Chapter 3

William ended up waiting outside the gym building, the late-afternoon sun dipping low enough that the shadows stretched long across the pavement. Campus was thinning out—just a few stragglers crossing the courtyard, the echo of bouncing basketballs fading behind him.

Keen and Sea having sprinted off after declaring, “GOOD LUCK, WE BELIEVE IN YOU,” like he was about to enter a battlefield.

Which, honestly, felt accurate. So now William was alone. Waiting. Thinking too hard. Trying not to be obvious about either of those things.

Breathe, he told himself. Act normal. Be normal. Don’t stare when he comes back. Don’t—

The gym doors finally opened.

Footsteps.

Slow. Steady. Sure.

William looked up—

And nearly died.

Est stepped out—hair damp, uniform crisp, bag slung over one shoulder. His posture had shifted into its usual calm steadiness, the kind that made William’s pulse climb without permission. He smelled faintly—unfairly—of mild citrus soap and fresh cotton.

William’s ears burned so hot they could power a small nation.

“Sorry it took a bit.” Est said. His voice was soft from the cold water, deeper somehow. Calm. Warm.

William shook his head too fast. “It’s okay,” he replied, which was generous considering he’d spent the wait oscillating between cardiac arrest and denial.

Est looked at him—just looked—and William felt warmth rush to his ears.

“You look tired,” Est observed.

“I’m fine,” William lied.

A faint, almost invisible smile tugged at the edges of Est’s mouth. Quiet amusement. Not mocking—never that. Just… entertained. “Are we taking your car?” 

William hesitated. His sleek sport car sat only a few meters away, gleaming under the shade of a tree… and yet the idea of Est sitting that close to him inside that small interior was enough to trigger a physiological crisis.

“I, uh… think I’ll leave it here,” William said too casually. “It’s safe on campus. We can use yours.”

Est blinked with faint amusement, like he’d already guessed the real reason. “Alright,” he said simply. “My car’s in the east lot.”

They walked together, the shadows stretching long behind them. They walked too close, not close enough, William couldn’t even tell anymore. Every time their arms almost brushed, William’s brain turned into static. He tried not to look at Est. Tried not to think about Est. Tried not to think about Est’s damp hair, or his clean, warm scent, or the fact that his mom wanted them at sudden dinner together.

It was hopeless.

Est unlocked the car with a short beep. A black Mercedes-Benz. William swallowed.

It was neat. Clean. Smelled faintly of citrus and laundry detergent. And more importantly—it was smaller inside than he expected.

Est slid into the driver’s seat with quiet ease. William sat beside him and instantly felt the oxygen left his lungs. They were too close. 

Est glanced over as he started the engine. “Seatbelt.”

William fumbled with it.
Est’s eyes flicked to William’s hands, then away—subtle, controlled—but William felt it like a spark.

Once they were both tucked, Est started the car. The engine hummed softly. The gap between them felt dangerously narrow. “We need to pick up food on the way,” Est said as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Mom’s request. She said she forgot to order dessert.”

William nodded, trying very hard not to look at Est’s profile—the heart-shape lips, the focused eyes, the way his damp bangs occasionally fell forward and he brushed them back with an absentminded push of slender fingers.

“Okay,” William mumbled. “Dessert. Sure.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, though William’s pulse insisted on dramatizing things. Est drove with the same quiet focus he carried everywhere—straight posture, steady hands, relaxed breathing. Every so often, a hint of citrus from the car’s air freshener mingled with the gentler, warmer scent of Est himself.

And William was dying. 

Just a little.

A red light stopped them. The car quieted. The world paused. Est tapped the steering wheel lightly with his fingers. “You can relax, you know.” William blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You look…” Est considered his words. “Tense.”

Because you’re right there, William wanted to scream. Because tonight might explode my entire life. Because you keep doing these small soft things and I don’t know if it’s kindness or—

“I’m fine,” he said instead. Est hummed, unconvinced. “If you say so.” 

Green light. The car moved again.

The car turned onto a busier street. Est slowed down in front of the bakery. Before stepping out, he glanced at William—direct but gentle, like he was measuring something.

