Work Text:
The morning sun filtered through half-closed blinds, slicing the room into stripes of gold and exhaustion.
Est blinked blearily, the light too sharp for someone who’d slept less than four hours. His phone buzzed somewhere under a pile of scripts. Another reminder. Another schedule. Another day to survive on autopilot.
“Est, we start early today,” his manager’s voice called through the door — brisk, not unkind. “Car’s ready in fifteen.”
“Got it Phi,” Est answered, voice rough. He dragged himself upright, fingers moving automatically: splash of cold water, button the shirt, fix the collar. The mirror showed him a man assembled for work — clean, calm, practiced. But there was a faint tremor around his eyes that powder couldn’t hide.
He thought briefly of William — the last message from last night, some ridiculous meme followed by sleep well, Phi. The corner of his mouth lifted for half a second before the day reclaimed him.
---
The set for Me and Thee was already a contained storm. Lights flared, cameras rolled, someone shouted for cables, someone else asked for coffee. The air smelled of hairspray, foundation, and hot dust from the rigs.
“Good morning, Phi Est!” the staff chorused when he entered.
He smiled — the reliable one, the kind people depended on. “Morning, everyone.”
Straight to makeup. Then to costume.
Another day of pretending he wasn't about to fall because of exhaustion.
He was good at this — too good. His eyes softened on cue, his laughter fell in the right rhythm, his posture radiated warmth.
Dependable. Professional.
By the fifth take of Scene 42, though, the veneer began to strain. The heat from the lamps pressed against his skin, sweat prickling beneath layers of fabric. His wrists ached from gesturing, his jaw from smiling. When the director finally called, “Cut! Reset!” Est’s shoulders slumped for a heartbeat — just long enough for the exhaustion to show.
“Phi, you okay?” the assistant director asked gently.
He straightened immediately. “Yeah. Just a long week.” A smaller smile this time, soft and automatic.
Across the set, a staffer lifted a phone, filming for the network’s official account. Instinct kicked in. Est fixed his hair, adjusted his shirt, found that perfect camera-ready smile again.
No one saw the pause between breaths. No one noticed the sigh he swallowed.
You can rest when you’re off camera, he told himself. Not before.
By the time the director called it a wrap, the clock was flirting with eleven. The set emptied fast — laughter, thank-yous, the clatter of equipment being packed away. Est stayed behind to shake hands, thank every department head like he always did.
The moment he stepped outside, the night air hit him — cooler, quieter, honest.
He exhaled, shoulders sagging, and headed for the parking lot, bones humming with fatigue.
His phone buzzed.
🎸William:
are you home yet?🦈Est:
not yet. still on set.🎸William:
what do you want for breakfast tomorrow🦈Est:
breakfast? it’s 11 pm.🎸William:
ok what do you want for brunch then
Est blinked at the screen, frowning faintly. Typical William — unpredictable, half-chaos, half-sunlight.
🦈Est:
why🎸William:
no reason 💅🏻
Despite himself, Est chuckled under his breath. Even after the longest day, William’s nonsense could still crack through the fog.
He typed a single 🙄, slid the phone into his pocket, and unlocked his car.
Maybe he’d call William tomorrow. Maybe he wouldn’t have to — William usually appeared before Est had time to think.
Whatever the younger man was planning, Est was too tired to guess.
He leaned back against the seat, letting the city lights blur past, unaware that he’d just handed William quiet permission to take over his next day — not out of pity, but out of something that looked a lot like care.
---
William sprawled across his bed, phone in hand, hair still damp from a shower he’d barely noticed taking. The room was dim except for the glow of the screen — Est’s last message staring back at him.
🦈P’Est ❤️:
🙄
It was small, teasing, harmless.
But he could see it — that tired smile behind the emoji, that quiet exhaustion Est thought he hid so well.
William’s chest tightened.
If Est was that tired, then the whole damn world needed to stop until he wasn’t.
He opened the LYKN group chat with the focus of a man about to stage a coup.
