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From the second William stepped out of the van and saw the mall, he knew the energy was different.
Not stadium-sized, not a big arena, but the air still buzzed. The central atrium had been cleared and barricaded into a makeshift event hall – small stage, LED backdrop, rows of folding chairs, and three levels of balconies looking down from above. People lined every rail, bodies packed tight, the noise echoing up against glass and steel.
And everywhere – absolutely everywhere – were Wesleys. On posters. On stickers. And most importantly, in fans’ arms. One girl in the front row was cradling a Wesley wearing a crooked paper crown that said “WESLEY’S PAPAS.”
William’s lips twitched. Yeah. That felt about right.
He felt Est step down beside him, the other man’s shoulder almost brushing his. Est’s cap was pulled low, mask covering half his face, but William still saw the way his eyes widened when he took in the fans.
“They really brought a whole army,” William murmured.
Est’s voice was soft. “Of Wesleys.”
“And of us,” William added. “Don’t forget that part.”
A small huff of breath that almost counted as a laugh. “Hard to forget.”
Their manager clapped his hands once, briskly. “Okay, boys. We’re going to the backstage corridor now. Ten minutes until the MC calls you out. The band is ready. Sound check was okay.”
“‘Okay’?” William repeated, eyes narrowing without thinking.
The manager immediately corrected: “Good! Sound check was good. No issues.”
William held his gaze a second too long, then nodded. “Better.”
Technical issues were part of the job; William knew that better than anyone. He’d sung through dead in-ears, broken tracks, feedback, and even a complete power outage once. You rolled with it, you adjusted, you made it look intentional, and after a while, it didn’t even shake him.
But Est wasn’t him.
Est sang beautifully. Soft, warm, steady. But he was not naturally confident about it. That was where William went from “easygoing idol” to something else entirely.
He walked behind Est as they moved toward the backstage area, watching the way Est’s shoulders were just a little too tight, his fingers flexing around the strap of his mic pack. Staff passed by them with clipboards and headsets, some bowing, some greeting them with bright “Sawasdee krub!” and nervous energy.
Est nodded back, polite as always.
William’s eyes flicked automatically to the staff clustered near the sound console. He catalogued faces, the setup of equipment, the guy at the board. He heard someone say, “Mic two goes to Est, right?” and something in him filed that away.
Good. Mic two. Remember that.
They were ushered into a small holding area behind the stage – thin curtains separating them from the roar of the crowd.
The MC’s voice filtered through the speakers as he warmed up the audience. “Everyone ready to see WilliamEst?” The crowd screamed in reply, the sound ricocheting off tile and glass.
Est exhaled slowly. His hand lifted to adjust the in-ear monitors, but William noticed the faint tremble in his fingers.
William leaned in. “You’re doing that fish-breathing thing again,” he said, lightly.
Est turned his head. “What?”
“Short breaths. Like this.” William exaggerated, opening and closing his mouth dramatically.
Est stared at him, unimpressed. “You look stupid.”
“I look incredibly handsome, actually,” William corrected. “But that’s not the point. Slow it down, Phi.”
He stepped closer, pressing the back of his hand lightly against Est’s chest, over his heart. “In,” he murmured.
Est rolled his eyes but obeyed, inhaling. William felt the rise under his hand.
“Out.”
The breath left Est’s lungs in a steady stream.
“Again.”
They did it two more times. It wasn’t magic, but it stopped that too-fast flutter William had seen creeping into Est’s throat. Beyond the curtain, the MC kept talking, stretching time. Perfect.
William dropped his hand slowly, fingers dragging just a second longer than necessary as they left Est’s chest. “You’ve sung this a few times,” he said. “Even when you’re just walking around.”
“It’s different in front of people,” Est muttered. “And cameras. And the entire internet waiting to clip if I crack.”
William tilted his head. “And me?”
Est looked at him. “What about you?”
“You didn’t say me.” William’s tone was light, teasing, but his eyes were steady. “Are you nervous in front of me?”
Est’s gaze flickered – there, then gone. “…You don’t count.”
“Wrong.” William smiled. “I’m the one who counts the most.”
Est made a quiet, strangled sound, like he didn’t have the energy to argue that properly. William’s chest warmed.
