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Days passed by, exactly the same.
William and Est were deep in their smooth, effortless rhythm: quiet mornings in the courtyard, shared lunches, and study sessions that always stretched too long. It wasn’t perfect, but it felt profoundly right.
They didn’t need to say much anymore. They were stuck together in the easy language of silence, still sharing everything but the actual word.
At least, until today
“That’s weird,” William muttered, frowning at his phone.
“What’s weird?” Tui asked, leaning back in his chair. The two of them were waiting in the library for Est to finish practice so they could grab dinner at their usual spot.
“Est is supposed to be done by now,” William said. “He hasn’t texted.”
Tui shrugged. “Maybe Coach extended practice?”
William shook his head, brows knitting tighter. “No. He would’ve told me.”
Tui studied him quietly. He’d seen this look before — that mix of restlessness and worry that William tried to hide under irritation. “You want to wait by the pool?”
William hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
The sun was already sinking when they reached the pool court. The sound of splashing had faded; only the quiet hum of the filter and the distant chatter of the locker room remained.
But the calm shattered the moment William saw him.
Joong.
He was leaning casually against a railing, phone in hand, sunglasses pushed to his hair. There was something too deliberate about how relaxed he looked.
William stopped walking. The shift in him was instant — jaw clenched, posture rigid, eyes sharp. Tui felt it too, the tension in the air changing temperature.
William’s voice cut through the silence. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Joong looked up slowly, his lips curving into a small, mocking smile. “What, I can’t exist anywhere near your line of sight now?”
“I told you to stay away from Est,” William said, stepping closer. His tone was low, steady.
Tui moved slightly between them, but before he could say anything, another voice joined in — calm, familiar.
“William, hey.”
Dunk.
He was just stepping out of the locker room, hair still damp from the shower, dressed down in a clean tee and joggers, his athlete bag slung over one shoulder. His expression was relaxed, but his eyes moved quickly between William and Joong, sharp and watchful. “You looking for Est?”
William didn’t answer. His glare didn’t waver.
Dunk exhaled softly. “He already left. Said he was meeting someone at the café across the school. Looked like he was in a hurry.”
William’s focus snapped toward him. “Did he say with who?”
“Sorry, bro. He didn’t.”
Tui placed a firm hand on William’s shoulder. “Come on, Will. Let’s just check the café.”
William didn’t argue. He gave Joong one last glare before turning away.
Joong didn’t flinch — just tilted his head, the faintest hint of satisfaction ghosting over his face as William and Tui disappeared around the corner.
Dunk stood still, watching them leave. Only when they were gone did he slowly turn, his full attention settling on Joong.
The mocking satisfaction faded from Joong’s face, replaced by something softer, almost strained. His posture shifted; he straightened with effort, then slowly pushed off the railing and took a step toward Dunk.
__
By the time they reached the café, William’s mood was a storm barely contained. His pulse thudded heavy in his throat, his jaw locked so tight it hurt. Every step felt too slow. They were just outside when he froze.
Through the glass window, Est sat by the corner. He was smiling, leaning slightly toward a girl. She was laughing at something on her phone, her hand brushing close to his.
The sight hit William like a punch to the ribs. Sudden. Sharp. Breath-stealing.
Tui followed his gaze — and instantly understood. He saw the stiffness in William’s shoulders, the way his hands curled into fists, the flicker of hurt twisting beneath the anger in his eyes.
“Will,” Tui said carefully, voice low. “Calm down.”
William’s response came rough, almost a growl. “Calm down? He’s leaning toward a girl.”
“Yes,” Tui said evenly, “but it doesn’t look bad. They’re probably just looking at something together.”
“I don’t care.” William took a step forward, his heartbeat hammering against his ribs, but Tui’s hand shot out, gripping his arm.
“No. Don’t.”
William turned on him, eyes blazing. “You’re seriously stopping me right now?”
“Yes,” Tui said firmly. “Because if you go in there like that — jealous, angry — you’ll just make a fool of yourself.” His tone softened just slightly. “And worse, you’ll make Est hate you for it.”
William froze, the words hitting something deeper. His chest rose and fell fast, his throat tight. “What do you mean?”
