Archive of Our Own ^beta

The lights dimmed until the stage glowed in soft gold. Two long white fabrics cascaded from the ceiling, rippling gently with the movement of the air, catching the light like falling moonlight. Beneath and between them stood William— dressed in a white tuxedo that shimmered faintly under the spotlight, the microphone stand gripped loosely in his hand.

He wasn’t smiling. Just breathing. The crowd was a blur of faces and lights beyond the glare, their voices fading into one steady hum that pulsed through the floor. The first notes swelled from the speakers and William leaned into the mic, his voice cutting through the silence like something fragile and alive.

“Share my life, take me for what I am…”

It was the last night of Dusk and Dawn. The second day, the final show. Lykn’s dream— his dream, playing out beneath the blinding lights of the Impact Arena. One of the biggest concert hall in Thailand. The place they used to talk about like it was a fantasy, something so far away it almost didn’t feel real.

This was everything Lykn had fought for, dreamed for, bled for. And now it was here. Their dream, carved from years of late-night practice, sore muscles, endless studio sessions, and quiet sacrifices that no one outside their tight circle could ever understand.

It hadn’t been easy. 

It never was.

Because behind every choreographed move, every seamless transition, every sold-out ticket, there had been endless doubt. 

The late nights spent arguing over arrangements, the voices strained and raw, knees bleeding over scratched floors, and the silent panic that maybe, just maybe, it would all fall apart. They had fought exhaustion, illness, doubts, and their own insecurities. Every one of them had carried weight no one could see, hidden beneath smiles for the cameras and waves to the fans.

And yet, here he was. On this stage. 

Alive. Breathing

His gaze drifted over the sea of faces, thousands of lights flickering in the dark— phones raised, voices blending into one giant pulse of sound. For a moment, it was overwhelming, almost too much to take in. But then, through the blur of color and motion, his eyes found one person.

Est.

He was sitting with their co-stars, a camera in hand, recording. The light from the screen cast a soft glow across his face, and even from here, William could see the curve of a small, quiet smile. The kind of smile that didn’t need words to say I’m proud of you.

And just like that, the rest of the world fell away.

Something caught in his chest like his lungs forgot to work. He tried to steady his breathing, but it was useless because the sight of Est looking at him like that made everything else fade into background noise. The cheers, the lights, the endless hum of the arena— none of it mattered anymore.

Est’s eyes were steady, warm, unshaken. And in them, William saw everything— the long nights, the chaos, the hurt they’d both endured. The harsh words that once followed them, the judgment that nearly broke them apart before they’d even begun. 

He remembered the harsh criticism, the ridicule. The whispers behind their backs. The way strangers had laughed and called them names online, called them delusional, said they’d never make it, said they were nothing. 

They were almost— almost something to the world, almost accepted, almost good enough. 

And no one knew the nights he and Est spent exhausted, questioning themselves, asking if they were even worth the fight. No one knew the fear he carried in his chest as a kid, just eighteen, almost nineteen, staring at a ceiling with only his dreams and a burning, desperate need to be seen— to sing, to act, to be an artist who mattered.

His chest tightened, emotions pressing up his throat.

Because what he felt for Est wasn’t something he could define. It wasn’t just a romantic love. It wasn’t just platonic. It was heavier than that— something deeper, something built from every late-night conversation, every glance that said ‘I understand you’ without sound. Est had been his anchor, his reason, his calm when everything else fell apart.

And tonight, standing here, with the crowd roaring and the music swelling, William realized he was singing for him.

“I have nothing, nothing… nothing”

His voice wavered, the words catching in his throat, but he didn’t look away. Couldn’t.

It felt like time slowed— the world melting into that single look they shared. Est’s small, proud smile never faltered, and William felt tears sting his eyes, blurring the lights around them. He blinked them back, forcing himself to keep singing, but the emotion in his voice betrayed him anyway, breaking at the edges.

They had fought so hard to get here— to survive the doubt, the hate, the endless uncertainty of who they were allowed to be.

His voice cracked on the final note—

“If I don’t have you…”

The sound trembled through the arena, fragile but full. And for a heartbeat, the whole world fell silent.

He was supposed to look away, bow his head, take in the cheers like every other night. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. His eyes stayed locked on Est— the middle of the crowd, small phone lifted, recording him like it was something sacred.

William’s chest ached so hard it almost hurt to breathe. Because the truth was right there in that lyric, echoing back at him. 

He really would have nothing without him.

