Chapter Text
1. The First Encounter
The roar of the crowd hit William before the sharp scent of chlorine did. The arena was packed, flags waving from every corner, the noise rolling like waves across the pool. William was seventeen, a newly transferred high school student on what was supposed to be a boring cultural field trip in Hanoi, but somehow—through Tui’s crooked grin and whispered promise of something worth seeing —he had ended up here.
The 31st Southeast Asian Games. A stadium filled with nations’ pride.
Tui was the first friend William had made at his new school. Loud, restless, always cracking jokes in class, he had zero hesitation plopping down beside William on his first day and acting like they’d known each other for years. Where William was sarcastic and playful, Tui was blunt and chaotic, but somehow their energy clicked instantly. They teased each other, skipped study periods together, and fed off each other’s nonsense like they’d been partners-in-crime forever.
So when Tui leaned over that morning, eyes sparkling, and whispered about sneaking out of the “boring cultural tour” to watch his cousin compete at the SEA Games, William didn’t even hesitate. Of course he said yes. Both of them called in sick and said they rather stay at hotel just so that they could go out to sneak and watch the Asian Games instead.
“Come on,” Tui muttered, tugging his sleeve, eyes glinting with mischief. “We’re already late. My cousin’s event is starting.”
William let himself be dragged along, sneakers squeaking on the tiles, his heart half in his throat at the thought of being caught faking their sickness just so that they can go somewhere else instead of following their supposed school’s trip for today. But the moment they stepped into the pool arena proper, everything else blurred.
The men’s 4×100m freestyle relay was just beginning. Four lanes of lithe athletes lined up at the edge, shoulders gleaming under the harsh lights. And then William saw him.
Est Supha Sangaworawong.
The announcer’s voice boomed his name along with three teammates, but William didn’t need the reminder. Est looked like he belonged there, focused but relaxed, bouncing lightly on his toes, rolling his shoulders to stay loose. His face was calm, no theatrics, no nerves. Just quiet determination. Twenty-one years old, a Thai national swimmer. Tui’s cousin.
William blinked, throat dry.
His first thought, absurdly honest: I want a body like him. Girls would flock around him.
Not just the body—though those broad shoulders and lean muscle stood out easily—but the way he carried himself. Serious yet grounded. Confident but not arrogant. When the announcer called his name, Est gave a small smile and a polite wave toward the Thai supporters. Not a showy gesture, just enough to acknowledge them, and the crowd roared louder.
“He’s my close cousin,” Tui said proudly, folding his arms. “Watch him. He’ll medal tonight.”
William didn’t answer. His eyes were glued to the pool.
The whistle blew. The first swimmer dove in, water exploding upward. The relay was fast, relentless, arms slicing through blue, kicks like pistons. When it was Est’s turn, William leaned so far forward over the rail he nearly toppled.
Est dove.
It was… different. William had seen swimmers before, sure—PE class, maybe the odd Olympics replay on TV—but this was something else. Est didn’t fight the water; he worked with it, smooth and steady, as if every movement had been sharpened through years of repetition. His rhythm was clean, his pace efficient, but he also had a spark—an extra push at the turns, a determined grit that said he wasn’t just here to compete, he was here to grow.
By the time he touched the wall, pulling Thailand into medal contention, the crowd thundered.
Bronze. Their first major medal of the Games.
William didn’t even realize he was cheering until his throat hurt.
When Est climbed out of the pool, water dripping down his arms, he didn’t throw his fists up or shout. He grinned instead—bright, easy, and warm. He clapped one teammate on the back, said something that made the guy laugh even though they were gasping for breath, and then waved at the Thai crowd again.
Disciplined, determined, but also down-to-earth.
William’s pulse kicked. Something unfamiliar curled in his chest, hot and sharp.
“See?” Tui grinned, elbowing him. “Didn’t I tell you?”
William swallowed hard, still staring. “Yeah.” His voice cracked. He coughed. “Yeah, you did.”
And just like that, it was sealed. His first encounter with Est Supha—Tui’s cousin, a national athlete, a bronze medalist.
When the medal ceremony started, Tui waved excitedly. “Look—there’s my aunt and uncle. Est’s parents.”
William followed his gaze. A middle-aged couple stood near the front rows, Thai flags draped across their shoulders, their faces glowing with pride. Tui dragged William over to greet them.
