actually shouldn’t be here yet, but it’s one of those days when things just happen. 

He was up and about earlier than usual, anyway, bag packed and dressed to head out. There really was nowhere he necessarily needed to be. No one who needed him to be somewhere, apparently. And so he got in his car and drove to Nonthaburi instead of sitting at home to stew. 

It’s the day before the Love Out Loud weekend. Genuinely the worst time to be overthinking his and William’s situation – which, frankly, might be a ‘situation’ to him alone and nothing but a regular Friday to William, who the fuck knows?

Est headed to the Novotel just by IMPACT Arena to check in early to his and William’s shared room. For a minute, he considered staying in to get some shuteye until call time, but found he was too agitated to fall asleep. In the end, he left the hotel and made his way to the venue instead. 

And now here he is, narrowly missing minor accidents here and there in his attempts to dodge what seems like three hundred other people and a slew of tripping hazards.

He does his rounds of hello’s and pleasantries, chats briefly with two people or ten. He goes through the motions hardly remembering anything he’s hearing or saying, really. Most of them are just surprised to see him there already. All of them ask him about William. “Away doing idol things,” is his standard offhand response, then makes sure to divert the conversation away from any follow-up questions to that. He just doesn’t feel like talking about it – about William – right now, is all.

At some point, the stage director’s voice calls out JimmySea’s cue over the mic. Stage lights flicker and flash. Music swells through the speakers. Heads turn towards the stage, and Est takes that opportunity to slip away.

He walks down the backstage hallway, bowing politely to the few people he comes across. The place is a lot more familiar to him now after joining GMMTV – not to mention, having an idol for a partner. 

Est picks a random break room, hoping that no one’s in it.

Apparently, his luck hasn’t run out yet.

He pads over to an empty couch in a corner, settling right next to the armrest, closest to the wall and farthest from the door.

He releases a heavy breath and everything falls away along with it, like sloughing off a whole layer of his skin. A weight the size of a boulder has been sitting in the pit of his stomach all morning. It's surprising how much it takes out of him to hide it. There is a little bit of comfort in knowing that he’s learned to manage his outward moods a lot better; that anyone who doesn’t know him well enough won’t be able to easily tell when he’s feeling particularly off.

Unfortunately for him, probably the only person currently in attendance who actually can walks into the room with an iced americano in hand and shuffles right over to his little bubble of solitude.

Est greets Winny with a pair of raised eyebrows. An honest effort at a slightly listless but friendly acknowledgment – though he has to admit, there’s probably a thin line between that and a straight-up hostile reception. 

Apparently, that’s more than enough of a giveaway.

Winny skids to a halt with a soft, “oii,” his face contorting in a funny blend of concern and confusion. 

Est huffs in amusement, halfheartedly. No point trying to keep up what flimsy cover he has now.

Winny elbows his side as he plops down next to him and makes a sweeping gesture over Est’s head with his free hand.

“Is this dark cloud hanging over you brought on by a lack of caffeine, sleep, or someone whose name starts with a ‘w’?” 

“Hello to you, too,” Est responds dully. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Winny nods, forbearing, lips pressed tightly together. 

“Of course, you don’t.” 

Unfazed – as if that’s exactly the response he expected – he rearranges himself on the couch, one leg tucked in, so that he’s sitting facing Est.

“Isn’t your call time later than ours? Pretty sure William isn’t here yet.”

Est shrugs. “Maybe I wanted to watch you and Satang practice.” Poor deflection on his part, admittedly, but he’s not quite in the mood to make the effort right now.

Winny snorts, setting his drink down on a makeshift side table made out of empty crates. 

“Bullshit.”

“I’m serious.” Est sticks his nose in the air. “I was up too early, so I figured I might as well come and watch everyone who’s already here.” 

To be fair, he is genuinely curious about how the others will look with their costumes on, so it’s not entirely untrue.

“Sure. And that explains why you’re all cooped up in this empty room where no one is performing.”

Est pauses, tries not to sputter.

“God forbid, a guy needs... a seat.” Est keeps his chin up despite clearly losing steam in the end. He doesn’t even know where he was trying to go with that, but who cares, really? He’s too emotionally and physically worn to feel any shame at this point.

Winny’s body folds across Est’s lap, giggling his annoying ass off. Est shoves him off with enough force that he almost tumbles off the couch, and he’s not even sorry.

“You’re so bad at this, I almost want to let you off.”

“Please do,” Est whines. He’s generally not a whiny person, but these are trying times.

“Fat chance, brother.” Winny reaches for his coffee. He takes a sip before holding it up in front of Est’s face in offering. “So. Pray tell, why is a night owl like you up so early when you don't need to be?”

Est stares at the coffee for several seconds like it has offended his ancestors. Winny shifts the cup closer to him and shakes it, sprinkling droplets of condensation all over Est’s shirt on purpose. Est doesn’t budge, just clucks his tongue impatiently, mumbling expletives under his breath. That doesn’t stop Winny from pressing the wet, cold base on Est’s knee, though.

“It’s just a drink, you grump. It didn’t steal your boyfriend.”

Est blows out something of a cross between a chuckle and a suffering sigh. He grabs the plastic cup, his taut shoulders easing up a fraction. He brings the straw up to his lips, drinking slowly, buying himself a bit of leeway. 

Winny hardly blinks as he watches him in anticipation, it’s ridiculous. 

Est sighs, resigned. He knows his nosy friend is not going to let this go, so he might as well tell him the truth. 

“I was supposed to give William a lift to LYKN’s shoot and then we were supposed to come here together.” He says it fast in a single breath, like ripping off a band-aid, and hands Winny back his beverage.

Winny lights up like a light bulb, his mouth falling open in a muted gasp.

“And he turned you down.” It isn’t a question.

“He said Nut was picking him up.”

“...but you live closer.”

Est did consider mentioning that exact detail to William over the phone that morning, aiming for subtle persuasion. But then he realized that there was no point. William made the decision despite knowing that fact very well already.

Est suddenly finds himself scrambling to keep his sinking heart afloat, the same way he did that morning. Surely, William had a good reason – even if Est can’t really think of any right now. Even if they haven’t seen each other in two whole days.

“He’s not going to cancel on Nut last minute.” He’s not sure anymore whom he’s trying to convince: Winny or himself.

“But then again, he could have come to you first.”

Something in Est’s chest splinters.

That is precisely the thing he has been trying not to think about. 

