Chapter Text
Est always walked a little ahead of him.
Not so far that he was out of reach, but far enough that William had to work to catch up. It had started a few weeks ago—subtle at first. Fewer texts, shorter replies, eyes that lingered on the ground more than on him.
William wasn’t good at feelings. He was better with plans, numbers, anything that followed rules. But Est… Est was a language all his own.
And right now, he was silent.
They sat on the swings behind the old school building, the air heavy with the smell of dried leaves and the threat of rain. William could hear Est’s breathing—shallow, like he was holding something in.
“Are you mad at me?” William asked.
Est shook his head, but didn’t look at him.
“Then what is it?”
A pause. Then, quietly:
“You always ask that.”
William frowned. “Ask what?”
Est’s fingers tightened around the chain of the swing. “If I’m mad. If I’m okay. If I’m fine. But you never ask if I’m tired.”
“Tired?” William echoed.
Est looked up, and for once, he met his eyes. There was something brittle in them—like glass held too tightly.
“Tired of pretending,” Est said. “Of pretending it doesn’t hurt to be near you.”
The words knocked the breath from William’s chest.
“I…” he started, but his mouth felt dry. “Est, I didn’t—”
“I know.” Est stood. His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. “That’s the problem.”
He walked away, just like he always did.
But this time, William didn’t follow.