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By the time lunch rolled around Tuesday, the campus cafeteria was alive with chatter, trays clattering and laughter echoing through the air.
Est had planned this one. A lunch that brought both his circle and William’s. He’d chosen the long table by the window so everyone could fit.
And it worked.
Dunk was halfway through his second plate, Lego was teasing him mercilessly.
Punch was leaning forward, adding loudly to the jokes and ensuring the noise level remained high.
Nut was laughing so loudly other tables were glancing their way.
Hong sat back, looking vaguely amused, occasionally tossing a quiet, dry joke into the chaos.
Even Tui, usually calm and detached, was grinning as he stole fries off Lego’s tray.
But it was William that Est kept stealing glances at. He was sitting, watching the chaos unfold with that quiet amusement of his.
Est leaned back, taking in the scene—the way William’s friends fit so easily with his, the way the sunlight caught the curve of William’s smile, the way it felt like all his effort to bring their circles together was worth it just for that moment.
Before the lunch break ended, Est tapped his fork against his tray. “Hey, guys,” he said, his voice carrying just enough to quiet the group. “Dunk and I have a swim competition next weekend.”
That got an instant reaction—cheers, clapping, and, of course, Lego shouting, “Let’s go! Gold again, baBy!”
“Pressure!” Dunk groaned, but he was laughing, too.
Est glanced toward William, his voice softening a little, his words suddenly meant for just one person. “You’ll come cheer for me, right?”
William’s gaze met his, steady and warm. He leaned closer, his voice low enough that only Est could really hear. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
And he didn’t.
__
The days leading up to the competition blurred into a comforting rhythm—classes, practice, and the steady echo of water lapping against the pool’s edge.
The air around the pool was always thick with noise: coaches calling out times, teammates shouting encouragement, the sharp splash of dives cutting through the hum.
But somehow, amid all that chaos, there was a quiet place—one that always began and ended with William.
Every afternoon, when practice ended and the light outside began to mellow to gold, William would be there. Waiting on the steps just outside the pool building.
Est hadn’t expected that.
He’d mentioned once, almost shyly, that William’s presence, like his hugs, had this grounding effect on him. And ever since then, William simply… showed up. Without asking, without announcing.
One afternoon, he’d gone a little further.
“Want me to pick you up for practice tomorrow?” William had asked as they walked toward the parking lot. “And maybe drop you off after?”
Est had blinked, caught off guard. “You’ll tire yourself out.”
William’s lips curved into that half-smirk that meant he wasn’t backing down. “It’s just for the week—until your competition,” he said easily.
Est wanted to argue, but something in his tone made him relent.
“Fine,” he’d muttered, pretending to be annoyed. But that night, lying in bed, he couldn’t help smiling.
And so it became their quiet ritual.
Mornings began with William’s car pulling up outside Est’s apartment. They’d talk about nothing and everything. William always had coffee waiting for him in the cup holder.
Evenings were softer. Est would collapse into the passenger seat, damp hair clinging to his neck. “You look like you wrestled the pool,” William would say, and Est would roll his eyes, too tired to fight back.
Those drives became their in-between—the space where they didn’t need to perform for anyone, didn’t have to pretend. Sometimes they filled the silence with music, other times with quiet laughter, and sometimes, they didn’t speak at all.
__
The day of the competition dawned bright and electric. The air at the sports complex was thick with cheers, the smell of chlorine sharp and familiar.
Est stood by the edge of the pool, stretching his arms, trying to calm his heartbeat. He scanned the bleachers once, twice—searching. And then he saw him.
William.
He was standing near the middle rows with his friends, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed in that effortless way that always made Est’s stomach tighten. Around him, Punch, Lego, Tui, Nut and Hong were already yelling, waving, cheering loud enough for half the stadium to hear, but William was still—eyes steady, gaze locked only on Est. When their eyes met, William gave a small nod. Subtle, sure, and grounding.
It was quiet, but it said everything. I’m here. Do your best.
“Go Est! Go Dunk!” their friends shouted from the stands, waving their arms like maniacs. Dunk, standing beside Est in his lane, laughed and shook his head. “They’re crazy loud.”
Est smiled faintly, but his eyes didn’t leave William.
When the whistle blew, Est dove in—cutting through the water. The world above vanished into a blur of muffled roars and bubbles. Down there, it was just him, the water, and that single thread of thought pulling him forward—he’s watching.
Every stroke was smoother, every kick sharper. His lungs burned, his muscles screamed, but the ache felt good.
By the final lap, he wasn’t thinking about medals anymore. He just swam—and somehow, that was enough.
When he touched the wall and came up for air, the cheers hit him all at once. Dunk splashed water at him, laughing breathlessly. “Dude! You were insane!”
From the stands, Lego’s voice boomed above the noise, “William! Your boyfriend’s a beast!”
William groaned, half-smiling, shaking his head, but his chest felt impossibly full. Pride swelled there—quiet, fierce, and almost painful in its warmth. He didn’t even realize he was clapping until Tui nudged him with a grin.
Later, when the event wrapped up and the athletes started filing toward the exit, William stood waiting by the corridor.
The moment Est saw him, something in him lit up. Without hesitation, he ran forward, hair still damp, and threw his arms around William.
William caught him easily, laughing softly as Est clung to him. His voice was low, teasing, but fond. “Damn, you were actually amazing out there.”
Est pulled back slightly, still catching his breath, a grin spreading across his face. “You saying I’m amazing? Should I record that before you take it back?”