“You can stay inside if you want,” Est said. “I’ll be quick.”

“N-No, I’ll come.”

Est nodded. “Alright.”

He unbuckled, opened the door, and stepped out.

William took two seconds to breathe and then stepped out of the car.

The bakery door chimed softly when they stepped inside. Cool air rolled over them, smelling of butter, sugar, and something caramelized. The place was cozy—golden light, polished wood counters, neat rows of pastries lined like delicate jewels.

William tried his best not to look like a man walking into a bakery with the person he’s been accidentally in love with for years.

Est walked up to the counter with that same calm presence that made even strangers straighten their posture. The cashier perked up immediately.

“Welcome! What can I get for you?”

“Nine custard tarts, please,” Est said. “The boxed set.”

The cashier nodded, pulling on gloves. Est stepped slightly back, hands tucked into his pockets, waiting with steady patience.

William shifted beside him. His shoulder almost brushed Est’s. Almost. 

He pretended to study the pastries. He saw none of them. He saw only Est in the corner of his eye—the clean lines of his jaw, the subtle dampness still clinging to his hair.

“You don’t have to stand so stiff,” Est said quietly, without looking at him.

William nearly dropped his soul. “I’m not stiff.”

“You’re standing like the pastries are about to attack you.”

William’s face combusted. “I—I’m just… relaxed.”

“If that’s your definition of relaxed,” Est murmured, “I’m concerned.” The teasing lilt was soft—so subtle it could be mistaken for politeness by anyone else.

Not by William.

The cashier returned with the neatly wrapped box. Est paid, thanked them, then turned slightly toward William.

“Coffee?” he asked, casual—too casual—as if he hadn’t spent the last ten minutes catching William glancing at him whenever he thought Est wouldn’t notice. “I think we have enough time, and you look like you need it.”

William stiffened, almost offended and oddly flattered at the same time. “Do I… look that tired?”

Est’s eyes glinted, a tiny curve appearing at the corner of his mouth. “Mm. A little. Or maybe your face just does that when you’re thinking too hard.”

“I wasn’t—” William stopped, realizing the denial would only dig the hole deeper. “I mean—fine. Coffee’s good.”

It wasn’t.
He wasn’t even a coffee person.
He was a coconut-frappé-with-milk person.
But the words “Frappe, please,” got stuck behind his teeth the moment he imagined saying them in front of Est. Somehow letting Est see that side of him suddenly felt like exposing state secrets. And he definitely doesn’t want Est to see more of his ‘childish’ side.

Est nodded, satisfied, as if he could see through the entire internal debate anyway. “There’s a café next door. Their iced latte’s decent.”

They walked out of the bakery, the slightly cold air brushing against their skin, and stepped into the tiny café beside it. The place was late-afternoon quiet—just a barista humming and the soft whirr of a grinder.

Est ordered an iced Americano for himself, then tilted his head at William. “What will you have?”

William swallowed. “I—uh—same as you.”

Est blinked once. Slowly. “An Americano?”

“…Yes.”

The barista looked between them, amused. “Alright, two iced Americanos.”

As they moved to the pickup counter, Est let out a soft, almost soundless laugh—barely a breath, barely there. The kind normal people wouldn’t catch—but William did. Because it was aimed at him.

“What?” William muttered, ears warming.

“Nothing,” Est said, too innocent to be believed. “Just didn’t think you were the Americano type.”

William’s pride sat up like a cornered cat. “Why not?”

“You don’t strike me as someone who enjoys… suffering,” Est said, choosing the word deliberately.

“I can handle strong flavors,” William insisted.

“Mm.” Est nodded slowly. “We’ll see.”

The cups were handed over. William took his, sipped—and instantly regretted every life choice that led him here. It was bitter, acidic, dark. Truly the beverage of emotional despair.

He forced his face into neutrality.

Est watched him over his own cup, one brow lifting by the slightest degree. “Good?”

“Great,” William lied, voice a touch too hoarse.

For a moment Est simply looked at him—quiet, unreadable, but with warmth curling beneath. Not pity. Not mockery. Something more like gentle amusement wrapped in respect.