Without Est’s quiet belief, his steadiness. Without the way Est saw him at his worst and never turned away. When the world called him fake, when his voice gave out, when everyone told him to leave the group, when he thought he couldn’t stand onstage again— Est was always there. Always watching from the corners, grounding him with nothing more than a look.

The applause came crashing back like thunder, but it felt far away, muffled beneath the sound of his own heartbeat. The spotlights burned, cameras flashed, people screamed his name— and still, all he could see was Est.

The boy who made all the noise fade.

He smiled. It was small, gentle, and real. Because maybe it wasn’t about love or friendship or whatever word people needed to understand it. What they had was something that existed quietly in between, something that didn’t need to be named to feel true.

It was something in between that only them could understand.

And in that moment— under the lights, with tears still in his eyes, William knew it.

He’d built this dream with his own hands, but Est was the reason he never stopped reaching for it.

The rest of the concert went by like a blur— song after song, the cheers growing louder, the lights brighter, every second folding into another until it felt almost dreamlike.

Everything was perfect. The kind of perfect they’d worked months for— years, even. Every note, every cue, every step on that stage was exactly where it should be. William smiled, laughed, thanked the crowd between songs, and let the energy wrap around him like warmth.

But even under all the noise and lights, something tugged quietly at him.

He should’ve been lost in the high of it, but part of him was somewhere else entirely. Every time the light hit the crowd, every time his gaze swept across the sea of faces, he searched to see Est again.

Because as much as he loved this stage, as much as it meant everything to him… there was something stronger pulling at his chest. That quiet, wordless need to just be near him. To sink into the arms of the one person who could make everything stop spinning.

When the final song ended, when the lights dimmed and the confetti began to fall, William bowed with the others. He smiled through tears, pressed a hand to his heart, and whispered a thank-you to Lykyous— the fans who made this dream real. The arena roared back in reply, and for a moment, it felt infinite.

Then they walked offstage.

The moment the curtains closed, the cheers muffled behind them, William’s body moved before his mind could catch up. His heart was still racing, chest tight from adrenaline and emotion. He passed crew members, dancers, staff calling congratulations— none of it quite sinking in.

And then he saw him.

At the far end of the hallway— just past the crowd of people— stood Est. Hands on his side, soft smile on his face, eyes only on him.

William froze for a second. The exhaustion hit, the weight of everything they’d just done but underneath it all was that overwhelming, consuming pull.

He didn’t think. Didn’t care about the cameras, the noise, the people around them. His chest felt like it might burst, his throat burning with everything he couldn’t say.

So he ran. Wearing the biggest smile on his face.

He ran past everyone. Through the hallway, through the echo of voices and lights, he ran toward Est—

The only thing in this entire night that still felt real.

Every step carried everything he couldn’t say on stage— every ache, every thank you, every I’m here because of you. The world around him dissolved, colors smearing into white and gold, and all he could see was Est.

And Est, standing there like he’d been waiting all along, eyes wide, soft, shining under the hallway lights. Their gazes locked, and for a second, William swore he could feel the pull of something magnetic, inevitable. Like gravity had always been leading him here.

His heart ached in that beautiful, unbearable way it always did around Est. It wasn’t just relief or joy— it was everything. Years of wanting, fighting, surviving. It was home calling him back.

And when he finally reached him, when Est opened his arms like he’d been waiting all along…

William didn’t stop. He collided into him, breath breaking out of his chest, arms wrapping around Est so tightly it almost hurt.

He clutched the back of Est’s shirt, his hands trembling as he buried his face into his shoulder, the scent of sweat and cologne and something painfully familiar grounding him all at once.

Est’s hand came up to the back of his neck, steady and sure.

And then, quietly, so quietly that only William could hear, he whispered,

“You made it home.”

The words cracked something open in him.

Home.

Not the stage, not the lights, not the millions of hands reaching for him.

This. This warmth, this quiet, this person.

“I’m so proud of you, William.”

William’s breath hitched. He pulled back just enough to look at Est, eyes red, lips trembling with a smile that barely held together.

“I wouldn’t be here without you,” he whispered back.

For a moment, it was just them— two silhouettes in the crowd, breathing the same air, suspended between exhaustion and relief. Est’s smile was soft, the kind that reached his eyes, and William felt something loosen in his chest. Something that had been wound tight for years.

They didn’t need to say anything else. The quiet between them said enough.

And suddenly William laughed under his breath, a broken, teary sound, and Est mirrored it. They slightly pull apart, their eyes met again, and it was there— that same unspoken thing that had carried them through.

