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The conference room smelled like air-conditioning and marker ink, like every place where dreams were scheduled into fifteen-minute blocks.
Est arrived early anyway.
Not because he was nervous. Not because he wanted to impress. Not because he needed to prove anything to anyone. He arrived early because it felt wrong not to. It was an old habit from swim practice, from the years where time was a tyrant and the lane line didn’t care if you had a bad day.
He set a neat stack of things on the table in front of the seat that had his name taped to it: a clean notebook, two pens, a tiny pouch of throat lozenges, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer. He didn’t like clutter. Clutter made his thoughts loud.
When the door opened again, the room filled up with sound.
“Morning!” “Hi!” “Did you eat?” “Coffee?”
Est looked up and saw him.
William.
He was younger than Est, but he didn’t move like someone who had to prove it. He moved like someone used to being watched. Used to existing in frames. Used to light.
His hair was styled casually on purpose, which meant it probably took a team effort. His smile was bright, but his eyes… his eyes were careful, tucked behind something private. Leader of LYKN. First major acting job. Everyone in the room knew it, even the interns refilling water.
William did a quick sweep of the room, polite nods landing like clean beats, and then his gaze snagged.
On Est.
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t a movie moment. It was just… a pause. A fraction of a second too long. The kind that only someone who has spent years learning to read rooms could notice.
Est gave him a small smile, the one he offered strangers on set. Friendly. Soft. Safe. William returned it, but his came with a sparkle he didn’t seem to know how to hide.
“P’Est,” someone called, “you’re paired with William for most of the scenes.”
Est blinked, then nodded. “Krub.”
William slid into the seat beside him like it was already his place.
“Hi, Phi,” William said, voice warm and easy.
“Hi,” Est replied.
William held out a hand. “William.”
Est took it. William’s grip was firm, confident. His thumb brushed a fraction too lightly over Est’s knuckle when he released. A tiny, casual touch with a careful kind of intention.
“I’m Est,” Est said, even though William obviously knew.
William grinned. “I know.”
The director started talking. The script pages turned like wings. But William’s presence stayed beside Est like a second climate, a quiet pressure.
When the room laughed at a joke in the table read, William laughed too, bright and full-bodied, and then leaned closer to whisper, “You’re really good.”
Est glanced at him. “At reading?”
“At making it sound like it’s already real.”
Est’s throat tightened in that small way compliments could do, the way they sank under the skin and sat there, warm and heavy.
He looked back down at his script. “Thanks. You too.”
William’s smile softened. “That means a lot coming from you.”
Est didn’t know what to do with that, so he did what he always did: he made it smaller.
“Good cast,” he said, like the room could take credit for everything.
William didn’t let it shrink. “No. You’re good.”
The words landed like a hand placed gently at the back of Est’s neck, steadying him.
It was nothing, and it was something.
Est told himself it was nothing.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
William didn’t drive.
The first time Est found out was during the second week, when the schedule changed and production texted everyone Call time moved earlier. Transport arranged.
Est was already halfway into the parking garage when he saw William standing there alone, hood up, mask on, looking like a boy pretending he wasn’t tired.
Est walked closer. “You okay?”
William lowered his mask enough to smile. “Yeah. Just waiting.”
“For transport?”
William scratched the back of his neck. “Actually… my manager’s stuck in traffic. Again.”
Est glanced at the empty driveway, then at his own car. He hesitated for a heartbeat, because he was introverted enough to feel the weight of offering, and also kind enough to still offer anyway.
“I can take you,” Est said.
William’s eyes widened like Est had offered him something precious. “Really?”
“It’s on the way,” Est lied automatically, because he didn’t want William to feel like a burden.
William’s gratitude was immediate, almost too bright. “Thank you, P’Est.”
Inside the car, William buckled in and then looked at the dashboard with the curiosity of someone who lived mostly in vans and backstage hallways.
“This is nice,” William said.
“It’s… a car.”
“It’s your car.” William turned toward him, voice dropping slightly. “It smells like you.”
Est’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “It smells like – ” he stopped, because arguing would require him to admit he’d noticed too.
William leaned back, satisfied, like he’d won a quiet little game.
From then on, it happened without anyone officially deciding it.
Sometimes William’s manager really was stuck. Sometimes the transport “forgot” him. Sometimes William just appeared at the edge of the lot, waiting with that small, hopeful patience that made Est’s chest ache in a way he couldn’t name.
Est started keeping extra bottled water in the cup holder.
William noticed. “You’re always prepared.”