A few months ago, that’s exactly what William would have done. It makes complete sense, since the two of them have a schedule together afterwards anyway. Perhaps it’s a small thing in the grand scheme of things. It’s not like William is giving him the cold shoulder or acting like he can’t stand Est anymore. William’s an adult; he’s doing regular, mundane things. Except he does it now without needing Est for anything. 

Maybe this was always going to happen eventually. Est understands how growing up works, but he can’t help that it drives him crazy. He hates, hates, the way it makes him feel frightfully untethered. Excluded. And so he pretends that the thought hasn’t been persistently drifting in the back of his mind lately. 

At least until Winny ruthlessly shoved it all in his face.

”He could have asked you before making arrangements with Nut, if he wanted to– ow! ”

Winny jerks back, his face screwed up in pain, holding a protective hand over the spot on his knee that Est whacked a tad stronger than he meant to.

“Will you shut up?”

Winny chuckles – Est bets it’s because he just proved him right when he remarked that one time that Est was picking up William’s penchant for playful violence. 

He slaps Est’s knee in retaliation.

“If it matters so much to you, why didn’t you ask him earlier? Why didn’t you ask yesterday?”

“I didn’t know.” Est throws his hands up in sheer frustration. He doesn’t quite yell, but it’s a near thing. “P’Ko was supposed to pick him up, then he rang me at five in the goddamn morning to ask if I could do it instead because some emergency came up.”

Est has done it a couple of times before, after all – volunteer to give William a ride for one reason or another. It started out as a matter of convenience; eventually, it became something he liked to do whenever he could, and P’Ko knows that.

Winny smirks. “Bet you jumped out of bed so fast.”

Est doesn’t deny it, but he slaps Winny’s forearm strong enough to make the guy actually flinch and grumble a complaint. Est gets hit back on a bicep, and then Winny quickly holds both hands up defensively, giggling, before Est can land another one on him. Est decides to steal his coffee instead.

Once they’ve both settled down and any threat of bodily harm has abated, Winny perches an elbow on the back of the couch and nudges a little closer.

“Wait – why didn’t William ask you, though?”

“Fuck if I know,” Est mutters sullenly around the straw in his mouth. The only thing he can think of – the only thing that makes any sense, all things considered – is this:

“He probably didn’t want to bother me.”

His voice sounds hollow to his own ears when he says it. 

William bothering him. It’s strange voicing the mere thought of it aloud because it’s hard to fathom how fundamentally nonsensical it is. The things he does for William, he does because William is important to him. Est can be eloquent until it has to do with expressing with blunt honesty the true depth and gravity of his affection directly to William. And so he does this instead: he takes care of him. He does everything in his power to make William’s life easier. To give him somewhere he can be fully himself. Somewhere he can safely rest. Somewhere he can be happy. 

The thought of not being able to do that – of William himself pulling too far away for Est to be able to – makes his whole chest feel like it’s collapsing on itself.

“Mmkay.” Winny’s head tilts to the side. “So then why are you pissed? Sounds like he’s looking out for you.”

“I’m not pissed–”

His body bag vibrates against his side. 

He fishes his phone out and finds the screen alight with notifications – most of them old, except for one from Instagram that reads:

williamjkp just shared a post

Est thinks he should ignore it until he’s in a better mood, but maybe it’s muscle memory that makes him instinctively tap on the note. 

William posted eight photos from LYKN’s trip to Taiwan when they were there for a concert. 

He’s never seen a single one of these photos before.

Est’s jaw clenches. 

He’s seriously rethinking not being pissed now.

It’s a small thing, it really is. But this must be what they call the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

“What did he do?” Winny asks, and Est isn’t even surprised by how the question is phrased, or the knowing tone it comes laced with. He’s really fooling himself if he thinks his close friends can’t read him like an open book.

“Nothing.” 

Technically, it’s true; William hasn’t done anything wrong. Unless he considers deviating from their usual dynamic multiple times a kind of transgression – which it isn’t. Maybe it makes him feel a little alienated, but he can’t exactly pin that on William, can he? They may be straddling the line between regular friends and something more, but at the end of the day, he’s not William’s boyfriend.

Est’s hands fall to his sides, heavy as stones. He breathes out loudly as he wilts on the couch, sliding down until his head is resting over the backrest. His eyelids slowly close. A soul-deep exhaustion hits him like a bus – the accumulation of things that have weighed on him profoundly over the past couple of months taking its toll. 

He’s been so preoccupied trying to accommodate William – trying so hard not to let William outgrow him – that he didn’t notice when he stopped being okay.

“This,” he whispers to no one in particular– “will not do.” 

Maybe it’s simply meant for himself, because it needs to be said and he needs to hear it. 

The entire weekend will be extremely hectic for them, but Est decides then and there that he and William will have a talk before the day ends, no matter what.

He vaguely hears Winny say, “...are you okay?” but it sounds hazy and so far away, as if he’s submerged deep underwater. 

Everything’s light and heavy at the same time. Peaceful, though. Like when William would rest his head on Est’s lap, guitar in hand, softly singing medleys of soothing, mellow songs that randomly come to mind, while everything else fades in the background.

He doesn’t hear anything else.

-----

Est has no idea how much time has passed when he’s roused by a startling dip in the cushion. 

He shoots upright as soon as he remembers where he is, ignoring the mild strain in the back of his neck from the awkward way he ended up accidentally falling asleep where he’s sitting.

“Oops– sorry, phi. Didn’t mean to wake you,” comes a sheepish apology from the other end of the couch.

Est blinks. It takes a second for his brain to fully boot.

“It’s, like, fifteen minutes to your and William’s call time, though, so I probably did you a favor.” Nut flashes him a grin.

He has to tamp down the disappointment that nags in the back of his mind. Nut is one of his favorite juniors in the industry, one of his favorite people, but he’s not quite who Est is hoping to find beside him right now.

The remark prompts him to check his watch.

Nut is right. Fourteen minutes to go now.

And William is never late. And Nut is here. So–

Est siddles closer until they’re shoulder-to-shoulder. He rubs the grogginess off his eyes with one hand and playfully squeezes Nut’s arm with the other. 

“What time did you get here?”

“Maybe an hour ago? The shoot ended early.”

An hour ago.

He checks his phone and finds one new text from his mother and a few messages from Tam and Daou in the group chat. 

He glances around for – he doesn’t even know what. William’s bag. His cap. The faintest trace of his perfume. A fucking muddy footprint from those chunky shoes he likes so much. Any sign that William looked for him, found him, maybe left something in his vicinity to come back for later. Est finds nothing.

He shuts his eyes tight.