William gave him a mock glare. “I’m leaving.”
“Hey, hey—I’m kidding!” Est caught his wrist before he could move, laughter spilling out between words.
Then, quieter, with that earnestness that always slipped out when he forgot to guard himself, he said, “Seriously. Thank you. For being here. For this whole week. I wouldn’t have done it without you.”
William’s gaze softened, something tender flickering there. “With or without me,” he said, “you’d still kill it out there. You were the best.”
Est’s smile faltered, shy but glowing, warmth curling up in his chest. He tried to play it off. “There’s an after party tonight. You’ll come, right? Bring your friends.”
William nodded. “Sure. They’re still by the gate waiting to congratulate you anyway.”
“Then let’s go,” Est said.
And before he could second-guess himself, he reached out and slipped his hand into William’s.
__
The after-party was loud, neon lights and laughter spilling from the rooftop. Music pulsed through the air, people swaying and shouting over the bass.
William and Est had found refuge near the corner, away from the center of the noise. They stood close—close enough that when Est leaned in to speak, his shoulder brushed William’s arm.
“You’re not drinking?” Est asked, voice raised over the music.
William shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Can’t. I’m driving.”
Est smiled, softer now, almost fond. “Then I’ll stay sober too.”
William huffed a small laugh. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” Est said simply, eyes meeting his for a second longer than necessary.
For a while, they talked about nothing—classes, songs, Dunk’s awful dancing somewhere across the room. The noise around them blurred into a hum.
Then Est excused himself to the restroom.
When he came back, the air felt different. The laughter and neon faded into the background as his gaze found William again.
He was still standing where Est had left him. The soft amber light caught on the dark folds of his shirt, sleeves rolled up neatly to his elbows. His hair, dark and slightly tousled, framed his sharp features perfectly. The glow of his phone illuminated the side of his face—his brow furrowed in thought, his lips parted slightly as if caught mid-breath.
And just like that, Est stopped.
Something in him wavered—caught between admiration and something far more dangerous. Because William looked—Beautiful. Real.
And that realization hit like a tide. All the quiet mornings, the gentle teasing, the rides home, the way William’s voice always softened when he said his name—it all came crashing down at once.
Before he could think, before he could remind himself what was real and what was pretend, Est crossed the room.
William looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes just as Est stopped in front of him. There was no warning—no word, no breath—before Est leaned in and kissed him.
It wasn’t careful or measured. It was raw, reckless—like every emotion Est had locked away had finally clawed its way out.
William froze at first. Shock rippled through him, but it lasted only a heartbeat. Then his hand moved, finding Est’s waist, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened.
For a second, the world fell away.
There was no music, no laughter, no rooftop—only the taste of air between them, the faint tremble in Est’s breath, the soft brush of his fingers against William’s shirt.
It wasn’t the kind of kiss that could be explained—it was the kind that said I’ve been holding this back for too long.
And then—just as suddenly—it was over.
Est stepped back, chest rising and falling. Panic flickered across his face as if his body had moved faster than his mind. “I—I saw Joong coming,” he stammered. “So…”
William’s breath hitched. For a heartbeat, his face stayed open. Then he blinked, and the wall came back up. A faint, practiced smile replaced the hurt that had passed like lightning through his eyes.
“Oh. That makes sense.” His voice was calm. Too calm.
Est’s throat tightened. He wanted to take it back, to say something—anything—but the words stuck. The moment hung there, fragile and burning, before the noise of the party swallowed it whole.
They went on pretending like nothing had happened. Laughing when others approached, talking when they had to. But William’s smile never quite reached his eyes again.
Later, when the party wound down and the laughter dulled into tired murmurs, William drove Est home. The city lights flickered across his face, but he didn’t speak. His hands stayed tight around the steering wheel, knuckles pale, jaw clenched just slightly.
Est kept glancing at him, wanting to break the silence, but every word he thought of felt wrong—too light for something that had just cracked something between them open.
When they reached Est’s building, William finally said, quietly, “Good night.”
Est nodded, barely whispering it back.
The car door shut, and William sat there for a long moment before exhaling. His heart felt heavy, confused, betrayed by hope.
He pressed a hand to his lips, still remembering the ghost of Est’s kiss—how real it had felt. Too real.
But the words echoed back in his mind. I saw Joong coming.
He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head once. It’s just pretend, he told himself. It was always pretend.
But as he drove away, the ache in his chest said otherwise.
__
By Monday, William tried to bury it — the kiss, the look in Est’s eyes, the way his heart had leapt in his chest.
He told himself it didn’t matter. That it was just pretend, and that should’ve been enough.
But it wasn’t.
So he pretended, like Est, that everything was fine.
But every time Est leaned on him, every time their hands brushed, it felt harder to breathe.
So he started making excuses.
My mom needs me home early.
Professor asked for help.
I’ve got errands.
Something important came up.
Each lie built a wall between them.
And Est noticed, of course he did.
He saw the distance in William’s eyes, the hesitation in his laugh. He saw it every time William pulled away just a little too soon.
And deep down, Est knew exactly why.
Because of that kiss.
Because of everything it meant—and everything he’d been too afraid to admit.
___
Note:
I meant to post this last night, but I fell asleep 😅 Thank you so much for all the birthday wishes!! 🥹 I appreciate every single message more than you know 🫶❤️💙 You’re all so sweet🥰
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