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When William got home that evening, the house was already alive with the clatter of plates, and the murmur of conversation. The scent of roast chicken, garlic rice, and something sweet drifted through the air, pulling him out of the quiet haze he’d been in since dropping Est.
His parents were already at the dining table when he walked in, both looking up the moment they heard his footsteps. His dad smiled, gesturing to the chair across from him. “Oh, perfect timing. Sit down, son.”
William crossed the room, giving his father a half-hug before leaning down to kiss his mom on the cheek.
“Long day?” his dad asked, pouring him water.
“Yeah,” William said, forcing a small smile. “Kind of.”
His mom, always sharper than she let on, was already watching him closely. “So,” she said as she spooned rice onto his plate, her tone carrying that light, teasing knowingness. “Anything interesting happen today, sweetheart?”
William busied himself with his food, trying to keep his expression even. “Hmm… nothing much.”
His mom arched a brow. “Nothing at all? Not even going home this afternoon with a friend to swim?”
William almost choked mid-bite, coughing as his dad chuckled.
“Auntie Alma mentioned it,” his mom continued, pretending to sound casual but failing to hide her amusement.
Right. Of course, Auntie Alma—their housekeeper—had seen Est earlier.
“Oh, that,” William said quickly, clearing his throat. “Yeah, my friend needed to clear his head, so I offered the pool. It helps him think.”
“Which friend?” his dad asked, setting his glass down. “Nut? Hong? Lego? Tui?”
William hesitated for a second before shaking his head. “Our new friend. You haven’t met him yet.”
“Then you should’ve invited him to dinner,” his dad said, his tone more suggestion than reprimand. “You know the rule—if you bring a guest to the house, you feed them.”
“Yes,” his mom agreed, smiling. “Invite him next time, along with your other friends. I miss their energy here—especially Lego.”
William chuckled, finally relaxing. “Alright, Mae. I’ll tell him.”
Dinner flowed easily after that—his mom asking about school, his dad cracking jokes about work. From the outside, everything felt normal, like every other night. But inside, William’s thoughts were nowhere near the table.
His mind wandered—to Est by the pool earlier, wet hair dripping, eyes distant but soft when he finally smiled again. To the quiet weight of their hug, how Est had clung longer than expected. And to the warmth that still lingered on William’s skin, stubborn and unshakable.
__
Late that night, with the house quiet, William lay in bed, phone in hand. The screen lit his tired face—and a small smile appeared as he paused on one name.
Before he could overthink it, he pressed call.
Est answered after two rings, sitting up in bed with tousled hair and pink cheeks, the blanket pooled around his waist. He smiled, soft and a little shy. “Hey,” he said, his voice low and rough.
“Hey,” William echoed, his smile coming easily now. “You eaten?”
“Yup,” Est said with a small nod. “You?”
“Yeah. With my parents,” William replied, shifting to lie on his side. “Apparently, Aunty Alma told them about your visit.”
Est blinked. “Oh no. Were they mad?”
William laughed, the sound quiet and fond. “Not at all. They just told me off for not being a good host—and for not inviting you to dinner.”
Est let out a soft, low chuckle, but the sound was laced with a trace of genuine sadness. If I had actually met his parents, he realized, that would have made the whole thing feel real. The honesty of the thought caught in his throat.
William’s smile faltered. He sensed the sudden, quiet yearning in Est’s eyes, like a light had briefly dimmed.
“You okay now?” William asked after a beat, his voice softer, careful. “Earlier you said you weren’t. Completely.”
Est hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said finally, his lips curving into that small, genuine smile William had grown to like. “I’m better. A lot better.”
William’s grin returned. “Good,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I’m glad.”
They stayed like that for a moment—both quiet, the air between them comfortable but charged with something unspoken.
Then Est shifted slightly under his blanket. “Can I tell you something,” he asked, “and you not get weird about it?”
William’s lips twitched. “Go on,” he teased, voice light but curious.
Est looked down, fiddling with the edge of his blanket. “That hug earlier…” He exhaled, eyes darting away for a moment before finding the camera again. “It helped more than the pool ever did.” His voice was quieter now, more vulnerable. “I don’t really know how to explain it, but when you hugged me, it was like everything that felt heavy just—stopped for a second. It was warm. Safe.”
William froze, the words landing like something delicate and dangerous all at once. He could hear his own heartbeat in the silence that followed, a steady thrum that felt far too loud in the stillness of his room.