“It’s nothing.”
“I like it,” William said, simple and certain. Then, quieter: “I like you.”
It was probably meant as friendly. Probably meant as a joke. Probably meant as a compliment that could fit into a harmless shape. But it didn’t feel harmless.
Not with the way William’s gaze lingered. Not with the way he leaned closer as if the car had made them a world of their own.
Est cleared his throat. “We should go. We’ll be late.”
William smiled like he’d been given permission to stay close. “Yes, Phi.”
Est pretended not to hear the teasing edge in the words. William’s voice had a way of making things sound like a promise.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
They filmed long hours. The kind that made time smear.
William was phenomenal, the kind of beginner who wasn’t a beginner at all, the kind of person who understood cameras the way some people understood breathing. He listened. He watched. He adjusted.
And he watched Est.
On set, Est was steady. Calm. Professional. He saved his energy the way swimmers saved air, rationing it without anyone noticing. William… didn’t ration anything. He gave.
He gave jokes between takes. He gave dramatic readings of snack labels. He gave mock-serious lectures about hydration. He gave everyone a reason to laugh, and then, somehow, he gave Est a reason to relax.
It was easy to like William.
That was the problem.
One afternoon, they were filming a scene that required closeness. Not kissing. Not even romantic. Just a moment where their characters sat shoulder-to-shoulder, talking quietly in a dim apartment set.
The director called action. The lights warmed the air. The set went quiet. William’s shoulder brushed Est’s. Their knees nearly touched. William delivered his line softly, eyes intense. Est responded, voice calm, measured. Then William did something small that wasn’t in the script: he exhaled, and his hand shifted on the couch cushion, knuckles brushing Est’s fingers.
A tiny touch.
A nothing touch.
But Est’s heart reacted like it was everything.
When the director called cut, Est pulled his hand back like he’d been burned. William looked at him, a flicker of confusion crossing his face, then something like apology.
“Sorry,” William murmured.
“It’s okay,” Est said too quickly.
William leaned in. “Did I make you uncomfortable, Phi?”
“No.”
William didn’t look convinced. He studied Est like he was learning a map.
Est forced a smile. “I’m fine, William.”
William’s gaze sharpened on his name, like it mattered that Est said it.
“Okay,” William said, but his voice went softer. “If you ever aren’t… tell me.”
Est nodded. He couldn’t tell William that the discomfort wasn’t William’s touch. It was the way Est’s body had wanted it.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
The first time Est overthought out loud, it was late.
They were done filming, both exhausted. Est had driven William to his condo. The city outside the windshield was wet with neon. William didn’t unbuckle immediately. He just sat there, looking at the rain on the glass.
Est cleared his throat. “You’re not going?”
William hummed. “Can I stay for a minute?”
Est swallowed. “Sure.”
Silence settled between them. Not awkward. Just heavy.
William finally spoke. “You get quiet when you’re thinking.”
Est’s laugh was small. “Everyone gets quiet when they’re thinking.”
“No.” William turned, resting his elbow on the armrest, his face open and serious. “You get quiet like you’re trying not to take up space.”
Est’s fingers tightened around the keychain. “I’m just tired.”
William’s gaze didn’t move. “Do you think you’re a burden?”
Est blinked. The question hit too close, too direct.
“I don’t – ”
William reached out, very slowly, like offering rather than taking. He didn’t touch Est. He just let his hand hover near Est’s wrist, a question in motion.
Est’s throat tightened. “Sometimes.”
William’s voice softened. “Why?”
Est stared forward. The rain made everything blur.
“I’m older than you,” Est said, as if that explained everything.
William’s brows furrowed. “So?”
“So I shouldn’t be – ” Est stopped, because saying it out loud would make it real.
William waited, patient in a way that felt dangerous.
Est forced the words through. “I shouldn’t be affected.”
William’s hand finally settled on Est’s wrist, warm and gentle. Physical touch, offered like comfort and not demand.
“You’re allowed to be affected,” William said.
Est swallowed hard. “You say things like you know.”
William’s smile was faint. “I do know.” Then, quieter, almost like he couldn’t stop himself: “You affect me.”
Est’s breath caught. He turned, just enough to look at William. William’s eyes were steady, but the emotion in them was not. It was deep and bright and reckless, like a flame under glass.
Est looked away first. He couldn’t hold that kind of gaze without breaking something.
William squeezed his wrist once, tender. “Don’t overthink yourself into loneliness, P’Est.”
