Work Text:
By the time William noticed the clock, it was already five minutes past nine.
He sat at his desk with his tie loosely knotted and his sleeves rolled up, staring at a spreadsheet that had long dissolved into meaningless blocks of color. The office hummed around him – phones ringing, printers whining, the low murmur of voices. Someone laughed from the far side of the floor, and it tugged his attention like a hook.
Est had arrived.
It wasn’t that dramatic, William told himself. People came in every morning. The glass door slid open, the air-conditioning sighed, and Est stepped through like he always did, with that quiet, self-contained energy that made everything else feel… too loud.
His shirt was buttoned all the way up, collar standing neatly. He carried his laptop bag close, one hand curled around the strap, and his other held a takeaway cup of something that definitely wasn’t coffee. His hair was still slightly damp at the ends, like he’d been in a rush and hadn’t bothered drying it properly.
William’s eyes tracked him without permission – past the reception counter, past the row of partitions, straight to his desk a few spots away. Est dipped his head in a small greeting when he caught the receptionist’s eye. When he looked up and noticed William watching, he offered him a tiny, polite smile.
William felt it in his chest like a spark hitting dry leaves.
He nodded back like it was nothing, like he didn’t care, like his pulse hadn’t just climbed for absolutely no good reason.
Get a grip, he told himself as Est slid into his chair and quietly set his bag down. You’re just seeing some guy arriving at work. Congratulations. That’s completely normal.
Except it didn’t feel normal.
Girls had always been simple in his head. He’d dated a few – laughed with them, flirted, kissed behind bars and in dim club corners. Attraction had always been easy to name: she’s hot; I want her. It was like flipping a switch. He knew what to do with that kind of wanting.
Whatever this was when he was around Est… it didn’t fit any switch he recognized. It felt wrong and right at the same time, like a bruise he couldn’t stop pressing, like he was constantly one breath away from saying something he couldn’t take back.
Est pulled his chair closer to the desk and turned his monitor on. The morning light filtered in through the blinds, catching a faint shine along his cheekbone. He reached up to adjust his glasses, fingers brushing his face in an unthinking motion.
William looked down so fast his neck hurt.
He fumbled his mouse, clicked somewhere random, and opened a report he didn’t need. The back of his neck warmed with embarrassment, even though no one was looking.
You’re a damn adult , he thought, muttering under his breath. You work in corporate finance. You shouldn’t be acting like some teenager with a crush on the soft-spoken boy across the room.
He winced internally at his own wording. It’s not a crush. It’s…. Just curiosity. He’s new. He’s quiet. That’s all.
A small, irritated part of his brain flashed a big LIAR sign. The same part that paid too much attention to how Est held his pen or chewed thoughtfully at his lower lip when reading documents, like he didn’t even realize how distracting that was.
“Morning, Will.”
Sky’s voice dropped into his awareness. William glanced up to see her leaning on the partition of his cubicle, balancing her mug with an easy, casual air. Her hair was up today, oversized earrings swinging when she tilted her head.
“Hey,” he answered.
“You joining the 9:30 status meeting?” she asked. “Dylan sent an update last night.”
“Yeah,” William said. “Wouldn’t miss it. Love listening to him talk about server load like it’s a bedtime story.”
Sky snorted. “You should tone down the flirting. He might get the wrong idea.”
William opened his mouth automatically, the joke ready – trust me, I don’t swing that way – but something bitter rose up and stuck the words in his throat.
His gaze slid, almost against his will, to where Est was sitting. Est was carefully placing a ceramic cup on his desk. Not office standard. He’d brought his own, pale and slim, decorated with a little watercolor of flowers along the side. Of course.
William’s jaw tightened. The joke felt suddenly unpleasant on his tongue.
He settled for a wry smile instead. “Please. Dylan’s in love with his firewall, not me.”
Sky chuckled, pushing off from his partition. “True. See you in there.”
When she left, he allowed himself one more glance sideways.
Est had earbuds in now, one loosely hanging from his left ear. His fingers flew over the keyboard in quick, precise motions. His brow furrowed in concentration; every so often, he’d stop, sip his herbal tea, and frown thoughtfully at the screen.
William turned back to his own monitor, exhaling slowly.
He didn’t have to label it, he decided. He didn’t have to call it anything. As long as he kept it under control, kept it quiet, it was fine. Just a phase. Just his brain misfiring.
He could handle it.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
The day unraveled toward late morning with the usual meetings and emails, but William’s attention felt fractured, his focus split between his work and the constant awareness of Est’s presence.
He told himself he wasn’t watching. He definitely wasn’t watching. He just… noticed.