💬 LYKN Group Chat
🎸William:
ok listen up brothers i have a mission🐱Lego:
oh god🍦Hong:
what did u break this time🥜Nut:
do i need to hide the car keys again🥓Tui:
why do u sound like u just decided to overthrow the government🎸William:
not the govt 😌 just giving phi est the royal treatment he deserves 🩵🐱Lego:
…define royal treatment🎸William:
the male version of princess treatment 👑🍦Hong:
P’Est is gonna kill u lmao🥜Nut:
no wait i wanna see this happen pls record🥓Tui:
what’s your plan exactly🎸William:
breakfast in bed. flowers. crown. a full-day decree of rest and affection etc 💅🏻🐱Lego:
the “etc” scares me🍦Hong:
bro you’re unhinged🎸William:
unhinged in love 😌🥜Nut:
this is gonna end with you being banned from his condo again isn’t it🎸William:
not if i bring food
The chat exploded in laughing emojis, and William grinned at the screen — that wild, unstoppable grin that usually meant trouble incoming.
He tossed his phone onto the pillow beside him, then immediately picked it back up. His thumbs flew over the keyboard, this time in a different app.
“Cute plastic crown.”
“Breakfast tray aesthetic.”
“Mini bouquet delivery Bangkok.”
Click. Add to cart. Add to cart. Add to cart.
Zero hesitation.
“I said I’d treat him like royalty,” William murmured, voice warm with mischief. “And I meant it.”
By the time he hit Checkout, his eyelids were heavy, the room lit only by the blue shimmer of receipts and delivery confirmations.
He fell asleep grinning — surrounded by chaos, impulse purchases, and one very simple truth pulsing in his chest:
His P'Est deserved a day where someone finally took care of him.
The banging started at 8:17 a.m.
Est groaned into his pillow, voice muffled. “Who—”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Good morning, your majesty!”
He froze. That voice.
No. Absolutely not.
Dragging himself upright, Est shuffled to the door, hair a mess, T-shirt creased beyond saving. He cracked it open — and immediately regretted every life choice that led to this moment.
William stood in the hallway like a man on a mission. Sweatpants, white T-shirt, plastic crown tilted on his head. A wrapped gift in one hand. A bouquet in the other. Beaming.
“Good morning, Phi Est!”
Est blinked, deadpan. “William.”
“Yes, your highness?”
“…What are you doing?”
“Royal duties,” William said proudly. He straightened, tone suddenly regal. “I hereby declare today the Royal Holiday of Phi Supha the First,” he announced solemnly, as though addressing a royal court. “You are not allowed to lift a single finger. I, your loyal subject, shall attend to your every need.”
Est just stared. Once. Twice. “…You’re insane.”
“Insanely devoted,” William countered, grin sharp and bright.
Est sighed and started closing the door. William caught it with his foot, tray wobbling dangerously.
“Wait P’ — don’t you want breakfast?”
“I want peace.”
“Breakfast is peace.”
“William.”
“Phi.”
They stared at each other — the crown sliding to one side, the absurdity hanging between them.
Finally, Est exhaled, long and defeated. “Fine. Five minutes. Then you leave.”
William’s grin could’ve powered the entire city. “Five minutes is all I need, your majesty.”
A few minutes later, chaos moved into his kitchen.
William hummed to himself as he worked — an off-key tune that somehow made the apartment feel warmer. The air filled with the scent of butter and coffee, sunlight catching in the steam curling above the pan.
Est sat at the dining table, one elbow propped against the wood, watching in quiet disbelief. He’d seen William on stage, in interviews, on set — confident, sharp, larger than life. This version — barefoot, cooking in his kitchen, plastic crown still stubbornly in place — felt like something else entirely.
“Why are you like this?” he muttered.
William didn’t even look up. “Because someone has to treat you the way you deserve.”
Something in the air shifted. The words were said lightly, but they landed deep.
When William set the tray in front of him — a golden omelette, perfectly toasted bread, orange juice, coffee, and a napkin folded into a heart — he added a single flower in a glass beside the plate. A small, clumsy gesture that made Est’s chest tighten unexpectedly.
“Eat, Phi,” William said softly. “Please.”
Est stared at him for a beat, then sighed again — softer this time, less from exasperation and more from surrender. “You’re ridiculous.”
William smiled. “But you’re smiling.”
Est picked up his fork, taking a small bite just to humor him. “Happy now?”
“Almost,” William said, sitting down across from him. “I’d be happier if you didn’t go to work today.”