“…Thanks for the coffee,” William managed.

“Sure,” Est replied lightly. “Couldn’t have you falling asleep on the way to my house. My mom would think I exhausted you.”

William choked on absolutely nothing. “W—what—why would she think—”

“I’m kidding,” Est said, brushing past him toward the door. “Come on. We should go before traffic gets bad.”

But William caught the faintest upward tug at the corner of Est’s lips as he walked ahead. It didn’t help his sanity at all.

The car rolled forward, and William stared at the window like someone awaiting execution. The Americano he only sipped a little in the coffee shop, now smelled aggressively like responsibility. 

He took a sip again—and his soul shriveled. He kept his face neutral. Absolutely neutral.

Est didn’t look at him at first. He adjusted the AC. Shifted in his seat. Checked the rearview mirror. Then, while pretending to focus on the road, he spoke, “…You hate it.”

William nearly choked. “I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“Your left eyebrow twitched.”

William clamped a hand over his eyebrow. “It did not.”

“It did,” Est said, voice calm, amused. “Three times.”

William glared at the traitorous Americano. “It’s fine.”

“Then take a real sip.”

William paused. “…What?”

“A real one. If you like it.”
A challenge disguised as a casual statement.

William lifted the cup, refusing to lose. He took the longest sip he could manage. It tasted like scorched gravity. He swallowed with dignity that barely clung to life.

Est didn’t laugh. Not fully. Just exhaled softly through his nose, amusement curling in his voice like warmth. “You look like you’re being punished.”

“I’m not,” William said stiffly.

“Then relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

“William…” Est glanced briefly at him, eyes warm and unfairly perceptive. “You’re holding the cup like it owes you money.”

William loosened his death grip instantly.

Est returned his gaze to the road, a small smile tugging—just barely—at the corner of his mouth. “Why didn’t you order something else?” he asked lightly.

William hesitated. “…Because you ordered coffee.”

Est hummed, low in his throat. “So you thought you had to match me?” William looked out the window, ears heating. “…It felt weird to order something sweet.”

“Why?” Est asked, genuinely curious. “Sweet suits you.” 

William’s heart malfunctioned. “Wh—what?”

Est shrugged casually. “You just seem like someone who likes sweeter drinks. It fits.”

Fits.

William took a shaky, bitter-filled breath.

The car filled with silence again—but this one was softer, warmer, threaded with the quiet awkwardness that always lived between them. Est drove with that usual calm grace, his damp hair catching the amber light, the smell of citrus drifting with each movement.

And William—awkward, shy, fighting every instinct to not combust—sat with a cup of coffee he hated, next to the boy he loved, on the way to a dinner that might reveal everything—

…while also being teased to death, one eyebrow twitch at a time.

After a few blocks, Est spoke again, voice mild but impossibly sharp, “You can stop drinking it, you know.” William blinked. “…What?”

“I already know you hate it,” Est said. “No need to torture yourself.”

“It’s… not torture.”

“Then take another sip.”

William stared at the cup like it personally offended him. Est’s smile deepened—soft, warm, entertained. “That’s what I thought.”

William set the Americano into the cup holder with absolute dignity. Est didn’t comment—just let that quiet humor hang between them.

They drove past the early-evening traffic, the soft hum of the Mercedes filling the slightly comfortable space between them. William watched the sky outside shift into warmer tones; that faint golden wash made Est’s profile look even softer, even gentler. Too gentle.

This is weird, William thought, pulse tapping unevenly against his ribs.

Not bad weird.
Just… new.

Because they had never talked like this before.

Not in all the years their parents dragged them into monthly family dinners. Not during holidays where William sat at one end of the long table and Est—the quiet, older, polite university student—sat at the other. They would exchange greetings. A few polite nods. Maybe a “how’s school?” and “fine, thank you.”

That was it.

No teasing.
No quiet amusement.
No eyebrow-reading interactions.
No close proximity in cars that made William rethink the concept of oxygen.

Est had always seemed… distant. Kind, but distant. The polite type who didn’t push conversation unless asked, who let life move around him quietly.

But today—

From the canteen this morning
to the basketball court
to the shower and waiting
to the teasing in the car…

—Est had been different.