He noticed when Est stopped by the copier and struggled briefly with the paper tray. He noticed when Cici from HR walked over to his desk and started talking to him, leaning casually against the partition. He noticed when Est smiled nervously and ducked his head, hands fidgeting with the edge of a printed document.
He noticed when Sky sauntered over and joined them, voice dropping into a playful murmur.
“ – so, is it tonight then?” Cici asked, voice a little too loud for William’s comfort.
Est’s reply was slightly muffled by the buzz in the office, but William caught enough to piece it together.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Est said softly. “It might be awkward.”
“Awkward cute,” Sky teased. “He’s been asking about you for weeks. You can’t keep dodging him forever.”
William’s mouse clicked once, twice, with a little more force than necessary. He couldn’t see Est’s face clearly from this angle, but he heard the flustered laugh. “It’s not like that.”
“Then let it be like that,” Cici insisted. “Come on, it’s just dinner. Worst case, free food. Best case – ”
“Sky stop…” Est interrupted with a tiny, embarrassed whine that William had never heard from him before and would have liked much better if it hadn’t made something ugly twist in his gut.
He stared at his screen without seeing it. Date. They were talking about a fucking date.
He’s going on a date. The thought dropped like a stone into his stomach. Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he? He’s… him. Someone’s bound to notice.
The unpleasant burn in his chest sharpened.
He scrolled down the report he was pretending to review, eyes skimming over numbers that might as well have been abstract art. Each little laugh from that cluster, each soft line of conversation, made his shoulders tense another notch.
“…you’ll tell us how it goes, right?” Sky said, voice sing-song.
“I don’t – It’s not…” Est’s words trailed off, and a chair creaked. “I’ll see,” he said finally. “No promises.”
Sky clapped her hands quietly, and Cici made some exaggerated cheer. William’s hand tightened around his mouse.
He didn’t want to picture it. Didn’t want to imagine Est at some restaurant, soft shirt sleeves, fingers curled around a glass, smiling that small, shy smile at some guy across the table. Did he know them? Someone from the office? Whoever it was, they’d be seeing it up close, basking in that warmth.
His chest constricted.
Get over yourself, he thought, the mental slap sharp. He can date whoever he wants. You don’t even – you’re not even –
The words stalled like a car breaking down – You’re not even into guys.
A stupid argument, considering his body’s reaction every time Est leaned a little too close during a shared project. Or the way his thoughts sometimes lingered late at night, replaying fragments of Est’s smile, the exact timbre of his voice, the looseness of his posture when he forgot to be self-conscious.
He’d brushed all that off as a glitch. A one-off anomaly. But the idea of Est going out with someone else sliced through that denial like a blade.
“The 9:30,” Dylan called from the corridor. “Conference room, people. Let’s go.”
Chairs scraped back, conversations paused. William stood up, maybe too quickly, grabbing his notepad just to have something in his hands. He avoided looking at Est as they all filed towards the conference room, but he was hyper-aware of Est’s footsteps somewhere behind him, light and quick.
The conference room was chilly, the air-conditioning a little too enthusiastic. William sat closer to the far end of the table, across from Pep and one seat over from where Est would usually take his spot, near the projector.
Today, Est slipped in quietly and sat exactly where expected, fingers laced together on the table. He seemed normal. Calm. Maybe a little more flushed than usual, but William might have been imagining that.
Dylan launched into an update about server instability and load balancing. William tried – he genuinely tried – to listen.
But his gaze kept drifting sideways.
Est’s expression was neutral, his attention focused on the slides, lashes lowered. Every so often, he’d jot down a note in neat handwriting. When Dylan mentioned potential overtime if the issue escalated, Est’s mouth tugged down briefly, a small frown of concern crossing his face.
William found himself wondering, against his will: Would he cancel his date if he had to stay late? Would he be disappointed… or relieved?
He caught himself and silently cursed.
Stop calling it a date. You don’t even know if he agreed yet. Maybe he said no.
Hope sparked, fragile and desperate.
Then Sky leaned over to Est and whispered, “If you need outfit advice later, send me pics. I’ll rescue you from yourself.”
William’s fingers curled under the table. He didn’t hear Est’s reply, but the way Est’s shoulders hunched slightly made it obvious he hadn’t outright refused the idea.
The rest of the meeting slid past, words dissolving into background noise. When it finally wrapped up, people began gathering their things. Chairs scraped, laptops snapped shut.
“William,” Dylan said, catching him on his way out. “Can you take a look at the revised breakdown this afternoon? I’ll send it over after lunch.”
“Sure,” William said automatically.
“Cool.” Dylan clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “You good? You look… I don’t know, like irritable almost.”
“Just thinking,” William said, offering a half-smile that felt stretched. “Haven’t had coffee yet.”
“Fix that,” Dylan advised. “We need your brain online.”