Then the footsteps came.

“William!”

“P’Est!”

The others spilled into the hallway— Nut, Hong, Tui, Lego still flushed from adrenaline, grinning, laughing, eyes glistening. They didn’t hesitate. They crowded in, wrapping Est and William both in a chaotic, breathless group hug that smelled like sweat, cologne, and tears.

Est laughed then, the sound breaking through the noise like sunlight. He pulled back just enough to look at each of them, his hand finding William’s again for a fleeting second before he let go.

“You did it,” he said, voice thick with pride as he looked at all of them. “You all did.”

Nut wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, Hong slung an arm around Lego, and Tui clapped William’s shoulder. They were all talking at once— thank yous, disbelief, laughter that sounded like release.

And Est just stood there in the middle of it all, smiling at them with that quiet pride that said he’d been there through it all, seen every fall and rise, every fear and fight.

For William, that smile alone felt like the standing ovation he’d been waiting for all his life.

—

The noise eventually faded— the laughter, the congratulations, the footsteps. It was the kind of calm that always came after the storm, when the adrenaline began to settle and everything started to feel real again.

William found himself sitting alone in the corner of the dressing room. His phone buzzed endlessly in his hand— notifications flooding in from fans, friends, news outlets, everyone talking about Dusk and Dawn. Clips of his performance, photos, hashtags that made his head spin.

He scrolled for a while, smiling faintly, the exhaustion heavy in his body but his heart still too full to rest. He didn’t even notice when the door creaked open.

“Tired?”

William looked up and froze.

Est stood there, framed by the dim light from the hallway, holding a bouquet.

Nine blue roses, deep and rich in color— like twilight frozen in bloom. Their petals were soft and velvety, a kind of impossible shade that didn’t seem real under the warm light. Between them were small white daisies, delicate and bright, softening the depth of the blue. The bouquet was wrapped in white paper, tied neatly with a satin ribbon that shimmered faintly when Est stepped closer. Written across the ribbon in faint gold letters were the words—

Eternal Love.

William’s breath caught. “P’Est…”

Est smiled— small, calm, but with that familiar warmth that always seemed to disarm him. He stepped closer, holding out the bouquet.

“This is for you.”

William blinked, his voice coming out small. “For… me?”

Est nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You gave me daisies before,” he said softly. “You said they meant beginnings— something pure, something simple.” 

He looked down at the bouquet, his thumb brushing over the blue petals. “So I wanted to give you something that meant forever.”

William’s heart stuttered.

“Blue roses,” Est continued, his voice almost a whisper now, “mean the impossible. Something you don’t just find anywhere. It’s rare… like you.” His eyes flicked up, meeting William’s. “And nine roses mean eternal love, something that doesn’t fade, no matter what happens.”

William swallowed, his throat tight. But Est wasn’t done.

“I don’t give these to anyone else,” he said, his tone quiet but certain. “Nine blue roses… this bouquet is only for you, Will. Because you’re the only person it’s meant for. The only one who makes the meaning feel real.”

William felt something catch in his chest, something too big to name. He looked down at the bouquet again, at the impossible shade of blue, at the tiny daisies tucked between the petals— the same flowers he’d once given Est months ago.

He let out a shaky laugh, his cheeks flushed. “You actually remembered that?”

Est smiled wider, eyes soft. “I remember everything when it comes to you.”

That was enough to undo him. His fingers brushed the bouquet, his thumb tracing over the words on the ribbon— eternal love. He looked up, meeting Est’s gaze again, his voice barely a whisper.

“It’s beautiful,” he said.

“So are you,” Est replied quietly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

William’s breath hitched, a soft laugh tumbling out of him before he could stop it. He looked away, but the smile stayed, warm and real.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, glancing up through his lashes. “Between the two of us, you’re obviously the pretty one.”

Est raised an eyebrow, amused. “Seriously?”

William nodded, pretending to study the bouquet instead of meeting his eyes. 

“Yeah. Pretty. You’re like…” he gestured vaguely with one hand, “one of those art pieces people aren’t supposed to touch but everyone secretly wants to.”

Est laughed, low and warm. “That’s a very dramatic way to call me attractive.”

William grinned, his voice soft but teasing. “Well, you started it.”

Est’s eyes softened, and for a second, neither of them said anything— just quiet smiles, quiet hearts, the world humming gently around them.

Then William noticed it.