This is stupid. This is so stupid.

He settles back down, linking his arm with Nut’s, pretending his gut isn’t sinking.

“You okay, phi?”

“Mhmm.”

Est isn’t sure if Nut believes him, but he doesn’t ask anything else. 

Nut locks their arms tighter. 

“I just came to drop William off, but I thought I’d stay for a bit to watch you guys.”

“Where is he?”

Before Nut can answer, he catches a muffled but distinct sound of an electric guitar riff. Swift, smooth, rhythmic flicks of strings. A shrill, extended note slicing all the echoes clean. Perth whooping into the mic, calling out William’s name, cheering him on.

Despite himself, something in Est comes alive.

“That ’s where he is,” Nut says, gesturing in the general direction of where the stage should be. “They moved up their practice since William’s already here anyway.”

Est lets a beat pass. He chews on his lower lip, his air passage suddenly a little tight.

“He knows I’m here?”

“Yeah, the first thing P’Winny told us right when we walked in was that you were here sleeping.”

And yet William didn’t come say hello. Didn’t seek him out for a hug for emotional support before going on stage. Granted, he was asleep, but that didn’t stop William before. Never stopped him from draping himself over Est like a weighted blanket, hugging him tight, clinging until Est was conscious enough to hug back and pet William like a puppy, sometimes kissing Est on the cheek or on the forehead before moving away and letting him go back to sleep.

Est just nods in acknowledgement, furtively blinking away the prickling in the back of his eyes. He swallows down a rock in his throat.

More than all the other things combined, this one stings the worst.

----- William Jakrapatr Kaewpanpong -----

There’s something wrong.

William isn’t sure what, but the second he sees Est emerge from one of the break rooms after Nut, he knows. 

His first instinct is to scamper towards the beautiful man and engulf him in a tight hug, to press his cheek to his, but he doesn’t. One look at the dip of his head, the bow of his shoulders, and William just knows he should probably rein in the flare of excitement at the thought of being with Est again after two days apart. 

He flicks a questioning glance in Nut’s direction, but Nut just looks back at him with big, blank eyes and shrugs as he walks past him.

William has no idea what’s going on – or if there is anything going on. He doesn’t realize he’s been holding his breath until Est turns his way and finally meets his eyes. He inhales, helpless to the big grin pulling his face taut. Suddenly, it’s like it’s Valentine’s Day and he just got handed the biggest birthday gift ever.

“Phi!” He takes Est’s forearm, pulling him to his side, just like he typically does. 

Est goes with it. He smiles – not quite reaching his eyes, but he probably just woke up, so William’s not going to read too much into that.

“Are you okay?” William reaches up to fix some wayward strands above Est’s ear. He gets another small smile for his efforts, and his heart beats a little faster.

“Mmh. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Brief answer, but more or less normal. Nothing too unusual with his tone, either. 

Maybe nothing’s wrong after all.

As they fall into step with each other, William puts an arm around Est’s waist, as he usually does. 

Est lets him. But he doesn’t lean in closer. He doesn’t put his arm around William’s shoulders or tuck himself into the fold of William’s half-embrace. Not even a little bit. Even though the hallway is practically empty, save for a handful of people whom Est wouldn’t usually be shy to be affectionate around.

William’s blood goes cold.

Oh, something is wrong.

He falters in his steps while Est keeps going. Doesn’t pause in the middle of the hallway with him. Doesn’t even seem to realize right away that William isn’t beside him anymore.

William glowers down at the empty spot next to his own feet.

Something is very wrong. 

“Did you forget something?”

“Huh?” William shakes his head, blinking out of the momentary stupor. 

Est is watching him curiously, waiting. It’s then that William notices that Est’s eyes are looking a little bit bloodshot and puffy, as if he stayed up all night or he got up way too early. Either way, he looks like he didn’t get enough sleep. That, or he was very recently in tears, but that doesn’t make any sense, does it? Est must be terribly sleep-deprived. 

William’s heart squeezes. He swallows, frowning. He’s been insanely busy with LYKN comeback preparations and group and solo schedules, so he doesn’t get to join Love Out Loud rehearsals as regularly as most of the guys. He knows that Est is either in the studio rehearsing, or at dancing or singing lessons almost daily. He’s been working so hard, and William feels terrible for not being around often enough to do all this with him.

To be fair, Est has reassured him many times from the start that it’s fine; he has nothing to be sorry for. But whenever he sees Est exhausted, radiating stress from head to toe, feeling unwell, showing signs of injury somewhere, it makes William feel like someone tossed him on the ground and stomped on his stomach. Singing and performing on stage is pretty much uncharted territory for Est. William, on the other hand – this is his turf. This is where he naturally excels. His bread and butter. But, so what? What’s the good in that? What good of a partner is he?

Two long strides bring William back right at Est’s side, his eyes not wavering once.

“You didn’t go back to sleep after I called you this morning?”

Est’s forehead creases. He looks at William, nonplussed. Like he’s wondering where the question even came from. Instead of answering, he reaches out and pinches the sleeve of William’s sweatshirt between his pointer and middle fingers.

“I’m fine, Liam. Let’s just get through rehearsals right now,” he says, a shade dismissive, and proceeds to tug him down the hall.

Okay, that was a little icy, William thinks. He doesn’t take it personally, though. Everyone gets snappy when they’re tired – maybe just with the rare exception of Nut, anyway. And so he offers no resistance, just follows obediently, his eyes drawn to where Est is clinging onto his sleeve the whole time. 

Est could have taken his hand instead, honestly. William doesn’t know why he didn’t.

Actually–

William purses his lips and, in one swift move, yanks his arm free. Before Est can register the motion and react, William grasps his hand, wrapping his fingers around his.

Est’s gaze immediately falls to where they’re touching, then flicks up to William’s face, all without breaking a step. His eyes are wide. He looks taken aback, though not in a bad way. Almost like he didn’t expect William to want to hold his hand – which, weird. They hold hands all the time. William is the one who initiates it, more often than not, in fact. 

For a moment, Est seems to be searching for something on his face. William has no idea what’s running through his mind. Whatever it is – all William knows is that Est is still holding his hand and looking into his eyes, and that’s enough to make his ears feel warm.

William perks up like a child who won a prize, grins his toothy grin with all the pent-up giddiness kicking and screaming in his ribcage, because he really did miss his P’Est a lot.

Like magic – just as he was hoping for – Est softens. Melts like butter in the summer sun. His shoulders loosen as all the tension he probably didn’t realize he was carrying dissolves into bright, sparkly starlight. He cracks a smile that makes his eyes twinkle, softly chuckling the way he does when William is being silly, or when he’s poking fun at William’s fingers.