Est nodded, as if the simple sound of his name didn’t suddenly feel like a hand around his heart. William let go. Unbuckled. Opened the door. Then he paused, rain-scented air spilling in.
“Thank you,” William said, voice sincere. “For the ride. For… everything.”
Est forced a small smile. “It’s nothing.”
William’s eyes softened with something almost sad. “It’s never nothing.”
Then he stepped out into the rain.
Est stayed in the car long after William disappeared inside. Because his pulse refused to calm down. Because his thoughts had teeth. Because he was starting to realize that William didn’t touch people casually. And Est was starting to realize he didn’t want William to touch anyone else at all.
That realization terrified him.
So he did what he always did when something was too big.
He made it smaller. He shoved it down. He told himself it was work. He told himself William was just affectionate. He told himself William was young. And Est… Est could be a safe older brother. A friend. A steady presence.
Not… whatever this was. Not something that could ruin them.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
William’s crush didn’t happen like a switch flipping.
It happened like a tide coming in. A little closer each day. A little higher each scene. A little more unavoidable.
He started looking for Est on set before anyone else. Started bringing snacks he knew Est liked. Started sitting closer during breaks, knees angled toward Est like his body had already chosen where it belonged.
And Est… responded without meaning to.
He saved William the quiet seat away from the crowd. He offered his water bottle without thinking. He reminded William to eat, to rest, to stretch his neck after hours under lights. Acts of service. Gifts. Quality time.
Est gave love the way he always had, through doing. William took it like it was sacred. And he started giving back in the ways he loved: physical touches, small affirmations, words that landed like kisses in disguise.
“Good job.”
“You’re incredible, Phi.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“You look so beautiful under these lights.”
The last one made Est laugh too sharply. “Don’t say that.”
William’s gaze had gone serious. “Why not?”
“Because…” Est’s voice faltered. Because if William said it, Est would start believing it meant something.
William studied him, then let it go with a bright grin, like he could hide disappointment behind humor. But the disappointment stayed. It grew.
And one day, it turned into distance.
It started small.
William stopped waiting in the parking lot as often. When he did ride with Est, he was quieter, phone in hand, laughter aimed elsewhere. On set, he was still professional, still brilliant, but his warmth wasn’t aimed at Est anymore. It spread out to everyone, like sunlight pulled away from one spot.
Est noticed. Of course, he noticed. The absence was loud. He told himself it was fine. People got busy. William had group schedules, rehearsals, meetings, interviews. But then Est caught William looking at him from across the set.
Not warmly. Not brightly. Just… aching. And when their eyes met, William looked away first. Est felt something in him twist. Overthinking rose like water.
Did I do something wrong? Did I misread? Was I too cold? Too careful? Did he get bored? Was I just… convenient?
That night, Est drove home alone, hands tight on the wheel, mind chewing itself to pieces.
He texted William: You okay? You seemed quiet today.
William replied a long time later: I’m fine. Sorry. Busy. Sleep early, Phi.
Phi. Not P’Est. Not warm. Not close. A word that built a wall and called it respect.
Est stared at the screen until his eyes burned. Then he put the phone facedown like it had hurt him.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
It happened on a night they weren’t supposed to see each other.
A wrap party for the first half of filming. A restaurant with private rooms, loud music muffled by thick walls, staff moving like shadows. Est didn’t drink much. He never did. He liked control too much. William drank like he was trying to drown something.
At first, it was normal. A toast. A laugh. A celebration. Then William’s laughter got sharper. His smile got too bright. His eyes got glassy in a way that didn’t match the joy.
Est watched him from across the room, a quiet worry threading through him. When William stood up too fast and swayed slightly, Est’s body moved before his brain decided. He caught William by the elbow.
William blinked at him, slow. “P’Est.”
“Sit,” Est said gently. “Drink water.”
William laughed, breath warm with alcohol. “You always say that.”
“Because you don’t listen.”
William’s gaze lingered on Est’s face, unfocused and painfully intimate. “You do this…” he murmured.
“Do what?”
“Take care of me.” William’s voice cracked around the edges. “Like it’s nothing.”
Est’s chest tightened. “It’s just – ”
William cut him off, suddenly sharp. “Stop saying that.”
Est blinked. “What?”
“Stop calling it nothing,” William said, voice rising slightly. “Stop pretending you don’t matter.”
Est’s pulse jumped. “William, you’re drunk.”
William’s laugh was bitter. “Yeah. And now I’m honest.”
Est glanced around. People were distracted, but not blind. A few curious looks flicked their way.
