Archive of Our Own

His fingers were gentle against the soft, white petals of the jasmine flower. He always loved them because of their sweet scent and beautiful color. His mother, the queen, always made sure the flowers were taken care of, and when they blossomed, they were truly at their sweetest.

Est‘s eyes raised from the garden, past the brick wall that led to an open field.

The truth was, it wasn’t just the flowers he came to see.

Past the stone wall and the open field were the guards, training for a war that wasn’t theirs. It was their duty to protect the crown, and ye, Est would never ask for such a sacrifice.

Especially not from him.

His eyes immediately found the object of his desires.

Sir William Jakrapatr —a handsome, youthful knight.

He was already the captain of the guard, even at such a young age. He was raised from his youth to be a member of the guard. He had no family. He swore his life to the guard, to the crown, and above all, to Est.

On occasion, he was Est's personal knight when he was permitted to leave the castle. Est was sickly; even a short walk around the gardens left him breathless, but if it meant he could see his beloved knight, he would brave the cold.

Est had ignored him at first when he met the young knight. William was too spirited, too loud, and yet had this air of maturity that had irritated the young prince. Though after some time, William broke down his walls, and Est found he couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed the knight’s attention.

Then the gifts came.

Innocent little trinkets from town to start.

Hairpins for Est‘s hair that he’d wear the next day, even if they were not the finery he was used to.

Wood carvings of different creatures that Est would never see, but he treasured deeply.

Flowers that smelled so beautiful for a short time that he would press them between the pages of his favorite books.

But what he truly relished was the moments they stole in the darkness.

It started innocently. A simple smile thrown in passing, a lingering touch as they passed, a simple greeting of their name.

Then it became more.

Dangerous.

Tempting.

Est‘s soft hands gently brushing the sweat from William’s neck after a long training session, only for William to lose all composure and press his Prince against the stone bricks, hidden from view.

The first kiss left Est more breathless than any walk.

The kisses that followed were something else entirely.

If this were what would take his last breath, he’d willingly offer his life. What a beautifully tragic way to leave the world.

“Your highness.”

Est looked up to find William propped against the wall, looking like a handsome, sweat-drenched disaster. A bead of sweat escaped from his hairline, charting a slow, shimmering path down his tanned skin. Est tracked its progress, his pulse quickening in the summer heat. The knight was clearly spent from training, but his eyes were full of mischief.

“I’m beginning to think these flowers are only blooming to compete with your presence.”

He glanced away, a feeble attempt to hide the growing blush. He tilted his parasol slightly, covering his reaction from the knight, “A bold claim, Sir William. Do you moonlight as a bad poet now? That was physically painful to endure.”

The knight frowned, disappointed by the reaction, “And here I thought you found me charming. You’re far more affectionate to me when we are alone.”

Est held his tongue. To speak would be as if he were handing William a weapon, one that the knight would wield against him with devastating precision later. His silence, however, was its own confession–one far louder than any spoken–especially as William pushed himself up over the stone wall, his brawny arms and muscles moving with the effort. Est’s gaze trailed over the flexing muscles before he could catch himself.

Gods, am I some fluttering lady-in-waiting?, he scolded himself. Fawning over brute strength. Pathetic.

William’s tunic, a thin scrap of sweat-stained cotton, clung to every hard line of his torso. Those lines Est knew by touch as much as by sight. As the knight closed the distance, he leaned in, his eyes dancing with mirth. He tilted his head, a calculated, devastating gesture that Est knew always brought trouble.

“Are you able to spare me some of your time, Your Highness?”

Est’s breath caught, his eyes widening slightly. When William used the title now, after all their stolen moments, it carried something far more than mere respect for the crown. It was devotion to the man he loved, not the prince he served.

Instinct kicked in, and Est took a step back, creating a small distance. His eyes scanned the secluded garden paths. He’d sent his attendants away, a necessary precaution he always took in case there were stolen moments between them. News traveling to the King could mean death for William.

“I’ll… see if I can make time,” Est offered, a trivial, almost pathetic attempt at playing hard-to-get. In truth, he’d already carved out the hours in his mind, but if he gave in too quickly, it would be a surrender, one he refused to give the Knight.

William’s smile deepened, a knowing, wicked thing. He hummed his approval, nodding, “Please do, your highness. I’d very much… like to spend a few moments with you. Just us.”

Est never got a chance to respond. William reached out with the swiftness of his station as the Captain of the Guard, brushing hair from Est’s face before he turned and ran back. Est watched with wide eyes as he jumped down and jogged back to the small group of guards, William’s closest and most trusted guards and friends.