Est raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“I’m serious,” William insisted. “You’ve been running nonstop for weeks. Call your manager. Take a day off. Tell them you’re sick—”
“William.” Est’s voice carried quiet warning.
“What?”
“I can’t just skip work.” He set his fork down carefully. “People rely on me. The production schedule, the interviews, the crew — everyone’s counting on me to show up. If I start cancelling, it affects more than just me.”
William frowned, not backing down. “And if you collapse from exhaustion? That affects more than just you too.”
Est paused, eyes softening slightly but firm. “It’s not that simple. I agreed to those commitments. If I don’t honor them, what does that say about me?”
William sighed, leaning back. “That you’re human.”
The line hung in the air, quiet but sharp.
Est looked away first, shaking his head, a faint smile pulling at his lips. “You don’t understand, William. This isn’t about wanting to rest. It’s about doing what I promised.”
William studied him for a moment — the stubborn tilt of his jaw, the exhaustion beneath his eyes — then smiled, small and fond. “Fine. I can’t make you stay home.”
“No, you can’t.”
“But,” William said, grin returning, “I can make sure you eat breakfast before you go.”
Est laughed under his breath, finally giving in. “You’re impossible.”
William leaned forward, eyes bright. “And you’re worth the effort.”
The words settled quietly between them, warm and steady.
For the first time all morning, Est didn’t try to argue.
---
By late morning, Me and Thee was in full swing — light rigs humming, camera monitors flickering, Pond and Phuwin running lines in the corner. Est stood beside them, script in hand, fighting to stay focused while every muscle in his body begged for mercy.
“Phi, can we take one more from Scene 28?” Phuwin asked, grin sheepish.
“Sure,” Est said, marking a line. “Just don’t forget the cue this time.”
Pond groaned. “He always forgets it.”
Phuwin shot back, “You always distract me!”
They dissolved into laughter, their easy energy rippling through the crew. Est smiled faintly — kids, both of them.
He had just underlined another note when a voice cut across the room.
Bright. Unmistakable. Too cheerful.
“Where’s my Phi~?”
Every head turned.
William stood in the doorway wearing sunglasses and mischief, holding a paper bag scrawled with glitter marker:
For the Most Beautiful Person on Set 💙
Est blinked. “No.”
William grinned wider. “Yes.”
Pond nearly doubled over laughing. “Bro, what are you doing here?”
“Delivering royal provisions,” William said gravely, setting the bag on the nearest table.
Inside — Est’s favorite iced Americano, two pastries, and a handwritten note that read:
Don’t skip lunch, your highness.
Phuwin clutched his heart. “Oh my god, he even wrote a note.”
Pond fanned himself. “The standard for men just rose and fell at the same time.”
Est rubbed his face. “You can’t just walk into a production set, William.”
“Of course I can,” William replied, unfazed. “I brought snacks for my partner.”
Phones were already out. A behind-the-scenes cameraman whispered, “This is going in the next BTS clip.”
“Don’t you dare,” Est warned, but the red light on the camera was already blinking.
William threaded through the chaos like he belonged there, stopping only when he reached Est. His grin softened.
“Phi,” he said quietly, “you look tired.”
“I’m working,” Est replied.
“I can see that. That’s why I brought fuel.”
He uncapped the coffee and held the straw out like a peace offering.
Est hesitated… then took a sip — because he was, in fact, exhausted.
William’s smile bloomed instantly. “There. See? The royal decree is working.”
From somewhere behind them, Santa’s voice rang out: “WILLIAM BROUGHT COFFEE AGAIN?!”
Perth added, “He’s gone full simp mode again!”
Without turning, William waved lazily. “A good simp never rests.”
Pond whistled. “Someone take notes.”
Phuwin laughed. “No one can compete. He’s in his own league.”
Est sighed, cheeks warming, trying — and failing — not to smile. “You’re embarrassing me.”
William leaned closer, voice low enough to cut through the noise. “Good. Everyone should know how much you matter to me.”
The words hit harder than he meant them to.
For a heartbeat, the chatter around them blurred. The set, the lights, the laughter — all fell away until there was only William’s steady gaze and the pulse of something unspoken in the space between them.
Then Pond shouted, “Alright, Your Majesty, we’re rolling!”
Laughter erupted, the spell snapped, and Est turned back toward the camera, face flushed but smiling.