William made a noncommittal sound and slipped out of the room.
He didn’t mean to end up in the break room. His feet carried him there anyway, like the promise of coffee might be enough to drown the irritation buzzing under his skin. The room was empty except for the faint hum of the refrigerator. He shoved a capsule into the machine, hit the button, and leaned on the counter while it whirred to life.
He could feel it now, a pressure behind his ribs. It wasn’t just confusion; it was the newly emerged jealousy twisting around it, the way his own reaction disgusted him.
What right did he have to feel like this? Est wasn’t his. They were coworkers. Casual friends at best. William teased him sometimes, helped him with work problems, shared a few jokes, and worked late nights on deadlines. That was it.
He’d never said anything. Never even allowed himself to think it too clearly. Because once he did, once he named it, he wasn’t sure what it would do to him.
He rubbed a hand over his face and exhaled.
The door slid open with a soft hiss.
He knew it was Est before he turned. He felt it – that shift in the air, the subtle change in tension, the soft, recognizable talc-like scent he was starting to recognize as uniquely tied to one person.
Est paused in the doorway when he saw him. “Oh. Sorry,” he said, voice soft. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“You’re not,” William said quickly, straightening. “It’s a break room, not my private lair.”
Est huffed a small laugh and came in, moving to the other counter where the hot water kettle sat. He selected a tea packet from the little organized box – of course, he’d restocked it last week, labeling the flavors – and flicked the switch on the kettle.
Silence pressed between them, not quite comfortable, not quite awkward.
William cleared his throat. “Any plans tonight?” he asked, aiming for casual and missing the mark by a mile.
Est froze for half a second, then busied himself with opening the tea packet. “Just… going out,” he said. “Nothing big.”
His evasiveness made something in William twitch.
“With who?” The question was out before he could stop it. Too sharp. Too pointed.
Est’s fingers stilled. His eyes flicked up, meeting William’s for the briefest fraction of a second, and there was a flicker there – something like caution, like he was assessing the terrain.
“Just a friend,” Est said quietly. “It’s not important.”
“Sky and Cici wouldn’t be that excited about just a friend,” William said, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. “It sounded like a date.”
The kettle hadn’t boiled yet, but the air between them felt hot.
Est swallowed. “Maybe,” he admitted. “They keep saying I should… try things. Go out more. It’s just dinner.”
Just dinner. William’s chest burned.
“With who?” he repeated, lower this time, frustration bleeding through. “You haven’t answered that.”
Est’s brows drew together slightly. “I am sorry but… why does it matter to you?”
A hundred answers crashed through William’s head. Because the thought of you smiling across a table at someone else makes me feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin. Because I can’t stand the idea of anyone else getting close to you. Because I don’t know what I am, but I know I want you.
His mouth defaulted to sarcasm as defense.
“Maybe I care if one of our analysts is going to get their heart broken by some loser,” he said. “We have to maintain productivity, you know.”
Est’s lips parted in a small, wounded sort of surprise. “You don’t even know him,” he said. “You’re assuming he’s a loser.”
“So it is a guy,” William shot back, before he could censor himself.
The air went utterly still.
Est’s eyes widened, the faintest flush spreading over his cheekbones. “That’s not – I mean – It doesn’t – ” He took a breath, steadied himself. “Again, why does that matter to you?”
The coffee machine beeped, announcing completion, but William didn’t move to take his cup. He realized he’d stepped closer sometime during the exchange. Not close enough to crowd, but close enough that he could see the small rapid jump of Est’s throat when he swallowed.
Why did it matter?
Because it made everything worse. Because suddenly this wasn’t a hypothetical scenario he could mentally file as none of my business. It brushed too close to the line he’d been pretending didn’t exist inside him.
He heard himself say, more quietly, “I don’t know.”
Est searched his face. Whatever he saw there made some soft, fragile thing in his expression shutter.
“It’s just dinner,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “I’m allowed to go. You don’t have to worry about it.”
“I’m not worried,” William snapped, feeling his temper fray. “I am just – ” Jealous. The word throbbed in his skull. He couldn’t force it out.
Est’s shoulders tightened. “Then why are you acting like I am doing something wrong?”
“I’m not – ” William cut himself off in frustration, fingers flexing helplessly at his sides. “Forget it.”
The kettle clicked off. Steam drifted up in gentle curls. Est turned away, focusing on the harmless ritual of pouring hot water over tea leaves. His hands were steady, but his voice, when he spoke, was not.
“You’ve always dated girls,” he said softly. “Right?”
The question cut through him.
He swallowed. “Yeah,” he said. “So?”
“So,” Est echoed faintly. “Whatever this is – ” he gestured between them, small and almost imperceptible, “ – it’s confusing. For me, too.”