The prince allowed himself several more moments of watching before he returned to his duties, only slightly lightheaded from the blistering heat. He didn’t allow his own weaknesses get in the way of his duties. He held his head up high, ignoring the slight pain in his chest. It would go away. It always did after some time.

Even as he took his spot off to the side as his father, the king, called for the court to convene. It wasn’t just the court. William and his guards arrived, making their way down the aisle to the King. They took a knee, bowing their heads in respect before standing tall once more. William’s eyes flicked to Est’s for a split second, and something in the work caused his heart to squeeze.

His father didn’t explain why he was calling this session. It wasn’t going to be good.

“Our borders are in danger,” the king spoke, his voice even and laddened with authority. His head was held high as he stood, “This war is no longer a rumor. It is an inevitability.”

Est’s eyes widened. War was coming, a truth he knew in the deepest parts of his own mind, but something he wished would never grace their lives.

And it meant William would have to leave.

“What if your command, your excellency?” William’s voice was smooth, like the finest silk or velvet.

Est wanted to scream, tell William just to run away and not look back. He’d follow. He’d find a way if it meant that William would not have to suffer through this.

“You will take our army, and you will march to our borders. You will put an end to this,” the king commanded, “There shall be no failures, William. End this. For good.”

“As you command,” William bowed his head, his fist moving to rest over his heart.

He couldn’t sit there and watch this. Est rose abruptly from his seat, his eyes on William. Other eyes in the court, including the King’s, found Est, but the only eyes that did not look at Est were William’s. He kept his eyes on the floor as he waited for his command to stand. Est scowled before he turned and left the hall, heading for his room despite the concerned calls of his attendants.

For several hours, he remained in his room. He sat in his favorite spot, a banquette by the window that faced the jasmine gardens. Sometimes, when Est was too ill to leave his room, he would sit here and watch William and the guards. When he denied how he felt, it was here that he allowed himself his weaknesses to watch the knight he adored without eyes watching him.

A knock of three then one came to the door.

William’s sign that he was there.

Est didn’t answer the knock. He didn’t have to. William entered and closed the door behind him, locking it so they remained uninterrupted, but Est had already given his order. He was not be disturbed. He knew William would come through.

William’s steps were soft as he walked over to Est. He dropped to his knees beside Est, but he did not look. He kept his eyes on the horizon, his eyes shaking as he held back his tears that threatened to fall.

“Est… please. Talk to me.”

It was only in the moments where darkness fell that William called him by his name. It was something Est cherished, but he felt his heart breaking because he knew what was going to follow. William would leave. He would choose the kingdom over Est.

“You have to understand why I am doing this. I’m-”

“I do not understand,” Est hissed, turning his eyes to William, “You heard him. ‘No failures’. He’s sending you into a slaughterhouse and calling it a march.”

William’s gaze dropped to his lap, but his shoulders remained squared, “The border is crumbling, Est. If I do not go, there will be no home left for you.”

“Then we find a new home,” Est whispered now, his voice trembling with desperation as he took William’s face in his hands, forcing the knight to look at him, “We can go anywhere. I do not need any of this. It means nothing if you are not here.”

William’s eyes, usually warm, were closed with the weight of what he was about to carry. He reached up, his hand, though callused, was gentle against Est’s cheek, “I am the King’s shield, Est. I am the Captain of the Guard. I cannot just desert my post.”

“Even if being his shield means you break?”

There was no answer. Est’s breath stuttered as he pulled away from William, as if he was burned. He rose from his seat and moved quickly away from William, but the other rose quickly, grabbing at Est, “Please, understand me, Est.”

“No!” Est pulled away roughly, shaking his head, “Let the King find another piece of iron to throw into the fire. Not you. Anyone but you.”

He searched William’s face, looking for even a flicker of something like the rebellion in his own chest. He gripped the leather of William’s tunic tightly in his fingers as he took a step forward.

“If you go, you are not just risking your own life. You are taking mine with you,” Est whispered, his forehead falling to rest on William’s chest, right where his fist had been some time ago, swearing his life to the king. “There is no home for me if the walls are standing, but you are not here. Please…, we could be at the coast by dawn. No one will find us.”

He looked up, his eyes bright with unshed tears, searching for the man who whispered sweet nothings to him in the twilight hours, “Is my father’s commend worth more than a lifetime together? Is a border worth your blood and sacrifice than my love for you?”

