Glad We Met [WilliamEst AU]

Third Person Pov

“Est! Come down quickly and have your lunch!” his mother calls out from the dining area. “I’ve been waiting forever. When are you and your little brother finally going to stop playing and eat something?”
A moment later, Est appears with Jed clinging to his back like a mini koala, both of them giggling. “Is our dear mother ready with her legendary cooking?” Est teases as they reach the table.
Their mother gives them both a stern look, though the corners of her lips twitch with amusement. “Do you two never get hungry? It’s been ages since breakfast. All you ever do is run around and play.”
“Mae, ever since I got here, all you’ve done is feed me,” Est replies dramatically as he slides into his seat. “I swear I’ve gained weight!”
His mother narrows her eyes, giving him a once-over. “Gained weight? You? No way. You look even thinner than before. Honestly, Est, you should eat more—you’re all skin and bones.”
Jed, sitting beside them now, bursts into laughter as he watches their playful exchange.
Est turns to him with mock seriousness. “What are you laughing at, little bean? You better eat too, or you’ll never grow. Look at your tiny height! You’ve got to be tall like me one day.”
Jed puffs up his cheeks proudly. “I do eat! I always eat! And even if I didn’t, Mae says I won’t be as tall as you anyway—so I make sure to finish everything!”
That makes all of them laugh.
As they dig into lunch, Est looks up. “By the way, Mae, when’s Pho coming back?”
“He’ll be late,” she replies, scooping rice into Jed’s bowl. “He called me earlier.”
“On the weekend too?” Est raises an eyebrow. “Even today he’s working?”
“No, nothing like that,” she says, shaking her head. “He has to meet someone important. That person is only free today, so he goes to see them. He’ll have lunch outside and should be home by dinner.”
The conversation tapers off as they eat, warm and slow, with the occasional clatter of spoons and bursts of Jed’s excited chatter. He takes the lead in the conversation, sharing stories, asking random questions, and making both his mom and Est smile without even trying.
For a little while, everything feels peaceful—like the world outside can wait.

______________

"Phi!" Jed chirps, tugging at Est's sleeve, eyes wide with excitement. "Let's go play the video game! I want to play with you now!"
Est looks down at him, his lips curving into a soft smile, eyes twinkling with affection. "Jed," he says gently, ruffling his little brother's hair, "ever since I got here, all we've done is play. You haven't seen you study even for a minute. Don't you have homework to finish?"
Jed puffs up his chest dramatically, already on the defense. "I did some of it! And tomorrow’s Sunday—I still have all day! I can do the rest later."
Est crosses his arms, one eyebrow arching in that familiar big-brother way. "Nope. Homework first. Then we’ll talk about games."
Jed groans, dragging his feet like he's being asked to carry the weight of the world. "But I don’t wanna right now…"
Est chuckles, though his tone remains firm. "Nice try. I’m not falling for your puppy eyes this time. If you don’t finish your homework, Mae is going to come yelling at me. And you know what she’ll say—that I’m the one spoiling you. And honestly? I’m not ready for that lecture."
With a dramatic huff, Jed grabs his pen and ploops down at his desk, shoulders slumped in theatrical despair. His tiny fingers grip the pen, lips pouting as he scribbles slowly, sulking like only a child can.
Est watches, amusement softening into something deeper. Something quieter.
That pout.
Those little fingers curled around the pen.
The stubborn tilt of his head.
The way his brows furrow in mock misery.
It all reminds him of someone.
William.
Est’s breath catches.
That same stubbornness. The same moods. The same way William’s lips push into a pout when things don’t go his way… and the same quiet sweetness beneath all that noise.
Jed, in that moment, feels like a reflection—an echo—of someone Est has tried so hard not to think about.
And fails.
Suddenly, the room feels smaller. Warmer. Full of memories he hasn’t invited.
He rises quietly and steps out to the balcony, the sliding door clicking gently behind him. The evening air kisses his face, cool and gentle. It smells faintly of rain and earth—so familiar, it makes his chest ache.
For a moment, Est closes his eyes.
And it feels like William is there.
In the breeze brushing his skin.
In the silence that wraps around him like a worn-out hoodie.
In the ache that sits so stubbornly in his heart.
He can almost imagine William standing beside him, arms folded, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He can almost hear him speak.
But he isn’t there.
Because the truth is—William hasn’t left him.
He has left William.
And that truth, no matter how gently it arrives, cuts deeper than anything else.