He glanced toward the stage entrance, then back at Est. The band’s faint playing drifted over as they rehearsed the intro. William could hear the chords of Love Echo even under the noise.
“Come here,” he said, nodding toward a darker corner behind some stacked equipment crates.
Est blinked. “We’re supposed to stand by – ”
“It’ll take thirty seconds,” William said. “Promise.”
He didn’t wait for more protest. He just reached out, laced their fingers together, and tugged Est toward the shadowed corner. The light from the stage spill barely reached here. The murmur of the crowd was still present, but it felt muted, distanced.
“What are you doing?” Est asked, though he let himself be pulled, their joined hands resting between them.
“Final rehearsal,” William said. “Quiet version. Just for us.”
Est stared. “Will, we already – ”
William began anyway. Softly, barely above a whisper, he sang,
“If love is really you – ”
No mic. No amplification. Just his raw voice in the dim backstage air. Est’s throat worked. His eyes softened around the edges. After a beat, he answered, matching the line gently –
“Then there’s nothing more I need to prove…”
Their voices slid together naturally, like they’d always been meant to fit. William stepped a little closer, close enough that Est’s breath ghosted against his cheek when he sang.
“The way our hearts align, so perfectly entwined – Must be your love that moves…”
Est’s lashes fluttered. “You’re too close.”
“Yes,” William agreed. “Sing the last line.”
Est swallowed, then obeyed, voice low but sure –
“Every part of me, all the way through.”
William felt the note vibrate through the space between them. He wanted to grab the sound, put it in his pocket, and make sure no one ever made Est doubt it.
“That,” William said quietly, “is the voice everyone’s here for.”
Est scoffed, but his cheeks had a faint flush. “They’re here for you. I’m the accessory.”
William’s eyes cooled. He hated it when Est talked like that. “They’re here for both of us,” he said plainly. “And I’m going to make sure they hear you properly. Okay?”
Est opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, then closed it again. Slowly, he nodded. “Okay.”
The stage manager called, “Two minutes!”
William squeezed Est’s hand once more and let go. “We’ll go out there,” he said, letting the ease slide back into his tone. “We’ll sing Love Echo. And after, we’ll go home, cuddle, and eat something sinful. Deal?”
Est huffed. “You always bribe me with food.”
William grinned. “Why change what works?”
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
The MC’s voice boomed, louder now. “…and please welcome – your favorite CP – WilliamEst!”
The crowd’s cheering hit like a wave.
They walked outside by side.
The stage was small, but the energy wasn’t. Fans filled every level, pushed up against railings, phones raised, Wesleys held high. The LED screen behind them flashed WILLIAMEST in soft pastel lettering, with a little animated Wesley bouncing on the bottom corner.
William’s smile slipped into place automatically, bright and easy. He waved, sending finger hearts toward the crowd, eyes scanning familiar fan-site banners. Someone had a sign that read “PROTECT EST AT ALL COSTS” with a doodle of him drawn as a tiny knight guarding a blushing Est.
That made something smug curl in his chest.
Est bowed, lifting a hand in a shy wave. He looked small under the lights, but William knew better. There was a quiet steel under that softness; William had seen it many times. He just wished Est knew it too.
The band started the song. Gentle guitar. Soft keys. The crowd hushed almost in unison. William looked at Est over the top of his mic. You’ve got this.
Est exhaled, nodded once, then lifted his microphone to his lips. The first line was his to start, with William joining a beat after.
He sang, clear and soft: “If love is really you – ”
William heard it. Est heard it. The speakers did not. Out front, it came out like a thin, distant echo, almost completely swallowed by the acoustics of the mall.
William saw it happen in real time – the way Est’s pupils dilated, the slight jolt in his shoulders. His fingers tightened on the mic. His gaze flickered instinctively toward the tech area on the side.
The crowd murmured, confused. William’s jaw clenched.
Est tried again, pressing forward because that’s what professionals did, because he refused to just stand there and do nothing.
“Then there’s nothing more I need to – ”
The sound sputtered, then cut out entirely. Silence. Not complete silence – William could still hear Est’s actual voice, unamplified, because he was close enough – but from the crowd’s perspective, the line was gone.
William stepped toward him immediately.