Ah, there he is. William sniffles, gripping Est’s hand tighter. 

His P’Est is smiling for real. All is right in the world. He can figure out the rest later.

Chapter Text

+1. Where William and Est set the record straight (or gay, more like)

It’s after 2 AM when they leave the arena.

Final rehearsals were very long and arduous, but luckily went without any major hiccups. Est sounded great, did absolutely amazing in everything, and William made sure to tell him so every chance he got. He knew all his parts and moves and blocking, and executed them well in his run-throughs. Their matching outfits for both days looked pretty good, too. 

Despite all that, William of all people is very familiar with pre-show nerves; so if Est has been quieter than usual, tense, maybe a little jittery throughout the day and until now, he gets it.

P’Ko arrived at IMPACT Arena – looking a little harried but ultimately stoked for the two of them – while they were in the middle of a run-through of their second number together. Now that what feels like the longest day ever is over, P’Ko has to transfer his car to the hotel parking area from wherever he left it in a hurry in the afternoon. 

William and Est decide to bum a ride even though it’s just about ten minutes away by foot.

“Hey, phi.” William jogs towards Est as they follow their manager out. 

Est turns and slows, letting William catch up. William puts a hand on his shoulder as soon as he’s within reach.

“Are you okay?”

Even before any response comes, William notices something in Est’s bearing that he hasn’t seen in a long time. He regards William stiffly, frigid and almost hollow. He looks distant. He feels distant. Shuttered. Almost like a stranger. An unwelcome chill washes down William’s spine. He doesn’t like this. 

Est nods with a half-smile that honestly just looks tired and not very convincing. William hesitates. Normally, he would push a bit – ask what’s wrong, say something encouraging, or maybe just something completely out of left field to make Est laugh. But something tells him now is not the time for that.

Est speeds up, slipping out of WIlliam’s grasp, and William lets him go. He decides he won’t push it this time. Est will say something if he’s up for conversation or if he needs a distraction. Until then, William figures he’ll just linger nearby and make himself accessible for whatever Est still has the energy to do – which might not be much at this point.

The short ride to Novotel is uncharacteristically silent, except for the low hum of P’Ko’s Spotify playlist over the speakers. From the passenger’s side, William peers at Est through the rearview mirror and finds him sprawled in the backseat, his eyes closed. William is tired, too, but he’s got some leftover adrenaline buzzing through his veins still. He reels it in, not wanting to do anything that might agitate Est further. The air conditioner is on high; it’s chilly in more ways than one, and reeks of exhaustion.

Even walking into the hotel, nobody speaks. On any normal day, Est will likely be chattering about anything and everything, even if he’s on the verge of falling asleep on his feet. Not tonight, though.

William is leaning against one side of the hotel elevator, typing out replies to his parents in the family group chat, when P’Ko starts giving them strict instructions to get some rest – “Better behave, you two. Don’t wander back out anymore, okay? It’s late.” He and Est acknowledge him in unison and then bid him good night as he steps off. 

It’s uncannily quiet now that it’s just the two of them. It’s not awkward or uncomfortable – they’re way past uncomfortable silences now – but it’s something. William can’t quite put a finger on it. Whatever it is, it’s putting him on edge. He takes a peep in Est’s direction, a little hesitant, kind of hoping to get a feel for his mood or where his head is at. Est is busy typing on his phone, his face serious, not really looking like he’s up for a chat or anything. Maybe he’s just really badly worn out, William guesses. He goes back to his own messages without a word. By the time he’s done shooting off his replies, the doors are opening on their floor.

“Let’s go,” Est says softly – the first thing he’s said to him since they got in P’Ko’s car.

William follows, keeping himself just half a step back as they trudge through the carpeted hall. He adjusts the bag strap on his shoulder, oddly nervous. He watches Est glance at the number scribbled on the keycard sleeve in his hand, and then up at the brushed silver plates that they walk past. He stops in front of a door near the end of the hallway. William barely notices the room number.

Est taps the card on the sensor and swiftly lets them both in as soon as the light turns green. 

They crowd behind the door once it’s closed, arms and elbows grazing as they take off their shoes. 

William pauses for a second when he realizes that Est is setting his shoes down on the opposite side of the narrow entryway instead of next to where his are. He doesn’t usually take note of things like that, but he can’t shake the feeling of wrong that keeps itching under his skin. From the moment they left the arena, Est seems to be deliberately avoiding looking at him for some reason. He knows because his eyes have barely left Est since then. All day, to be honest.

It’s hard to ignore the palpable tension in the room, but he’s still not going to push. He’s not going to nag for attention like a child. He won’t. Maybe they both just need a good sleep. Things like this happen all the time to drained, overworked people, don’t they? He ponders the possibilities as he pads towards the king-size bed – because he cannot, for the life of him, think of anything he did wrong since the last time they saw each other.

“Are we okay, William?” 

Est’s voice suddenly rings behind him just as he’s bending sideways, tugging his right sock off his foot. William is so lost in his own head, he startles and loses all balance. He wobbles on one foot for a bit, staggers on two when his now-sockless foot tries to reacquaint itself with the rest of his limbs, before finally going down, very nearly crashing to the ground. Luckily, he’s close enough to the bed that he lands half-starfished on it – awkward and a little embarrassing, but arguably better than faceplanting on the carpet.

Est has a hand on his hip, the other rubbing his temple, when William rolls over and sits up.

“Huh?” William gawks up at him.

The man sighs, looking somber, but more tired than anything, really. 

“I said, are we okay?” He repeats, but the question doesn’t make any more sense the second time.

William blinks, the cogs in his brain grinding. What does that mean?

“Like… for tomorrow?”

“No, I mean–” Est presses his lips in a thin line, breathing out through his nose. He backs up to where the entryway opens up to the rest of the room and leans sideways against the wall, arms folding on his chest. He’s staring intently at a spot on the bed next to where William is sitting, his mouth pursed.

So pretty, William thinks. He wants to go over there and smoothen out the frown between Est’s brows with his lips, but that would be inappropriate. Now is so not the time. Est looks genuinely upset. 

William can tell he’s holding a lot in, and it’s beginning to scare him. They’ve had so many deep conversations together – too many to count now. Est knows him so well, down to the fact that he’s too lazy to cut his own fingernails regularly. They tell each other everything. He can’t imagine what Est could possibly be finding so difficult to talk about now.

