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Est hated attention.
That was a problem when you were a school athlete, especially a swimmer whose face was plastered on the announcement board after every competition.
He didn’t hate swimming—in fact, he loved it. The water was the one place he could breathe without feeling watched. But the cheers echoing in the pool, the whispers in the hallway, the not-so-subtle, “That’s Est from the swim team,” whenever he passed by? He could live without those. Attention clung to him like chlorine, no matter how many showers he took after practice.
Lately, however, attention had taken on an entirely new—and far more irritating—form.
“Est! Dunk! Dinner?”
Punch’s bright voice bounced across the bleachers as Est tugged his damp towel around his shoulders. He glanced up, squinting through the late-afternoon haze. She was waving, as usual, smile wide enough to power the school’s generator. But she wasn’t alone.
Trailing beside her was a boy Est had never seen before. His hair fell just right into his eyes, messy in a way that looked intentional, and his grin was the kind that warned you he had already decided you’d like him. Trouble, Est thought immediately.
“Oh, by the way,” Punch said as she tugged the boy forward, “this is Joong. My partner for the strategic management case study.”
Dunk, always the friendlier one, sprang to his feet. He extended his hand without hesitation. “I’m Dunk. I think we’ll get along really well.”
Joong accepted the handshake politely, but his gaze had already shifted. Locked. On Est.
Est felt it like a spotlight. The way Joong’s smile tilted, just slightly, like he’d already figured out something about him—it made Est bristle. He reached for his bag with the speed of someone trying to outrun a storm.
“I’m heading out,” Est said, quick, almost rehearsed. “Tired. I’ll just eat at my place.”
He had barely made it three steps before Joong cut in smoothly, voice too casual to be accidental. “Why don’t I walk you home?”
Est froze. His brows knit together as he turned just enough to meet Joong’s eyes. Confident eyes, steady in a way that most people weren’t when staring straight at him. Persistent already, Est thought grimly.
“No thanks. I can manage on my own.” His words were short, clipped. Enough to cut, if Joong had the sense to feel it.
But Joong only leaned back on his heels, slipping his hands into his pockets like Est’s rejection had been nothing more than a warm-up exercise. His grin didn’t falter. If anything, it sharpened.
“Sassy,” he murmured, almost to himself.
“I’m sassier,” Dunk shot back immediately.
Punch rolled her eyes, laughter spilling out anyway. “Whatever you’re thinking, Joong, forget it.”
Joong didn’t reply. His silence wasn’t agreement.
__
From that day on, Est couldn’t escape him.
Hallways, cafeteria, library—wherever Est went, Joong had a way of appearing, as if he had memorized his schedule. Sometimes it was a casual “hey,” sometimes a shameless wink, and other times an entire conversation Joong carried on while Est stubbornly ignored him. It was like being trailed by a particularly persistent cat.
One afternoon in the canteen, Joong took persistence to a new level. “You know what, Est?” he declared cheerfully, setting his tray down across from him with a dramatic thud. “I think we’d make a cute couple.”
Est didn’t even flinch. He was used to this by now—the bold statements, the shameless flirting, the way Joong delivered lines like he was auditioning for a rom-com. Est simply stared down at the unappetizing mound of cafeteria food on his plate, stabbing it half-heartedly with his spoon.
“For the nth time, Joong,” he said flatly, “I’m not interested.”
Joong only leaned closer, his grin undeterred. “Yeah, but I think this will change your mind.”
With a flourish, he slid a paper bag onto the table. Inside was a pastel-colored box, neatly tied with a ribbon. “Punch said you love pastries.”
Est’s lips pressed into a thin line. His appetite, already nonexistent, vanished entirely. “No,” he replied dryly, “I don’t.”
For a moment, Joong blinked, thrown off by the curt reply. But before he could recover, another hand swooped in.
Dunk.
Already pulling the box toward him, Dunk peeked inside with a mischievous sparkle in his eye. “Oh, would you look at that—Navori pastries!” His voice rang a little louder than necessary, just enough to catch Joong off guard. “My family owns this brand.”
Est glanced sideways at him, biting back a smile. Dunk was enjoying this too much.
Dunk leaned back, folding his arms with mock seriousness. “You know, Joong, maybe we’re the ones more suited together. I mean, come on—this is practically fate, right?”
Joong’s confident grin wavered. Everyone knew Navori was his favorite—word must’ve gotten around. For a split second, he actually looked torn, glancing between Dunk and the pastries as though deciding which betrayal stung worse.
But when he turned back to Est, ready to double down, his chance was gone. The tray across from him sat abandoned, the chair empty.
Est had already slipped quietly out the side door, moving with the practiced ease of someone who had perfected the art of disappearing.
Classic Est move.
__
The real problem came a few days later.
Est was on his way home, bag slung over his shoulder, when he spotted him—Joong. Leaning casually against the school gate as though it were his throne, sleeves rolled up, that infuriating grin firmly in place. He looked like he had all the time in the world, and Est’s stomach dropped.
Not today. Please, not today.
Panic prickled in Est’s chest. Dunk wasn’t with him this time—no buffer, no excuse, no quick distraction to slip away behind.
He slowed his steps, weighing his options. He could turn around, maybe pretend he’d forgotten something. But it was already too late. Joong’s eyes lit up the second he noticed him, and he pushed off the gate with lazy confidence, like a hunter spotting easy prey.
“Think, Est. Think,” Est muttered under his breath.
And then he saw him. Another student walking past, tall and quiet, his pace unhurried. Est didn’t get a good look—didn’t care to get a good look. Desperation didn’t wait for details.
Before his brain could protest, his body moved. Est darted forward, grabbed the boy’s arm, and pulled him close, hugging him tightly like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Please, please,” Est whispered frantically against his ear. He felt the faint warmth of the boy’s skin, the solidness of his frame under his arm. “Just go along with this. My stalker’s coming. Please help me.”
The boy stiffened. For a terrifying second, Est thought he would shove him away. But he didn’t. He just stood there, steady, unmoving.
“Est?”
Joong’s voice sliced through the air, sharp with surprise.
Est pulled back slightly, still keeping a firm grip on the stranger’s hand. He forced a smile, stretching it wider than it felt. “Joong! What are you doing here?”
Joong’s gaze flicked between them, narrowing. “What are you doing hugging him?” His voice pitched higher than usual, indignation cracking through his composure.
Est’s brain scrambled, but his mouth outran it. “Oh, him? He’s my boyfriend.” The lie slipped out so smoothly it almost startled him. He tightened his grip on the boy’s hand for emphasis, palm clammy against skin. “Of course I can hug him.”
Joong’s eyes widened, his bravado stuttering for the first time. “Boyfriend? Him? William?”
Est froze.
William?
Slowly, dread pooling in his stomach, he turned to actually look at the boy he was clinging to.
William.
Of course he knew who he was. Everyone at school did. William was the boy people whispered about in the hallways, the one whose cold, unreadable expression made you lower your voice when he passed. Rumors swirled like smoke around him—that he fought, that he was trouble, that his eyes alone could cut you down. Students avoided him like he carried a curse.
And now Est was standing here, hand-in-hand with William, claiming him as his boyfriend.
William finally looked at him. His gaze was steady, unreadable, sharp enough to slice through Est’s flimsy smile. Up close, his eyes weren’t just scary—they were magnetic, pulling Est into a quiet gravity he hadn’t prepared for.
Est swallowed hard, throat dry. For once, his usual sass failed him. Words abandoned him altogether.
And William didn’t blink.
____
Note:
Sorry for the short chapter—wrote this on my phone while waiting in line for the LYKN concert 🤗🤩🥰
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