There was no break in the music. The world didn’t stop just because the tech failed. The band had to keep playing. The song had to move forward. So he moved with it.
The next lyric came from his own mic, rich and steady, “The way our hearts align, so perfectly entwined – ”
The fans screamed at his entrance, thinking for a split second it might be a planned twist. But William’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. He angled his body so his shoulder brushed Est’s – subtle, a shield more than contact.
As he sang, he flicked his gaze toward the sound booth. The temperature behind his eyes dropped several degrees.
Staff were already scrambling – he could see the panic in their faces, the frantic hand signals. Good. They should be scrambling. He kept his expression smooth for the fans, but he let the tech team see the lethal edge in his eyes.
He tilted the mic a little toward Est. Sing with me.
Est, to his credit, didn’t shut down completely. His mouth moved, following the line, his voice a shadow under William’s:
“Must be your love that moves…”
Their in-ears carried it. William heard him. That mattered.
“Every part of me, all the way through.”
The verse closed. William held the last note just a fraction longer, giving the staff precious seconds to fix whatever had gone wrong.
He could feel Est’s uncertainty like a second heartbeat next to him. He wanted to reach out and drag him closer, tuck him behind his back like he could block embarrassment with his body.
Instead, he slid into the pre-chorus, as scripted. “Every second you're on my mind – ”
His voice soared clean and confident through the speakers. He stepped half a pace backward, turning the angle so the audience saw both their profiles – him leading, Est beside him.
Est joined in, quietly, the line meant to be doubled:
“Like I’ve been caught in a spell, frozen in time – ”
The crowd could barely hear him. William could. It made his chest ache. He let a little more intensity bleed into his tone, not just for performance, but something that came from his spine.
“I swear, I’ll hold you close and never leave your side – ”
On “never leave,” he reached out and brushed his fingers briefly against Est’s wrist, grounding him. He caught Est’s eyes for just a heartbeat. I’m here. I’ve got you.
They hit the chorus. This was where it usually felt like flying.
“Hearing the sound of your heart, it’s the sweetest thing – ”
William sang into his mic, pushing from his diaphragm, filling the mall with sound. He heard it before he saw it: the wave of fans leaning in, realizing something was wrong with Est’s mic, seeing the way Est’s lips moved, but the speakers didn’t respond.
And then, as if they’d all had the same thought at once, the crowd exploded into song.
“Do you hear the beat of mine? It sings – ”
Rows of fans belted Est’s line for him, voices loud and shaky and off-key in the best way. Wesley plushies bounced in time with the beat.
William’s throat went tight.
He sang the harmony on top, letting the fans carry the melody Est couldn’t project right now. He saw Est blink, stunned, eyes suspiciously shiny under the stage lights.
“We don’t have to speak, we know through our eyes – ”
He turned, singing the line directly to Est now, not caring if it was too on-the-nose. Their faces were close enough that the cameras would get a perfect shot, but that wasn’t why he did it.
“The feeling so strong, I know it’s love every time – ”
He poured it into his tone, the way he looked at him. The only person he wanted to reassure in that moment was standing right next to him, shoulders drawn in like he was trying to disappear.
The chorus climbed, fans shouting along:
“Hearing the sound of each other's heart, isn’t it the sweetest thing?!”
William let himself smile then. Not the polished idol grin, but something softer at the edges. He tilted his forehead briefly in Est’s direction, almost touching.
The sightlines of the mall meant that at least three balconies had a perfect view of that moment. He knew the fan cams were loving it.
Good. Let them see.
He caught a glimpse of a sound tech racing toward stage left with a different microphone. Finally. As the chorus ended, the band dipped the volume slightly, giving breathing room before the next verse.
A hand appeared from offstage, offering a mic toward the nearest point. William shifted. Instead of letting someone pass it awkwardly to Est from the side, he took three steps forward mid-music and held out his free hand.
The staff member froze when he saw William’s face. William didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. He took the mic. His eyes held the man’s for a second, bright and razor-sharp, conveying – This is unacceptable. Fix it. Now.
He didn’t say it aloud – but the message landed. The staff member dropped his gaze, bowing quickly.
William returned to Est and, without missing a beat, presented the new microphone with a small flourish that made it look like part of the show.