William’s jaw tightened, his gaze dropping to Est’s hands, which were still white-knuckled from clinging to his uniform. For a heartbeat, the mask of the captain slipped, and Est saw the sadness William was trying so hard to bury. He didn’t want to go. He would follow Est to the ends of the earth, but his duty won out. Est saw the moment it did.

His hand finally moved, not to push Est away, but to cup his jaw with a touch so tender that Est’s heart tightened. William leaned in until their foreheads touched, closing his eyes for a moment.

“You have always had the kind heart of a flower in a garden that did not deserve its beauty, Est,” William whispered, his voice losing its velvet edge and breaking into something broken, jagged, “If I don’t stand at the border between the kingdom and our enemies, the fire that is coming will burn the garden where we sta. It will burn everything, all the same.”

He gently uncurled Est’s fingers from his tunic, gentle and reverent. The finality of the moment was like an arrow through his chest. Est couldn’t hold back the tears anymore as they fell freely.

“Wait for the spring blooms,” William commanded, his voice soft, his eyes finally meeting Est’s, shimmering with his own tears he refused to let fall, “If I am not there to see them with you, look at them and know that I brought that peace for you. That is the only way I can live forever–by making sure you do. If this is not the life for us, I’ll find you in the next one.”

“... Promise me….”

William reached into his tunic and pulled out a silver pin. He held it in his hands for a moment as if he were saying a prayer before he took Est’s hand, placing the delicate piece.

“I had this made for you,” William muttered, “With the first bit of coin I salvaged as a squire and kept saving until I could have this made. You love jasmine flowers and become sad when they die for the season. This one doesn’t fade.”

Est stared at the beautiful handcrafted pin. He looked up at William with broken eyes, “William….”

“Keep it close to your heart,” he whispered against Est‘s brow. It wasn’t a promise. It was a farewell that Est felt in the deepest part of his soul.

“Go back to the gardens, Est. Do not watch me ride out. I cannot lead an army if I am looking back at you.”

Without another word, William turned. The captain’s mask slammed back into place as he left the room, leaving Est to stand alone in the quiet of his room. He crumbled as soon as the door closed, his knees giving out below him. The tears fell like waterfalls, pouring to the floor as Est tried to remember how to breathe. His heartbeat moved in time with his own heartbreak.

He did not sleep that night. He cried in the silence of William’s goodbye, and by dawn, the horses were drawn, and the guards stood before their King. The high walls of the palace were slick with the morning dew, the cold biting through Est’s own tunic.

He stood behind a pillar not far from the garden he loved, where he could watch the man he loved say his farewells to the King. He wished he could have followed William’s command, but he had to see him.

Then, he did see him.

William was at the front of the vanguards, mounted on a beautiful, coal-black stallion. Even from a distance, Est recognized the rigid set of his shoulders and the way the morning light caught the crest over his heart. He looked beautiful, invincible.

But Est saw something more.

He saw a man who had already said his goodbyes.

As the King gave his final speech to his guards, they began to move on William’s order. The horses began their trot, but for one agonizing second, the figure at the front slowed. The black horse tossed its head back, and William’s eyes flicked towards Est, as if he knew where he was.

There was a moment they shared as their eyes met, one final goodbye before William turned his gaze away and the march continued.

He stayed there until the dust had settled, long after the last echo of the marching knights had faded into the silence, and the love he could only whisper in stolen alcoves of a jasmine garden disappeared into the horizon, heading towards the borders.

The world was suddenly, violently quiet.

Silence from the front lines stretched for months. The enemy’s barricade had been breached, or so Est was told before all news went silent. A heavy quiet fell over the castle grounds. He still visited the garden daily, his gaze finding the empty field, half-hoping, or maybe fully deluding himself, that William might simply appear out of thin air.

He never did, except in the dreams of memories they shared.

Or the nightmares he had that he refused to think about come the morning.

Nearly a year into the conflict, news finally arrived. Spring was around the corner, the last stubborn chill of winter finally breaking. The jasmine flowers were still cocooned, simple buds waiting for the true spring to arrive. Est was on his usual bench, a book resting unread on his lap, when one of William’s most trusted knights came towards him.

Est stood as the man neared, “Sir Nut?”

Nut’s expression was carefully blank for a moment before he nodded, “Your highness. I bring news.”

“Tell me,” Est demanded, a cold fear gripping his stomach.

“The King has already been informed. The war has ended. By winter, their commander was slain. Our enemy surrendered.”