William inches forward to the edge of the mattress. He’s not quite sure if getting close will help anything or do the exact opposite, so he stays put. He stays down, like he’s appeasing a deity.

Est is still fixated on a random spot on the pristine white sheet, his jaw tense.

Softly, carefully, William speaks: “What’s wrong, phi?”

Est finally looks at him, his eyes reflecting a tight coil of emotions William can’t pick apart. 

“You don’t let me edit your photos anymore.”

----- Est Supha Sangaworawong -----

“What?” William looks like he can’t believe what he’s hearing and, frankly, Est can’t blame him.

He didn’t really mean to lead with that. 

It’s absurd how he has so many thoughts racing through his mind – so many ways to articulate what he wants to get across – and that's the one that spills over. He’s honestly beyond caring now, though. There are too many things crowding in his throat, on the tip of his tongue; he supposes this is as good a way to start as any.

“You don’t let me drive you to– You– I–” He stops. Just stops. He clams his mouth shut, taking a second to collect himself. It irks him how deranged and petty he sounds. 

Est blinks up at the ceiling, takes a huge breath, bidding his lungs to decompress. None of this is really what he wants to say. He tries to dig in deep, to find the root of it all. What hurts him the most. What he’s afraid of the most. He really doesn’t want to cry, at least not before he can get out something remotely intelligible. 

He brings his gaze back down and finds William still sitting in front of him, braced on his arms. He’s grasping onto the corner of the bedding, fully focused on Est. Expectant. Patient. His eyes are brimming with questions, but he just silently waits for Est to find his words. 

What hurts him the most? What he’s afraid of the most? 

Looking at William now, Est realizes that the answer is simple.

His right hand balls into a fist under his arm. He swallows, willing his tangled tongue to come loose. 

“Are you still okay with this?”

William’s head slightly tilts to the side.

“Okay with what?”

Est clenches his fist so tight his nails start digging into his palm. 

“You and me. WilliamEst.”

“What?” William looks like someone just told him Chowon has gone missing. He springs up to his feet. “Of course, I am, phi. Why would you–”

“Okay, then what’s going on?” His shoulders rise up almost to his earlobes, but his arms remain closed – fastened over his chest like a shield. “Why does it feel like you’ve been pulling away from me the past few weeks? We barely spend any time together – and I get it, your calendar is packed, that’s completely fine – but times when we can, you back off. It’s like you don’t–” 

…want me.  

“–want to be around me.”

Est feels heat rush to his forehead like a fever and he’s not sure if it’s because of the near-slip or because he’s just emotional and really fucking tired. 

William stares at him, frozen, just taking all of that in for a minute. At least he doesn’t look as confused anymore. Maybe a little caught off guard. Probably shocked to learn that Est has been holding that in all this time. He takes a small tentative step forward. Est doesn’t move; just holds William’s apprehensive gaze, letting him know without words that he’s not going to run away. 

Slowly, William begins to visibly relax. The next steps he takes are more certain. More deliberate. He reaches for Est’s arms as soon as he gets close enough, and Est lets him pull his hands free so that he can hold them, clutching his fingers gently, stroking his knuckles with his thumb. 

If William pays really close attention, he might feel his pulse pounding under his skin.

“Is this because I didn’t ask you to drive me this morning?” William asks reluctantly.

“No,” is Est’s immediate answer, but then quickly realizes that’s not quite right. “Yes. Among other things.” He sighs, his rigid posture crumbling, thawing under the earnest attention. “Come on, William, you must know what I’m talking about,” he pleads. He doesn’t bother checking the tinge of desperation in his voice.

Something shifts in William’s expression – a surrender; an understanding, at the very least – and Est knows that he gets it. He does know.

William exhales. He glances down at their joined hands, clinging onto Est loosely.

“That’s why you’ve been upset all day?”

“Yes,” Est admits without missing a beat. No point beating around the bush, he figures.

William retreats gradually until his back is against the opposite wall. He’s staring at the ground, brows furrowed, thoughtful. It’s been a common look for him lately, but something’s different this time.

William slips his hands into the pockets of his loose jeans, eyes wandering now, looking anywhere but at Est’s face. He scratches lightly at his nose. 

He seems – of all things – shy. 

Est pauses. He did not expect that. 

Eyebrows wrinkling, he follows William’s movements, closely observing his every twitch.

Finally, William looks at him. There’s a spark of determination in there, but his breath comes out a little shaky. A little vulnerable. 

All of a sudden, Est is more concerned than upset. He hasn’t seen William like this in a long, long time, and he has no idea what exactly brought it on. Did he miss something? Did Est do something? Did the tunnel vision forged by his own overthinking keep him from catching the signs? Seeing the cracks? 

“I’m not a teenager anymore,” William starts, eyes firmly locking with his. Est’s heart thuds in his chest. “I may be younger, but I’m not a kid anymore.”

Est doesn’t realize he stopped breathing until he has to get his voice to work again. 

“I know that,” he says slowly. 

Of course, he knows that. He’s known that for a while now. 

Now that William brings it up, like a knee-jerk reaction, Est’s eyes start tracing the sharp lines of William’s face. His handsome cheekbones. His nose. His downturned mouth. The strong line of his neck, down to the outline of his shoulders under his oversized shirt, much broader and leaner now than when he first saw him in passing on TV as a contestant on a talent show. 

Of fucking course, he knows. How could he possibly not? 

Est genuinely does not know where this is going. 

William gives him a terse nod.

“I want–” He cuts himself off, worries at his bottom lip. His expression is inscrutable, save for the flash of frustration that Est catches there.

He understands. William struggles with his words sometimes, but he always tries. Est knows he’s trying now. He waits patiently, pretending he isn’t dying to wrap his arms around the guy and squish him until he doesn’t look so stressed anymore. 

“I didn’t want to keep bothering you over things like that,” William finally gets out. “I don’t want you to feel like I hoard all of your free time either.”

Bothering you…

Hoard all of your free time…

Est can’t say he didn’t see those words coming, but it still doesn’t make sense.

“Where is this coming from?” He shakes his head, completely stumped. “I never complained about any of that.”

“You wouldn’t because you’re so nice to me,” William says, and Est wants to tell him he’s not being nice. That being with him, doing things for him, is feeding Est’s soul, too. But William isn’t done yet. 

“Sometimes you would mention it – on record, even – and it makes me feel bad because it’s not like I do anything for you.”

“That’s not true,” Est rebuts, but his voice comes out a little tentative because he knows exactly what William is talking about. 