“For you, Phi,” he said under his breath, lips barely moving. “Try this one.”
His fingers brushed against Est’s as he passed it over, thumb pressing lingering reassurance into his skin. Est swallowed, disbelief and fear and gratitude flickering across his features all at once. He lifted the new mic cautiously.
The next line was both of theirs again, but Est was supposed to take the lead this time. William let him.
“If love is really you – ”
The sound burst through the speakers – clear, warm, everything his voice truly was. The mall erupted. Fans screamed like the stadiums he’d played, some waving their Wesleys so wildly that a security guard had to catch one before it flew off the balcony.
Est’s eyes went huge. For a second, his voice wobbled, emotion catching him by the throat. William stepped closer, shoulder-to-shoulder, and joined on the next line, matching him seamlessly:
“Then there’s nothing more I need to prove – ”
He nudged him lightly with his elbow – Sing. I’ve got your back.
Est took the next line with more strength. “The way our hearts align, so perfectly entwined – ”
His voice rang out perfectly across the atrium, no longer a ghost beneath William’s tone but fully present, shining. William’s chest felt too tight. By the time he sang –
“Every part of me, all the way through – ”
– he wasn’t sure if he was singing for the fans or for the scared boy next to him who was pulling himself back together piece by piece.
They moved through the rest of the song like that – William steering and supporting, Est regaining ground with each line, the crowd roaring their approval, occasionally shouting things like:
“EST YOU DID GREAT!”
“WE LOVE YOU!”
“YOU CAN DO IT!”
On the final chorus, William let his voice drop a little so Est’s could sit on top.
“Let you know my heart is yours, you’re my everything – ”
Est sang it clear, confident, and when he glanced sideways, he was met with William’s full, unguarded, proud smile. The last note faded. For two seconds, there was no sound. Then the mall exploded with cheers.
Est bowed deeply, almost folding in half. William kept one hand hovering near his back, not quite touching, but close enough that if Est’s knees even thought about giving out, he’d be there.
They straightened. William brought his mic up, voice bright.
“Thank you so much for singing with us,” he said. “You made this Love Echo really echo, na krub.”
The crowd laughed and screamed.
Beside him, Est managed to add, voice a little shakier but smiling, “You guys… have really loud hearts.”
The crowd went feral.
William’s eyes softened. He looked down at the front row, where someone had tilted their Wesley plush up like it was nodding in approval.
He decided right then that he was going to buy Est his favorite taro cake – he knows how to cheer up his Phi.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
The minute they crossed the curtain line, William’s entire body language changed.
Onstage, he was still smiling, waving, playful. The second the curtain dropped behind them and the roar of the crowd muffled, his smile vanished.
He guided Est gently toward the wall, away from the rush of crew and gear. “You okay?” he asked first, because that was the only thing that really mattered.
Est nodded too fast. “I’m fine, I’m – ”
“Phi Est.” William lowered his voice.
Est’s shoulders dipped. “I… I’m embarrassed.”
William’s jaw worked. “You shouldn’t be.”
“I messed up the beginning,” Est pushed out. “I froze. You had to cover for me.”
“You didn’t mess up,” William said flatly. “The equipment did. The staff did.”
As if summoned, their manager hurried over, slightly out of breath. “William, Est – I am so sorry. The cable on mic two must have – ”
William turned to him. The temperature in the corridor dropped a degree. Mic two. The one that had gone to Est. The one he’d overheard earlier.
William’s posture shifted slowly, his frame seeming to fill more space. Not because he puffed himself up, but because he stopped shrinking himself to be cute and approachable.
He wasn’t William-the-fun-idol anymore. He was William Jakrapatr, half of a top CP, member of a top thai idol band, main moneymaker of the agency, and the person whose word could make or break someone’s day.
“When did you last test it?” he asked, voice calm. Too calm.
The manager swallowed. “A-about fifteen minutes before the show. Everything seemed okay and – ”
“‘Seemed’?” William repeated, eyes narrowing. “And there was no backup cable offstage left?”
“There was, but the tech – ”
“The tech took too long,” William cut in. “Est sang an entire verse with no output. That shouldn’t happen. Not at this level. Not for anyone, and certainly not for him.”