“Come,” Est said quietly, guiding William toward the hallway. “Let’s get some air.”
William let himself be guided, but his body was tense, like a storm in human form. They reached a quieter corridor. The music was distant. The air was cooler.
Est released William’s elbow, but stayed close. “Breathe.”
William stared at him. “You’re always so calm.”
“It’s a skill.”
“No,” William said, stepping closer. “It’s a weapon.”
Est’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
William’s eyes were wet. He didn’t look like the idol on posters. He looked twenty. Young and furious and in love.
“You make people feel safe,” William said, voice trembling. “And then you act like you didn’t do anything.”
Est’s throat tightened. “I never meant to – ”
“You never mean anything,” William snapped, and then flinched like the words had cut him too.
Est stared at him, hurt flickering across his face before he could hide it. William saw it. And something inside William broke.
“Do you know what it’s like,” William whispered, voice raw, “to want someone so much it feels like you’re swallowing glass?”
Est’s breath caught. William stepped closer again, close enough that Est could smell the alcohol and the heartbreak.
“I tried,” William said. “I tried to be good. I tried to be respectful. I tried to be your… cute little nong chai.”
Est’s hands trembled slightly. “William…”
William laughed, sharp and wounded. “But you look at me like I’m a kid. Like I’m harmless.”
Est’s eyes widened. “That’s not – ”
“It is,” William cut in, eyes shining. “You act like I’m just… passing through your life.”
Est’s chest hurt. “You’re not.”
William’s voice dropped, dangerous in its softness. “Then why won’t you choose me?”
Est went still.
Because the truth was too big. Because choosing William meant admitting Est wanted him too. And wanting him meant risking everything: the work, the rumors, the scandal, the way the world chewed people up.
Est swallowed hard. “William, you’re drunk. We should talk when you’re sober.”
William’s face twisted. “Of course.”
Then, like he wanted to hurt first so he wouldn’t be hurt, William spat the words:
“You know what? Forget it. You’re too… nice. Too perfect. Too careful.”
Est’s eyes flinched.
William’s voice cracked. “You’re probably just using me to feel good about yourself. The older Phi with the big heart.”
Est’s breath left him like he’d been punched. William stared at him, horrified at his own mouth, but unable to stop.
“Maybe you just like being needed,” William whispered, cruel and shaking. “Maybe you don’t actually care who it is.”
Silence hit like a slap. Est’s face went pale. For a second, his eyes looked like they used to right before a race: focused, controlled, empty. Then, Est took a step back, like distance was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
“I thought you were someone safe,” Est continued, voice steady but thin. “Someone I could protect. Someone I could be kind to without it costing anything.”
William’s face crumpled.
Est’s gaze sharpened, pain turning into armor. “But you’re right. It’s costing me.”
William whispered, broken, “P’Est…”
Est’s jaw tightened. “Go back inside.”
“Please – ”
“Go,” Est repeated, voice flat.
William took a step forward, desperate. “I didn’t mean – ”
“Yes, you did,” Est said, and his eyes were glassy now too. “You meant it enough to say it.”
William reached out, but Est stepped back again, as if William’s touch would undo him. William’s hand fell.
His voice was tiny. “I’m sorry.”
Est nodded once, like an actor hitting his mark. “Goodnight, William.”
Then Est turned and walked away. He didn’t run. He didn’t look back. He kept his posture perfect until he reached his car. Only then, alone in the dark, did he fold over the steering wheel and let the sob tear out of him like something ripped from the inside.
Because William had found the softest part of him.
And stabbed it.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
The next day on set, everyone noticed something was off. Not in obvious ways. Not in gossip-friendly ways. Just… in the air.
William was silent. Polite. Professional. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. Est was calm. Polite. Professional. His kindness was distributed equally, like he was afraid of giving too much to anyone again.
They didn’t ride together anymore. William stopped waiting in the parking lot. Est stopped keeping water bottles ready. When they filmed scenes together, they were perfect. Their chemistry turned electric, painful, breathtaking.
The director loved it. The crew whispered about how “intense” it felt. But off camera, they were strangers who knew too much.
One afternoon, after a take that required William to grip Est’s wrist in-character, William released him quickly once “cut” was called, like Est’s skin burned. Est didn’t react. He just adjusted his shirt cuff calmly, as if nothing had happened.
That night, Est lay in bed staring at the ceiling, heart bruised, mind loud. He told himself it was for the best. He told himself distance was safety. He told himself William was young and would get over it. But every time Est closed his eyes, he heard William’s voice – and he remembered the way William’s hand had hovered near his wrist that night in the car, offering comfort like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Est realized something in the ache. William hadn’t only wanted him. William had trusted him. And Est had let him. Then William had shattered it, yes.
