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Lunch on Monday should have been ordinary.
It wasn’t.
Est arrived with Dunk and Punch, trays in hand, the usual cafeteria hum wrapping around them. It was Punch’s first time joining them for lunch since Est and William publicly started dating, and after weeks of keeping her distance.
William was already at the table, his tray half-finished. His eyes found Est first—like they always did—and his face softened.
He shifted over without being asked, making space beside him, already reaching out to take Est’s tray with one hand while his other gave a light, familiar tap to Est’s knee. Est smiled and slid into the seat close enough that their arms touched from shoulder to wrist.
Their legs brushed under the table, and Est let his knee rest lightly against William’s. Instinct, by now. William passed Est a spoon without looking, and Est took it like it was second nature.
Dunk dropped into the spot across from them and immediately tossed out a comment about a car he’d seen that morning. William lit up. “The Supra?” he said, and they were off—words overlapping, hands gesturing, their conversation moving fast and easy like it always did.
Est leaned back, content to listen. Watching William click so effortlessly with Dunk still caught him off guard sometimes.
Their hands brushed under the table, hidden from view. William’s pinky curled around Est’s. Neither of them said anything. Neither of them moved.
But where Dunk’s presence had a way of smoothing things out, Punch was a different story. She sat down stiffly, arms close to her sides, tray untouched, eyes flicking between Est and William. Her silence stretched—noticeable, sharp—for someone who usually filled every quiet space with chatter.
And Est felt the weight of it immediately.
“Punch, are you okay?” Est finally asked, careful, almost hesitant.
Her spoon clattered down. “Am I okay? No.” She raised her head, voice steady but laced with fire. “I’m not okay. I’m not okay with you dating him.”
The air shifted. William froze mid-sentence, his smile vanishing. Dunk blinked, wide-eyed. Est’s jaw locked tight.
“Punch!” Dunk hissed, warning.
“What?” she snapped, chin jutting out. Her glare cut across the table like glass, landing squarely on William. “I’m not scared of him. He can hit me all he wants—I’ll still say it. I won’t allow him to date you.”
Est’s temper snapped. “Punch!” His voice rose, sharp enough that a few heads turned. “You don’t have the right to talk to him like that.”
“Why not? I’m your friend, Est!”
“And he’s my boyfriend. You need to respect him.”
The word boyfriend landed heavy, final. William’s chest tightened hearing it, but he kept his face still, not daring to intrude.
Punch scoffed, but her eyes shimmered. “Respect? He’s ruining you! Have you even read what people say online? Est, it’s everywhere—”
“You know damn well I don’t give a damn about them!” Est shot back, sharper than he intended, voice carrying through the cafeteria until the background chatter briefly dimmed.
Punch flinched, but her bitterness pushed her forward. “Then what about his influence on you? He’s a bad influence, Est! Look at yourself. You’ve never yelled at me before. Not once. And now you do. Because of him.”
Est’s chest heaved, fury blazing. “It’s not because of him, it’s because you’re saying nonsense.”
William finally touched his arm, grounding, his voice soft, low, meant only for him. “Est…”
But Est shook him off. His anger was a storm with no pause. “You don’t know him, Punch. You don’t get to judge him.” He shoved his chair back, the screech of metal scraping the floor harsh in the air. “Let’s go, William.”
William hesitated, torn between wanting to deescalate and wanting to follow Est’s lead. Est tugged his hand firmly, leaving him no choice. William gave Dunk a brief, apologetic flicker of his eyes, then a quick, hardened look at Punch before letting Est pull him away.
The cafeteria’s hum returned, but the table they left behind stayed heavy and cold.
Dunk broke it with sharp anger. “You’re unbelievable, Punch.”
Punch folded her arms, chin trembling. “What? I’m protecting him. You should see the comments online—”
“And you believe them?” Dunk’s voice rose, carrying his frustration. “Are you seriously that naive? You’d rather trust strangers than your friend?”
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Her eyes brimmed with stinging tears.
“If you were really Est’s friend,” Dunk continued, tone hard but threaded with disappointment, “you’d trust him. You’d try to know William instead of condemning him without reason.”
Tears spilled. Punch’s voice cracked. “I—I was just trying to be a good friend.”
“No. A good friend doesn’t tear them down.” Dunk stood, grabbing his bag with a finality that made Punch flinch.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears streaking down her face.
“Don’t say sorry to me.” Dunk’s voice softened but didn’t lose its edge. “Say sorry to them.”
And with that, he walked away, leaving Punch crying alone at the table, the weight of her words echoing louder than any cafeteria chatter around her.
—
Outside, Est was still fuming. His grip on William’s hand was iron-tight, his strides clipped and uneven, every step crackling with the anger still burning under his skin. He didn’t look back, didn’t slow down—like if he stopped moving, the weight of what had just happened might crush him.
“Est, wait.” William tugged gently on his arm, enough to halt his pace. “Slow down. Breathe. Calm down.”
“Calm down?” Est’s voice splintered, sharp around the edges. “After what she said about you?”
William’s tone stayed level. “She doesn’t know me.”
“Still!” Est snapped, chest rising and falling too quickly. “That was too much. Way too much.”
William reached up, brushing his thumb against Est’s wrist—just enough contact to ground him. “Okay, okay. Then tell me—what do you need right now? What’s going to help you feel better?”
Est exhaled sharply, like the question itself had knocked some of the fire out of him. His eyes were glassy, frustration trembling just under the surface. “…Water.”
William blinked. “Water? Okay, I’ll get you some—” He started to let go of Est’s hand, already turning toward the nearest vending machine. But Est caught him again, fingers curling tighter, as if afraid he’d vanish if he let go. His next words were quieter, rawer. “I meant the pool.”