The admission knocked the breath out of William for a second. He hadn’t realized how tense he was until the thought hit: He feels something, too. Something about that terrified him even more than his own reaction.
“Est,” he said, and his voice came out rougher than intended. “I don’t – I’m not – ”
He could see, in real time, the way Est’s eyes dulled. Like a light being gently turned down.
“Not what?” Est asked quietly. “Not like that? Not… into guys?”
The word made William flinch.
“I’ve only dated girls,” he repeated, grasping at it like a life raft. “That’s just – how it is.”
Est let out a small breath, almost a laugh, but it was humorless. “Right,” he said. “I heard you the first time.”
“That’s not what I – ”
“It’s okay,” Est said, interrupting gently, refusing to meet his gaze now. “It’s really okay, William. You don’t owe me anything.”
The softness of it hurt more than if he’d been angry.
William exhaled shakily. “That’s not – I just – ”
“You don’t have to explain,” Est said, and this time there was a small, tight smile on his face when he turned around. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Really. I understand.”
He didn’t. William could tell he didn’t, could see the hurt carefully tucked behind professionalism in the way Est’s gaze slid off his, the way his fingers clenched around his mug just a fraction too tightly.
“Est,” William said again, desperate now. “Wait – ”
“I have to get back to work.” Est dipped his head, polite to the end. “Please don’t worry about my date. I’ll be in on time tomorrow. It won’t affect anything.”
The way he separated himself so neatly – his personal life, his feelings, whatever fragile thing had been hanging between them – made William feel like he’d swallowed glass.
He watched Est leave the break room without looking back. The door sighed closed behind him.
William stood alone with the hiss of the air vent and the soft hum of the fridge.
His coffee was no longer hot.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
The afternoon dragged.
William threw himself into numbers, reports, and emails. Anything that kept his hands busy and his mind occupied. It worked in bursts – ten minutes of focus, five minutes of his thoughts derailing back to the break room, to Est’s lowered eyes, to the echo of You don’t owe me anything circling in his skull like a curse.
He replayed the conversation in ruthless detail, mentally picking apart every wrong turn.
He hadn’t meant to sound disgusted. He hadn’t meant to sound like he was rejecting the very idea that his feelings for Est could exist. He was just… scared. Shaken. Out of his depth.
And yet, the only thing Est would remember from that exchange was him grabbing onto “I’ve only dated girls” like a shield.
When he glanced over mid-afternoon, Est was working quietly, headphones in, his expression smooth. Too smooth. He didn’t look his way, not once. Not when they passed by each other at the printer. Not when they ended up at the coffee machine at the same time again. Est simply collected what he needed and left, dropping a quiet “Excuse me” without waiting for a reply.
The tiny distance felt like a chasm.
By five, William’s jaw ached from clenching. His chest felt tight.
Sky strolled by Est’s desk around then, an unmistakably delighted grin on her face. “Ooh,” she said, hands clasped. “Look at you. You clean up nice.”
William’s stomach dropped.
He hadn’t even realized Est had left his desk earlier. Now he stood in the small space beside it, slipping his jacket on.
He wasn’t overdressed, not exactly. Just… different. His shirt was a deeper color than usual, a soft navy that made his skin look warmer. He’d changed into slimmer, darker slacks at some point, and his hair – his hair was styled more deliberately, strands brushed away from his face, the shape softer around his temples.
He looked good. Beautiful.
He looked like the person who would make someone who was going to walk into the restaurant they’d agreed on forget how to breathe.
Cici appeared from who-knew-where, letting out an appreciative whistle. “If he doesn’t fall in love in the first five minutes,” she declared, “he’s defective.”
Est flushed, ducking his head, tugging at his cuffs. “Please stop,” he muttered, but there was a tiny, reluctant smile tugging at his lips.
The sight pierced William with something hot and miserable.
“He’s outside already?” Pep asked.
“Yeah,” Est said. “He messaged just now. He’s waiting near the lobby.”
He, William echoed silently, a kind of numbness spreading through him. Not hypothetical anymore. Real. Here.
Est picked up his bag. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, scanning the office.
For a foolish, selfish moment, William thought – hoped – that Est’s gaze might catch his. That there’d be some silent question there. A last chance to say something, anything, that would change the course of the evening.
But Est’s eyes slid past his desk without stopping. If he noticed William at all, he didn’t show it.
“Good luck,” Sky chirped.
“Text us if you need an emergency call,” Cici added conspiratorially.
“I’ll be fine,” Est said, smiling more fully now. It was a little brittle at the edges if you really looked, but the others didn’t. William did. “See you tomorrow.”
He turned and walked towards the elevator.
William stared numbly at his monitor. The room seemed too quiet all of a sudden. The keys clacked more softly. The air felt heavier.