Relief flooded through Est, breaking the tension that had made him fear the worst. He pressed a hand to his chest, closing his eyes to hold back a sudden rush of emotion—no more bloodshed.

William was coming home.

They could be together again.

The relief was short-lived, replaced with a sudden chill that spread down his entire being. If the war had ended months ago as Nut had suggested, why was Nut standing here?

Alone.

Where was William?

Est’s eyes snapped open, searching the knight’s face. He saw it then; the slight, pained tension of Nut’s brow, a crack of the stoic mask.

“Where is Sir William?” Est’s voice was barely a whisper.

Nut didn’t answer. The silence stretched, far too heavy. The knight’s gaze faltered, dropping to the ground before he slowly lowered himself to his knee. He pressed a hand over his heart. Est felt his heart squeeze as the realization truly dawned on him even before Nut spoke.

“... The Captain fought with everything he had to return to you by the Spring like he promised, Your Highness,” Nut’s voice broke, “But to take down the enemy… to end the war….”

The sentence hung unfinished, but Est didn’t need to hear the words. The air in the garden suddenly felt like poison, impossible to swallow. His heart hammered against his ribs as a frantic, trapped bird, and the world around him blurred.

His legs gave out. Est collapsed back onto the stone bench, his fingers clawing at the silk of his tunic as if he could physically hold his heart together. Tears flooded his vision, hot and burning, as the simple act of breaking became too agonizing.

It was his fault. He had not listened to William. He had been asked not go, but he was selfish.

He was always so selfish.

It was happening. His heart was giving out.

It wasn’t the walks in the gardens.

It was a late-night rendezvous with William.

It was heartbreaking.

Nut scrambled to his feet, the soldier becoming no more than a worried man, “Your Highness! Are you alright? Your Highness!”

He spun toward the palace, his voice thundering across the quiet garden, “Help! Someone, help! The Prince! He cannot breathe!”

Nut’s hands were steady and gentle as they caught Est’s shoulders, trying to keep him upright. The world was slowly dissolving into smudges of nothingness. The frantic shouts of attendants and guards, along with the rustle of the garden leaves, became a dull roar.

The realization hit him then.

William was gone.

The garden.

The field.

The shared promises.

They were all empty now.

William would never jump over the stone wall to greet Est again.

As the air refused to reach his lungs and his heart finally gave out, Est felt a strange, hollow stillness. He wouldn’t be coming back to the garden either. If William was no longer in this world, Est had no reason to remain in it. As the darkness finally pulled him under, his fingers squeezed around the pin. It was all he had left.

Est stood just behind his father, the Minister of Siam, whose voice droned on and on as he spoke of diplomacy with the British delegate. The room smelled of heavy teak wood and imported cigars. Est always hated this room and the responsibility it bore.

Boredom began to gnaw at Est. His gaze drifted from the maps on the wall to the tall, arched windows that looked over the parliament grounds. There, amidst the manicured greenery, he caught sight of a face–the only face that could make the Minster’s political drivel disappear.

Outside, the groundskeeper was working. He was barely twenty-one, a son of a family that had lived in the shadows of the government buildings for generations.

In the beginning, the boy had been a ghost, ducking into corridors or pressing himself against walls to avoid being seen by Est, fearful of the discipline that came with stepping out of line. But Est had been relentless in his curiosity. There was something about this boy who swept the halls that Est used to run through that left Est chasing his attention instead of useless dreams.

William.

He was soft-spoken, with a smile like the sudden break of daylight and a voice that rang with the clarity of temple bells.

Est knew the danger. He was the son of a Minster; William was a servant with no education and even less coin. In the eyes of the Siamese court, their friendship was a transgression. If his father ever discovered the hours Est spent in the gardens or in the quiet arches with the boy, it wouldn’t be Est who paid the price.

It would be William.

“Est.”

The sharp snap of his father’s voice broke the spell.

“Yes, sir,” Est replied instantly, snapping his attention back to the group of diplomats. He offered a practiced, shallow nod, “You called?”

“I was telling Lord Byron about your studies. He’s a swimmer, as well,” his father smiled proudly as he looked back towards the Englishman, “He reminds me of a shark wading through waters.”

Est’s smile was one of practiced ease. He spoke, his English fluent, as if he had been raised in the English countryside and not in the hot jungles of Siam. He knew he had to appear as if his mind wasn’t on the young boy tending the garden or on diplomacy.