“This is my friend, William,” Tui introduced. “He came with me.”
William bowed quickly. “Hello. Congratulations on your son’s medal.”
Est’s mother smiled warmly. “Thank you.” His father gave a small nod, more reserved, but approving. William felt even more out of place now, standing among actual family.
The medal ceremony ended and the crowd slowly began to leave. William assumed they would go back to their tour group, but instead Tui waved at Est’s parents and started walking with them toward another part of the arena.
“Where are we going now?” William asked, lagging behind.
“Family access area,” Tui said casually, like it was normal. “They let close family meet the athletes here after the race. I have a pass, and we’re with my aunt and uncle, so it’s fine.”
William frowned. “But I’m not family. This is their private time. I shouldn’t be here.”
Tui rolled his eyes and clapped him on the back. “Relax. It’s not like our teacher knows we’re here instead of being at the hotel. Just act natural. You’ll be fine.”
William’s stomach tightened. He hadn’t planned on meeting Est up close, let alone his parents again. But now, with every step, he felt like he was intruding on something too personal.
The family area wasn’t fancy. Just a section with chairs, a couple of tables, and a big curtain separating it from the main corridors. Some athletes were already there, talking to their families, still holding bouquets or wrapped in towels. Security stood nearby, but when Est’s parents flashed their passes, no one questioned William walking in beside them.
And then Est appeared.
He walked in from the athlete corridor, hair still damp, medal loose around his neck, the Thai team tracksuit clinging to his shoulders. His eyes lit up when he saw his parents. He gave a small bow, hugged his mother, then accepted a pat on the back from his father.
After that, his attention shifted to Tui. “You made it.” His voice was steady but warm. He gave his cousin a grin. “Didn’t think you’d actually bother.”
Tui snorted. “Like I’d miss this. You’re the family star now.”
Est chuckled, then finally noticed William standing awkwardly behind them. “And this is…?”
Tui pushed William forward. “My friend William. He came with me today.”
William nearly tripped over his own shoes. “Uh… congratulations! Your race was amazing.”
Est studied him for a second, then smiled—an easy, open smile that made William’s chest tighten. “Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it.”
William thought that was the end of it, but Tui smirked. “He couldn’t take his eyes off you the whole time. Said he wants to have body like you one day.”
William’s face burned. “Tui!”
Est laughed this time, an actual laugh, warm and a little teasing. “Is that so? Careful. Swimming’s not as glamorous as it looks. You spend more time smelling like chlorine than anything else.”
William stammered. “I-I mean… yeah. But you looked really… in control.”
Est tilted his head, amused. “Discipline. That’s the trick. You keep showing up, even when you don’t feel like it.” Then he shrugged lightly. “Though having fun matters too. Otherwise you’d quit.”
Tui laughed. “See? He’s already giving you a lecture.”
William wanted to disappear. But Est wasn’t mocking him—he seemed genuinely kind, grounded, and a little funny in his own quiet way.
Before they left, Est gave William another smile. “Good to meet you, William. Maybe I’ll see you again.”
“Y-you too,” William managed.
Simple. Polite. But as they left the family area with Est’s parents, William’s heart was still hammering. He had met Est up close, and he wasn’t just impressive—he was disciplined, humble, and surprisingly charming. It was enough to make William certain of one thing: this wasn’t the last time he’d want to see him.
And just like that, it was sealed. His first encounter with Est Supha—Tui’s cousin, a national athlete, a bronze medalist.
The man who would, without even knowing it, flip William’s world upside down.
2. The William Was Straight
William had always thought he was straight.
He liked girls in school. Or at least, he thought he did. He had a few crushes, the kind that came and went like changing seasons—smiles exchanged in class, fleeting daydreams, silly notes passed between desks. Nothing serious, nothing that kept him awake at night.
So when he first saw Est, the thought never crossed his mind. His first reaction was simple: I want to look like him. I want a body like him.
Broad shoulders. Defined arms. That easy confidence that made him seem larger than life. For William, who was still lanky and growing into himself at seventeen, it felt like a goal to chase, not a person to want.
At least, that was what he told himself.
But in the two years that followed, something shifted. He couldn’t say when exactly it began. Was it puberty doing its job, messing with his head? Or was it Est himself—so frustratingly perfect in William’s eyes that whatever he did seemed important, worth noticing, worth remembering?