From behind the monitors, William stayed — quiet now, the crown gone but devotion still shining in his eyes.
Every time Est smiled for the scene, William’s expression softened, as if he were watching something sacred.
---
The afternoon sun hit its peak, heat shimmering off the equipment trucks parked outside. Inside, Me and Thee was mid-scene — Est seated opposite Pond, voice trembling just enough to make the silence ache.
William sat behind the monitor village, coffee in hand, perfectly still.
He wasn’t supposed to be there. Technically, he wasn’t part of the production. But a few smiles and a promise of “moral support” had won the assistant director over.
Now he was just… watching.
Utterly, helplessly, watching.
On-screen, Est leaned forward, every emotion carved into his face. The camera tracked his eyes as they shone wetly in the light.
William’s breath caught — quiet, reverent.
The cameraman beside him muttered, “Your friend’s good, huh?”
William’s lips curved, soft. “He’s the best.”
His phone buzzed in his lap.
💬 LYKN Group Chat
🥜Nut:
@William
bro are u still on set🎸William:
yeah🐱Lego:
u been there 4 hours🍦Hong:
ARE U PART OF THE CREW NOW??🥓Tui:
are u like… sitting in on rehearsals or smth 😭🎸William:
watching my phi work 🥰🥜Nut:
you sound like a dad at his kid’s recital🐱Lego:
correction: like a wife at her husband’s premiere🍦Hong:
💀💀💀 he said “my phi” i’m screaming🥓Tui:
blink twice if u remember u have ur own career🎸William:
i am working. i’m working on supporting him 🩵🍦Hong:
you’re done for, bro🐱Lego:
no comeback from this level of whipped🥜Nut:
he’s one floral bouquet away from proposing on the Me and Thee red carpet🎸William:
don’t tempt me
The chat exploded in typing bubbles — then went silent.
Finally,
🥓Tui:
…wait he’s serious isn’t he
William smiled faintly, thumb hovering before he locked the screen. His eyes never left the monitor.
---
On-set, Est was laughing between takes now, head tilted back, shoulders loose for the first time all day. Crew members teased him affectionately, and he waved them off with mock indignation.
The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed.
The way he tucked his hair back with two fingers when it fell forward.
William wanted to memorize every frame.
The phone buzzed again.
💬 LYKN Group Chat
🥜Nut:
he’s gone🍦Hong:
fully gone🐱Lego:
man’s in 4K ultra-definition love🥓Tui:
i’m making popcorn🎸William:
bye. shooting's starting again.
He silenced the chat, leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and focused.
On-screen, Est began the next take — voice cracking just enough to sound real. Raw. Human. Beautiful.
William exhaled, almost a whisper. “That’s my Phi.”
Across the set, Pond leaned toward Phuwin and whispered, “Why does it feel like we’re in a BL, but the real couple isn’t even in the script?”
Phuwin smirked. “Because we are.”
---
The set finally wound down past sunset. Cables coiled, lights dimmed, laughter fading into yawns.
Pond and Phuwin were still by the gate, taking selfies with fans; Perth teased Santa for tripping over the same light stand twice.
Est stayed behind, ever the professional — standing beside the director, reviewing the last takes with calm precision. Every note measured. Every smile polite.
When they finally wrapped, he bowed to the crew, offered quiet thanks, and stepped out into the cooling night air.
He didn’t expect anyone to still be there.
But William was.
Sitting cross-legged on a folding chair by the monitor village, head tilted back, eyes tracing the now-empty set as if it still had life left in it. The coffee cup in his hand was long drained. The plastic crown sat on the table beside him, slightly dented, glinting faintly under the amber lights.
Est stopped. “William.”
William blinked awake instantly, grin forming like a reflex. “Your Majesty returns.”
Est sighed, setting his bag down on a nearby bench. “You didn’t have to stay all day.”
“I know.”
“So why did you?”
William’s grin softened, eyes warm. “Because you looked tired this morning.”
Est rolled his eyes, but his tone gentled. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I prefer devoted.”
He stood, brushing off his jeans as he walked closer. The overhead set lights had dimmed to half power, leaving the studio bathed in soft gold.
“Did you even eat?” Est asked.
William shook his head. “Didn’t want to miss your scenes.”
“That’s not—”
“Worth it,” William finished quietly. “Every second.”