He felt Est shift beside him, small and uncertain, as if torn between wanting to disappear and wanting to tug William back from going too far.
William didn’t step back. He took one quiet step forward instead.
“We’ve done hundreds of events,” he said. “I know things go wrong. But you knew today was a live vocal. No backing track. No dance to distract. You knew Est was nervous about his singing. And you still let him go out there with a faulty mic.”
The manager flinched. The tech staff, a few feet behind him looked like they wanted the floor to swallow them.
“I – We didn’t know it was faulty, we – ”
“That’s the point,” William said, softer but somehow more dangerous. “You’re supposed to know before we walk on that stage.”
He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. Everyone around them had gone quiet. A few junior staff members were staring openly, unsure if they should leave.
William’s gaze locked on the sound tech he’d taken the mic from.
“And you,” he said, not unkindly, but not gently. “You did your best to fix it. I saw that. Thank you. Next time, you triple-check before my partner steps out there. If his mic fails again like that, we walk off. Do you understand?”
The tech’s eyes went huge. “Yes, Khun William. I’m really, really sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“It can’t,” William replied.
The manager nodded rapidly. “We’ll revise our pre-show checklist. Double redundancy on mics. Maybe have both of you on the same channel as a backup – ”
“No,” William said. “He gets the best channel. He gets tested last before we go. Then you test mine. And you stay near the board, not wandering off, until the song is over.”
The manager bobbed his head. “Yes. Yes, I understand.”
William held his gaze another moment, then finally exhaled. Beside him, Est’s hand brushed lightly against his wrist. Not tugging, just a touch. A reminder. William eased back by a few degrees.
“Sort it out,” he said more quietly. “Don’t let it happen again.”
The manager bowed. “Yes, krub.”
William turned away, guiding Est toward their dressing room with a hand at the small of his back.
The touch was gentle. The grip was not.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
The dressing room was small, with a long mirror, a narrow sofa, and a rack of their outfits. A lone Wesley plush sat on the counter – a gift from a fan whose letter their manager had passed along earlier.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Est sagged onto the sofa like the last of his strings had been cut. He put the mic down carefully on the coffee table, then dropped his head into his hands.
William locked the door.
He crossed the room and crouched down in front of Est, hands resting lightly on Est’s knees.
“Hey.”
Est didn’t look up. “That was humiliating.”
“No,” William said. “It wasn’t.”
“I sounded like nothing,” Est insisted, voice muffled. “Just – my mouth moved and… no sound. I saw their faces, they were confused, and I just – ” His shoulders trembled. “I wanted to disappear.”
William’s chest ached. He slid his hands up to Est’s thighs, fingers pressing in just enough to ground him.
“Look at me,” he said softly.
Est shook his head.
“Phi.” William’s voice dropped, low and firm. “Look. At. Me.”
Slowly, grudgingly, Est lifted his head.
His eyes were red around the edges, but no tears had fallen. Not yet.
William took in every detail: the flushed cheeks, the tightness in his mouth, the way shame and frustration warred in his expression. He hated it. Hated that something as stupid as a dead cable could do this to him.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” William said.
Est scoffed, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “I froze.”
“You sang,” William corrected. “You kept going. Your voice didn’t shake as much as you think. I heard everything.”
“No one else did,” Est whispered.
William leaned forward, closing the small space between them until they were eye level. “They heard you,” he said. “In the second half. And they sang the first part with you. Did you really not hear them?”
Est’s face crumpled just a bit. “I… I heard them. It made it worse.”
“Worse?” William’s brows knit. “How?”
“Because it felt like they were trying to cover for me,” Est said. “Because I couldn’t… I couldn’t even start the song properly.”
William exhaled slowly, fighting the urge to shake sense into him. Instead, he slid one hand up to cradle the side of Est’s neck, thumb resting under his jaw.
m“They weren’t covering for you,” he said. “They were supporting you. They love you. They see how hard you’ve worked.”
Est’s lashes lowered. “You’re biased.”
“Yeah,” William said simply. “I am. You’re my bias, obviously.”
That earned him a tiny, weak snort. There..
William shifted, moving one knee up onto the sofa so he was closer, one leg between Est’s knees. The movement made Est’s breath hitch. William didn’t push further than that – just leaned in, their foreheads almost touching.