Tui sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Will, this is what I’ve been trying to tell you. You can’t keep floating in this almost relationship forever. You either make it real — tell him how you feel — or…” His gaze flicked toward the window, where Est laughed again, completely unaware. “Or you don’t really have the right to be jealous.”
William’s anger faltered, replaced by something heavier. His face fell — all that fire now dulling into hurt.
Neither of them noticed Est glancing up from inside. His laughter faded the moment he saw them. William’s expression — that raw, hurt look — made his heart skip.
“William? Tui?” Est’s voice broke the tension as he stepped out of the café, brows furrowed.
Tui straightened immediately, but William was already stepping back, the air too thick, too charged.
“Hey,” Est asked softly, glancing between them. “Is something wrong?”
William didn’t answer. He just shook his head once — a small, hollow motion that could’ve meant no, or not now, or maybe I can’t. Then he turned away.
“Will—!” Tui called after him, but William didn’t stop.
Est turned to Tui, concern deepening. “What happened?”
Tui hesitated, exhaling hard. “Don’t worry about it, Est. I’ll talk to him. Go back to your friend.”
And before Est could say anything else, Tui left — his steps quick.
Est stood there for a long while, watching the corner where William disappeared. The noise buzzed faintly behind him, but all he could feel was a dull unease blooming in his chest — as if something fragile between them had just shifted, and he didn’t know why.
__
It happened again.
William was pulling away — quietly, suddenly, without warning — and Est felt that familiar hollow ache opening up inside him.
He called that night. No answer.
He called again the next morning, then at lunch, then after practice — each time met with silence, then with the dull finality of a phone switched off.
By the second day, worry turned into frustration tangled with hurt. He went to Tui, his voice smaller than he wanted it to be. “Have you seen him?”
Tui just shook his head, looking sorry but helpless.
That was when Est made up his mind. If William wouldn’t come to him, he’d go to William.
The sky had already darkened when he reached the house. His heart was hammering as he pressed the doorbell, half-hoping, half-dreading that William would be the one to answer.
But it was William’s mother who opened the door — surprise flickering across her face before melting into affection. “Oh, Est! What a lovely surprise. William didn’t tell us you’d come — but I’m so glad you did.”
Est managed a small, awkward smile. “I… didn’t tell him I’d come,” he admitted, voice low. “I was hoping to talk to him.”
Her expression softened instantly — maternal understanding in the gentle curve of her lips. “Ah. I see,” she said kindly. “Come in, dear. Dinner’s almost ready. Go straight to the dining room — his Por is already there. I’ll call him down.”
The warmth in her voice only made Est’s chest ache more. He nodded, stepping inside.
William’s father looked up when Est entered the dining room. “Est! Good to see you, son.” His voice was as kind as his wife’s, steady and welcoming. Est bowed politely, offering a shy smile as he took the seat they gestured to.
Upstairs, William had just come out of his room when he heard the familiar murmur of voices from below — his parents’ laughter, then another voice he recognized instantly. He froze mid-step.
That voice.
His chest tightened. For a second, he considered turning back — locking his door, pretending he hadn’t heard anything. But that would only make things worse. So he forced himself to move, each step down the stairs heavier than the last.
And then he saw him.
Est was sitting at the table, shoulders slightly tense. His eyes lifted as soon as William appeared— filled with unspoken questions.
William greeted his parents quietly, sat down beside Est, and stared at his plate. The clinking of utensils felt too loud. Est kept glancing at him, hoping for a sign — a look, a word, anything — but William stayed silent. The food tasted like nothing.
When the plates were cleared, William’s mother looked between them — both too quiet. Her smile was gentle, knowing.
“Why don’t you hang out for a bit, Est?” she said softly. “It’s still early. Will, take him up to your room.”
William hesitated, but there was no protest. Est stood first, murmuring a polite thank-you. And as they walked up the stairs, the quiet between them felt thicker than ever.
Upstairs, the stillness grew unbearable.
William stood by the window for a long moment, hands buried in his pockets, before finally turning toward Est. He looked tired — tired from holding too much inside.
Est broke first. “Will… what’s wrong? Did I do something?” His voice was soft, uncertain — trying to be steady but wavering near the end.
William sat on the edge of his bed, his haze fixed on the floor. His voice was low, threaded with sadness. “I was jealous, Est.”