You could go after him, some reckless voice suggested. You could stand up, follow him, say something real this time instead of hiding behind your fear.
And say what – the less reckless, more sensible voice asked.
Don’t go. Stay here. Stay with me instead. I don’t know what this is, but I don’t want anyone else to have you. It sounded insane, even in his head. Ungrounded. Unfair.
Est wasn’t his to keep. He stared at the little digital clock in the corner of his screen as it ticked from 5:02 to 5:03, then 5:04.
By 5:06, Est was gone.
A hollow ache settled in the space beneath his sternum.
William shut his laptop with more force than necessary, grabbed his things, and left his desk.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
He didn’t go straight home.
He told himself he’d just walk for a bit, to clear his head. Instead, his feet followed the familiar route past the line of cafes, the dingy bar they sometimes hit after work on Fridays, the bus stop where the evening crowd milled.
His phone stayed heavy and silent in his pocket. Every few steps, he felt the urge to pull it out, to check for messages that wouldn’t be there anyway.
He thought about Est at some table somewhere, maybe laughing politely at a bad joke, maybe staring down at his food, lost in thought. He thought about the guy sitting across from him – what he might look like, what he might be saying, what parts of Est he’d get to see.
The idea made his hands ball into fists.
It’s just dinner, he tried to tell himself again, but the words had lost all meaning.
He ended up at the bar without quite deciding to. The interior was dim, all warm wood and low music. The bartender recognized him, nodding in greeting.
“The usual?” he asked.
“Yeah,” William said, sliding onto a stool.
The drink was cold, sharp, a familiar burn down his throat. It didn’t make him feel better, exactly, but it gave the chaos inside him edges, numbed some of the rawness. He stared at the colored bottles lined up behind the bar and tried to untangle the knot in his head.
He’d always thought of himself in neat terms. Straight. Confident. Good with people. He flirted, he joked, he played the charming extrovert well enough that no one asked questions.
Then Est had walked into the office with his pretty fae and quiet stature and too-big eyes, and William’s entire operating system had started glitching.
It wasn’t just physical attraction – though that was part of it, undeniably. It was the way Est listened when he spoke, really listened, like every word mattered. The way he’d bring tea to William’s desk on long days without making a big deal of it. The way he’d relax only after everyone else left, humming under his breath as he worked.
There was a softness to him that made William’s edges feel less sharp. A gentleness that made him want to be careful, careful, careful – something he’d never had to consciously consider with anyone else.
And now the thought of Est sharing that softness with someone else made him feel… unmoored. Maybe I am into guys, he thought bleakly, taking another swallow. Or maybe I’m just into him.
He didn’t know which option terrified him more.
His phone buzzed against his thigh. His heart jumped. He fished it out, thumb fumbling over the screen.
A message flashed from Sky in the work group chat – Don’t forget early stand-up tomorrow. Boss wants Q3 projections ready. 🥲
He exhaled slowly, disappointment sitting heavy in his chest.
He flicked aimlessly through his apps, hovering over Est’s contact more than once. They didn’t text often, but there were a few threads – mostly work-related, with the occasional meme or link Est had timidly forwarded.
He stared at the last message Est had sent him a few days ago: Thanks again for staying late. I wouldn’t have finished without your help. Followed by a little, hesitant smiley that had made something warm unfurl in William’s chest then.
He thought about texting now. How’s your night going? Too loaded. Did you go? Already knew the answer. I’m an idiot was technically accurate but unhelpful.
He locked the screen and set the phone face down.
The bar filled around him. People laughed, glasses clinked, some game played silently on the TV above. William watched the world move, feeling strangely detached from it.
By the time he left, his head was buzzing just enough to blur the hardest edges of his panic, but not enough to make him careless. The streets were cooler now, the sky darkening into navy. He considered calling a ride, then decided to walk. The air felt like it might scrub some of the mess out of him.
He wasn’t sure when he changed routes.
One moment, he was headed towards his own apartment. The next, he was turning down the familiar side street that led to the train station Est used most evenings.
He told himself he was just… passing by. Just walking. Just existing in the same city. It wasn’t like he’d see him anyway. The date would still be going on. He checked his phone.
9:08 p.m.
Maybe not. Maybe it was over. Maybe it was going terribly. Maybe it was going well. The thought made him feel ill.
He stopped at the entrance to the station, standing just outside the circle of light cast by the lamppost. People streamed in and out, some in office wear, some in casual clothes, faces tired or animated.
He was about to curse himself for being pathetic and turn away when he saw him. Est, coming up the escalator.
He was alone.
The first thing William noticed was his expression. The carefully composed, neutral look he wore at work had cracked. He seemed… tired. Not physically – his steps were steady – but there was a looseness to his shoulders, a faint slump.