“You know what I saw out there?” he murmured. “I saw my partner handle a nightmare scenario and still sing beautifully when the mic finally worked. I saw a mall full of people scream their lungs out for you. I saw you hold it together.”
Est’s gaze dropped briefly to William’s mouth before darting away again. “I didn’t feel like I was holding it together.”
“I know.” William’s thumb stroked gently along the line of his jaw. “That’s why I was there. That’s why I’m always going to be there. When something goes wrong, I’m the one who deals with it. You just have to focus on singing and being cute. That’s our division of labor.”
Est huffed, eyes suspiciously bright. “That’s not fair.”
“Exactly,” William said. “Completely unfair. Fully intentional.”
He shifted his hand to the back of Est’s neck, fingers spreading into the soft hair there. The angle of Est’s head tilted back just a little, exposing his throat.
William swallowed. He knew they didn’t have all day. He knew, logically, that staff might knock, that there were more obligations, that cameras existed.
But right now, in this small room, with Est looking at him like that – vulnerable and stubborn and hurting – William’s priorities narrowed down to one thing.
“You know,” he said slowly, “you looked really pretty when you came back in for the second verse.”
Est blinked. “…What?”
“When your mic finally worked,” William went on, tone deceptively casual. “You were still shaken, but you pushed through. That confidence coming back?” He clicked his tongue. “Very dangerous. Fans are going to die when they watch the videos.”
Est stared at him like he had lost his mind. “I almost cried onstage.”
“And you didn’t,” William pointed out. “That takes strength. And also, to be honest, if you had, I would’ve still loved you.”
The word slipped out easily, like it always did when the cameras were off and it was just them. It settled between them, warm and familiar.
Est swallowed. “You were… scary, you know. When you looked at the staff.”
“They messed with my Nong Luk Est,” he said, an adoring smile making way to his face. “What did you expect me to do? Smile and say ‘mai pen rai’?”
Est’s cheeks went pink at the term. “Don’t call me that.”
William gave him a knowing smile-smirk. “Why not? It’s true. You’re my phi and also my baby.”
“Those contradict,” Est muttered.
“In my heart, they don’t,” William said. “You’re older, but you’re still mine to protect.”
Est’s breath came out a little uneven at that.
William felt it. Felt the shift in the air as embarrassment mingled with something else – something warmer, deeper, that always simmered under the surface with them.
He leaned in that last inch, their noses brushing.
“Next time,” he murmured, voice dropping, “even if every mic dies, I’ll still sing with you. Our voices will carry, with or without equipment. Okay?”
Est searched his face for a long moment. Whatever he saw there, it made his shoulders finally loosen. His fingers lifted, hesitant, and curled into the front of William’s shirt, pulling him just a little closer.
“Okay,” Est whispered.
That was all the invitation William needed. He closed the gap, pressing his mouth to Est’s.
The kiss was slow at first. Familiar. William had kissed Est in a dozen dressing rooms, in cars, in kitchen doorways with Wesley plushies watching from the counter. But there was something heavier in this one – relief, protectiveness, a surge of fierce, possessive pride.
You did well. You’re mine. No one gets to make you feel small.
Est’s hand fisted tighter in his shirt, the other coming up to brace lightly against William’s shoulder. He kissed back with an intensity that stole William’s breath, like all the emotion he hadn’t let himself show on stage was pouring out now.
William let it happen. Encouraged it. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss just enough to make Est gasp. He swallowed the sound, lips curving.
When they finally broke apart, they were breathing harder than a simple mall performance should ever justify.
Est leaned his forehead against William’s, eyes closed.
“I hate that you saw me like that,” he murmured. “Scared. Useless.”
“Don’t ever call yourself useless,” William said, sharper than he intended. He caught himself, softened his tone. “You were never useless. You were hurt. There’s a difference.”
Est’s fingers flexed against his chest. “What if it happens again?” he asked quietly. “What if I panic and can’t – ”
“Then I’ll be there again,” William said. “I’ll keep singing. I’ll fight with tech. I’ll yell at management. I’ll carry you offstage if I have to. That’s my role.”
He brushed their noses together, almost playful, but his eyes stayed serious.
