Work Text:
JUST US TWO
⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖
EST'S POV
"Hey, you okay? You haven’t picked up any of my calls. Just checking up on you—call me."
SEND.
I stare at the screen of my phone, as if it’ll somehow make time move faster.
This event had taken much longer than expected.
And William... well, William hasn’t replied to any of my texts, nor answered any of my calls since he got back from Vietnam.
Not to sound overdramatic, but this is so unlike him. No trace of his usual “Just landed, phi :”3 you free? Take me out to eat na~” that he always sends after landing in Bangkok.
I can’t help but feel uneasy. Everything about him affects me on a different magnitude—an effect no one else has on me.
Except for him.
That’s the thing. He’s always been the exception.
I’ve had enough. I don’t do well in these types of situations. Not when he’s involved.
Calling…
“Hello, phi, have you heard anything about William? He isn’t answering me. Did you guys talk? Is something bothering him? Did he say anything before he left?”
I asked P'Ko, even though the last thing I wanted was to bother him, especially after a long day of looking after all five of them.
“I mean, he did look tired, but that’s nothing new. It’s always tiring, especially after concerts. Aside from that, there really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. He didn’t say anything either. I’ll try calling him and update you, alright? Just need to finish some paperwork first.”
“Okay, Phi, thank you. I’m so sorry for bothering you in the middle of the night. I’m just worried. Please get some rest after.”
“No problem. You rest up as well, alright?”
After we said our goodbyes, I was left staring at my phone again.
I’m not used to this… the quiet, I guess. Ever since meeting that bubbly kid, my life hasn’t known peace.
He somehow managed to seep into every aspect of my life—professionally, personally.
Never did I feel lonely in his presence, or even when we were miles apart.
His constant LINE updates—what he ate, what he did that day, selfies with messages like “I look so handsome today phi, look at how they did my hair! Send me a pic of you too... make it a fair trade na?”
Even the little things he found cute: “Phi, this reminds me of you! Remember when you were sleeping, your mouth did this too... even the pose!”
But this silence? This is so unlike him.
Well... at least to me.
Okay. Enough. Enough pondering and driving myself crazy on this damn couch. I have a car for a reason. Might as well see for myself.
I mean, if he’s too tired, I can always come back. No problem. I just... I just need to know he’s okay.
Driving around at this hour, I still couldn’t shake this uncomfortable feeling on my shoulders—like a weight I couldn’t get rid of.
Racking my brain over every interaction, every conversation we’ve had leading up to this day.
Did I say something? Did I do something?
But that couldn’t be it—not when he sent me a picture of himself on the plane before takeoff. Not when he came to visit me at my solo event before leaving the country.
So... what is it?
These unanswered questions will drive me insane.
Finally, after I don’t know how many minutes, I arrived at his building.
I parked the car and walked in, greeting Phi Arm, the security guard. He didn’t say anything—just handed me a visitor pass.
I guess I’ve been here too many times to be considered a stranger now.
Pressing the elevator buttons, I could feel my hands starting to sweat.
What if he’s mad at me?
Arriving at his door, suddenly all my senses came crashing down on me.
Have I really lost it? He just landed... maybe he hasn’t gotten any rest at all. What the hell am I doing bothering him at this hour?
Mustering what little courage I had left, I knocked on his door.
Knock. knock. knock.
I stood there like a kid waiting to be picked up from school—one hand awkwardly at my side, the other holding a bag of steamed buns I picked up from the only shop still open.
A cover-up, I guess. I wasn’t stupid enough to show up empty-handed, even though, knowing William, he wouldn’t have cared.
Finally, hearing the locks click open, I found myself bracing for the worst.
Would his eyebrows be scrunched in frustration? No smile on his face? Distant, cold...?
Because when his cheeks aren’t raised by that wide smile of his, it feels like he’s out of my reach. And that's never him. Never my William.
The door revealed the person who had been the cause of all this.
William—the one who got me out of bed and dressed to go out, even though I had already done my skincare and nightly routine. What's left was to tuck myself into bed.