He didn’t know.
***
It started small.
William began tagging along with Tui more often. Whenever Est had a local meet, Tui would invite him, and William never said no. At first, he told himself it was just exciting to watch a real athlete compete. But then he noticed he wasn’t watching the races anymore. He was watching Est.
How he warmed up, headphones in, bouncing lightly on his feet.
How he always shook hands with other swimmers after the event, win or lose.
How he carried himself—disciplined but never arrogant.
William started copying little things without realizing it. He sat straighter in class, started jogging in the mornings, even tried eating healthier because Est once laughed and said, “Fast food makes me sluggish.”
At first, it was admiration. Nothing more.
***
Then came the day at Tui’s house.
It had been almost a year since William first met Est at the SEA Games. By now, their lives had crossed enough times that William no longer froze every time Est walked into the room — though his heart still jumped more than he wanted to admit.
That afternoon, William sat in Tui’s living room with a borrowed guitar on his lap, plucking out hesitant chords. He had a school event coming up, and his classmates had all but shoved the performance role onto him. His fingers stumbled here and there, but the melody carried, his voice soft at first, then stronger as he let himself sink into the song.
He didn’t realize anyone else was there until a shadow moved across the corner of his vision. Est had just come back from training, hair damp, tracksuit hanging loose on his shoulders. He leaned against the doorframe, quietly listening, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
William nearly fumbled the chord. “H-how long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough,” Est said, amused. He stepped in, setting a water bottle on the table before sitting cross-legged on the floor. “You’ve been hiding that voice again.”
William ducked his head, pretending to focus on tuning the guitar. “It’s not hiding. I’m just… not that good.”
“Not that good?” Est raised an eyebrow, expression warm but firm. “William, you’re already good. You just don’t believe it yet.”
William blinked. “You really think so?”
Est didn’t hesitate. “I’ve heard plenty of singers. You have something rare — a voice people want to stop and listen to. It deserves to be heard by more than just these walls. Honestly? The whole world should hear it.”
The words made William’s chest tighten. His throat felt dry, but in the best way. Est wasn’t teasing. He meant it.
Then Est leaned back, arms resting casually over his knees, and said with a faint grin, “Sing it again. Just for me this time. Pretend I’m the whole crowd.”
William froze, staring at him. “For… you?”
“Yeah.” Est’s smile deepened. “I want to hear it again.”
For a second, William thought his heart might actually burst. Est Supha — disciplined, confident, everything William wasn’t — was asking him to sing again. Just for him.
And William couldn’t say no. Not when it was Est.
“…Okay,” William said softly, adjusting the guitar in his lap. This time, he sang louder, stronger, letting his voice fill the room. His eyes darted to Est, who was watching him with that same calm focus he gave the pool — like William was worth paying attention to.
By the time the song ended, William’s hands were shaking. But he was smiling, because for the first time, singing didn’t feel scary. It felt like flying.
And it was because Est was there, listening.
***
Other moments piled up .
The Sangaworawong's family barbecues were always loud. Too many relatives crammed into the garden, kids running around chasing each other with water guns, uncles hovering over the grill arguing about seasoning, and aunties gossiping over plates of fruit.
William sat at the long table with Tui, nursing a soda while trying not to look like he stuck out. He wasn’t family, but after a year of tagging along, no one batted an eye at him being there anymore.
Across the yard, Est was at the grill helping his father. He was laughing at something one of the uncles said, rolling his eyes but still obediently flipping skewers. Even in the middle of family chaos, he carried himself the same way — relaxed, grounded, like nothing could really shake him.
William tried not to stare too much. He turned back to Tui, who was busy stuffing grilled chicken wings into his mouth and ignoring him.
It wasn’t until Est walked over with a plate of food that William realized he’d been holding his soda straw too tight.
“Hungry?” Est asked, setting the plate down in front of them. His voice was casual, warm, like this was just another ordinary day.
William nodded quickly and took a sip from his soda to cover his nerves. Bad idea. The carbonation went straight down the wrong way, and he choked, sputtering so loudly that Tui almost spat his chicken out laughing.
Est blinked, startled, then laughed — not unkind, but bright and genuine. He reached over and ruffled William’s hair, the way you’d comfort a younger brother who just embarrassed himself. “Easy there. No one’s stealing your drink.”