His phone hung in one hand, the strap of his bag over the other shoulder. He was still wearing the navy shirt, slightly rumpled now. A strand of hair had fallen across his forehead.
William’s feet moved before his brain fully caught up.
“Est,” he called, voice cutting through the murmur of commuters.
Est’s head snapped up. His eyes widened when he saw who it was. For a split second, his face showed pure, unfiltered surprise.
“William?” he said, moving closer. “What are you doing here?”
“Walking,” William said lamely. “I was – ” He glanced aside, then back. “I could ask you the same.”
Est’s gaze flickered. “Going home.”
“How was it?” The question tumbled out, heavier than it sounded. “Your date.”
Est hesitated.
There was a beat where William braced himself for a lie – It was great. We really clicked. Anything that would solidify the burn already in his chest.
Instead, Est let out a small sigh and looked away. “It was fine,” he said quietly. “He was nice.”
Nice. It felt like a placeholder, not an endorsement.
William stepped a little closer without meaning to. “Just nice?”
Est’s mouth twitched, humorless. “He talked a lot about himself,” he said. “His work, his hobbies, his exes. He asked me questions, but it felt more like… interview boxes to tick.”
A part of William unknotted in mean, petty relief. He tried to feel guilty about that. Failed.
“And you?” he asked, softer now. “Did you… like him?”
Est chewed on his lower lip. It looked pinker than usual, like he’d been worrying it all evening. “He was fine,” he repeated. “Kind. Polite. Not a bad person.”
“But?” William pressed.
“But,” Est admitted, “the whole time I kept thinking: if I’m going to sit across from someone for two hours, I want to actually feel like I’m there. Not just… occupying a seat while they talk at me.”
The vulnerability in the confession made William’s chest ache. He studied Est’s face in the dim streetlight – the shadows under his eyes, the tightness at the corners of his mouth.
“You deserve better than ‘fine,’” William said quietly.
Est huffed a tired little laugh. “I’m not exactly drowning in options.”
The words landed heavier than they should have.
Before William could stop himself, he said, “That’s not true.”
Est looked up sharply. Their eyes met, and the familiar jolt of electricity ran through him.
He took a breath. The alcohol in his system didn't give him courage so much as strip away one layer of hesitation. Underneath, the fear was still there – but so was the sharper, clearer sense of what he’d almost let happen.
“I’m sorry,” William said, the words coming out without any of his usual varnish. “For earlier. In the break room.”
Est’s fingers tightened on the strap of his bag. “Its okay. You don’t have to – ”
“I do,” William insisted. “I was an asshole. I made it sound like… like the idea of you being into a guy, or of anyone being into you, was some kind of problem for me. And it’s not.” He swallowed. “That’s not what I meant. At all.”
Silence stretched between them, punctuated by the passing rumble of traffic. Est searched his face again, and this time didn’t look away.
“So what did you mean?” he asked softly.
William’s heart hammered so loudly he was sure Est could hear it.
He could walk away from this, he realized. Laugh it off. Throw some deflecting line, maintain the status quo. Let Est go home, let the night sink into that murky space of almosts and what-ifs.
Or he could finally stop lying to himself.
He exhaled shakily. “I panicked,” he said. “That’s what happened. I heard you were going on a date and my brain short-circuited.”
“Why?” Est’s voice barely rose above the background noise, but the question landed like a direct hit. “You said it yourself – you’ve only ever dated girls. Who I go out with shouldn’t matter.”
“It does,” William said, the truth spilling out before he could filter it. “It does matter. Way more than it should.”
He raked a hand through his hair, laughing once, humorless. “I’ve been trying to ignore it, you know? I kept telling myself I just… enjoy your company or whatever. That it’s normal to notice things, to want to be around someone.” He shook his head. “But when I thought about you sitting across from some guy tonight, smiling at him, letting him get to know you… it made me feel sick.”
He looked up, forcing himself to hold Est’s gaze.
“I’m jealous,” he said plainly. The word felt like it cracked something open inside him. “I’m jealous and I hate it because I don’t even know what it makes me. I don’t have a label for this in my head yet. I just know that the idea of you belonging to someone else – being someone else’s first choice – it makes me…” He trailed off, searching. “It makes me want to punch walls. Or drag you away. Or do something stupid.”
Est’s breath hitched audibly.
“You’ve never… liked a guy before?” he asked.
William shook his head. “No. Never thought about it. Not like this. Not like – ” He gestured weakly towards him. “You’re the first one who’s ever made me question anything.”
Est’s eyes darkened with something complicated – hope and fear and hurt all tangled together.
“You made it sound earlier like that was a bad thing,” he said. “Like you didn’t want it to be true.”