He waited until the meeting finally dissolved into handshakes and signed agreements. He lingered just long enough to assure his father he would be home before nightfall, having promised to spend time with some of the other boys from his school, before he slipped away from the receiving room, his heart suddenly light. The heavy smell of tobacco faded as he left the building and disappeared into the gardens.

The heavy, but sweet scent of jasmine filled his nose, taking away the bitter smell of tobacco. The air was cooler now, no longer the suffocating heat that raged all day. He tugged at the collar of his blazer, freeing himself a little as a familiar sight came into view.

William didn’t hear him approach, his steps gentle against the grass. Est stood in the shadows for a moment, simply watching the young man work. His hands were careful as he trimmed the jasmine bushes, his brows scrunched in concentration. It was a peaceful image that Est wanted to burn into his memories.

“You always prefer the flowers over people,” Est's voice was a soft tease.

William jumped, obviously startled as he turned to William. He quickly bowed low, his expression instantly shifting to one of practiced servant humility, “My Lord. I did not see you.”

“William, please,” Est moved closer, gently guiding him by the elbow, an intimate gesture that broke respectable boundaries of their stations, “No one is here. The house is full of British Delegates and their boisterous noise.”

The servant hesitated, but slowly relaxed, that beautiful sunshine-filled smile breaking on his face, “I thought you would be trapped in discussions into the night.”

“I escaped,” Est leaned against a tree, a beautiful Bo tree that both loved to sit under for shade when they stole moments outside the parliament building, “My father is busy securing the future of our country, while I choose to secure my own sanity. Preferably with you.”

William smiled at that, charming and boyish. Est felt a bit of pride that he could cause such a reaction from the boy who seemed to live off creating distance between them, but still found it hard to part from Est. In this quiet garden, away from the weight of titles and expectations, they were just two young men.

“That one British man… with the grey beard,” William said eventually, his voice soft like velvet, “He seemed rather… um, what was that word you taught me?”

“Hmm, fierce?” When William nodded, Est chuckled, “Mm, he is, but pliable.”

Est dismissed the comment with a casual wave, his focus more so on the way the garden lanterns cast beautiful shadows across William’s handsome features, “He is greedy for teak exports. But enough of that. Tell me what Old Man Sot said to you about the rainy season crops. Did he finally use the new fertilizer method I suggested?”

William’s eyes lit up with the mundane details of his day, and Est felt a warmth spread through his chest. Something about the excitement that washed over William at something so simple caused his own heart to quicken. He never wanted William to stop smiling.

They spoke for some time, William still working on the gardens as they spoke, as he still had work to do. By the time the delegation had finally left the parliament building, William was done for the night. He was tempted to pull his rickshaw for some extra coin, but Est offered him a higher rate for his time instead. William, though he tried, could not refuse. In the end, he wished to spend time with Est too.

A short ride on the ricksha, William and I stopped at a familiar spot near a sala that was hidden away. It was one William had found one day, and one night when everything was too loud, too much. William took him here, and since then, the two have traveled there all the time when they want to get away from the noise of Siam.

As they walked over to the sala, Est settled down on the wooden bench and sighed, breathing in the crisp, night air. A soft smile appeared on his face as he looked out at the water. He felt at peace here.

William came over, settling down beside him, but still at a respectful distance. Est hated the distance William created. It was as if William wasn’t just doing it because of their station, but because of something else, something he wouldn’t tell Est, even when Est pressed him on it.

He turned his eyes to William, watching the way the lanterns’ shadows swayed across his face. He was handsome. Est never found anyone so attractive. Something about William called to him.

His hand reached up to press against the silver pin on his tunic. He unfastened it and looked down at it. It was a blooming jasmine bud, a gift from his mother so many years ago. It was a delicate piece of silver, the petals so finely sculpted they looked soft to the touch, almost real despite their silver color rather than white. Est has always loved jasmine flowers, and his mother had thought it would be the perfect gift. She told him to keep it close to his heart.

“Take this,” Est said, pressing a pin into William’s hand.

William’s eyes widened, “My Lord-”

“Call me Est. I hate when you call me My Lord.”

A sigh left the servant’s lips, “Est, I cannot take this. If your father notices it missing–”

“My mother told me to keep it close to my heart,” Est interrupted, his voice dropping to a low, steady vow. “So I’m giving it to you.”

The way William’s face flushed at the words caused Est’s pride to grow even more. Est smiled softly at the other, “My mother told me once that the jasmine blooms and then dies as the season ends. Unlike those flowers, this one… this one will never fade.”