He may have harped on about it to some degree a few times before. About giving all his time to William, doing everything for William. It was never an issue for either of them before, though. William liked getting so much of his attention. He was proud of it, even, and sometimes brought it up himself. And Est didn’t mind giving it to him. He still doesn’t.

“I mean, nothing as tedious as the things you do for me all the time.”

“It’s not a competition, Willy.”

“I know it’s not, but I–” He makes vague gestures in the air with both hands, clearly disgruntled. Probably feeling like he’s not explaining himself right. He breathes out through his nose, shuts his eyes for a second. 

When he opens them again, the look on his face is as serious as Est has ever seen it. Like he’s made a hard but decisive choice about a pivotal dilemma. Something about it makes Est’s airway close up. 

It reminds him of when they were given a choice to either walk away from each other or continue into the thick of the fray side by side as WilliamEst. The first one was a much easier route – truthfully, a tempting choice to Est, given how bad things had gotten at the time. But it turns out his chubby baby is made of some really tough, heavy-duty stuff. 

Thinking back to it always fills him with gratitude. Maybe that’s when it started – when the trust and deep familiarity of friendship started shaping something more. Something bigger and stronger and all-encompassing. Just a pesky little thread, at first, that would trip him up sometimes, and rope around him until he’s yielding to things he never would have before. And now it’s a whole quilt, strikingly colorful and warm, wrapped around him like a second skin – whether he likes it or not. Falling in love is a weird, weird thing.

“I want to be someone dependable to you. Someone you can rely on even for the little things,” William says resolutely. Immediately, there’s an impassioned argument on the tip of Est’s tongue that he has to bite back. How does William not realize– 

“Because it’s always been you taking care of me. Everybody knows that.”

“What– William–” Est’s chest feels so tight, he can’t tell if it’s because of what William is saying or because he just seems to have forgotten how to breathe properly.

“I mean, what do I even really do for you, phi?”

“You make me happy.” The confession is out faster than Est can think or blink or remember to breathe. He almost screams it. 

He didn’t mean to blurt it out like that, but he’s not going to retract it or play it off as a joke. Not when William looks like he’s pinned to the wall by the words, flustered, his bright eyes big, mouth screwed shut, cheeks quickly growing more and more flushed by the second.

Est is exasperated, but it quickly ebbs away, thoroughly defenseless against that face. It’s so adorable, he wants to make it worse.

“You make me happy,” Est says one more time. His own ears are starting to burn, but he’s not going to hold back now. He needs William to hear this, to know it well, and remember it every day. 

He swallows down the pressure building up in his throat.

“You make me so happy. Happier than I’ve ever been. You make me feel like I’ve found exactly what I didn’t even know I’ve been missing all this time. You make me feel comfortable to just be myself in front of the world. You make me stronger. You make my dreams come true. Do you want me to keep going?”

His voice cracks on the last part, and in two seconds, William is right in front of him with a piece of tissue, one hand gripping his and the other dabbing on the tears that are just starting to overflow.

“I keep making you cry,” William murmurs, and he does sound a tiny bit remorseful about it.

“You really do, I fucking hate you.” 

Est is so annoyed with how his voice quivers as he speaks, but it makes a little soft smile curve William’s lips, so maybe it’s not so bad.

“No, you don’t.” 

Est just sniffles and lets William keep fussing over him. Which might be a mistake because now William has the smuggest, most irritatingly overweening grin on his face.

“You like me, don’t you?”

“Liam–” Est’s eyes roll. He snatches the tissue away, lightly pushing at William’s shoulder, which really does nothing because he’s still holding onto his hand.

William laughs, suddenly so radiant and full of life despite it being God-awful o’clock at the end of an obscenely long and punishing day.

“Sorry,” he mumbles quietly, ducking his head. He reaches for Est’s other hand. “I guess I just… want to deserve you.”

The air has shifted completely. William’s touch feels different. But Est doesn’t want to get his hopes up just yet.

“As a work partner?” 

William nods. “Yeah, that.” He looks into Est’s eyes, absently fiddling with the red string around Est’s wrist, almost sheepish. “And a... life... partner, maybe. Hopefully.”

Est’s breath catches sharply. He really wishes William didn’t have so much control over his respiratory functions. He swallows, willing his lungs to work properly for once.

“You want that?” The question comes out hushed and unsure. Vulnerable.

William’s gaze flits across Est’s face, lingering there as if searching for something.

“Phi, you know I love you.”

“I–” He does. But William always says the darndest, most unserious things, and for the longest time, he didn’t think William really meant anything beyond platonic. Or maybe it’s inherent self-preservation that won’t let him think he could possibly. 

Even now, he doesn’t dare make definitive assumptions, and he’s afraid to ask because that’ll mean crossing a line they can’t go back from. Whether the answer is yes or no, something’s going to change irrevocably, at least for Est.

William tilts his head, narrows his eyes at him suspiciously.

“You do, right?”

Est hesitates, dawdles for a second, and then impulsively reverts to what he does best when he doesn’t want to incriminate himself: he deflects.

“Who says you don’t deserve me, anyway?” 

William puffs. “Well, everyone keeps saying I’m just a damn, silly teenager you have to take care of or… endure, or whatever,” he whines, frowning, following right along with the random tangent Est goes off on for redirection’s sake, despite it being a particularly bleak attempt.

One of the many reasons why Est loves him so much, honestly. He fights back a fond smile.

“You mean the same people who call you delusional whenever you say you’ve completely won me over?”

William smirks. “Are they wrong?”

Est shrugs. “Well, you’re not a teenager anymore.”

“Exactly. I’d rather people call me your boyfriend than ‘that damn teenager’.”

Est nearly chokes on his own spit.

This kid–

He wants to put his head in his hands in distress, but William has custody of his hands at the moment, and he frankly doesn’t hate it.

“Or they can just call you by your name?”

“Mmm... still prefer Est Supha’s boyfriend.”

“Oho...” Est is determined to just laugh it off, but William – the way he holds himself steady in front of him, a small smile on his lips, looking at him intently and openly, as if there’s nothing in the world he adores more – something about it is so evidently different.

William is serious. 

He’s actually dead serious.

All at once, Est’s stomach swoops and he can’t feel either of his legs. It’s impossible to ignore or deny, even for someone like him with a formidable track record for parrying all and any hints of romantic advances from anyone. 

Maybe because this one isn’t just anyone.

“You… really want that?”