Because when it comes to him, nothing else matters.
But this... this might’ve been the worst decision to date.
Not when I was seconds away from bolting out of the building in embarrassment if he hadn’t opened the door.
Not when he now stood before me with flushed cheeks, a pink-red hue painting his face, lips rosy from his habit of biting them, beads of sweat on his forehead, his hair lazily falling across his face.
Not when he was looking at me with those doe eyes—still sparkling even in the dark—like I’d grown another head right in front of him.
He was panting. His chest rising and falling as if he had run.
Oh my god. This is not good.
But before I could even say a word, all I heard was:
“Phi...”
That did it.
Suddenly, I’m back to reality.
No matter how good he looks standing here, he does not look okay.
Not when I could feel the heat radiating off him.
Softly nudging the door with my shoulder, I stepped inside.
The living room was a mess. Pills were on the countertop next to a half-empty glass of water. Luggages on the floor. Hoodie thrown over the couch. Shoes kicked aside.
And the room—is hot.
He’d turned off all the AC. No wonder he was sweating bullets.
“I brought you some steamed buns,” I said, trying to sound casual as we stood there in the middle of his living room—him still staring at me like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“You look a mess. Let me plate these for you. You go sit on the couch, okay?”
Someone had to act sane.
And I guess that someone had to be me.
He didn’t argue.
Without a word, William shuffled to the couch, still a little dazed, still panting lightly. I followed him with my eyes for a second, just to make sure he didn’t collapse on the way. He looks like he's seconds away from passing out.
I headed into the kitchen, working my way around as if I owned the place. I carefully placed the steamed buns on a plate and poured him a fresh glass of water. The half-drunk one on the counter had long since gone warm.
Walking back into the living room, the sight of him made my heart ache.
He sat slumped on the couch, legs drawn up slightly, arms resting on his lap. His head leaned back against the cushion, exposing the flushed skin of his neck.
His breathing was shallow, his cheeks still burning red. His damp hair clung to his forehead.
I set the plate and water down on the coffee table in front of him and knelt on the floor beside the couch.
“William…” I said softly, not wanting to startle him. “You’re burning up.” as I softly place my hand over his forehead.
He barely opened his eyes but managed to give me the faintest of smiles as he reached up to hold my hand.
“Phi… you didn’t have to come all the way here.”
“Of course I did. You weren’t answering any of my calls,” I replied, unable to keep the concern out of my voice. “And look at you… when was the last time you took any meds?”
He blinked, looking almost like he was trying to remember. Then shook his head weakly.
“You haven’t even been resting properly, have you?” I sighed, pressing the back of my hand to his forehead. It was warm.
I couldn’t help it—worry spilled out of me.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were this sick?” I asked quietly.
“You know you can call me. Even if it’s the middle of the night. Even if you think it’s nothing. I’ll always come.”
His lashes fluttered, gaze meeting mine for a second before he leaned his head sideways, resting it on my arm.
“... I didn’t want to bother you,” he mumbled, voice small and hoarse.
A soft laugh escaped me—half fond, half exasperated.
“You idiot,” I whispered. “You are bothering me. Just in the worst way possible.” I said jokingly.
I shifted, settling on the couch beside him. Gently, I coaxed his head to rest on my shoulder, letting him lean against me.
He didn’t resist—he just melted into the touch, like he’d been waiting for this.
My arm came up instinctively, cradling him close.
For a while, we sat there in the silence of his too-warm apartment. His uneven breaths were soft against my neck.
I could feel the heat radiating off him, and each time he shivered, my heart squeezed tighter in my chest.
“I’m staying here tonight,” I said finally. “You need someone to look after you.” I said with finality. Making no room for arguments.
He gave a faint nod, cheek still pressed against my shoulder, too exhausted to respond. I held him like that for a moment longer, my fingers absentmindedly brushing through his damp hair.
His fever was worrying—too high for comfort. His body trembled lightly, even as I tried to warm him.
“Okay,” I murmured, giving him a little squeeze. “But first… let’s get you cleaned up, hmm? You’ll feel better after.”