That caught Est off guard. He exhaled, looking away. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” Est hesitated, voice lower now. “People will think you mean it.”
William didn’t miss a beat. “I do.”
The air shifted — still, heavy, charged with something that didn’t need words. Somewhere in the distance, a cable clattered; a crew member laughed faintly — background noise swallowed by the hum of the lights.
William took a step closer. Close enough that Est caught the faint scent of his cologne — clean, warm, with a hint of something like cedar and sunlight.
“You’ve been running nonstop for weeks, Phi,” William murmured. “I just wanted you to have one day where someone looks after you.”
Est’s eyes met his — tired, wary, touched. “You don’t have to.”
“I know.” William’s smile turned soft, almost shy. “I want to.”
A long silence stretched — not awkward, just full.
Then, quietly, Est asked, “You really wore that crown all day, didn’t you?”
William’s grin returned, small and bright. “Of course. A loyal subject never removes his symbol of service.”
Est huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“But,” William said gently, “you’re smiling again.”
That made Est look away, pretending to check his phone, hiding the faint blush creeping up his neck.
“Come on,” he said, voice steady again. “Let's go before you start calling me ‘your highness’ in front of strangers.”
“No promises,” William replied, following with that same grin that could light up the darkest set.
Outside, the night was quiet. The parking lot glimmered with reflections from the studio lights.
Est unlocked his car; before he could reach for the handle, William moved ahead and opened the passenger door.
Est sighed but didn’t stop him. “Still on royal duty, I see.”
William leaned on the door, teasing softly. “Until further notice, your majesty.”
Est’s laugh was quiet, tired, real. He got in.
William closed the door gently — like handling something precious.
---
Bangkok at night shimmered in reflections — gold streaks on wet asphalt, the low hum of traffic fading behind them.
Inside the car, everything was softer.
William drove with one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting loosely near the gearshift. The stereo played something low and calm — acoustic chords that filled the silence without breaking it.
Est sat in the passenger seat, head tipped against the window, watching the city smear by in ribbons of light. The faint scent of William’s cologne and the clean musk of the car’s leather seats wrapped around him like quiet warmth.
For a while, neither spoke. The hum of the tires, the rhythm of the rain starting to fall — it all felt like permission to stop pretending they weren’t exhausted.
Finally, Est’s voice broke the hush, soft and rough from the day. “I still can't believe you really wasted the whole day.”
William glanced at him, smile tugging at his lips. “It wasn't a waste P'.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know.” He kept his eyes on the road, voice steady. “I wanted to.”
Est exhaled, turning slightly toward him. “Sometimes I forget you’re not a kid anymore.”
That made William look over just long enough to catch the faint smile on Est’s face, half-hidden in the glow from passing streetlights. “Then let me remind you,” he said quietly.
Est huffed a laugh, but the sound came out softer than intended. He turned back to the window, the city rolling by like a slow-moving film reel.
William’s tone shifted — less playful now, lower, more real. “I know everyone counts on you, Phi. You hold everything together — the crew, the cast, the fans. But when it’s just us…”
He paused, searching for the right words. “I want to be someone you can lean on too.”
The car slowed at a red light.
Est turned his head, eyes meeting William’s across the dim interior. The traffic signal cast their faces in alternating flashes of color — red, then green, then shadow.
“...You already are,” Est said softly.
William’s chest tightened. He looked away with a small, almost helpless grin and pressed the accelerator when the light changed.
The rest of the drive passed in comfortable quiet — the kind that doesn’t need filling. Est’s eyelids grew heavier with every block, his breathing evening out until his head tilted slightly toward William’s shoulder.
William didn’t move. He only smiled to himself, easing the car through the quiet streets until the condo lights came into view.
---
By the time they pulled into the parking lot, Est’s eyes were half-lidded, a drowsy blur of warmth and trust.
William turned off the engine, the sudden silence almost tender.
He reached out instinctively, fingers brushing Est’s wrist before the older man could reach for the door handle.
“Hey.”
Est blinked, half-awake. “What?”
William hesitated — rare for him — then said softly, “Thanks for letting me stay today.”
Est’s lips curved, tired but genuine. “You didn’t really give me a choice.”
William chuckled, low and warm. “You would’ve taken the day off if I had the choice.”