But Est had shattered him too, by walking away like it was easy. Weeks passed. Filming continued. Est kept smiling.
But the smile was a mask that got heavier every day.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
The realization didn’t arrive like lightning.
It arrived like hunger.
Est would be eating and realize he’d saved the best bite for William out of habit. Est would be driving home and realize his hands expected William’s laughter in the passenger seat. Est would be choosing a gift for someone else and realize he’d been trained by affection: William likes this. William would laugh at that. William would love this.
It was ridiculous. It was pathetic. It was terrifying.
One day, after a long shoot, Est found himself in a convenience store, standing in front of the snack aisle, staring at William’s favorite candy. He picked it up without thinking. Then froze, candy in hand, heart thudding.
Why am I buying this? Because you miss him, his mind answered.
Est’s throat tightened. Because you want to take care of him, his heart whispered. Est stood there too long.
The cashier glanced at him like he was deciding whether to rob the place. Est swallowed, bought the candy, and walked out. He sat in his car and stared at the bag. Then he opened his phone. He scrolled to William’s contact.
His thumb hovered. He didn’t call. He didn’t text. He went home and placed the candy on his kitchen counter like an offering to a ghost.
That night, he dreamed of water. A pool. Cold. Endless. William stood at the edge, reaching down, smiling at him like everything was okay. Est tried to swim to him. But his limbs were heavy. His lungs burned. And when he finally reached for William’s hand, William stepped back and said, softly: Maybe you don’t actually care who it is.
Est woke up choking on air, heart racing. He sat up in the dark, shaking. And he finally admitted it, out loud, to the empty room: “I care.”
His voice cracked. “I care about him.”
The confession was a knife and a relief. Because now he knew. Now he understood why the distance felt like drowning. Now he understood why William pulling away had felt like punishment. William had loved him. And Est had let fear turn that love into something shameful.
Est pressed a hand to his face, breath trembling. Then, because Est loved through doing, he made a decision. If he cared… he would act. He would chase.
Even if it terrified him. Even if it cost him. Even if it made him vulnerable enough to bleed.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
The next day, Est arrived on set with a small bag. Not fancy. Not dramatic. Inside were three things: throat lozenges (William’s voice got scratchy after long scenes), a warm compress patch (for William’s shoulders, always tense), and the candy. A stupid candy that felt like a white flag.
He waited until William was alone near the monitors, scrolling quietly, face blank. Est walked up, heart pounding like he was back on a starting block.
“Willy,” Est said softly.
William looked up. His eyes were tired. His expression was polite.
“Phi,” William replied, voice neutral.
Est swallowed. “Can we talk?”
William’s gaze flickered away. “About work?”
“No.”
Silence.
William exhaled through his nose, controlled. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Est’s chest tightened, but he forced himself to stay steady. “I know you don’t.”
William stood. “I have a schedule.”
Est reached out without thinking, fingers catching the edge of William’s sleeve. William went still. The crew moved around them, unaware. The world kept spinning. William looked down at Est’s hand on his sleeve, and something sharp flashed in his eyes.
Est released him immediately, throat tight. “Sorry. I – ”
William’s voice was quiet, brittle. “Don’t.”
Est nodded, swallowing the sting. “Okay. I won’t touch you.”
William’s jaw clenched, like those words hurt too.
Est held up the bag, hands slightly shaking. “I… brought you something.”
William stared at the bag like it was dangerous.
Est’s voice softened. “I know I don’t get to do this anymore. But I wanted to.”
William’s throat worked, like he was swallowing something hard. He didn’t take it. Est felt the rejection like a bruise blooming. But he didn’t run.
He stayed.
“I’m sorry,” Est said quietly. “For what I said that night. For walking away like you didn’t matter.”
William’s eyes sharpened, pain flickering. “You didn’t walk away like I didn’t matter. You walked away like I mattered too much.”
Est’s breath hitched.
William’s voice went colder. “You were right. I was drunk. I said awful things.”
Est stepped closer, careful not to touch. “You were hurting.”
William laughed without humor. “So were you.”
Est nodded, eyes burning. “Yes.”
Silence stretched.
William’s gaze dropped. “What do you want, P’Est?”
Est’s throat tightened at his name. He took a shaky breath.
“I want… to stop pretending,” Est said, voice rough. “I want to stop acting like you’re just my friend when you’re not.”