He closed William’s fingers over the silver pin, “In our stories, they say that those who share the scent of jasmine are bound to meet again. Think of this not as a gift, but as a map. If the world ever pulls us apart, let this be the scent that leads you back to me.”

William looked from Est’s hand to Est, his expression softening into a look that reminded Est of something akin to heartbreak, something profound. It was as if he could see a whole other life in William’s eyes. His own expression softened more, “Will…, why are you making that face?”

At first, the servant didn’t speak, merely staring at Est as if Est had all these answers to the questions in his head. He just stared into Est’s eyes for a while, “... Is there a world… where we can be with each other?”

It was a dangerous question, one that admitted a truth they never spoke about.

Est felt a sharp ache in his chest at William’s question because he didn’t know. Right now, it seemed like they had no fear, just two people sharing a quiet moment, but by tomorrow morning, they would pass each other and pretend once more.

With care, he did just that, his thumb gentle against the back of William’s hand. It was his own quiet reply in the silence that followed before he spoke.

“There must be,” Est whispered, his voice thick with a certainty. “If not in this century, then the next. A world where no one cares about who we are or what our status in that world is. A world where we can simply sit in a garden and watch the sunset without feeling as if there is a deadline.”

William’s fingers curled slightly around Est’s, “I’ll find you,” he breathed, his eyes searching Est’s with a desperate intensity, “I’ll find you in this other world. I promise.”

Est didn’t respond, surprised by the intensity of William's response. He felt a strange sense of deja vu, as if he heard a similar vow before from a voice that sounded an awful lot like William’s. He imagined a world long gone and a garden of jasmine flowers where a knight and prince found solitude.

The servant chuckled, “I did promise you once before, too…”

“What?”

William shook his head, “Nothing.”

The two smiled at each other, and in that stolen moment, William allowed Est close. His arm wrapped around Est’s waist, tugging him against his chest. Est leaned his head back on his shoulder, and a soft, innocent kiss was shared. A short, but sweet one. A tentative moment of acceptance.

Days passed, and the humidity of the afternoon air was stifling, but the air in the Minister’s private study was ice-cold. Est stood before his father’s desk, his pulse thrumming in his ears. Sitting in the center of the polished teak surface sat the silver jasmine pin he had given William.

His father didn’t look up at first, his eyes remaining fixated on the trinket, “I found this in the possession of the boy who pulls the weeds,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. “He claimed it was a gift.”

Est’s stomach dropped, “Father, I–”

“You gave a family heirloom to a phrai? A commoner?” His father finally looked up at Est, his eyes sharp with a fury that made Est’s breath catch. “Do you have any idea what the British delegates would whisper if they knew my son was so… intimate with the help? It suggests a lack of discipline. A lack of breeding!”

“It was a gift of friendship,” Est lied, though his voice trembled.

“Friendship does not exist across these lines, Est. There is only duty and service,” his father stood slowly, picking up the pin and tossing it across the room. Est tensed immediately, his eyes closing for a moment before he looked back up at his father, “The boy will no longer be of any concern. He was… dismissed.”

“Dismissed?” Est felt his blood run cold, “What do you mean? He was the only one who could provide for his family. He is—”

“No longer our concern. And as for you,” his father stepped around his desk, circling to step closer to Est. The scent of tobacco choking him as if there was a hand around his throat, “will be departing for London at the end of the month. Maybe a change of scenery could make you less of a disappointment.”

Est didn’t wait for permission after that. Once dismissed, he snatched the pin from the desk and ran. No one followed him. Maybe this was his father’s one moment of mercy. He ignored the burning in his lungs and the startled looks of those he passed as he bolted towards the parliament building. It wasn’t too far away, but by the time he arrived, his legs were burning.

The area was eerily quiet.

“William!” Est called out, his voice cracking. “William, where are you?”

As he explored the grounds, he found old man Sot sitting on a low wooden bench, his head bowed. The gardener didn’t look up as Est approached. His face was tight in anguish.

“Where is he?” Est demanded, his heart hammering against his ribs. “Where did they take him?”

Sot finally looked up, his eyes clouded with grief, “They took him, my Lord. The Minister… he has an example had to be made of a thief.”

Est’s breath caught.

William wasn’t a thief.

It was Est’s gift that caused all of this.

“Where… Where is he?”

The old man gestured towards the small shed, just past the stables, “The guards… they were heavy-handed. He said he wasn’t stealing…. They didn’t listen.”

