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Est didn’t know what to do.
Every time he tried to find William, it felt like William was already halfway out the door—always moving just fast enough that Est couldn’t quite catch up. William’s smiles looked rehearsed now. His laughter carried a pause too long, a hesitation that whispered, I’m trying, but I can’t.
Est wanted to talk, to fix the invisible wall that had risen between them, but the more he reached out, the further William seemed to drift.
So Est fled to the one place that had always offered silence: the pool.
Lap after lap, stroke after stroke, he pushed himself, wanting the exhaustion to wash away everything—to scrub out the ache sitting heavy in his chest. He chased a simple kind of pain, the burning in his lungs and the tremor in his arms, hoping it would drown out the confusion that circled his mind:
What if I ruined it completely?
What if the kiss had drawn a line that couldn’t be crossed again?
He flipped onto his back, eyes tracing the scattered ceiling lights. The water used to clear his head, but tonight, it only reflected everything he couldn’t face.
And no matter how long he stayed, his thoughts kept circling back to the one person he truly needed.
William.
Then a sharp voice snapped him out of his daze.
“Est? Are you serious right now?”
His coach stood by the edge of the pool, arms crossed, his irritation edged with genuine worry. “Why are you still here? It’s ten p.m.”
Est blinked, his breath uneven against the water’s surface. “Sorry, Coach. I just… needed to think.”
“Needed to think for three hours?” The coach sighed, his tone softening only slightly. “You’re going to get sick. Look at you—you’re shaking. Whatever’s eating at you, it’s not worth catching a fever over. Go home, now.”
Est nodded weakly. He hauled himself out, the tile floor cool beneath his feet. His body felt heavier than it should’ve—muscles sore, mind even more so.
___
A few days later, in the middle of class, William’s phone buzzed against his desk.
He glanced down, barely paying attention—until he saw the name.
Punch: William, I need your help. It’s about Est. I think he’s sick. I told him to go home but he won’t listen to me.
William’s stomach dropped. His fingers froze over the screen for half a second before he typed back.
William: Where is he?
The reply came almost immediately.
Punch: We’re at the library.
That was all it took.
William didn’t think—he just moved. His chair scraped harshly against the floor as he stood, the sound slicing through the quiet classroom. Heads turned, and his professor’s voice followed, sharp with confusion.
“Mr. Jakrapatr, where are you—”
“Excuse me, I—uh—I need to go.” His voice cracked slightly, breath catching somewhere between panic and guilt.
He didn’t wait for permission. The door slammed shut behind him, echoing down the hall.
By the time he reached the library, his heart was pounding hard enough to drown out every other sound. He scanned the room quickly—and then he saw him.
Est was slumped over a table near the back, his head bowed, a half-read book lying open in front of him. His skin was pale, a sheen of sweat glinting under the dim light. His hands rubbed at his arms like he was trying to chase away a cold only he could feel.
William’s chest tightened.
Without a word, he crossed the room in a few long strides, shrugged off his jacket, and carefully draped it over Est’s shoulders.
Est flinched at the touch, startled, before his eyes lifted. When he saw who it was, his lips parted slightly in surprise.
William pressed his palm to Est’s forehead—and his heart sank.
“You’re burning up,” he muttered, voice tight.
“I’m okay,” Est said quickly, though his voice was barely more than a whisper.
William’s expression softened, the worry in his eyes shifting from sharp to tender. He pulled the chair beside him and sat down, leaning close so Est wouldn’t have to strain to hear.
“No, you’re not. Look at you.” His tone lowered and gentle now. “Let me take you home, hmm?”
Est shook his head weakly, still clinging to some sense of stubborn pride. But then William said, “Please, Est. I’ll stay with you.”
Something in the way he said it—soft, almost pleading—made Est’s resistance crumble. His shoulders sagged, and he nodded, too tired to fight anymore.
William turned to Punch, his tone quick but controlled. “Punch, can you please give this to my friends?” He handed over his motorcycle keys. “Please ask them to take my bike home. I’ll drive Est’s car.”