William’s eyes lifted slowly. “And what am I?”
Est’s heart felt like it might break through his ribs.
“You’re…” Est swallowed. “You’re someone I think about when I shouldn’t. You’re someone I miss even when you’re standing right in front of me.”
William’s face softened for a second. Then the wall went back up.
William shook his head. “It’s too late.”
Est’s chest tightened. “Is it?”
William’s voice cracked. “You don’t get to come back when you finally feel lonely.”
Est flinched, pain sharp. “It’s not loneliness.”
William’s eyes were wet now, angry. “Then what is it?”
Est took a breath. Let it be real.
“It’s love,” Est whispered.
The word fell between them like a confession and a curse. William went very still. His lips parted slightly, like he couldn’t breathe.
Est’s eyes burned. “I didn’t want to admit it because I was scared. Because you’re younger, and the world is cruel, and – ” his voice broke. “And because when you look at me like that, I feel like I might ruin everything.”
William’s voice was hoarse. “You already did.”
Est nodded, tears slipping free. “I know.”
William stared at him for a long moment, shaking slightly, like holding himself together was a physical effort.
Then he turned away. “I can’t.”
Est’s chest caved. “William – ”
William’s shoulders trembled. “I can’t do this again. I can’t… want you again.”
Est’s voice was gentle, broken. “You never stopped.”
William flinched, like the truth hurt. Then he walked away.
Est stood there, shaking, clutching the small bag like it was the last thing he could offer. The first chase ended with William’s back disappearing into the set lights. Est wiped his tears quickly, because the world didn’t pause for heartbreak.
Then he whispered, to himself, steadying: “Okay.”
He lifted his chin. He would keep chasing. Not with pressure. Not with demands.
With consistency. With patience. With the kind of love he knew how to give: showing up.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Days passed.
Est didn’t force conversations. He didn’t corner William. He just… existed gently in William’s orbit again. He placed water near William’s chair without comment. He left throat lozenges on the table with no note.
He asked quietly, “Did you eat?” and accepted “yes” even when it was obviously a lie.
William noticed. The way his eyes flicked to the water. The way his fingers hovered near the lozenges. The way his jaw clenched when Est smiled softly and then walked away.
One night, it rained hard, the kind of rain that made the world sound like static. Filming ran late. The parking lot was nearly empty. Est found William standing under the awning, hood up, looking at the rain like it was a punishment.
Est approached slowly. “You need a ride?”
William didn’t look at him. “No.”
Est’s voice stayed calm. “Your manager?”
“Busy.”
Est swallowed. “Okay.”
He stood beside William, not too close. Rain hammered the concrete. The air smelled like wet asphalt and exhaustion.
After a long silence, William’s voice came out small.
“You really love me?”
Est’s heart clenched.
“Yes,” Est said, immediate. No hesitation. No hiding.
William’s breath hitched.
Est continued, voice gentle. “I’m sorry it took me so long. I’m sorry I was cowardly.”
William laughed shakily, eyes still on the rain. “I said horrible things.”
Est nodded. “I know.”
William’s voice cracked. “Why are you still here?”
Est looked at him, rain-light reflecting off William’s eyelashes.
“Because I don’t want a perfect love,” Est said. “I want you. Even when you’re messy. Even when you’re angry. Even when you’re scared.”
William’s shoulders trembled.
Est’s voice softened further. “And because… I think you deserve someone who doesn’t run the moment it gets hard.”
William finally turned, eyes wet and furious. “You ran.”
Est nodded, tears rising. “Yes. And I hate that I did.”
William stared at him like he was trying to decide whether Est was real or just another thing that would disappear.
Est took a step closer, careful.
“I won’t force you,” Est said. “But I’m here.”
William’s throat worked. He whispered, “I don’t know how to trust you again.”
Est’s voice broke. “Then let me earn it.”
William looked away, breathing hard, like the words were breaking him open.
Rain roared. The world felt very small. Then William whispered, almost inaudible: “Take me home.”
Est’s breath caught. He nodded, voice shaking. “Okay.”
They got into the car. William sat rigid in the passenger seat, hands clenched in his lap, staring forward like he was bracing for impact. Est drove slowly, rain blurring the city into watercolor. Halfway there, William’s voice came out hoarse.
“Do you know what I wanted?” he asked.
Est swallowed. “Tell me.”
William’s laugh was bitter. “I wanted you to choose me when I was still brave enough to be chosen.”
Est’s eyes burned. “I’m choosing you now.”