William’s face burned hot as he coughed into his fist. He managed to wave him off, muttering something about “just went down wrong.”
But Est’s laugh stuck with him. The warmth of his hand lingered in his hair even after he pulled it away.
The moment passed in an instant — Est went back to chatting with the cousins, Tui kept eating like nothing happened — but William couldn’t stop replaying it in his head for the rest of the evening.
Later, lying in bed, he realized he still felt it. That casual touch. That easy laugh.
It wasn’t much. Just a ruffle of hair. But to William, it was everything.
***
Another instance.
It happened one quiet afternoon at a small café near Tui’s house. The three of them had stopped in after Est’s training session. Tui was busy demolishing a plate of fries, leaving William and Est on their own at the other side of the table.
William, trying to sound casual, had asked a question about swimming. “So, like… when you flip at the wall, how do you not smack your face? Every time I try it, I just end up swallowing water.”
Est gave him a look that was half amused, half serious. “That’s because you’re doing it wrong. Here.”
He grabbed a napkin and pulled a pen from his pocket — probably from his training journal — and began sketching. Quick lines turned into arrows and stick figures, his handwriting neat and purposeful.
“So,” Est started, leaning forward, brows furrowed in concentration. “You have to time the last stroke before the wall. Tuck your chin here, bring your knees in like this, then push off at an angle.” He drew arrows, circling the part where William apparently kept messing up. “It’s about rhythm. If you hesitate, you lose momentum. You need to trust your body to roll naturally.”
William nodded along, eyes wide, though not because he was following. He was too distracted.
The way Est’s eyebrows drew together when he focused. The way his lips moved carefully around each word, like he was breaking it down just for William. The little crease between his brows when he paused to think, then added another arrow to the napkin.
William tried to keep his gaze on the napkin, but it kept drifting — to Est’s face, to the easy confidence in his voice.
By the time Est finished, the napkin was filled with messy arrows and stick figures. He tapped the paper with the pen. “Got it?”
“Yeah. Totally,” William said quickly, forcing a grin.
Est leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “Really? Because you look like you just memorized a math formula without understanding it.”
William laughed nervously. “No, no, I get it. Timing. Chin. Knees. Push off.” He repeated the words like they meant something, even though they didn’t.
Est chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re hopeless. Next time, I’ll just show you in the pool. Easier that way.”
William’s chest fluttered at the thought — Est in the water, guiding him, maybe even holding his shoulders to correct his form. He hid his face behind his soda cup, praying he didn’t look as red as he felt.
That napkin ended up crumpled in his pocket, carried around far longer than it should have been. Not because it made sense, but because Est had drawn it for him.
***
And then The Songkran.
The street was alive with laughter and music. Buckets of water splashed from every corner, kids armed with neon water guns chased each other, and the smell of grilled skewers drifted through the humid night. Lanterns glowed above the crowd, mixing with bursts of laughter and the sound of drums from a nearby stage.
William had never seen anything like Songkran before. He was soaked through, shirt sticking to his skin, but he didn’t care. Tui was running ahead with his own water gun, already ambushing strangers, while William stayed closer to Est, who looked unusually relaxed with a drink in hand and a small smile tugging at his lips.
It was rare to see Est like this — loosened up, laughing easily, joining the crowd instead of standing apart. He had already been stopped a couple of times by people who recognized him, and he had taken photos politely, but now, surrounded by music and color, he looked almost like any other young man out having fun.
Until the road betrayed him.
The pavement dipped unevenly, and Est, who had been sipping from his cup and laughing at something Tui yelled, stumbled.
“Careful!” William darted forward, catching him by the waist just in time.
For a moment, everything slowed. Est’s body leaned into his, steadying himself with a hand on William’s shoulder. William froze, eyes locked on Est’s face. Water droplets clung to his hair, his smile fading into surprise.
William’s gaze slipped lower — to his lips, parted slightly in shock — then back up to his eyes.
They stared at each other, the noise of the festival dimming around them.
Then Tui’s voice broke through. “Oi! If you two are done with your drama moment, we’ve got another water fight starting!”
William jolted, snapping out of it, but his arms were still around Est’s waist. His brain scrambled for an excuse, anything, and his mouth betrayed him before he could think.