Est, maybe realizing how much he’d just said, laughed softly—nervously. “I mean… I’m not being weird or anything. It just surprised me. It felt… grounding. Comforting, in a way I didn’t expect.”
William swallowed, his throat tight. He wanted to say something—anything—but the words tangled somewhere between his ribs and his mouth. The warmth in his chest pulsed again, stronger this time, spilling into a grin he didn’t fully mean but needed to wear.
“So basically,” he said, eyes glinting, “you like my hugs.”
Est rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips betrayed him. “You’re impossible.”
“You really do like hugging me, huh?” William teased, his tone dipping into playful smugness. “Even the first time we met—you grabbed my arm and hugged me tight.”
“I’m hanging up,” Est threatened, trying to sound annoyed, but the faint flush creeping up his neck made William’s grin widen.
He laughed so hard that the phone slipped from his hand and smacked him in the face. “Ow!”
Est couldn’t hold back a laugh this time. “You deserve that. Bye.”
“Wait!” William called, still laughing. “You didn’t say good night!”
Est glared at the screen in mock irritation before cutting the call.
A few seconds later, William’s phone buzzed.
Est: I hate you
William: you don’t.
Est: …good night.
William: Good night, Est. I’m glad I could help you feel better.
Est: im glad too. thank you.
William stared at the screen for a few seconds after that, thumb lingering over the last message.
He smiled—small, private, and set his phone down.
Sleep came easily again that night. He felt at peace. The kind of peace that came from knowing that someone, somewhere, was thinking of him too.
__
By midweek, William was walking with Tui toward the library when someone suddenly stepped into their path. Punch.
William’s smile vanished instantly, the light in his eyes dimming. Tui slowed, glancing between them. He didn’t need to ask—he could feel the quiet electricity in the air, the kind that usually came before something uncomfortable.
“William,” Punch said softly, almost tentative. “Can we talk?”
Tui’s gaze flicked to William again, reading the stiffness in his shoulders. “Hey, Will,” he murmured, resting a hand on his shoulder—a silent reminder. Remember to be kind.
William exhaled through his nose, then gave a curt nod. “Sure.”
They crossed to a small café just outside campus—quiet, half-full, with the faint hum of conversation blending into the clinking of cups. Punch sat opposite him, fidgeting with her bracelet, eyes darting to the table every few seconds.
“I don’t even know where to start,” she said finally. Her voice was small, nothing like the sharp tone she’d used days before. “But… I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For how I acted the other day. For the things I said about you.”
William didn’t speak right away. He leaned back slightly, watching her—not with anger, but quiet weariness. “Punch, I’m not expecting an apology for myself,” he said evenly. His tone was calm, but there was a tired edge beneath it. “I’m used to people painting me as the bad guy.”
Her eyes flicked up, searching his face.
He paused, then his voice softened. “But you owe Est one. He’s your friend—and he expected you to side with him, to understand him better. But you didn’t. And he’s… really hurt, Punch. You should’ve seen him after we left that day.”
Punch blinked. The words landed heavier than she expected. She really looked at William and something in her chest twisted. This wasn’t the William she’d assumed she knew, the one the rumors painted. He wasn’t dangerous. He was calm. Steady. And every word he said revolved around Est, not himself.
She realized, maybe for the first time, that this was the version Est saw. The one he trusted. The one he kept defending even when everyone else doubted him.
Her voice came out small. “Thank you, William.”
He frowned slightly. “For what?”
“For staying by his side,” she said quietly. “For protecting him when I didn’t.”
For a second, something unreadable flickered across William’s face but it melted into a faint smile. “He’s worth it,” he said simply.
Punch’s eyes softened. “I hope we can be friends, William. I’d really like to know the real you.”
He hesitated, then nodded once. “Yeah. I’d like that too.”
Silence hung between them for a beat. Then William’s phone buzzed.
Est: where are you? i thought you’d be here in the library. i only see tui sitting at the back.
William couldn’t help but smile. He turned the screen to show Punch. “It’s Est. I’ll tell him we’re here.”
Punch straightened a little, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Oh. Yeah. Maybe… I should talk to him now too. Though I don’t even know what to say.”
William looked at her gently. “Just a simple sorry will do,” he said. “He doesn’t need grand gestures. You know how he is—he’ll understand.”