William huffs out and unceremoniously drops Est’s hands, almost offended. He abruptly steps back, sucking in a huge breath as if he’s bracing for a long and passionate diatribe, an incredulous look on his face.

“I just said I wanted to deserve you, phi. That I wanted to take care of you as your life partner – you’re asking if I’m serious?” 

Est knows he’s not mad; just clearly really fucking frustrated, but in that comically dramatic, self-depracating way that only William does, and Est can’t help nearly doubling over in poorly suppressed sniggers. He’s still chuckling softly as he tracks after William with outstretched arms, beckoning him back. 

William keeps going, though. 

“Why would I joke about that? Do I do so little that you can’t tell my feelings are real?”

“Okay, okay–” Est manages to grab him by the shoulders before his back hits the wall. He briefly cups William’s cheeks in his palms, wraps his fingers over where the base of his neck meets his shoulders, and then finally settles on holding his hands again.

William immediately stops moving, but he just stands there with a theatrically dejected posture that oddly reminds Est of a barren tree in the height of winter, and it makes him giggle.

Between the two of them, Est is definitely the chattier one most of the time. But once William gets started–

“You know, I asked my mom, ‘what if I’m actually in love with P’Est?’”

Est gapes at him.

He absolutely did not– 

“‘Not in a make-believe sort of way. In a I-think-I-can-see-my-whole-life-with-him way.’”

Est shakes his head, heart near-exploding, completely helpless.

This boy.

“She said, ‘that’s okay, he takes care of you very well.’ And I thought, ‘hang on, it’s not only him, right? I take care of him, too, don’t I?’ Don’t I, phi?”

He’s pouting now and Est is so incredibly endeared, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“Mmh, yes. Yes, you do,” he agrees indulgently, gingerly sweeping William’s soft hair away from his eyes.

William perks up like a puppy that has finally won his human’s attention. “Right?”

“Right.” Est nods. “I can’t believe you told your mother that.”

William scoffs. “At least she didn’t look surprised.”

He shoots William a wry look, pinching the skin just under his pinky, and William gives an exaggerated wince. Est grins.

“You did say she liked me.”

“She does. She’s probably mentally given my hand to you in marriage at this point.”

Est’s heartbeat skips.

The shit this boy says, honestly–

“Wait,” William knits his brows. “So every time I said ‘I love you,’ what did you think I meant?”

Est freezes. Thinks fast. 

“Maybe it was fanservice, I don’t know.”

William’s face crumples in confusion. 

“Service which fan? It’s only the two of us in the chat.”

“Maybe you’re... stuck in character. Or practicing. How should I know?” Est lifts his shoulders, defensive, but is also trying not to laugh.

“I literally could not have been more straightforward than that, phi! Maybe other than getting down on one knee with an actual ring, or if I grabbed you and kissed you–”

“I’m fine with that.”

William stops. Blinks. “–what?”

“Nothing. It’s just that we said we weren’t going to date people for a while. Not even each other.”

William’s head bobs. “You said that.”

“Wh–” Est sputters. “You agreed!”

“Yes, because it was what you wanted.”

And he’s right. It was Est who proposed it right when they decided to keep moving forward as a pair against all odds. 

It’s not unusual to establish boundaries like that between long-term partners in the industry, especially for a new pairing like them. Est wasn’t interested in getting involved in any romantic entanglements anyway, and it was the furthest thing from William’s mind as well. They were both just focused on succeeding together. They fought so hard to stay as partners – as WilliamEst. It only made sense to protect their professional relationship at all costs. 

Besides, not getting involved with co-stars has been Est’s rule for years. He’s seen many times how badly those things can end. It just never seemed worth the risk or the mess. 

Be that as it may–

“Well, what do you want?” He asks, because none of that matters to him now. Not as much as making William happy.

William pauses, just staring at him for a beat. He heaves a long-suffering sigh.

“Phi.” His tone is flat and tired. “Have we not been in the same room, in the same conversation for the last half hour, or–”

Despite himself, Est bursts into hysterical laughter. He collapses into William’s chest, forehead resting on his shoulder, his whole body uncontrollably shaking with mirth.

He’s put William through quite a lot, too, apparently.

Est straightens back up as soon as the giggles start to fade. William is watching him, lips pursed and obviously sulking, but the humor dancing in his gleaming eyes is as clear as day, so Est knows he’s not actually too upset. 

“Be Est Supha’s boyfriend,” Est states, schooling his face into a more sober expression. “That’s what you want?”

William’s brows jump up, his eyes widening in surprise, as if he didn’t expect Est to actually directly go there. His lips start moving, but no sound tumbles out. Est gives him time.

And then, finally, William nods– “Yes.”

Est smiles. 

He likes rules. He likes the structure that they give and the discipline that they cultivate. But all of that pales in comparison to how much he likes the way William’s whole face lights up when he smiles, or the way his eyes bow into half-crescents when he laughs. He’s broken so many of his own rules for this boy already; what’s one more? 

“Ask me.”

“Really?”

“Ask me.”

William turns Est’s hands upward, kneading random lines and shapes into his palm, like an offbeat massage. Est comes to realize that William is trying to soothe himself. William is nervous. Beneath all that humor and smugness and giddiness, he’s utterly terrified.

Est’s chest pinches. He catches William’s fidgety hands, firmly lacing their fingers together. An anchor for both of them.

Instantly, William softens. His shoulders relax just a little. He squeezes Est’s hands.

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

William’s voice is trembling, but it’s still the most beautiful, warm tone Est has ever heard. 

Out of nowhere and all at once, it hits him how surreal all of this is. 

They’re in a hotel room the night before the biggest event of their careers thus far, a little grimy and shabby from a full day of grueling rehearsals, possibly running on nothing but the last dregs of adrenaline at this point, oscillating between bickering and pouring their hearts out to each other.

And William’s ears are the brightest crimson he’s ever seen on a human being his whole life. 

All of a sudden, Est is giggling again like he’s drunk out of his mind.

“Phi!” William groans miserably, head thrown back as if he’s lamenting to the high heavens.

Est does feel a little bad now.

He reaches for William’s face with both hands, trying to make him look at him. He’s met with a bit of resistance at first, but it’s feeble at best. William is still pouting like a petulant child even as he lets Est manhandle him into meeting his eyes. Est thinks he must be insane to love him even more for that.

“You’re so cute,” he whispers, thinking aloud.

Just like that, William smiles, just a bit – the corners of his mouth ticking up a smidgen – though it looks he’s fighting very hard not to. As if he just can’t help it. The two of them – they’re both equally impossibly stubborn and equally weak for each other. It’s unhinged and ridiculous and it completely warms Est’s heart.