“He’s—uh—he’s drunk!” William blurted. “Not, like, drunk drunk, but tipsy. And Est’s not good on land. He’s better in water. So he needs to, uh, hold onto something.”
Est raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, but before he could say anything, William quickly grabbed his hand and squeezed. “So he’s gonna hold onto me.”
It was ridiculous, shameless, but William clung to it. He wasn’t drunk — he couldn’t be, not at nineteen — but that gave him the perfect excuse. Est was tipsy, the road was uneven, and of course he needed something steady.
Est looked down at their joined hands, then back at William with a small smile. He didn’t pull away.
“Fine,” Est said quietly. “Don’t let me fall, then.”
William’s heart hammered so hard he thought it might burst through his chest. He tightened his grip, grinning nervously. “I won’t.”
They continued walking through the chaos, Tui shouting about water fights ahead of them, but William hardly noticed. All he felt was Est’s hand in his, warm and steady, like maybe — just maybe — this was exactly where he was meant to be.
***
And William wasn’t the only one noticing.
One afternoon, Est had just left the living room to grab something, and Tui leaned closer, voice low.
“You stare at him like you want to eat him,” he muttered.
William nearly dropped his phone. “What? No, I don’t.”
Tui smirked, unconvinced. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.” Then he leaned back, grinning like he had already won.
William brushed it off out loud, but inside, he knew Tui wasn’t wrong. He did stare. More than he should.
It got worse after the first dream. William woke up in the middle of the night, heart pounding, sheets clinging to his skin. He didn’t even want to think about the details, only that it was Est, and that he had never felt so embarrassed in his life. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror the next morning, and he sure as hell couldn’t tell Tui about it.
He tried to ignore it, tried to tell himself it was just hormones or his imagination. But the truth came for him anyway.
It happened at the pool. Est had just finished laps and tossed William a towel without thinking. “Here, you’ll catch a cold,” he said, easy and casual, like it was nothing.
William froze. His heart stumbled in his chest, a sharp, undeniable jolt. That was the moment it hit him—it wasn’t admiration anymore.
He didn’t just want to be like Est. He wanted Est. He wanted to be around him, wanted his attention, wanted—everything.
And it terrified him.
Because he was straight. Or at least, he thought he was.
But then Est would smile, warm and easy, and William’s defenses collapsed every single time.
3. The Confession
The sound of water echoed through the empty pool hall, steady and sharp. Est was in the middle of practice, cutting through the lanes like a machine. His arms pulled cleanly, his kicks powered forward, each turn at the wall so efficient it was almost hypnotic.
William sat on the bleachers, chin propped on his hand, pretending to “observe technique.” But who was he kidding? He wasn’t studying. He was staring.
Drooling, really.
Every time Est pushed off the wall, muscles in his back flexed under the slick skin, shoulders rolling perfectly. Drops of water clung to his hair, sliding down his neck, over the sharp lines of his body. William’s throat went dry.
He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about it, but his brain went there anyway. What would it be like to run his hand down that chest? To lean in, press his lips against that smooth line of muscle, trail kisses lower—
“Jesus Christ.” William rubbed his face, trying to snap himself out of it. But instead, his mind just filled in the blank. Est, pulling himself out of the water, water dripping everywhere, walking toward him. Est leaning in close. Est’s breath warm against his skin as William kissed down—
“Oi.”
A smack landed on the back of his head. William jolted so hard he almost fell off the bleacher.
“What the hell, Tui!” William hissed, clutching the back of his skull.
Tui dropped onto the seat beside him, eyes narrowed but full of mischief. “You were drooling.”
“I was not.”
“Yes, you were. And don’t even try to deny it—you looked like you were writing smut in your head.”
William’s ears went hot. “Shut up.”
Tui leaned in, smirking. “You think I don’t see it? The way you watch him. Like you want to eat him alive.”
William groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’m not—” He cut himself off, because the lie sounded pathetic even in his own head.
Tui shrugged. “Just confess already.”
William’s head shot up. “Are you insane? He’s older. He’s… Est.”
“So? You’re not a kid anymore. You’re legal. Well almost – considering your birthday is around the corner. He’s single. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is—” William stammered, searching for words. “—he’s perfect. And I’m… me.”