Est blinked, confusion flickering across his features. “Jealous? Of who?”
William hesitated before saying it, like the words themselves embarrassed him. “The girl at the café.”
There was a beat of silence — then Est’s lips curved, half incredulous, half amused. “Will, that’s my sister. P’Earn.”
William’s head snapped up. “What?”
Est sighed softly, the corners of his mouth softening into something tender. He walked over and sat beside him, close enough that their knees brushed. Then he reached for William’s hand and laced their fingers together.
“She was showing me ideas for my mom’s surprise birthday,” Est explained gently. He fell silent for a moment, then added, almost in a whisper, “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. We got caught up talking about it. I should’ve texted you — I didn’t realize how it looked.”
Something in his voice — that tiny crack of guilt — made William’s chest ache. He hated it. Hated that Est was the one apologizing when it had been his own fear that built the distance between them.
William squeezed his hand tighter, his throat tight, words tumbling out in raw honesty. “Don’t say sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s me. I just—” He exhaled shakily. “I saw you through the window that day. You were smiling, and I know now it meant nothing. But in that moment, it felt like everything inside me cracked. Like I was watching something I never had the right to claim.”
He looked away, staring fixedly at a point on the floor. “I didn’t know what we are — what’s real, what’s not. I kept convincing myself that being near you was enough. But then I saw you like that, and it scared me. Scared me that I’d built everything I felt on something that wasn’t even mine to want.”
Est didn’t answer right away. Instead, he simply leaned in, closing the final gap between them. His lips brushed William’s—tentative at first, a soft question—then deepened, slow and deliberate, like an anchor dropping in the middle of everything uncertain.
William froze.
For a heartbeat, he was stunned. Then, his defenses shattered. He leaned into the kiss completely, his free hand rising to cup the back of Est’s head, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, searching and long, full of the silent conversation they had needed to have for days.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the quiet.
Est spoke softly, his voice firm despite the tremor beneath it. “I thought I’d already made it clear that time I got sick — it’s real for me, Will.”
Something in William’s chest loosened at that — the tension finally breaking into a smile, small and disbelieving. “Yeah? Does that mean we’re—”
A ringtone cut him off. Est groaned, pulling back reluctantly. “Sorry. It’s P’Earn.”
He accepted the call and put it on speaker without thinking. “P’Earn?”
“Est! I’m in your building lobby,” his sister said cheerfully. “You said you’d help me decide on the designs tonight. Where are you?”
“Oh, right,” Est said, eyes widening. “I’m at William’s house. I’ll head there soon, it’s just fifteen minutes away.”
“Okay. Drive safe — and tell William I can’t wait to meet him!”
Est laughed, glancing at William’s amused grin. “He heard you. I’ll be there soon.”
When the call ended, William stood, teasing. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car. Wouldn’t want your sister hating me already.”
Downstairs, his parents were still in the living room.
“Oh, Est, leaving already?” William’s mom asked, rising to hug him.
“Yes, Mae. Thank you for dinner — it was really good.”
“Come again soon,” she said warmly.
“Drive safe, son,” William’s dad called from the couch.
Outside, the night air was cool and still. Est turned to him before getting into his car. “I almost forgot — I also came here to invite you. My Mae’s surprise party is this weekend. Would you like to come?”
William’s grin was instant, boyish. “Really? I’d love to.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you the details tomorrow at school.” Est smiled.
William stepped closer, voice soft. “Drive safe.” He leaned in, clearly about to kiss him — only for Est to push him back with a laugh.
“Your mae’s watching.”
William turned, and sure enough, his mother was peeking through the curtains, pretending to fix them. “She’s so obvious,” he muttered.
Est was still laughing when he opened the car door, but before he could close it, William leaned down and kissed him — quick, warm, final.
“Good night,” William murmured with a grin before shutting the door.
Est sat there for a moment, stunned and smiling. He shook his head, laughter bubbling out as he whispered,
“That asshole.”
Then he started the engine and drove off.
William stayed, hands tucked in his pockets, watching the car’s taillights fade into the distance. When they finally disappeared, he exhaled slowly — a soft, content breath, the kind that lingers after something fragile but good.
For the first time in days, his chest felt light.
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