William turned, eyes shining. “Now I’m scared.”
Est’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Me too.”
William’s voice cracked. “I hate how much I want you.”
Est’s throat tightened. “I don’t hate it.”
William’s breath shuddered. “I do. Because it makes me feel… weak.”
Est shook his head slightly, voice soft. “Wanting someone isn’t weakness.”
William’s eyes were glassy. “It is when they can hurt you.”
Est’s chest ached. “I won’t hurt you again.”
William’s laugh was sharp. “You can’t promise that.”
Est’s voice trembled. “I can promise I’ll stay and fix it if I ever do.”
William stared at him for a long moment. Then, very quietly, he said: “I loved you first.”
Est’s heart cracked open.
“I know,” Est whispered. “And I’m sorry.”
William looked away, jaw tight, tears slipping down his cheek without permission. Est pulled over when they reached William’s dorm. He turned the engine off. Silence filled the car, heavy with everything they hadn’t said.
Est spoke first, voice soft and raw. “Can I… hold your hand?”
William’s breath hitched. He didn’t answer immediately. Then, slowly, he extended his hand, palm up, like an offering. Est took it with trembling fingers. William’s grip tightened instantly, desperate, like he’d been starving.
And for the first time in weeks, William leaned toward Est.
Est didn’t move too fast. Didn’t steal the moment. He just lifted William’s hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles. William made a small broken sound.
Est whispered, “You’re safe.”
William’s voice was a whisper. “Don’t lie.”
Est’s eyes burned. “I’m not.”
William’s grip tightened until it almost hurt. And Est let it. Because some pain was proof.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
William didn’t invite Est inside.
Not yet.
But he didn’t let go either. They sat in the dark car, hands tangled, breathing like they were learning how to exist again. William finally spoke, voice small. “If we do this… it won’t be easy.”
Est nodded. “I know.”
William swallowed. “People will talk.”
“I know.”
William’s eyes flicked to Est, vulnerable and sharp. “You might regret it.”
Est’s voice was steady. “I won’t.”
William’s laugh was shaky. “You can’t know that.”
Est squeezed his hand gently. “I can know what I feel.”
William’s eyes filled again, anger and longing and fear all at war.
“You hurt me,” William whispered.
Est’s voice broke. “I know.”
William’s breathing turned uneven. “I thought… I thought I was stupid for loving you.”
Est shook his head quickly. “No. Never.”
William’s tears finally spilled, and he covered his face with his free hand, shoulders shaking. Est didn’t touch him without permission. He just stayed close, still holding William’s hand, still present.
After a minute, William whispered, muffled, “Hold me.”
Est’s heart slammed.
He nodded, voice trembling. “Okay.”
Est moved slowly, carefully, like approaching a frightened animal. He wrapped an arm around William’s shoulders and drew him in. William collapsed against him instantly, sobbing like he’d been holding it in for weeks, like grief had been living under his skin.
Est held him firmly, protective, and kissed the top of his head.
“I’m here,” Est whispered. “I’m here. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
William clutched Est’s shirt like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. Est’s own tears slipped free. He held William like he’d been made for it.
After a long time, William’s breathing eased. He leaned back slightly, eyes red, lashes wet. Est’s thumb brushed gently under William’s eye, wiping a tear. William caught his wrist, gaze intense.
“Don’t leave,” William whispered.
Est’s voice was soft and fierce. “I won’t.”
William’s gaze dropped to Est’s lips. Est’s breath caught.
William whispered, “Can I kiss you?”
Est’s throat tightened.
“Yes,” Est said, trembling. “Please.”
William kissed him like restraint had finally snapped.
It was deeper, rougher at the edges, his mouth pressing insistently against Est’s as if he needed to feel the truth of him, not just taste it. The kiss lingered and demanded, breath stolen and given back in uneven bursts. There was urgency in the way William leaned in, in how his lips chased Est’s like he was afraid the moment might vanish if he didn’t hold it hard enough.
Est met him fully. No hesitation, no softness held in reserve. He opened to the kiss, answering with a quiet intensity that turned it from hunger into something heavier, more dangerous. Their mouths moved together with purpose, every shift and pull loaded with everything they’d buried, every second stretching tighter than the last.
William’s hands framed Est’s face, thumbs pressing into his jaw, not gentle now. Possessive. Needing. As if this were the only thing keeping him upright. Est’s grip at William’s waist tightened, fingers digging in, grounding him, claiming him back just as fiercely.