He made a small sound of protest, burrowing a little closer.
I smiled gently.
“Come on, you’re still an idol, remember?” I teased, voice low. “Gotta take care of that face. That's a money maker right there."
A soft chuckle rumbled from him—weak, but real.
“There’s only one person I want to look good for.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, ignoring the heat rising in my chest.
“Even more reason to get moving, then.”
With slow patience, I coaxed him upright and helped him to his feet. He leaned heavily on me as we shuffled to the bathroom.
I sat him down on the edge of the tub and ran the shower, adjusting the temperature.
“Can you manage?” I asked quietly.
He nodded, though he looked barely able to keep his eyes open.
“Alright. Just take it slow. I’ll grab you some fresh clothes.”
I stepped out to his room and rummaged through his drawers, finding a soft oversized tee with teddy bear patterns and sweatpants. When I returned, the steam was already filling the bathroom.
I also managed to find the shirt and sweatpants I had left since the last time I spent the night over.
He was still inside, moving sluggishly.
I waited just outside the door, giving him privacy while listening carefully. Every time I heard a stumble or a shaky breath, my heart jumped to my throat.
But after a while, the water stopped running, and a very tired, damp William peeked out.
He looked better—less pale, hair sticking to his forehead, but his cheeks were still flushed from the fever.
Handing him his robe. He carefully steps out of the shower.
“Come here,” I said, pulling him closer with a towel.
I dried his hair gently, patting him down with care.
Then I helped him into the clean clothes, his body swaying with fatigue.
That’s when I saw them—faint purplish bruises along his arms, peeking beneath the sleeves, more on his collarbones and along his ribs.
Signs of long, grueling practice days… and the way he’d been pushing himself far too hard.
My breath caught, hands pausing mid-motion.
God, how long has he been hiding this…?
For a second, worry bubbled up— at him for never saying anything. But I pushed it down, forcing myself back into the moment.
Right now wasn't the time to pester him with questions. It could wait.
Gently, I helped him sit at his vanity.
“Skincare,” I reminded, trying to sound light. “Even idols with fevers can’t skip that.”
He let out a breathy laugh, eyes closing as I took over—applying the toner, the serum, the moisturizer with careful hands.
Each touch lingered, gentler than it needed to be.
Maybe for me more than him.
Once we were done, I guided him to the bed.
He collapsed onto the mattress with a soft groan, arms reaching for me before I could even pull away.
Nor was I planning to.
Carefully, I climbed in beside him, pulling the blanket over us both.
He curled into my chest without hesitation, face nuzzling into the crook of my neck.
I held him close, arms wrapped protectively around him. Shielding him away from the world.
The room was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the air purifier in the corner and ac.
I could feel his breathing against my chest—still a little uneven, but calmer than before. The heat of his fever hadn’t broken yet, but at least he wasn’t shivering anymore.
I shifted a little, just enough to tilt my head and look down at him.
His face was relaxed in sleep now, the tension finally gone from his brows.
Even flushed and sick, with dark circles under his eyes and messy, damp hair falling across his forehead—
God, he was beautiful.
My gaze traced every familiar feature: the gentle curve of his lashes, the slope of his nose, the pink tint that seemed to have never left his cheeks, the softness of his slightly parted lips contrasting his sharp features.
Even the faint marks left by fever and exhaustion couldn’t take away from the way he seemed to glow in the dim light. Or in any room he's in.
I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath.
This boy—this boy who filled every corner of my life without even trying—how could he still make my heart ache like this? Everytime.
I reached up slowly, brushing his hair back from his face, fingers lingering for just a moment longer than they needed to.
His skin was still warm beneath my touch.
Unable to help myself, I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head—gentle, careful not to wake him.
“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, how important you are to me. I wish you had known that for you, I would've managed to grow a pair of wings to fly my way to your side with just one call,” I whispered, voice barely audible.
My arms tightened a little around him, holding him closer.
For now… for tonight…
Just like this.
Just to be with you.
Just us, two.
END.
⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