“I didn’t,” William admitted. “At first.” He lifted a hand, then dropped it when he noticed the slight flinch from Est. It stung, but he understood. “It scared me. It still scares me. I’ve built this whole idea of who I am in my head, you know? And then you walked in with your face and your little stupid teacup and your rolled-up sleeves and your quiet comments during meetings, and suddenly none of it fits right anymore.”
A faint, involuntary smile flickered across Est’s mouth at the description. It faded almost immediately.
“You can’t put this on me,” Est said, though his tone was gentle rather than angry. “I didn’t ask to… mess up your self-image.”
“I know,” William said. “This isn’t your fault. It’s on me.” He swallowed. “But I also can’t pretend anymore that whatever I feel towards you is neutral. It’s not. I – ”
The words stuck again. Saying I like you felt too small, too flimsy, like it didn’t cover the way his whole body reacted to Est’s presence, the way his thoughts circled back no matter how far he tried to walk away.
Est watched him struggle, shoulders drawn tight.
“You hurt me,” he said suddenly, and the directness of it landed like a physical blow.
William’s throat closed. “I know,” he forced out. “I could see it. When I grabbed onto that ‘I only date girls’ line like a coward. I knew as soon as I saw your face that I’d said the worst possible thing.”
“Yeah,” Est said quietly. “It felt like you were saying that whatever this might be, it’s impossible. Like I was wrong for even… thinking.”
His voice wavered, the last word catching. He looked away, blinking rapidly.
A sharp, protective fury flared in William – aimed squarely at himself.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, and the words felt inadequate, but he meant them with every atom of his being. “You’re not wrong. You never were. I was the one who was… lagging behind. Stuck. Too scared to admit that I…” He took a shaky breath. “That I want you. That I think about you at stupid hours. That I notice every tiny thing you do and it drives me crazy in the best and worst ways.”
Est’s fingers dug into the strap of his bag. “If you’re just saying this because my date didn’t go well – ”
“I’m not,” William cut in. “I didn’t even know it went badly until two minutes ago. I’ve been losing my mind all day. Even before you left, I was already – ” He laughed weakly. “Dylan asked me if I was okay in the meeting. I probably looked like I was about to pass out. Or punch someone.”
Some of the tension bled from Est’s shoulders at that, but the hesitation remained.
“What do you want from me, William?” he asked, voice small but steady. “Honestly. Not… in theory. Not someday. Right now. What do you want?”
The question hung in the air, heavy and unforgiving.
William swallowed hard. The easy answer would be something vague: time, space, to figure things out. But he’d had time. Space hadn’t done anything except let his feelings fester.
He stepped closer, slowly, giving Est room to retreat if he wanted. When Est didn’t move, he stopped at an arm’s length away.
“I want,” he said quietly, “to try. With you. To stop pretending this is just in my head or just some weird phase. I want to take you out somewhere that isn’t a bar after overtime, where we’re not surrounded by spreadsheets and fluorescent lights. I want to sit across from you and actually listen to you, not like some box-ticking interview, but because I like the way your face lights up when you talk about things you care about.”
He let the next part out like a confession.
“And I want,” he added, voice roughening, “you to know that it would wreck me if you decided to give what you have to someone else. That’s how much I – ” He caught himself. “That’s how much this matters to me.”
Est’s eyes shone in the lamplight. His breathing had gone shallow.
“And if you figure out in two weeks that you’re not actually… into guys?” he asked. “That this is just – curiosity, or loneliness, or whatever?”
The fear underneath the question carved another wound in William’s chest.
“I don’t think that’s what this is,” he said. “I don’t feel like this about anyone else. It’s not like I’ve suddenly started checking out every guy on the train. It’s you.” He swallowed. “But you’re right. I’m still… figuring myself out. I can’t pretend I have it all neatly labeled.”
He forced himself to meet Est’s gaze, steady.
“So here’s the only promise I can make,” he continued. “I won’t use you as an experiment. If we try this – if you even want to try – I’ll go in knowing that it’s real for me. That you are real for me. If somewhere down the road I realize that my label is more complicated than I thought… that’s on me. I won’t dump that weight on you like it’s your fault.”
Est looked at him for a long moment, the noises of the city fading around them.
“You’re saying all of this now,” he said slowly. “But earlier, you couldn’t even admit you were jealous.”
“I’m an idiot,” William said without hesitation. “A scared idiot who would rather pick a fight than admit he’s falling for someone who doesn’t fit the neat little box in his head.”
The word hung there – falling – as if they both heard the echo.
Est’s lips parted, eyes widening just slightly.
“Falling?” he repeated, voice barely more than a whisper.
William’s pulse thundered. No backing out now.