Still calm. Still polite. Still Est.
But warmer. More observant. More… teasing. Like some invisible barrier between them had slipped without William noticing. And William didn’t know what to do with that.

Did Est know about the engagement? Was he acting like this because of it? Or was this simply who Est actually was—someone William had never properly seen before?

William’s chest tightened.
I’m not ready if he knows… and I’m not ready if he doesn’t.

A car honk snapped him back. Est smoothly switched lanes, one hand loose on the wheel. “We’re almost there,” he said. William nodded even though Est wasn’t looking.

As they crossed into Est’s neighborhood, the scenery subtly shifted—wide streets lined with trees, warm porch lights flickering on, houses spaced far enough apart to feel expensive without flaunting it. Familiar, but only barely; William had seen it mostly from the passenger seat of his parents’ car.

Est slowed in front of a large house. Gravel whispered beneath the tires, the sound carrying softly through the sleeping gardens. Ahead, the grand house rose from the dark like a lantern carved from stone—arched windows spilling warm gold across the terraces, ivy-clad pillars casting long, gentle shadows. Moonlight brushed the tiled roofs in pale silver, and the fountain breathed a quiet music as the vehicle slowed along the curving drive. The house was not only ostentatious but also refined. Quiet and warm. Like the family who lived there.

The engine went silent. And suddenly everything felt too loud inside William’s chest.

Est unbuckled, glanced at him, and said lightly, “My mom’s probably already waiting.” William swallowed. “R-right.”

Est opened his door first. William followed. Stepping out into the cool evening air helped. A little. 

The front lights illuminated the entryway—wide, warm, inviting. The kind of place that always felt a bit too elegant for William to walk into casually. Est rounded the front of the car, stopping beside William as he clicked the car locked.

Est stepped through the doorway first, slipping off his shoes with practiced ease. William followed—and barely had time to straighten his posture before a familiar, warm figure swooped in.

“William, dear!” Est’s mom enveloped him in a hug that smelled like jasmine lotion and home-cooked food.

He stiffened for half a second—surprise, embarrassment, the usual cocktail—before melting into the embrace. She had always been affectionate with him just like his mother, and far more than his father ever dared to be in any condition.

“I missed you,” she said warmly.

William blinked. “But we just saw each other two days ago…”

“Yes, exactly,” she said, holding his shoulders. “Too long ago.”

William felt his ears warm—again. This family was going to be the end of him.

Est’s mom beamed at him, hands still on his arms. “You look thinner than that night. Did you eat lunch?”

“I—I did,” William said, posture straightening like he was reporting to a general.

A quiet voice slipped in from beside them. “He ate,” Est confirmed, already slipping out of his shoes. “I saw him.”

William nearly choked.

Est’s mom looked delighted. “Good! You boys take care of each other.”

Not helping, William screamed internally. 

Trying to escape before his soul evaporated, he swallowed and asked, “Um—did my parents arrive yet?”

“Not yet, dear,” she said, stepping aside so he could enter further. “They texted—traffic is bad. They’ll be here soon.”

“Oh.” Relief loosened his shoulders. Just a little.

Est lifted his bag. “I’ll put this in my room. I’ll come back down.”

“Okay,” Est’s mom said.

William tried not to stare as Est padded up the stairs—quiet steps, hair swaying just slightly, casual grace in every movement. Est disappeared around the corner.

William exhaled.

Est’s mom smiled knowingly—though thankfully, not the engagement kind of knowing. Just the fond auntie who likes teasing kind. She ushered him toward the living room. “Sit with me for a bit, hm? It’s been a while since we chatted properly.”

It was literally just the night before last, William thought—but he nodded and followed her.

The living room was warmly lit, filled with indoor plants and soft cushions. William sat, feeling more comfortable now that Est wasn’t in the room. Est’s mom sat beside him, not too close, but close enough that he felt cared for.

“So,” she began, pouring him water, “how’s school today? Studying hard?”

William nodded. “Yes, Auntie.”

“Stressing yourself out?”

He hesitated. “…possibly.”

