Chapter Text
01. Where William learns all about photo filters (and threatens to make Est jobless)
Est rolls his neck slowly, trying to get rid of a pesky crick that’s been bugging him for the last five minutes. He tracks the slow crawl of the progress bar across the screen, eyes squinting and strained bloodshot at this point, his entire head weighing a ton on his shoulders. Spending over eighteen hours in front of a monitor does that to a guy.
With his calendar all clear over the three days that the LYKN boys are away for a concert overseas, it’s his only chance to finally lock in and finish editing his and William’s Chiang Mai vlog. It’s been a whole day of select songs and random effects and the sound of his and William’s voices. Now that he’s just waiting for the file to render, it’s suddenly awfully quiet.
The pads of his fingers make no noise as they tap-dance restlessly on the desk mat. He keeps eyeing the screen, brows furrowed, waiting with palpable unease. He can unclench when the rendering doesn’t error out like it did the first two times.
It’s so quiet.
He can play some music or get up and watch something on TV, but he needs to make sure this goes absolutely smoothly this time. He’s not sure how staring down his computer will help with that; all he knows is he can’t pay attention to anything else until this one’s out of the way.
The still frame behind the glowing status bar catches his eye suddenly. It’s partially obstructed and faded out in the background, but the image William made that day – relaxed and unbridled, stripped of the typical glamorous trappings of their jobs, bathed in sunset palette – is as vivid as ever in his memory.
Unbidden, his mind strays to big eyes full of starlight; a bright, playful smile; baby hands fitting just right in his, carrying the perfect dose of comfort and calm at the tip of every adorable finger.
Est’s hands are cold now, fingers still tap-tapping a steady rhythm like a metronome.
His gaze flicks over to his phone propped up next to the monitor stand. The screen is black. He turned off all social media notifications except the one for Line the minute he planted himself at his desk so he could focus. It must have buzzed maybe ten times throughout the day – nothing so pressing that he had to respond immediately. Nothing from William.
A very faint ticking sound interrupts the low, steady hum of the air conditioner. Est glances up at the clock.
1 AM.
There’s no time difference between where he is and where LYKN are. He knows this just as well as he knows that William doesn’t fall asleep right away even after an exhausting performance.
He peeks at his phone again. It looks dead, but he knows it’s not.
It is so damn quiet.
“You know what–”
He exhales through his nose, sits up with conviction – as though he’s just made up his mind about a matter of the highest importance – and grabs his phone. When the screen comes alive, he’s immediately greeted by the same Line notifications he’s already seen earlier. He doesn’t fight the downward pull at the corners of his mouth. Something about learning for certain that nothing new came in between then and now makes the creases between his brows deepen.
The first thing he does is switch his Instagram notifications back on. His phone dings in quick succession: a post from Tui in the LYKN broadcast channel, followed by Lego, then Nut, Tui again, Hong, Nut again–
williamjkp just shared a post
Est taps on the note and the app opens to a set of photos.
He takes a long, hard pause.
The first one looks like it was taken at the Suvarnabhumi Airport lounge the morning of LYKN’s flight. It’s followed by one on the plane, with William in the window seat and Nut beside him. The third is of the venue: a sea of empty seats from the vantage point of some sort of elevated platform at the far end of the stage. Est stares as he moves on to the fourth and fifth and back, mouth slightly agape, head tilting to the side, puzzled.
He has never seen any of these photos before.
There’s a kick of panic in his stomach as he exits the app, pulls up Line, and finds his chat with William. The last message he received was a “GN! Sweet dreams!” from the night before LYKN flew out of Bangkok. Est replied then with “Don’t miss me too much” – which is frankly hilarious now that he’s the one seeking out William’s noise all of a sudden.
He refreshes the chat once, twice. Nothing. No message. No pictures.
Est wilts in his chair, eyes still stuck on the thread.
The computer in front of him chimes loudly to signal that the rendering is complete, but he barely hears it over the sinking in his gut.
He hops back onto Instagram, swiping through the same five photos slowly. Already he can see where he would have cropped a photo differently, or adjusted the contrast a bit to soften the colors, or tweaked the hue and tint to lean slightly warmer. It’s not terrible editing by any means. It’s just– save for strictly promo or ad related posts, he can’t remember the last time William did not send him pictures to look through and edit for him.
It’s supposed to be their thing. It is their thing. Unless something changed without him knowing, or maybe he did something without realizing.
Est goes back to Line and takes a minute to consider what to write. Preferably something that sounds less deranged than: “Why didn’t you send these to me first? Don’t you want me to edit your photos anymore? Are we okay?”
Before he can change his mind, he takes a screenshot of one of the pictures. This one was taken at sunset, possibly outside the venue. Nervously chewing on the side of his lip – he has no clue why he’s so nervous; when did William start making him so nervous? – Est starts to type.
Relief quickly washes over him when a message bubble with the typing indicator pops up within seconds. At least he knows for sure that William isn’t icing him out for whatever reason.
Just like that – a few frivolous words, a silly emoji, and a little red heart – it’s like a switch is flipped.
The chair pivots away from the desk as Est lets the plush backrest catch his weight. Absently, he starts lazily swiveling himself back and forth. He doesn’t realize right away that he’s smiling.
He gets a laughing emoji for that.
Est snickers to himself, amused, as the weight in his chest begins to lift. He doesn’t really mean it – doesn’t want William to do it himself – so he’s secretly glad the offer was brushed off.
A sticker of a puppy with comically huge, teary eyes pops up on the screen.
Est can almost see William sulking in front of him. Admittedly, it makes him feel a little bad.
Est rolls his eyes despite the blooming warmth in his cheeks. He’s quick to stamp out the fluttering in his belly, reminding himself that this is just William being William, and William is a naturally flirty gremlin. It’s just playful banter; he doesn’t mean anything by it.
Est reacts to the message with a laughing cat. Neutral. Playful right back.
And then, because he has to ask:
Something shifted the week after William’s twentieth birthday, though Est still can’t pinpoint what or why, exactly. He’s been oddly hot-and-cold lately. Or maybe lukewarm? Room temperature, but with the AC on low.
Maybe it’s all in Est’s head. William has told him a couple of times before to stop overthinking, and he is trying. The guy has so much on his plate these days, after all: an Asian tour; promo and prep for the ThamePo fan meetings; schedules with LYKN, with Est, and on his own; school. He must be running low on fuel at this point, and so maybe it’s just that.
Either way, he needs to hear it. And if something really is wrong, he has to know. He can’t allow it to drag on for so long that something between them breaks beyond repair.
Est reads that one more time; can almost hear William muttering in the low, raspy, languid way his voice gets when he’s bone-tired.
He pouts at his phone even as a strange knot in his ribcage begins to unravel when he remembers that they have a schedule together the day after William returns. Maybe he’ll give him a hug then, for emotional support.
Est laughs, breathes easy probably for the first time in hours.
Est feels much, much lighter as he slides back over to his computer. The phone buzzes in his hand just as he’s about to put it against the stand again.
He finds a short video in the chat.
William is already tucked under the covers, his washed, unstyled hair a cozy mess on the pillow. His eyes are droopy, but he’s grinning, bare-faced and pink-cheeked and soft.
“Good night, phi! I’ll see you soon!”
The hand that isn’t holding up the phone peeks out from under the duvet and gives a little wave.
Est thinks his face might break with how big he’s smiling.