Tucked carefully beneath the white wrapping of the bouquet, hidden between the folds of the paper, was a small cream-colored envelope sealed with a pale blue wax stamp. The edges were faintly pressed with gold, subtle but deliberate, like something meant to be found later.

“Wait, what’s this?” William asked, fingers brushing against it.

Est looked almost bashful for a second, scratching the back of his neck. “Ah. That’s…” He hesitated, a smile tugging at his lips. “That’s a letter. For you.”

William blinked. “A letter?”

“Yeah.” Est’s voice softened, his tone dipping lower. “I figured… there are things I couldn’t really say out loud tonight. So I wrote them instead.”

The words made William’s chest tighten, his fingers frozen around the paper. He stared at the small envelope for a moment, then looked back at Est— who was watching him with that same calm, steady gaze.

“I should’ve known you’d turn a bouquet into a full emotional event,” William said with a half-laugh, trying to hide how much his heart was racing.

Est chuckled quietly. “You’d expect anything less from me?”

“Not really,” William admitted, smiling again, his thumb running over the wax seal.

William broke the seal carefully, his fingers brushing against the edge of the paper. It felt fragile like it shouldn’t be touched too roughly, like it carried something that could break him if he wasn’t careful.

Est said nothing. He just watched, calm and patient, his hands tucked in his pockets.

William unfolded the letter. Est’s handwriting curved softly across the page.

William,

You did it.

You stood there under the lights, and I swear, the whole world stopped to listen.

I’ve seen every version of you— the tired one who doubted, the stubborn one who kept going anyway, the one who dreamed even when it hurt to. And tonight, you were all of them. You were everything you promised yourself you’d become.

I hope you know how proud I am. Not because you and Lykn filled an arena, but because you never gave up on the boy who wanted this so badly.

Keep that stubborn boy close. He’s the reason you shine the way you do.

And if, for even a second, you forget how far you’ve come— look for me. I’ll always remind you.

Congratulations, My Talented One.

William’s throat tightened as he reached the end of the letter.

His eyes stung, the words blurring for a second before he blinked them clear. He wasn’t going to cry— not now, not when everything was finally good. But his chest ached with that kind of warmth that hurt, the kind that came from being seen too clearly.

When he looked up, Est was still watching him. There was a faint smile on his face, the kind that said I know. And then, without saying a word, Est lifted his arms as a quiet, simple invitation.

William almost laughed through the lump in his throat. But William did not fall into his arms yet. Not yet.

Instead, he looked at the nine blue roses and crouched a little, setting the bouquet down like it was made of glass— adjusting the ribbon, straightening the wrap, making sure not a single petal bent. Est arched an eyebrow, amused.

“Are you done protecting the flowers,” Est teased softly, “or should I wait another minute?”

“As if you didn’t do the same with the daisies I gave you,” William shot back, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

The moment stretched between them— quiet, steady, familiar. Then William finally moved, closing the distance one hesitant step at a time. Est didn’t rush him, he just stood there, open arms waiting, eyes soft and knowing.

When William reached him, it wasn’t quick or desperate. It was slow, like he was memorizing every second. The warmth of Est’s shoulder, the weight of a moment he never wanted to end.

His hands came up, resting against Est’s back, fingers curling in the fabric like he needed to make sure this was real.

“Thank you,” William murmured, voice small but heavy. “For being patient with me… for staying. Even when I made it hard.”

Est’s arms tightened around him, firm and gentle all at once. “I told you,” he whispered near William’s ear, “you were worth breaking my rules for.”

Est smiled softly, the kind of smile that carried unspoken things that didn’t need to be explained. He pulled back just enough to see William’s face, his thumbs brushing gently against his shoulders as if to ground him there, in that moment.

Then Est leaned in and pressed a kiss to William’s forehead— soft, gentle, lingering. It wasn’t showy, wasn’t loud, but it said everything words never could.

William’s breath caught. His eyes fluttered shut, and for a second, he just stood there— letting the warmth sink in, letting himself believe that maybe, finally, he didn’t have to fight so hard to feel safe.

When he opened his eyes again, Est was still there, close enough for William to feel his breath, close enough that the world could’ve ended and he wouldn’t have noticed.

Est’s gaze held his, steady and unshaken, like a promise that didn’t need to be spoken.

“You have me,” he said quietly, the words almost a whisper, almost a vow.

Then, softer— “Eternally.”

And in that simple truth, with the gentle sound of the concert still fading somewhere far behind them, William realized he didn’t need the lights or the stage or the applause.

He already had everything he’d ever been reaching for was… right here.

His trophy.