She laughed softly. “I knew it. You and Est—both stubborn but in different ways.”

William smiled, small but sincere. “He works much harder than me.”

“He also sleeps less,” she said, with a sigh only mothers have. “You boys should encourage each other to rest.”

William just smiled, didn’t really know how to respond to that statement. Before he could think of another safe topic, a thought flickered, “Oh—Auntie,” he said, sitting up straighter. “I almost forgot.”

He reached into his bag and pulled out the empty bottle—Est’s mother’s homemade juice. He had washed it in the campus restroom between classes because he refused—refused—to be the barbarian returning a sticky bottle to one of the nicest women alive.

Est’s mom’s eyes brightened the moment she recognized it. “Ah! You finished it.”

“Yes,” William said, maybe too quickly, maybe too earnestly. “Thank you for it. Really. It… saved me today.”

She tilted her head. “Saved you?”

William nodded solemnly. “Your juice got me through a three-hour lecture with a professor who hates joy.”

Est’s mom burst into warm laughter. The kind that instantly softened the room. “Oh, William,” she said, patting his arm. “It was just juice.”

“No,” William insisted with dramatic sincerity. “It was divine intervention disguised as fruit.”

She laughed again, covering her mouth like she always did when giggling too much. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“I loved it,” William said honestly. “It helped me… stay alive.”

“That dramatic streak,” she said fondly. “You haven’t changed at all.”

William smiled—really smiled. “Thank you, Auntie.”

She waved a hand. “You boys need something fresh. Especially Est—he forgets to take care of himself unless someone reminds him.”

William huffed a tiny laugh. “He doesn’t seem the type.”

William grinned, comfort washing over him. This was familiar. This was easy.
He’d been coming to this house since he was little. Est’s mom had once bandaged his knee after he’d fallen trying to show off on a scooter. She’d fed him soup when he’d caught the flu in middle school and his parents happened to have a business trip abroad. He’d helped Earn with her art project once, and she’d refused to throw away the dried-paint-smeared apron he ruined.

William was closer to everyone in this house—except the person whose bedroom door had just quietly clicked shut upstairs.

It used to bother him. It still did.

They’d always had this strange distance, he and Est. Nothing hostile, nothing bad—just… a careful, polite space neither of them ever stepped into. Even when their families held monthly dinners, even last night when everyone gathered and laughed loudly in William’s living room… Est had remained calm, quiet, kind, but distant.

Close enough to be familiar. Far enough to make William’s heart ache.

He forced a breath, pushing the thought aside just as the front door burst open with the force of a hurricane.

“FAME!” Est’s mom shrieked before William even processed who entered. “YOU’RE HERE—OH MY GOD YOU GOT NEW EARRINGS, LET ME SEE—”

William turned just in time to see his own mom being swallowed into a loud, dramatic hug by Est’s mom. His dad and Est’s dad followed behind them, both shaking their heads fondly like they’d witnessed this chaos a thousand times.

“Every time,” William’s dad muttered. “Every single time.”

“They’re unstoppable,” Est’s dad agreed.

William’s mom finally spotted him over Est’s mom’s shoulder and waved excitedly. “William! Sweetheart! Did you get here safely? Did you eat? Did Est drive too fast? Mint said he always drives so fast—”

“Mom,” William said, flushing. “He drove perfectly fine.”

“Oh,” she said, eyes twinkling. “He did? My, my.”

Before William could even process the implication, Earn, Est’s younger sister, suddenly slid down the stairs, nearly tripping on the last step.

“WILL!” she exclaimed, bright as a spark. “I didn’t know you’re already here! Come see my graduation project later!”

“Yeah,” William laughed, “Of course P’.”

William then greeted Est’s father, asking how Est’s father happened to arrive at the same time as William’s parents. It turned out they had met at the front gate.

The living room filled quickly—warm voices, overlapping chatter, the familiar chaos of two families who treated each other less like friends and more like distant—but loud—relatives.

And in the middle of it all, Est reappeared downstairs, quiet as always, slipping into the crowd without announcing himself. His eyes flicked briefly to William—not long enough to be obvious, but enough that William felt it like a tug.