Tui rolled his eyes. “God, you’re dramatic. Look, you either keep sitting here like a creep, fantasizing about kissing his abs, or you just grow a spine and tell him.”
William almost choked. “I do not—”
“Yes, you do,” Tui said flatly. “I can see it. Everyone can see it. You might as well tattoo ‘I have a crush on Est’ on your forehead.”
William groaned again, but Tui’s words clung to him. By the time Est finished practice, towel slung around his neck, William’s heart was hammering. Maybe Tui was right. Maybe he should just say it. Get it over with.
***
William had never been this nervous in his life. They were just celebrating his birthday yesterday and his Est – not yet his but anyway – had gifted him a cool Gentle Monster glasses that he’d been eyeing for a while. How can he not fall in love even more? He’s so down bad for one Est Supha Sangaworawong.
Thus, here he was sitting on a park bench at dusk, bouquet clutched in his sweaty hands, heart racing so hard he thought people passing by could hear it. This was the moment. The one Tui kept pushing him toward. The one he had been rehearsing for weeks.
He had sent the text earlier that afternoon:
Meet me at the park near your house. Usual bench under that tree.
Short and straight to the point. He’d read it ten times before hitting send to Est.
Now all he had to do was wait.
William mumbled the words under his breath for the hundredth time, gripping the flowers. “Est, I like you. I’ve liked you for a long while now. Will you be my—” He stopped, shook his head, tried again. “No, slower. ‘I like you. I want to try. If you don’t feel the same, it’s okay, I’ll—’”
Then he heard footsteps approaching. His heart jumped.
He saw movement from the edge of his vision and panicked before he lost his nerve. His heart leaped into his throat. If he hesitated, he’d run, and then he’d hate himself for weeks. So he did the dumb dramatic thing: he popped up, dropped to one knee, thrust the bouquet forward, and blurted everything in a single breath.
“Est Supha, I like you! I’ve liked you for a long while— it didn’t hit me all at once, it just built up. I think about you when I wake up and when I run and when I’m supposed to be studying. I want to be your person—the one who brings your towel, the one who drives you to practice, though I don’t even have a license yet, the one who cheers like an idiot at every meet. I’m not asking for anything you don’t want. If you say no, I’ll shut up and respect it. But I can’t keep pretending it’s just admiration. It’s not. I like you. I really really really like you. I want to hold your hand, and—okay I’m saying too much—but I want to kiss you right now or you to kiss me whichever it is. Like, right now. I won’t unless you say it’s okay, obviously. But if—if you’d let me—will you be my boyfriend?”
He lifted his head on the word boyfriend .
And froze.
It wasn’t Est.
It was Est’s father.
They stared at each other. William’s brain made the sound of a TV cutting to static.
The older man glanced at the flowers, then at William kneeling like a proposal gone wrong. “That was… comprehensive,” he said evenly.
William’s mouth opened and closed. He fumbled for his phone with shaking hands, jabbed at Messages, and felt his soul leave his body. The contact name at the top wasn’t Est Supha 💓 . It was Est’s Father👨🏻.
He had texted the wrong contact.
“I—I sent it to— Oh my God,” William croaked. “I meant to send it to your son. I’m so— I didn’t— This is not—”
Est’s father exhaled through his nose, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “You should be careful who you invite to parks for declarations like that.”
“I’m sorry,” William blurted. “I swear I respect him. I’ll work hard, I’ll focus, I just— I like him. A lot. Way too much. I’ll go now. I’ll— I’m going.”
He lurched to his feet, nearly dropped the bouquet, and bowed so fast the flowers smacked his knee. He bolted down the path, turned the corner, and didn’t stop until he reached Tui’s place, lungs burning from sprinting and humiliation.
He burst into Tui’s room and face-planted on the bed.
“I confessed,” he mumbled into the blanket.
Tui paused his game. “To Est?”
William rolled over, eyes wild. “To his father.”
There was a full second of silence—and then Tui howled with laughter, slid off the bed, and thumped the floor with his palm. “No way. No way. You did not— You did .” Tui is full on wheezing. He can’t believe his best friend is that stupid.
William threw an arm over his face. “I’m going to move to the mountains and change my name.”
Between wheezes, Tui managed, “At least you tried. Ten out of ten. Maybe…next time double check who you send a text to.”
William groaned into the pillow. “I can never show my face again.”