Looks like this is how his nine-year streak of singlehood officially ends: in the cute little hands of this sulking twenty-year-old with ears the color of an electric stove on high heat, standing in the entryway of a dimly lit hotel room with one foot missing a sock.

Romance is alive and well.

“Are you gonna kiss me or not?” Est demands.

William’s eyebrow arcs up. “You’re the one holding my face.”

Oh, my god– Est’s eyes roll. He hastily puts his hands down and William, grinning cheekily, pretends like the motion knocks him a couple of tiny steps back. 

He’s clearly just out for payback now. Est will humor him, though – just like he too-often does. Because, apparently, that’s what happens when you’re stupidly in love with someone so silly.

“What now, you stubborn child?”

William gives him a mock-stern look. “Not a child anymore.”

Est makes a show of pondering that. “Baby? Boyfriend?”

William giggles – actually giggles like a frivolous high schooler – stepping back into his space. He gently grabs Est’s face in his hands and goes right in for a kiss. Just a soft yet decisive press of lips, sweet and tender and over way too fast, but it’s enough to make Est’s heart feel like breaking out of his chest. 

Even so, he’s not about to let William know that.

His ears are aflame and his pulse is racing, but he keeps a neutral – leaning a bit unimpressed – expression when William pulls away. 

William’s cheeks are positively rosy. His eyes are hooded and shining as they drift over Est’s face, questioning. Est feels it like a physical caress. He pretends it doesn’t send a shiver down his spine. 

He cocks an eyebrow, a lopsided smile tugging on the corner of his lips. 

A challenge.

“Did I teach you nothing?”

William gapes at him, outraged, gasping in disbelief. Est absolutely cannot hold back a laugh seeing ‘THE AUDACITY!’ stamped all over his face.

And then William squares his shoulders. His eyes go dark. Full, plush lips slowly curving in a sexy smirk. 

Challenge accepted.

Before Est can process what’s happening, William’s fingers firmly – possessively – curl over the back of his neck. He slants back in with unrestrained urgency, as if he’s been let loose after being locked up for ages, starving, and Est’s lips are the most luscious feast he’s been craving all along. 

Est gasps against William’s mouth, his own heartbeat thrumming loudly in his ears.

Holy shit–

He feels William grin into the kiss before shifting ever so slightly, nipping at the bow of his upper lip, hot tongue sliding over his. Est’s knees nearly buckle under him, his hands instinctively gripping the sides of William’s shirt like a lifeline.

This isn’t a lesson or practice or something off a script. Est doesn’t remember teaching William any of this, either. Or did he? He really doesn’t fucking know. All he knows is that his feet are starting to move. 

William steers him backward – head tilting the other way, sucking on the swell of Est’s bottom lip – until his shoulder blades hit the wall.

William’s hand is still cradling his neck, hot against his skin, his other hand now resting over the base of his spine. Tingles trickle down his back as William pulls his body impossibly closer, barely coming up for air before diving in deeper, licking into his mouth, coaxing Est to open up for him. 

Fuck–

Est shudders. He definitely did not teach William that, but he can’t really be too sure of anything anymore, or wonder where the fuck William learned to kiss like this, because his brain has effectively been reduced to nothing but mush.

William kisses like he’s proving a point. Marking his territory. As if he’s making sure to sear his touch, his heat, into Est’s skin so that he never ever doubts how much William wants him. It’s not frantic nor insistent, but it doesn’t need to be. Est likes it just like this. 

He takes William’s bottom lip between his, gently sucking on the sweet plushness of it, giving as good as he’s getting. Then he dips his head to one side just a little, parts his lips, letting William have all the access he wants – and William fervently takes it, tasting him even deeper as they breathe each other in. 

Est’s palms press against William’s chest, fingers splayed out. He glides them over the soft cotton of William’s shirt, up and up, slowly, until they’re resting on his shoulders. 

This time, it’s William who shivers under his touch. 

It makes Est smile into the kiss.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been making out for – could be ten seconds or ten hours – but it still feels like it’s over too fast.

Est can’t help leaning in, chasing after William when he starts to pull away. 

He’s insatiable, it turns out, and he should probably be concerned, but he really does want this so badly, he can’t be bothered with proper decorum right now.

William laughs, low and breathless, as he loops both arms fully around Est’s waist, pressing their foreheads together.

“You love me back, don’t you?” William asks, teasing and very clearly aware of the answer to the question already, judging by the awfully self-satisfied grin on his handsome face.

Est draws back, his heart skipping the moment he lays eyes on William’s sparkling eyes and very vividly pink cheeks.

He is so down bad, it’s embarrassing.

“I didn’t say that,” he deadpans, still catching his breath, his expression blank – though he knows he probably looks astonishingly flushed all the way down to his neck, too.

William gives him a dubious look, his eyes squinting. It’s so cute, Est cups his face and kisses him again. He can feel William’s lips curl up in a smile. 

“You so do,” William whispers, clearly pleased – genuinely happy – before leaning in for another peck. Like it’s a competition, but neither of them is keeping score.

Est is hit with a surge of fondness that he doesn’t know what to do with or where to put. 

His hand moves as if on its own accord, tenderly tracing the edge of William’s bottom lip with his thumb. 

All the jesting and teasing melt away from William’s face. He unravels so beautifully in Est’s hands – the purest devotion in his eyes, completely honest and unbridled. Est almost can’t believe it’s because of him. That it’s for him. He’s never been loved like this, or felt love like this for someone before.

For all his stubborn denials, he really can’t imagine a life without this person in it.

“I do,” he tells William, reverent. “I love you.” It comes out so soft it’s almost a whisper. It’s all he can manage without his voice cracking.

William lights up at the rare admission and visibly melts at the same time because Est’s tears are starting to spring up again. 

Damn it. Est whimpers, trying to blink them away.

William drops a quick peck on his forehead and then gently brushes the damp corners of his eyes with the back of his fingers.

“Even if I keep making you cry?”

Est chuckles wetly and nods.

“Even if you keep making me cry.”

William beams – God, he’s so beautiful, Est thinks – and pulls Est into a tight embrace.

“Guess I’ll just have to take responsibility and marry you, huh?”

Est snorts, hitching his chin on William’s shoulder.

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

William makes a strangled noise of amusement that evolves into soft, delighted giggles. 

Music to Est’s ears.

If he does ask one day, it’ll probably be the easiest ‘yes’ Est will ever give.

But William doesn’t need to know that.