That earned a faint laugh from Est — quiet, real — the kind that made William’s chest ache in the best way.
“Come on,” William murmured, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Let’s get you upstairs before you fall asleep in the car.”
Est smiled, pushing open the door. “Only if you promise not to call me ‘your majesty’ again.”
“No promises,” William said, following him out into the cool night.
The air was still, scented faintly with rain.
Est’s laugh lingered as they crossed the lot side by side — soft, tired, fond — and William thought, not for the first time, that this was what devotion was supposed to feel like.
---
The condo door clicked shut behind them, sealing out the city’s noise.
Est exhaled — long, shaky — like he’d been holding his breath since morning.
The room was dim except for the warm pool of light spilling from the lamp near the couch.
Scripts and half-empty coffee cups littered the table; a jacket was still draped over the armrest from the last sleepless night.
He kicked off one shoe, then stopped halfway through the second.
William had already crouched down in front of him, fingers brushing lightly against Est’s ankle.
“Stop,” Est said, voice hoarse from the long day.
“You don’t have to—”
William looked up, eyes steady. “I know I don’t have to,” he murmured, loosening the laces one by one. “I want to.”
The soft scrape of fabric against skin was the only sound for a moment.
Est’s hands hung uselessly at his sides; every practiced word of protest dissolved somewhere in his throat.
When William slid the shoe off and set it neatly aside, he stayed there — kneeling — close enough that Est could feel the faint warmth radiating from him.
Est tried to speak, but what came out instead was a small, rueful laugh. “You made me feel special today.”
“It was the bare minimum P',” William’s grin was immediate, bright and unguarded. “And because you are special to me.”
The words shouldn’t have landed the way they did — too simple, too sincere.
But they did.
Est’s breath caught. The teasing reply on his tongue faded into silence. He looked away, cheeks burning, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.
“Don’t start saying things like that,” he muttered. “People will think you mean them.”
William’s voice softened. “What if I do?”
Est froze.
He didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
The quiet stretched between them, fragile and charged, until the hum of the city outside filled the space their words couldn’t.
Finally, Est sighed — smaller this time. “You’re impossible.”
William smiled up at him, still kneeling, eyes warm. “And you’re tired. Let me make tea?”
Est hesitated… then nodded. “Fine.”
William rose easily, brushing his hands on his jeans before heading for the kitchen like he’d lived there all his life.
Est watched him go, pulse still unsteady, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself.
He leaned back against the couch, letting his eyes fall shut for a second.
The weight in his chest felt lighter.
Maybe, just maybe — being treated like royalty wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
-
Steam drifted lazily through the room, carrying the scent of jasmine and warmth. It curled around the lamplight, softening every edge, turning the world gold and quiet.
Est sat on the couch, shirt half-untucked, tie forgotten somewhere on the floor. The day was finally sliding off his shoulders, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.
He’d expected chaos — maybe a kitchen fire or a flooded bathroom — but instead, William appeared with a clean mug of tea, a folded towel, and a voice so calm it almost startled him.
“I’ve run a hot bath for you, Phi,” he said softly. “You go and unwind please.”
Est blinked, caught between disbelief and fatigue. “You’re serious?”
William’s grin appeared — the one that usually spelled trouble, but this time felt like reassurance.
“You’ve been on your feet for sixteen hours,” he murmured. “Let the royal subject prove his loyalty properly.”
The bathroom filled with the sound of running water and faint music from the next room — low, acoustic, the kind of melody that sounded like it was meant to be played in candlelight.
Steam fogged the mirror, blurring everything into dreamlight as Est sank into the tub. The heat pressed against his skin, loosening every muscle, melting the weight of the day away.
For the first time in weeks, he let himself breathe.
He didn’t hear the door open at first — only the shift in the air, followed by a quiet voice that always seemed to find him even in silence.
“May I?”
Est opened one eye, suspicion faint but fond. “If you brought another crown, I swear—”
“No crowns,” William said, smiling as he stepped inside. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled to his elbows, a towel draped casually over one arm. His voice lowered. “Just this.”
He knelt beside the tub, dipping his hands into the water to test the temperature before letting his fingers find the slope of Est’s shoulders.
When he began to massage, the movement was slow — deliberate — each touch reverent, almost tender enough to hurt.