Est didn't want to listen anymore. Est stumbled towards the shed; his legs felt heavy. He pushed the door open.

There was no light in the shed except for the dying sun, but it was enough to see the slumped figure on the straw-covered floor. William’s back was covered in blood, his breathing shallow and wet. He looked so small, stripped of the sunshining boy that Est knew.

“William,” Est whispered, dropping to his knees. He didn’t move William too much, not wanting to agitate the wounds on his back, but he was gentle as he rested William’s cheek against his knee.

William’s eyes flickered open, hazy and unfocused. He tried to smile, but it turned into a wince. He reached out with a trembling hand, his fingers searching for Est’s. The older male took William’s into his own.

“I… got to see you… this time,” William rasped. “I… didn’t get to before.”

“W-what are you talking a-about?” Est whimpered, his other hand shaking, unsure what to do. William needed help, but no one would help a servant boy.

William smiled, “You… you have to find me…. You promised….”

“William?”

The young man coughed, and a thin trail of blood escaped the corner of his lips. His arm went limp, his fingers that had been wrapped around Est’s were loose, but Est didn’t let him go. He held him tight.

“Will… William?” Est’s breath caught in his throat, and a choked sob followed, “William!”

Est let out a jagged, broken cry, “No, n-no. Not yet. Not like this!”

There was no reply. The only sound was the distant chirp of cicadas in the garden.

Days later, Est stood above William’s unmarked grave. His parents had crossed the border out of Siam. Old Man Sot was the only other person there, mourning the loss of the beautiful young man who only smiled and sang lullabies to the flowers he tended to.

His only crime was loving above his station.

Est stopped crying at some point. His father made sure that Est wasn’t left without his own scars. His cheek was bruised, and his workload doubled. He was to be married by the end of Spring. She was a sweet girl, Est thought.

But she wasn’t William.

“He’ll be at peace now, my Lord.”

Est looked up at Sot with tired eyes. He nodded his head, “Mm.”

Old Man Sot rested a kind hand on Est’s shoulder before he walked away. Est remained staring down at William’s grave for several moments before he slowly sank to his knees beside the grave. He rested a hand against the soft dirt as he spoke, “We made a promise. To find each other in another world.”

Est wasn’t just tired from everything over the last few days. Slowly, his body was dying. He wanted to put William to rest before he would follow. It was a small amount of poison, just enough to allow it to slowly take effect, so that when everything was at peace, so would he.

He moved to lie down beside the grave, his eyes closing and a soft smile on his lips.

Est stared at the silver pin in the case for a while. It was beautiful; something about it drew him in, and he couldn’t explain it. It was just a handcrafted pin of a jasmine blossom.

But something about it drew Est in like a magnet to steel. He had never felt such a strong pull to anything before. It was like he knew this pin, but he had never heard of this pin before he walked into the museum and saw it. He gravitated towards it as soon as he saw it.

He couldn’t explain it as his eyes drifted to the plaque.

TITLE: THE TRANSIENCE OF JASMINE
ORIGIN: Siam (Thailand)
PERIOD: Mid-To-Late 19th Century
MATERIAL: Hand-wrought silver
Culratorial Descripition: This intricate silver pin shows the refined craftsmanship of late 19th-century Siamese metalwork. Beyond its aesthetic value, the object is steeped in tragedy. It was originally documented within the personal effects of a young prince whose life was cut short by a chronic cardiac affliction. Local lore, however, suggests a more poetic end, claiming the prince succumbed to ‘heartbreak’ while walking through the palace’s famed jasmine garden, which he loved.

The artifact resurfaced in the early 20th century in the possession of the son of Siam’s First Minister. In a tragic parallel, the young nobleman took his own life at the age of twenty-two. He was discovered at an unmarked gravesite, the significance of which remains one of the era’s enduring mysteries. Whether the pin served as a memento of unrequited love or a token of mourning, it remains a poignant symbol of the ‘jasmine prince’ and the misfortunes that followed his most personal possession.

What a horrible end, Est thought, frowning as he leaned over the museum display. The pin sat under a single LED spotlight, appearing beautiful and delicate even though it seemed to carry so much ruin. He felt an odd sense of empathy for the two unnamed men who met their tragic end–a heartbroken prince and a forlorn nobleman. He found himself romanticizing their tragedy, wondering if the pain had been worth such a piece.

Heartbreak?

An unmarked grave?

This pin brought tragedy to love.

“Do you like the piece?”