Punch blinked, startled by the sudden shift from calm to command, but nodded immediately. “Got it. And, uh—thank you, Will.”
William managed a brief nod before turning back to Est. He slid an arm around his shoulders and helped him stand, slow and steady. Est swayed a little, the effort of standing too much for his weakened body, and instinctively leaned into William’s chest.
The contact made William’s heart twist. Est felt fragile—fever-hot and trembling.
“It’s okay,” William murmured, tightening his hold. “I’ve got you.”
___
At Est’s apartment, William helped him settle into bed,. He pulled the blanket up to his chest, smoothing out the edges like a quiet promise that he wasn’t going anywhere.
He was about to stand when Est’s cold fingers wrapped around his wrist—weak, trembling, but desperate.
“Will, I’m so sorry,” Est whispered, his voice trembling as tears pooled in his eyes.
William froze mid-motion. The sight of Est crying hit him like a punch to the gut.
“I’m sorry about the kiss,” Est continued, words tumbling out in shaky bursts. “Not because I didn’t want it to happen—but because I never asked how you felt about it. I was selfish. I waited too long to fix things, and now I don’t even know how to reach you anymore.”
His voice broke at the end, and William felt something deep inside him splinter. He’d tried so hard to keep his own walls up, to act like the distance hadn’t hurt—but seeing Est like this made all of that crumble.
He sat back down slowly, brushing the tears from Est’s cheeks with his thumb. “Shh… Est,” he murmured.
“It’s okay.” He swallowed, forcing the words out past the tightness in his throat. “I’m here, okay? We’re okay. We’ll be okay.”
He pulled Est into his arms, holding him tight as Est cried into his shoulder. The warmth between them felt like something fragile being mended.
When Est finally calmed down, William leaned back slightly, brushing a thumb over the corner of Est’s damp eye. “Wait here,” he said softly. “I’ll get you something to eat so you can take your medicine, alright?”
Est nodded weakly, his eyelids heavy.
William slipped out of the room. He didn’t even think about what to make—he just grabbed a cup of noodles, the fastest thing he could get ready. When he returned, he set it down beside a glass of water and some medicine before helping Est sit up.
“I can eat by myself,” Est muttered softly.
“I know,” William said, smiling faintly as he picked up the fork anyway. “Let me do this.”
He twirled a bit of noodles and lifted it to Est’s lips. Est sighed, but opened his mouth anyway. They didn’t talk much after that. The silence wasn’t awkward this time. It was tender. Healing.
Then, out of nowhere, Est whispered, barely audible, “These past few days without you… they felt really lonely.”
The fork paused midair. William looked up, his eyes soft but pained. “I know,” he said quietly. “I felt it too.” His gaze dropped for a moment. “I won’t let that happen again.”
Est gave a small, tired smile.
When he finished eating, William handed him the medicine and waited until Est drank it.
“Can you stay?” Est asked softly, almost shyly, like he already knew the answer but needed to hear it aloud.
William reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Est’s forehead. “I told you I would. Now, sleep.”
Est hesitated, biting his lip. “I—I want to cuddle… with you. If that’s okay?”
William’s lips curved, a quiet laugh escaping. “Would you look at that? Our sassy Est turns into baby Est when he’s sick.”
Est glared weakly, his cheeks pink despite the fever. “Fine, don’t. Lock the door on your way out.” He turned his face toward the pillow, muttering something under his breath.
But the mattress dipped a moment later, and warmth pressed gently against his back. William’s arms slid around him, secure but careful.
“Just sleep,” William whispered against his hair. “I’m here.”
Est sighed, the last of his tension melting away. The last thing he felt before drifting off was the rhythm of William’s heartbeat against his spine—steady, familiar, and safe.
__
Morning light filtered through the thin curtains, painting soft gold across the sheets.
Est blinked slowly, the heaviness in his head finally gone. His body still felt weak, but lighter somehow.