William paused, understanding dawning. “Oh. Then let’s go to the school pool.”
“We can’t,” Est muttered, the fight still in his voice, but duller now—like a storm losing its strength. “There’s swimming class every afternoon of Monday and Wednesday.” He sighed hard, tilting his head back toward the empty sky, as if trying to bleed the frustration out through his lungs. “It’s… the only place I know how to clear my head.”
For a heartbeat, William just looked at him. At the way his shoulders trembled from the weight of feelings. At the way his chest still rose too fast, like he was trying to outrun the mess in his head.
“Okay,” William said softly, but with a steadiness that pulled Est’s gaze back to him. “Then let’s go. I know a place.”
And this time, William was the one leading, fingers lacing through Est’s as he guided him toward the car.
__
Minutes later, William pulled into a quiet driveway shaded by tall trees.
“Whose house is this?” Est asked, brows furrowing as he stepped out.
“Ours,” William said simply, slipping his car keys into his pocket. “My parents won’t be home until six.”
Est blinked, still riding the edge of his anger from lunch. “What are we doing here?”
“You’ll see. Come in.” William’s voice was calm, unreadable.
Inside, the house was hushed, almost too neat. William led him past a sleek living room and through glass doors into the backyard.
Est stopped short. A shimmering pool stretched before him, sunlight scattering across the surface in fragments of blue and gold.
“You have a pool?” Est asked, surprise breaking through his tension.
William shrugged, casual. “My mae loves to swim. You can use it. No one will bother you here.”
Est stared at the water, then at William. His chest rose, fell, but he didn’t say anything. The intensity of his gaze made William’s throat tighten.
“I’ll get you a towel and shorts,” William said quickly, turning toward the house.
“Wait.” Est’s voice was softer now, halting him.
William turned.
“Swim with me?” Est asked, almost shyly. “Please.”
Something in William’s chest stuttered. He nodded before he could think better of it. “…Okay. Wait here.”
When he came back, towel draped over his shoulder and shorts already on, Est was perched at the edge of the pool, legs dangling into the water. He looked up briefly, eyes skimming William’s frame before darting away, cheeks faintly red.
William swallowed hard, forcing himself to hand over the towel and shorts instead of staring back. “You can change inside.”
Est nodded and disappeared inside.
When he returned, William’s composure nearly gave out.
Est’s swimmer’s body was lean and cut, shoulders broad, arms sculpted by endless hours of training.
William looked away fast, jaw tight.
A splash broke the quiet. Est surfaced, droplets clinging to his lashes, hair plastered back from his face. His grin was small, but real. “Aren’t you coming in?”
William exhaled, stepped in, and let the water swallow him.
For a while, they drifted close, the silence between them soft instead of heavy.
“Thanks for standing up for me,” William said finally, his voice low. “No one’s ever done that before.”
“I hated it,” Est admitted, eyes flashing. “Hearing her say those things about you. You shouldn’t let anyone think the worst of you. Not my friends. Not strangers. No one.”
William’s chest ached at the fierceness in Est’s voice. “It doesn’t matter. As long as the people I care about know me… that’s enough.”
“You deserve better,” Est whispered. His tone had shifted—less anger now, more fragile, almost tender.
Their eyes met. Neither moved. The moment stretched, charged, like the whole world had narrowed to just the space between them. The silence pulsed—tentative, waiting—something nearly reaching, nearly touching.
Then Est broke it. He leaned back, let his body float, arms spread wide across the water’s surface. His eyes slipped closed, face softening for the first time all day.
“Can I stay here longer?”
William’s throat tightened. He couldn’t stop staring—the way Est looked in that moment, so open, so unguarded.
“Take as much time as you need,” William murmured.
And he meant it. Because watching Est find peace in his space felt like the most important thing William had ever done.
__
An hour later, showered and dried, they sat side by side in the kitchen, slices of reheated pizza balanced in their hands.
“Do you always use the pool to calm down?” William asked, breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” Est said between bites. “We also have one back home. Since I was a kid, the pool’s always been… my place. Whenever I’m upset, I go there. The water—” He paused, searching for the right words. “It feels like it absorbs everything I can’t carry.”
William studied him, a softness in his gaze that Est tried to ignore.
“You’re okay now?” he asked quietly.
Est exhaled, shoulders sinking. “Not completely. But I’ll be okay.” His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. “We should go—you need to be back home by dinner.”
William nodded. “Alright. Let’s go then.”
“We can take your bike,” Est said. “Much faster for you.”
“You sure?” William tilted his head.
Est snorted, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure. You really need to stop treating me like I’m fragile.”
William chuckled under his breath. “Alright. Bike it is.”
The ride back through Bangkok blurred into a stream of neon signs, weaving traffic, and the rush of wind. Est’s arms wrapped securely around William’s waist. The air had started to cool, evening settling in, but all Est noticed was the steady warmth under his palms, the rhythm of William breathing.
William parked his bike in front of Est’s car in the school parking lot. Est slid off the bike and pulled the helmet from his head, shaking his hair back into place. He handed it over, casual—at least on the outside. William tugged his own helmet off, hair tousled, face flushed from the ride.
“Est.” His voice was sudden, low, urgent.
Est turned. “Hm?”
Before he could react, William stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. Tight. Grounding.
“Thank you,” William whispered into his shoulder.
Est froze for half a beat, then let himself melt into it, arms curling around William’s back. The tension in him loosened.
And in that quiet moment, it hit him—
The water that had always calmed him, the pool he trusted to absorb his storms—none of it compared to William’s arms around him.
So he held on tighter and longer, letting the warmth settle deep, as if by clinging to the steady strength, he could keep the world still, just for a moment more.
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