The voice was low, vibrating through the quiet gallery. Est glanced up, looking through the glass of the case until his eyes found another pair. The haze of the tempered glass slightly obscured their face, but as Est straightened, the other man rose as well to meet his gaze.

He was handsome in a way that felt like a sudden shift in the room’s atmosphere. He wore a soft, knowing smile–a smile that could bring anyone to their knees. Est was not the type to believe the cliche of ‘first sight’, but looking at the man across from him, he felt the sudden urge to believe.

“... Do you work here?” Est asked.

He shook his head, his eyes falling to the piece under the glass, “No. I just like this pin.”

Est watched as the male drifted around the display, his movements familiar. Unconsciously, Est mirrored him, stepping in sync until they had swapped places, standing where the other had been a moment ago. The stranger’s smile widened, his eyes shifting from the artifact to Est. Est felt his own lips quirk up, amused by their little game.

“Just a fan of tragedy, then?” Est questioned, his eyes dropping to the pin.

The male shook his head slowly, his voice dropping a whisper, “Actually, the opposite.”

When their eyes met again, Est felt his heartbeat jump. The stranger’s words didn’t just register in his mind; they sank deep into the pit of his stomach, like a vow. The nostalgia he’d felt while looking at the pin intensified tenfold as he looked at the man more closely.

Why do I feel like I know you?

“My name is William.”

Est tilted his head, fighting the urge to give in, “I didn’t ask.”

“I know,” William replied, his nod slow. That smile was back–the knowing, impossibly warm one from before, “I wanted to tell you.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to summon a nonchalance he didn’t feel, especially as his heart was hammering in his ribs. “Well, don’t expect mine in return.”

William chuckled, melodic in nature. It reminded Est of temple bells, and that thought only added to his confusion: “Mm. You’ll tell me.”

“You seem very sure of yourself,” Est muttered, rolling his eyes. He hated the way his cheeks warmed.

“I made a promise.”

Est turned his gaze to William. The playful light in William’s eyes shifted to something almost sentimental. He looked like a man who had found something he was looking for.

And it seemed as if something was est.

The air in the museum shifted again, charged with a tension Est couldn’t explain. He found himself speaking before his brain could catch up to his heart.

“Est.”

William raised his eyes to look at him.

“My name,” Est repeated, his voice steadier this time. “It’s Est.”

Slowly, the soft smile on William’s face grew into a bright one, one that could have blinded Est as if it were the sun. Est felt his breath stutter, his lungs forgetting their rhythm. He had to look away from William, the flush on his cheeks warming even more and spreading to his neck and ears.

“I think this pin was the problem.”

William was looking at the jasmine frozen in time when Est dared to meet his gaze. His smile was still bright. “I won’t make the same mistake this time.”

“Huh?”

This time, when William walked around the display case, Est didn’t move. He just watched as William walked up to him and smiled, his own heart hammering in his chest as William closed the distance.

He pulled out his phone, “Can I get your number?”

Est’s brow arched, “Why?”

“I want to take you out on a date.”

Est’s eyes widened, William’s forwardness catching him off guard. William chuckled, a sound so familiar, like he'd heard it in a dream.

“There’s a special showing at the palace gardens next week,” William continued, “The final jasmine bloom of the season. It’s a huge event, and I want to take you. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Est felt a strange, sharp tug at his heart.

A phantom memory of a garden.

Stolen moments as the sweetness of the jasmine filled the air.

The loss of a goodbye.

The loss of his heart.

No, of someone else’s heart.

“No,” William shook his head, his expression more serious for a moment, “I visited every year. Not just the garden, but this pin too, for a moment like this. I’m not letting this chance go.”

Est felt as if he should be weirded out by the other, but he found himself flattered. The other was far too intense, and yet, Est felt a weird sense of ease instead. It was as if this insane conversation was the only thing in his life that made sense.

“You act as you know me,” Est whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the museum’s air conditioning.

William nodded, “I have known you in a way. But this... this is different.”

Est shook his head, the confusion swirling with nostalgia, “I don’t understand.”

“I know,” William said, “Just give me a chance. This time, there will be no tragedy…. I promise.”

When William’s eyes fell to the pin, Est’s gaze followed. He didn’t understand the significance of any of this, but it felt as if he was learning something.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He tapped it against William’s, watching as their contact information synced.

Est didn’t understand now, but he wasn’t afraid of learning what it seemed William did.

The two shared a small, private smile as they turned from the display case. They walked out of the room together, leaving the silver pin behind.

They didn’t look back.