Later, when the panic cooled and the embarrassment settled like a heavy blanket, the one thing that didn’t budge was the truth sitting in his chest.
He liked Est. And even after the worst mix-up of his life, that wasn’t going anywhere.
4. The Ultimatum
William thought maybe, just maybe, Est’s father would forget the whole thing. Pretend it never happened. Let William bury himself in humiliation and never bring it up again.
But the universe wasn’t that kind.
The very next morning, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen—and nearly dropped it.
Incoming call: Est’s Father
His soul fled his body. He stared at the name, thumb hovering, debating whether to let it ring out. Tui, sprawled on the floor, yelled, “Answer it, coward!”
Against all survival instincts, William swiped. “H-Hello?”
“William.” Est’s father’s voice was calm. Too calm. “Come join me for lunch today at Daou Café. Twelve o’clock.”
“L-Lunch?”
“Yes. We’ll talk.” Click.
William lowered the phone slowly, eyes wide. “He wants to meet me. For lunch.”
Tui shot upright, eyes gleaming. “Oh my God. He’s summoning you. This is so much better than being ignored. He’s testing you!”
William clutched his head. “Lord, please have mercy on me. I’m barely twenty! I’m not ready to meet my future father-in-law!”
A pillow smacked him straight in the face.
“Stop saying nonsense, you’ve met him plenty of times” Tui snapped, already laughing.
William threw the pillow back weakly. “That’s different. I don’t even get to date Est yet, and his dad’s already about to interrogate me!”
Tui wheezed, rolling onto his stomach. “Honestly, you deserve this for confessing your love to his father instead.”
William groaned and began pacing like a man headed to execution. He yanked his closet open and started pulling clothes out in a frenzy.
“Too casual. Too stiff. Too bright. Too dark. Does black make me look like I’m going to a funeral?”
“Your dignity’s funeral,” Tui muttered, ducking another pillow William hurled at him.
Nothing felt right. Button-ups were too formal, t-shirts too sloppy. For a terrifying five seconds, William considered showing up in his school uniform.
Tui groaned from the floor. “Just wear something clean, normal, and not wrinkled. He’s not grading your fashion sense. He’s checking whether you’re a total idiot or not.”
“Not helping!” William wailed, tossing another shirt onto the growing mountain of rejected outfits.
After what feels like hours, he finally settled on jeans, sneakers, and a plain white button-up. It felt safe. Neutral. But as he lay in bed, wide awake, his stomach twisted harder than it ever had before.
Lunch with Est’s father. After that confession.
He pulled the blanket over his face and muttered, “Please, God, let me survive this.”
***
Daou Café was quiet at noon. It was a cafe owned by Est’s best friend. William sat at the table with his back stiff, hands clenched in his lap, while Est’s father sat across from him with calm authority. The clink of a spoon against porcelain sounded too loud in the silence.
William tried not to shake.
“Thank you for coming,” Est’s father said at last, setting his cup down.
“Y-yes, uncle,” William stammered.
The man studied him, gaze sharp but not cruel. “William. Let’s be clear. I know what you feel for my son. Yesterday left no doubt.”
William’s ears turned red. “I—I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean for you to—”
“Don’t apologize.” Est’s father leaned back slightly. “It is better for me to know than not. But what I want to know is this: why? You just turned 20. Barely out of school. With your face and energy, I’m sure you have plenty of girls in college who would line up for you. Why my son?”
William froze. He hadn’t prepared for that. His instinct was to make a joke, but he swallowed it down and forced himself to be honest. “…Because it’s him. It’s not about looks. Or… okay, yes, he’s… perfect. But it’s more than that. He makes me want to do better. He makes me want to grow. I don’t feel that way with anyone else.”
The older man watched him quietly, then sighed. “Do you understand the gap between you and Est? He is twenty-four. He has a career, a reputation, stability. You are nineteen, still a boy in many ways. You don’t know where your life is heading yet.”
William’s back stiffened, and the words slipped out before he could stop them. “I’m already twenty, sir.”
Mr. Supha raised an eyebrow at the interruption.
William swallowed hard, his voice softer this time. “…But you’re right. I’m still young. I know that. Compared to him, I don’t have anything yet. No stability. No real footing.” His hands clenched together under the table. “But I’ll work hard. I want to sing. I want to make something of myself. I know it’s not easy, but I’m ready to fight for it.”