“Yeah,” he said, exhaling. “Falling. Hard, apparently. I figured that out somewhere between the third time I caught myself staring at you this month and the part where I ended up at your train station like some lovesick creep.”
A startled sound escaped Est – half laugh, half something more fragile. “You do stalker jokes when you’re confessing? Really?”
“I’m doing my best here,” William said, a shaky grin appearing for the first time that evening. It vanished as quickly as it came. “If you want to tell me I’m too late, that you’d rather keep things simple, that you’re tired of dealing with my mess… I’ll accept it. I’ll step back. I’ll do my damned best to be just a decent coworker and nothing more.”
His voice dropped, almost pleading.
“But if there’s even a small part of you that… wants this, that wants me, despite everything I did to push you away today… I’m asking for a chance. One chance to prove I’m not going to run at the first sign that this is real.”
The silence that followed felt endless.
Est’s lashes lowered, hiding his eyes. His grip on his bag strap loosened slightly. When he spoke, his voice trembled.
“I waited,” he said, “for you to say something. For weeks. Months, maybe.” He let out a weak breath. “I thought I was imagining it, the way you’d look at me, the way you’d linger near my desk, the way you… always seemed a little more awake when we were working together.”
William swallowed hard. “You weren’t imagining it.”
“I told myself it was nothing,” Est continued. “That you were just like that with everyone. And that it didn’t matter anyway because you were straight. Because that’s the story everyone knows about you.” He cracked a crooked smile. “I said yes to tonight partly because I wanted to prove to myself that I could… move on. That I could like someone else.”
He met William’s eyes again, and now the emotion there was stark.
“It didn’t work,” he said simply.
Something in William’s chest loosened so suddenly it almost hurt.
“So you’re saying…” he started, hardly daring.
“I’m saying I’m already in too deep,” Est cut in, a hint of exasperated fondness in his tone. “You hurt me, and I still spent half the dinner comparing him to you. Which is stupid, because right now you’re still a mess and I don’t… I don’t want to break myself trying to fix you.”
The honesty in that – soft and sharp at once – made William’s throat go tight.
“I don’t want you to fix me,” he said hoarsely. “I just… don’t want to do this without you. Whatever ‘this’ turns out to be.”
The corners of Est’s eyes glistened.
“You’re sure?” he asked. “You’re really sure you’re not just saying this because you couldn’t handle your jealousy for one night?”
“Yes,” William said. “I’m saying it because I’ve been avoiding saying it for months. Tonight just… ripped the last excuse away.”
They stood there, on the edge of the station’s light, the city moving around them like a distant tide.
Slowly, carefully, Est took a small step forward. The space between them narrowed to almost nothing.
“Okay,” he whispered.
William’s heart stuttered. “Okay?”
“One chance,” Est said, almost stern despite the tremor in his voice. “No vague maybes. No pretending. We try. If you start withdrawing, if you start acting like this is something to be ashamed of, I’m walking away. I… I can’t do half-truths.”
“You won’t have to,” William said, the conviction in his own voice surprising him. “No more half-truths.”
He lifted a hand again, slower this time. It hovered in the air between them, a question mark.
“Can I…?” he asked.
Est looked at his hand, then up at him. He nodded once.
William’s fingers brushed against Est’s, then curled gently around them. Est’s hand was warm, smaller than his, the contact sending a jolt all the way up his arm.
“Hi,” William said inanely, a nervous laugh catching at the end.
Est huffed out a wet little laugh of his own, the sound shaky but real. “Hi.”
They stood there, hands linked, the reality of it sinking in with each passing second.
William squeezed lightly. “Let me take you out,” he said. “Properly. No group drinks, no overtime emergency takeout. Tomorrow. The day after. Whenever you want. Just… us. No pretending it’s anything less than a date.”
Est’s cheeks flushed, but he didn’t look away.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “If you’re not too hungover from… whatever you were doing to avoid thinking tonight.”
William groaned softly. “I didn’t drink that much –”
“It’s on your breath,” Est murmured, the faintest hint of teasing returning to his voice. “And in the way you’re being emotionally honest.”
“Ouch,” William said. “Okay, fair.” He sobered after a beat. “I’ll be sober tomorrow,” he promised. “And terrified. But honest.”
Est’s fingers tightened around his.
“I can live with terrified and honest,” he said. “Just… don’t disappear on me again when things get complicated.”
“I won’t,” William said.
And for the first time that day, he believed himself.
They didn’t kiss – not there, not yet, not in the too-bright halo of the station light with strangers passing by. It would come later, he knew; the thought of it made warmth pool low in his stomach.
For now, they stood close enough that their shoulders brushed, hands still intertwined, breathing in sync.
It was a beginning – messy and fragile and frightening as hell.
But it was theirs.
THE END :)