Then he felt it—a hand resting lightly on his forehead, warm and careful. He looked up.
“Good morning,” William said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. His voice was low, still rough from sleep. “Your fever’s finally gone.”
“Morning,” Est mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.
They just looked at each other for a moment, caught in that quiet space between sleep and waking.
Then William shifted, breaking the stillness. “Stay in bed and sleep more,” he said, straightening. “I’ll just grab us breakfast. Okay?”
Est nodded, watching him leave the bedroom.
He laid there for a while, staring up at the ceiling, feeling his chest tighten—not from fever this time, but from the weight of everything unsaid.
He’s here, Est thought. That’s enough. For now, that’s enough.
He didn’t want to overthink it. Didn’t want to ruin the fragile peace that had settled between them. So he forced himself out of bed, padding to the bathroom to wash his face. The cold water stung against his skin, bringing him fully awake.
By the time he left the bedroom, William was back—hair slightly ruffled, holding a paper bag that smelled like fresh bread and coffee.
“I told you to sleep more,” William said, an amused smile playing on his face.
Est rolled his eyes. “And I told you to stop treating me like I’m fragile.”
William chuckled as he set the bag down on the table. “Fine,” he said, turning toward him with that grin that always disarmed Est no matter how hard he tried to act unaffected. “Then come on. Let’s eat before it gets cold.”
Est sighed, but the corner of his mouth lifted as he followed.
For the first time in days, the ache in his chest began to ease.
___
William stayed even after lunch, despite saying he’d only stay a bit longer.
The afternoon stretched lazily between them—quiet, easy, almost peaceful. The TV flickered, though neither of them was really watching. Est was curled on one end of the couch, legs tucked under him, a soft blanket draped loosely over him, while William leaned back on the other side, arm draped over the backrest, eyes half on the screen, half on him.
“Can I say something?” Est broke the quiet suddenly, voice tentative.
William turned to him, curious. “Okay…?”
Est hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of the blanket. “Promise you won’t make it weird?”
William’s brow quirked. “That depends. How weird are we talking?”
Est shot him a look, but the teasing only made his nerves worse. He took a deep breath, staring at the TV as if the right words were hiding there. “I lied,” he said finally. “Joong wasn’t around that night when I kissed you.”
William froze. His body went still, like time itself had tripped over those words. A flicker of hope hit him, sharp and sudden.
“What?” he asked, voice low, uncertain, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to believe it. “What do you mean?”
Est’s throat tightened. “I mean…” He forced the words out, clumsy and trembling. “I was caught in the moment—and I panicked. I didn’t want you to know that I wanted to—”
But he didn’t get to finish.
William’s hand was suddenly on his face, firm but gentle, and then he was kissing him.
This kiss had weight. It was everything that had been simmering between them since that night: the ache, the longing, the frustration of pretending not to care. It was raw and certain, like they’d both stopped running.
Est inhaled sharply against William’s lips before melting into it, his hands finding William’s shirt, clutching it like he might disappear if he didn’t. William’s thumb brushed along Est’s jaw, grounding him, guiding him closer until every inch of space between them was gone.
When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless—foreheads resting together, hearts beating hard enough to feel through the silence.
Est’s voice came out soft, unsteady. “What… what was that for?”
William leaned back slowly, his lips curving into a small, smug smile as he sank into the couch. “A payback.”
It took a second for Est’s brain to catch up. Then he blinked, grabbed the nearest pillow, and smacked him square in the chest. “You’re impossible!”
William burst out laughing, dodging the next hit. “Hey, you started it!”
Est kept swinging; William kept laughing, and soon the room was filled with the kind of laughter that came from relief—the kind that chased away weeks of tension. When Est finally slumped back against the couch, breathless and grinning, William was still watching him with that quiet softness in his eyes.
Neither said anything about the kiss again.
They didn’t need to.
For now, it was enough—to sit close, to share the same breath, to know that the distance between them had finally started to disappear. And maybe, just maybe, what they were building wasn’t pretend anymore.
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