Dinner was brought out by the maids—platters filling the long dining table, chairs scraping as everyone shuffled around.

Earn sat beside William. Est across from him. Their parents filled the ends and sides. Dinner had always been lively between their families—but tonight, beneath the laughter and the familiar warmth, there was a current running under the table.

Quiet.
Purposeful.
Waiting.

William felt it the moment he sat down.

His mom and Est’s mom were still loud, still excited, still talking over each other like always—but there was something else in the way their eyes kept drifting toward him and Est, something they weren’t disguising very well. Est’s father and William’s father joined in the small talk, but even they carried a weight in their posture—measured, deliberate.

Earn, meanwhile, was blissfully unaware—picking at her food and telling William about a new iced chocolate she’d discovered. “It tastes like betrayal and happiness,” she said. “You’d love it.”

William would’ve laughed harder if his stomach weren’t a knot.

Across from him, Est ate calmly, posture relaxed but eyes a little too steady—like he was also waiting for the moment the air would shift.

He knows, William finally realized.
They already told him.
Just like they told me.

But knowing privately was one thing. Tonight was the night it became real.

William’s pulse pressed hard against his ribs. 

Halfway through the meal, Est’s mother set her utensils down with deliberate softness. Her smile didn’t fade, but it softened around the edges—weighted with intention.

“Earn,” she began kindly. “There’s something we want to talk about.”

Earn froze mid-bite. “Did I do something? If it’s about last month’s—”

“No, no,” her father interrupted, chuckling. “You’re not in trouble.”

Earn relaxed… until she noticed the way every adult looked just a little too serious. “…Wait,” she whispered. “Why do all of you look like you’re about to announce a merger?”

William nearly choked.

His mom leaned forward, her voice warm but unmistakably firm—the voice she used for news that mattered. “This is something both families have discussed carefully. Something we’ve talked to Est about. And William.”

William felt the words hit—soft but heavy. Est didn’t move. But he was listening.

Earn looked back and forth between them rapidly. “Why does this feel dramatic? Mom, Dad—what’s happening?”

Est’s mom exhaled slowly, then smiled in a way that was both affectionate and incredibly intentional. 

“We’re talking about Est and William’s engagement.” 

The word engagement dropped into the room like a stone tossed into still water—quiet, clear, impossible to ignore. Earn’s chair scraped back a full two inches. “ENGAGEMENT?!” she exploded. “Like—engagement engagement?! My-brother-and-William—ROMANTIC engagement?!”

Her parents nodded calmly.

Earn slapped both hands over her mouth, eyes huge. “I KNEW IT! No—wait—I didn’t know it, but NOW I KNOW IT! Oh my god—OH MY GOD—WILLIAM, YOU AND MY BROTHER?!”

William turned the color of an overheating strawberry. “I—P’Earn—please—” he whispered, dying.

Est’s eyebrow twitched upward, the picture of embarrassed composure. “Earn, calm down.”

“CALM DOWN?!” Earn pointed dramatically at him. “You’re ENGAGED! I can’t calm down! Oh my god, I need a moment—do we have champagne? Should I get candles? Should I livestream—”

“No livestreams,” both fathers said in unison.

Earn clapped once, vibrating. “I’m going to be the sister-in-law of my favorite person—this is AMAZING—why didn’t anyone tell me sooner?!”

“Because,” Est’s mother said gently, “we wanted everyone here when we talked about it. Properly. Seriously. Not as a rumor or a joke.”

Earn blinked, then immediately sobered—just a little. “Oh.” She looked at Est. Then at William. Her voice softened. “So… this is real?”

William’s heart pounded. He lifted his eyes. Est was already looking at him—steady, calm, unreadable but present.

Their fathers nodded.

“This is a serious conversation,” William’s father said. “Not a command. Not a pressure. But a path we want to explore—as families who trust each other.”

Est’s father added, “It’s something we believe could be good for both of them. But we want their thoughts too.”

Earn stared at the two boys, eyes glistening with a mix of awe and delight.
“…Wow,” she breathed. “This is big.”

William swallowed hard.

Est inhaled slowly.