The man’s expression softened slightly but stayed serious. “That is exactly why I am telling you this. Don’t confess to him. At least not yet. My son doesn’t need a boy tangled in confusion about his own future. He needs someone who can stand beside him, not cling to him.”
William’s throat closed, but he forced himself to meet his gaze. “…What do you want me to do?”
Est’s father’s tone turned firm, final. “No contact with Est. For at least two years. Go and grow yourself. Explore the world, chase your dream, fail and get back up again, try meeting someone else too. Build your own footing. If — and only if — your feelings stay the same, if you’ve gained enough strength to carry yourself… then you may come back. Only then.”
The words landed like a weight on William’s chest. Two years. No contact. It felt like being exiled before he’d even begun.
He wanted to argue, to insist his feelings were real, strong, unshakable. But one look at the man’s steady eyes told him there was no point. This wasn’t a negotiation. It was a test.
William lowered his gaze, shoulders tense. “…I understand.”
Est’s father nodded once, satisfied. “Good. Then lunch is over. You may go.”
William stood, legs heavy, and bowed deeply before leaving.
Outside, the sunlight felt too bright, the air too sharp in his lungs. He pressed a hand against his chest, as if to hold everything in.
Two years. No contact.
He didn’t know if he could do it. But he also knew he had no choice.
The pool was quiet that afternoon, water rippling under the soft hum of the filters. It was almost always like this — just the two of them.
“Ready?” Est asked, crouched at the edge. His grin was relaxed, familiar.
William nodded, though his stomach twisted. “Yeah.”
It started years ago. William had wanted to build muscle like Est, so he begged to tag along during practice. At first, Est had humored him — teaching him how to hold his breath properly, how to kick without wasting energy, how to glide instead of thrash. Now, it has become their thing: a race, almost every time.
And every time, William lost.
Today was no different. They dove in, cutting through the water. William pushed hard, arms burning, lungs aching, but Est glided ahead with effortless strokes. By the time William slapped the wall, Est was already there, shaking water from his hair, chest rising evenly.
“You’re getting better,” Est said, smiling.
“Better, but not enough,” William panted, flopping against the wall.
They laughed, the sound echoing in the empty pool hall. After a moment, Est rolled onto his back, lazily floating, eyes half-closed. William watched him, something heavy pressing at his chest.
Without thinking, he swam closer.
Est startled slightly, water rippling between them. “What’s gotten into you? You look way too serious today.”
William swallowed. His voice came out steadier than he felt. “I have decided. I’m going to continue singing. That’s what I want to do.”
Est turned his head, studying him. “Singing?”
“Yeah.” William gripped the edge, forcing himself to meet Est’s eyes. “I know it’s not stable. I know it’s hard. But… it’s what I want. I’m going to chase it.”
For a long moment, Est just floated, eyes thoughtful. Then he nodded once, quietly. “If it’s what you want, then do it. Don’t hold back. You've always love singing anyway right.”
William’s chest tightened. He wanted to stay in that moment forever — Est’s voice calm, supportive, grounding. But he knew he couldn’t.
“Before I go…” William’s voice dipped. “Can I do one thing?”
Est frowned lightly, curious. “What thing?”
William didn’t answer right away. He stared, memorizing every detail — the wet strands of hair stuck to Est’s forehead, the way the light from the water danced across his skin, the calm strength in his eyes.
Then he leaned forward and kissed him.
It wasn’t long, just enough for William to pour everything he couldn’t put into words. Est inhaled sharply, surprised, his body stiffening — but he didn’t pull away.
When William drew back, Est was still catching his breath, blinking at him.
William whispered, almost breaking. “Two years. Just two years.”
He pulled back, eyes searching Est’s face like he wanted to memorize it. Then, with a shaky laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he pushed himself up out of the pool.
“I’ll see you later,” he said, voice too casual, too quick, as he grabbed his towel and left without waiting for Est’s reply.
Est stayed where he was, floating on the water, heart beating strangely fast. He thought it was nothing more than a dramatic moment — that William would show up at the pool again tomorrow, or the day after, like always explaining to him what the hell that kiss was for.
But he didn’t.
Days became weeks. Weeks slipped into months.
And before Est realized it, 2 years — and more — had already passed.