Est tensed for half a breath, then exhaled. His voice came out softer than he meant. “You really don’t stop, do you?”
William’s reply brushed against the quiet. “Not when it comes to you.”
The room seemed to shrink around the sound.
The scent of jasmine deepened in the steam; water rippled faintly with each careful press of William’s palms. The rhythm was hypnotic — a slow conversation made of touch and silence.
It wasn’t flirtation. It wasn’t teasing.
It was reverence — fingertips tracing away exhaustion, palms grounding him back into stillness.
Est’s eyes slipped shut, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re going to spoil me.”
“I’m counting on it.”
The answer drew a low laugh from him — quiet, unguarded, the kind that seemed to echo softly against the tiled walls.
William smiled, leaning back on his heels, watching him with an expression that was nothing short of awe.
In the gentle haze of steam and light, Est looked peaceful. Untouchable.
And for the first time all day, William didn’t want to say another word.
-
Later that night, the condo smelled faintly of food — warm rice, garlic, grilled chicken, the faint sweetness of mango sticky rice cooling on the counter.
William had somehow ordered all of Est’s favorites without needing to ask.
They sat side by side on the couch, dinner spread out on the coffee table in mismatched bowls and takeout boxes. The city lights bled through the glass, painting soft gold across their faces.
Est poked at a bite of chicken with his fork, shaking his head. “You really didn’t have to stay all day. You must’ve been bored.”
William smiled. “I wasn’t.”
“Still,” Est murmured, “you didn’t have to do all this.”
“I wanted to, Phi. You deserve this and more.”
Est’s brow furrowed faintly. “You can stop saying that.”
“I can’t,” William said softly. “You spend every day taking care of everyone — your co-actors, your crew, your manager… even me. Just for once, I wanted someone to take care of you.”
The words landed deeper than Est expected. He tried to deflect with a small scoff. “You make it sound dramatic.”
“It is dramatic,” William said simply. “You never stop to rest, Phi. And I hate watching you run yourself into the ground.”
Est looked down, pushing food around his plate, but the smile tugging at his mouth betrayed him. “You’re too much, you know that?”
“Maybe.” William’s grin softened. “But you deserve much more than this.”
They fell quiet again — the soft kind of silence that doesn’t ask to be filled.
Outside, rain traced slow patterns down the glass. The glow from the streetlights spilled across the room, catching in the edges of their hair.
Est set his fork down and leaned back against the couch, sighing. “You’ve done enough spoiling for a lifetime.”
William tilted his head, eyes still on him. “Not nearly enough even for the week P'.”
Est turned to look at him — really look at him — and for the first time that day, the teasing faded completely from his expression. There was only warmth now. Gratitude. Something unguarded.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “For today.”
William’s reply came just as soft. “Any day, Phi.”
Their eyes held for a moment longer than either expected.
Then, quietly, William reached out and brushed his thumb against the corner of Est’s mouth — wiping away a stray grain of rice that wasn’t really there. His touch lingered.
Est’s breath hitched.
“Still hungry?” William asked, voice low.
Est shook his head, barely smiling. “No. I think I’ve had enough.”
“Good,” William murmured. His hand slipped away — only to return, feather-light, tracing the curve of Est’s jaw.
The air between them stilled. The city noise faded to nothing.
William leaned in, slow enough for Est to stop him if he wanted to. He didn’t.
Their lips met in a quiet, unhurried kiss — soft, almost hesitant, tasting faintly of rain and jasmine from the air. It wasn’t meant to ignite anything. Just to say what neither of them had found words for all day.
When they parted, Est stayed close, eyes still half-open, voice barely above a breath. “You shouldn’t do things you can’t take back.”
William smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t want to.”
The tension eased into stillness. Est leaned forward, forehead resting briefly against William’s. The warmth between them was quiet, steady — the kind that didn’t demand more.
Outside, the city glimmered gold against the rain-slick glass.
When Est’s head tilted, it came to rest against William’s shoulder. William didn’t move for a long time — just lifted a hand to cradle the back of his neck, thumb drawing slow, absent circles against his skin.
Then, softly — half a whisper, half a vow — he murmured against Est’s hair:
“Rest, my prince.”
The words hung there, gentle and sure.
And for once, Est didn’t correct him.