When they finally broke apart, it felt forced, like coming up for air too soon. Their foreheads touched, noses brushing, breaths ragged and shared. The silence between them throbbed, charged and unmistakable, heavy with the knowledge that whatever line they’d crossed, there was no walking back from it now.
William whispered, voice cracked, “You’re mine?”
Est’s heart stuttered.
He nodded. “If you want me.”
William’s eyes burned. “I want you. So much.”
Est’s voice was hoarse. “Then I’m yours.”
William’s expression softened, then sharpened again with that private edge he carried even when he tried to hide it.
“Good,” William murmured, and the word was a claim and a relief.
Est’s cheeks flushed.
William exhaled shakily, then laughed through tears. “We’re really doing this.”
Est smiled, watery. “Yes.”
William’s forehead stayed pressed to his.
“Promise me,” William whispered, voice low.
Est swallowed. “What?”
William’s gaze held him like a vow. “When you overthink… you tell me. When you get scared… you don’t disappear.”
Est nodded, tears slipping. “I promise.”
Est hesitated, then added softly, “And you… when you’re hurting, you don’t use words like knives.”
William flinched. Then nodded. “I promise.”
They sat in the car for a long time, hands intertwined, hearts bruised but beating.
Eventually, William whispered, “Come upstairs.”
Est’s breath caught.
William’s gaze was steady now. “Not to… do anything you don’t want. Just… stay. With me.”
Est nodded, voice soft. “Okay.”
Inside William’s room, the world felt quiet for the first time in months. William changed into a hoodie, hair messy, eyes still red. Est took off his jacket and stood awkwardly, like he didn’t know where to put his love when it wasn’t hidden inside actions.
William walked up to him, took his hands, and pressed them to his own chest.
“Here,” William said, voice firm. “Put it here.”
Est’s throat tightened.
William’s gaze softened. “I like your acts of service. I like your gifts. But I also want you. Not just what you do.”
Est’s lips trembled. “Okay.”
William leaned in, kissed him gently, slower this time, less desperate and more sure. Then William pulled Est toward the bed and lay down, tugging Est with him. Est hesitated, then settled beside him.
William curled in close immediately, like a magnet finding its match, arms around Est, face tucked into Est’s neck. Est wrapped an arm around William carefully, then tighter when William sighed.
William whispered, almost asleep, “Don’t go.”
Est kissed his hair. “I’m not going.”
William’s breathing evened out. Est stayed awake a while longer, watching the rise and fall of William’s chest, feeling the weight of him like proof.
The storm wasn’t gone. The world would still be cruel. Rumors would exist. Schedules would collide. Fear would come back.
But in this moment, in this quiet room, Est let himself believe something simple: Love could be terrifying. And still worth it.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
The next morning, William woke up first. He stared at Est like he couldn’t believe he was real.
Est blinked awake, groggy. “Morning.”
William smiled, small and private. “Morning.”
Est’s chest tightened. “Are you okay?”
William’s gaze softened. “I’m… better.”
Est reached out, hesitated. “Can I?”
William took Est’s hand and placed it on his cheek. “Yes.”
Est smiled softly.
William leaned in and kissed Est’s palm. Then, with a quiet seriousness that made Est’s heart ache, William said: “I’m going to be possessive.”
Est’s brows lifted, half amused, half cautious. “I noticed.”
William’s lips twitched. “And you’re going to overthink.”
Est sighed. “I also noticed.”
William’s smile softened. “So we’ll be annoying together.”
Est laughed, the sound startled out of him, light and real. William’s eyes brightened, satisfied, like he’d achieved something precious. Est leaned in and kissed him gently. “Yes. Together.”
They showed up to set that day with their faces calm, their professionalism intact. No grand announcements. No dramatic handholding in front of staff. But when Est passed William a water bottle, William’s fingers brushed his, lingering just a second longer than necessary.
And when William finished a difficult emotional scene, Est leaned in and whispered: “You did amazing.”
William’s eyes warmed. “Say it again.”
Est smiled. “You did amazing.”
William’s grin turned boyish, soft. “Good.”
Later, when Est walked William to the car, William stopped him before he opened the door.
“P’Est,” William said, voice low.
“Yes?”
William’s gaze held him, intense and gentle at once. “Thank you for coming back.”
Est’s throat tightened. “Thank you for letting me.”
William reached out and laced their fingers together for just a second, hidden by their bodies, private as a secret. Then he squeezed once, like a promise. And Est squeezed back.
Not perfect. Not easy. But real.
And finally, finally… theirs.
THE END :)