And the weight of the moment—of the word engagement spoken seriously, officially, in front of everyone—settled into the space between them.

Real. Quiet. Heavy. New.

Earn reached under the table and squeezed William’s knee in excitement—hard enough that he jolted. “Congrats in advance,” she whispered loudly. “You’re practically family now!”

William’s face flamed.

Est exhaled through his nose—a sound dangerously close to a stifled laugh. And around them, the room held its breath—waiting for what either of them would say next.

William’s fingers tightened subtly around his napkin. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to speak first. He’d spent so long dreading this moment that now, sitting in it, he felt strangely…suspended. Like one wrong movement would shatter something fragile.

Est’s father leaned forward. “Est,” he said gently, “what we want is simple. Your honest feelings. What you think.”

All eyes shifted. But Est didn’t panic. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t show even a flicker of surprise—he’d known this moment was coming. Instead, he simply set his chopsticks down, posture straightening in that calm, collected way of his.

“I understand,” Est said quietly.

His mother’s gaze softened. “We’re not forcing you,” she reminded.

“I know.”

Earn kicked her feet under the table and whispered dramatically, “Oh my god, he’s so calm—if it were me I’d be screaming—”

Est gave her a tiny look that made her snap her mouth shut. Then he turned his eyes back toward the adults—and briefly, toward William. The glance lasted less than a second. But William felt it.

A quiet weight.
A silent acknowledgment.

They’d never been close, never spoken more than necessary, never moved beyond awkward politeness—William always too nervous, Est always too distant. Yet here they were.

“I’m still thinking,” Est said finally. His voice was gentle but firm. Mature. Clear. “It’s not something I can decide in a night.”

William let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His mother nodded approvingly. “That’s fair. It should take time.” 

William’s father added, “We want what’s best for both of you. Not something rushed.”

“Exactly,” Est’s father agreed. “We trust you boys to talk. To understand each other. To see if this is something that could truly work.”

Earn clasped her hands like she was watching a romance drama unfold. “You should talk. Both of you. Like—really talk. Oh my god, this is thrilling.”

William wanted to crawl under the table. But then Est spoke again—calm, steady, polite. “I’m not opposed to discussing it,” he said.

William’s heart faltered.

Est continued, “We’re adults. We can think about it carefully. And… if William is willing to talk, I’m willing too.”

The room warmed with a quiet sort of approval. William felt every pair of eyes shift toward him. His throat tightened. His palms went warm. His heart crawled into his ears. But he met Est’s gaze—just for a second.

Before this moment, they’d never shared more than awkward greetings except the little teasing just this morning and afternoon. Before today, Est was someone William admired from a distance, loved in silence. Now, suddenly the distance between them was being pulled into the center of the table.

William swallowed once. “I… want to talk too,” he said softly. “I’m willing.” His voice sounded steadier than he felt.

Earn squealed into her hands. “OH MY GOD.”

“Earn,” Est warned. She immediately straightened, inhaled softly, and folded her hands with exaggerated “good child” energy. “I’m calm. So calm.”

Both mothers burst into laughter. The fathers exchanged small, pleased nods. And the air shifted—lighter now that the words were out, heavier because they mattered.

Est’s mother reached across the table to William, touching his arm warmly. “Thank you, dear.” Then she turned to Est, pride glowing in her eyes. “And thank you,ลูก.”

Est lowered his gaze in respectful acknowledgment.

William’s father squeezed William’s shoulder with a quiet, reassuring firmness. “You guys have plenty of time to talk. We’ll make it official after Est’s master degree graduation ceremony.”

The families slipped into gentler conversation, details unspoken but agreed upon:

Two months.
Time to talk.
Time to try.

Earn leaned over to William, whispering excitedly, “You two are going to be adorable. I can already feel it.” William nearly choked on his water. 

Across the table, Est lifted his glass for a drink—expression neutral, but the corner of his mouth tugged in the faintest, softest, most fleeting hint of amusement.

William saw it. Felt it. And something in his chest shifted—hopeful and terrified all at once.

Dinner continued, warm and full of love around them. But for the first time, William and Est weren’t just two boys caught in awkward family proximity. They were two people asked to consider a future together.