“You don’t have to be perfect with me,” he added. “You just have to be honest. If you’re scared, tell me. I’ll be your villain for everyone else, and your soft boyfriend for you. Deal?”
Est’s lips twitched. “...villain?”
“Sounds hot, right?” William smirked.
Est let out a soft laugh that sounded a little like he might cry instead. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet,” William said, “you keep kissing me.”
Est colored, then glanced at the Wesley plush on the counter. “He’s judging us.”
William turned his head slightly. The plush’s round eyes stared back, shark-dog grin eternal.
“He’s proud of his parents,” William said solemnly. “He saw his papa defend his other papa onstage like a maniac, and now he respects me.”
Est snorted. “He saw you glaring like you wanted to murder someone.”
“That’s just because my love is intense,” William said. “Besides, I was very polite. I didn’t even raise my voice.”
“That made it scarier,” Est muttered.
He shifted back just enough to actually look at Est properly. Some of the redness had faded from his eyes. The shame had loosened its chokehold. He looked tired, but more himself.
William reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear.
“You know,” he said, voice gentler, “they’re going to upload fancams later. Of your lines. And one of the crowd singing for you? That’s going to go viral.”
“Great,” Est groaned. “More people to see my humiliation.”
“More people to see how much you’re loved,” William corrected. “And more people to see me being disgustingly in love with you in 4K.”
Est opened his mouth, then shut it again.
“Don’t act like you didn’t like it,” William said. “You always go quiet when I get protective in public, but your ears go so red I can see them from across the room.”
He reached up and flicked one lightly.
“See? Red again.”
Est ducked his head, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward despite himself. There it was. The little crack in the wall.
William leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his temple.
“Come on,” he said softly. “We should let them know you’re okay. The fans are probably outside chanting for you. We can do a short live later, talk about Wesley, pretend nothing happened.”
“Pretend?” Est echoed.
William smiled, slow and certain. “Yeah. Because what I’ll remember from today isn’t the mic failing. It’s you, standing there with the whole mall singing our song back at you. It’s you coming back in on ‘If love is really you’ like a pro.”
Est’s gaze softened at that. “You really liked that part?”
William hummed. “I liked all of it. But yes. I especially liked the part where you proved every doubt in your head wrong.”
Est looked at him for a long moment. Then, quietly, he said, “Thank you. For… everything. For stepping in. For yelling. For… being there.”
William’s expression gentled. There was so much he wanted to say – about how this wasn’t a burden, how protecting Est felt as natural as breathing – but he settled for three words that held all of it.
“Always, Phi Est.”
He stood, tugging Est up with him. For a second, Est swayed, and William steadied him automatically, hand firm on his waist.
They both glanced at the Wesley plush on the counter.
William walked over, picked it up, and pressed it into Est’s arms. “Here,” he said. “He can come out with you. Emotional support boiled egg.”
“WESLEY!” Est said indignantly while hugging it. The sight nearly killed William on the spot.
“That’s illegal levels of cute,” he muttered. “If the fans see you like this, they’re going to combust.”
“Then don’t open the door,” Est said.
William laughed. “Tempting.”
He moved to the door instead, unlocking it. Before he opened it, he turned back and caught Est’s gaze one more time.
“You did well,” he said. No teasing. Just truth. “I’m proud of you.”
Est’s fingers tightened briefly on Wesley. “…Okay,” he whispered.
William smiled, that soft, private one he only ever used off-camera.
“Let’s go exist as a couple of professionals again,” he said. “I’ll handle any more problems. You just smile and let them see the Est I get to see backstage.”
He opened the door.
The distant sound of fans instantly poured in – some chanting their names, some yelling “EST FIGHTING!” and “WE LOVE YOU!”
Est straightened, took a breath, and stepped out with Wesley held against his chest. William fell into place beside him without thinking, a half-step closer than necessary, like gravity demanded it. His hand brushed Est’s back, a silent promise.
Cute for the world. Alpha for the staff. Nothing but love for his nong luk.
And next time, William decided, as he watched Est lift a hand to wave at the waiting fans, he’d make sure the only echo in Love Echo was the sound of their voices – and maybe the crowd, singing along, because they loved them.
Because they loved Est. Because he did, too.
THE END :)