He typed quickly.
William: at the café across school. with Punch.
Seconds later, his phone buzzed again.
Est: be there asap.
When Est saw the message, his stomach tightened. With Punch?
The words on the screen felt heavier than they should. A flicker of unease curled in his chest—sharp, protective, and a little afraid. The last thing he wanted was for her to hurt William again, to throw another cutting word or look his way. No—he wouldn’t allow that. Not after everything William had already endured.
He didn’t even stop to think. One second, he was reading the message; the next, he was sprinting across campus, the phone still clutched in his hand. His heart pounded against his ribs—not just from running, but from something deeper. Worry. Anger.
The hallways blurred past him, his breath uneven as he replayed every memory of Punch’s accusations, every flash of hurt he’d seen on William’s face that day. He couldn’t bear the thought of William sitting through that again—especially not alone.
By the time he reached the café, his chest burned and his shirt clung to his back. He scanned the room frantically—then froze.
There they were. Punch and William.
But they weren’t arguing. They were laughing.
William was leaning slightly forward, mid-story, eyes bright in that easy. Punch was smiling faintly, her posture relaxed.
The sight hit Est like a wave—first relief, cooling the storm inside him, then something else he couldn’t quite name. Something that lodged behind his ribs and pulsed softly, confusingly.
William looked up, spotting him instantly. “Est! Hey—are you okay? You’re out of breath.”
Punch turned too, surprise flashing in her eyes.
“Did you run here?” William asked, half-amused, half-concerned.
Est nodded between shallow gasps. “I… thought something happened.”
Punch blinked, guilt crossing her face as she reached for the glass of water beside her. “Nothing happened. We were just talking.”
“Thanks,” Est murmured, taking the glass, still catching his breath. Then his gaze flicked to William’s—steady, searching.
William’s smile softened, gentle and reassuring in a way that always disarmed him. “I’ll get you a drink. What do you want?”
“Iced shaken espresso,” Est managed, voice low.
“Got it.” William smiled again before heading toward the counter. Est’s eyes followed him for a moment longer than they should have.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Punch’s composure crumbled. “Est, I’m so sorry,” she blurted, tears glimmering in her eyes. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I was wrong.”
Her voice cracked—and before she could go on, Est moved instinctively, sliding to sit beside her and wrapping her in a gentle hug. “Hey, shh. It’s okay,” he said quietly. “You didn’t know everything. I get it.”
Punch’s shoulders shook. “No. That’s not an excuse. I hurt both of you.”
Est shook his head slightly, keeping his tone soft. “What matters is that you came here to fix it.”
When William returned with Est’s drink, Punch was still sniffling, her eyes red but lighter somehow. He set the cup in front of Est, his gaze flicking between them. “I’ll leave you two to talk,” he said gently. “Tui needs me for our group report.”
Est opened his mouth to protest—Stay—but William just gave him a small smile and a nod before turning and walking out into the late afternoon sun.
Punch watched him go, wiping at her eyes. “He’s really nice,” she murmured.
Est’s lips curved faintly, almost unconsciously. “He is,” he said softly. “I just hope people start treating him the way he deserves.”
Punch studied him for a long moment, eyes narrowing as realization dawned. Then, with a half-smile, she said, “You really like him, don’t you?”
Est nearly choked on his drink. “What? No—we’re just—” He stopped short. Punch didn’t know about their arrangement, about the act. “We’re just… getting to know each other.”
Punch tilted her head, unconvinced. “You can tell yourself that all you want,” she said gently. “But it’s written all over your face.”
Est fell silent. The world outside blurred for a moment—the café noise fading to a soft hum.
Because deep down, he knew she was right.
He knew from the calm he found in William’s presence, from the joy of simply being beside him, from the way he’d sprinted across campus without thinking twice.
But he couldn’t let himself believe it.
Because if he did, the line between this pretend and reality would shatter.
He wrestled with the terrible uncertainty: If William’s warmth was genuine, Est was already too deep to turn back. But if it was all part of the act, he would be destroyed for having mistaken kindness for love.
So he held it all in. The way his heart leapt when William said his name, the way that hug still echoed against his skin. He tucked those feelings behind practiced smiles and easy words.
But a small, quiet part of him already knew—he was no longer playing.
___
Note:
Since it’s my birthday today, here’s a second update — a little gift to my fellow Westies! ❤️💙🎸🦈
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