Chapter Text
The midday sun blazed mercilessly over the beach resort, the kind of heat that clung to skin and left the sand shimmering like glass. Palm trees swayed along the shoreline, their shadows stretching over rows of lounge chairs already claimed by clusters of GMMTV boys — Pond and Phuwin joking with each other over iced sodas, Tay and New setting up a speaker, Fourth and Gemini already splashing waist-deep in the surf with LYKN. The atmosphere was pure chaos: laughter, music, the crash of waves against the shore, and the salty breeze whipping through the air.
William and Est had arrived together not long ago. Just the two of them.
Unlike most of the others who came in the company bus, William had flown in directly from LYKN’s India tour and insisted on driving alone with Est. He wanted that time alone — an uninterrupted stretch on the road, just him and Est, even if it was nothing more than two hours of Est scrolling on his phone in the passenger seat while William stole glances from the side.
He had wanted more. The moment they reached the resort, William suggested going up to their shared room first. Just a little time — away from the noise, away from everyone else. But Est had only laughed, shaking his head, already tugging his bag from the trunk.
“Later,” he’d said. “Everyone’s waiting. Come on.”
So here they were. And William had been simmering ever since.
Est had stripped his shirt off without hesitation, tossing it carelessly onto a lounge chair before sprinting down the sand with Fourth and Nut at his heels. They hit the surf together, waves crashing against their legs before they dove headfirst into the water. Salt spray glittered in the air, clinging to Est’s skin as he resurfaced, hair slicked back, chest gleaming under the sunlight.
William sat further up the beach, sunglasses hiding nothing, arms folded tight across his chest. His jaw clenched when Fourth hooked an arm around Est’s shoulders, both of them laughing as a wave nearly knocked them down.
From across the water, someone — Perth, sprawled in the shade with Santa — called out, “William, aren’t you joining?”
William didn’t move. “No.” The word was flat, final.
Est caught it immediately. His gaze flicked over, locking with William’s across the beach. Mischief sparked in his eyes — before he winked and turned away. Instead of coming closer, he let Nut loop an arm around him, dragging him into a playful headlock. Fourth cheered as Nut dunked Est under, all the boys laughing when he surfaced again.
It wasn’t accidental. William saw it in Nut’s grin — the way his own bandmate was deliberately pulling Est further away from him, feeding the distance with a smirk that said he knew exactly what he was doing.
William’s grip on his cup nearly cracked the plastic. He hadn’t driven all this way, hadn’t come straight from tour, just to sit here and watch Est shine that smile on everyone else.
By evening, the resort had quieted from the chaos of sun and waves into scattered groups chasing their own fun. Some drifted toward the beach bar, others lounged in the lobby. William searched for Est — and finally spotted him inside the glass-walled gym overlooking the shore.
Not alone.
Pond and Phuwin were already there, spotting each other at the benches, their laughter bouncing off the mirrors. And in the middle of it, leaning against the wall like he owned the place, was Est. A towel hung loose around his neck, dark hair damp with sweat, his shirt clinging in all the right places.
The sight tightened something in William’s chest. He strode forward, intent on closing the distance, on peeling Est away from the others — only for Est’s gaze to flick toward him, a spark of mischief lighting his face. Before William could speak, Est pushed off the wall and turned deliberately toward Pond.
“Pond help me with the weights,” Est said smoothly, ignoring the space William had carved for himself.
Shut out. Just like at the beach.
William’s jaw locked as he turned away, forcing himself through his own set at the dumbbell rack. His grip was too tight, muscles straining with every curl, but it was the only thing stopping him from storming across the room and dragging Est out by the wrist. He tried to drown it out — the sound of Pond’s teasing laugh, Phuwin’s easy jokes, Est’s low voice slotting perfectly among them. Tried. Failed.
Then his phone buzzed.
He almost didn’t look. Almost. But when he did, his stomach dropped.
A new Instagram post. Est, flushed and sweaty, shirt riding just high enough to reveal hard lines of his abs under the harsh gym lights. The caption: #gmmtvouting.
William nearly dropped the phone. The comments were already pouring in — hearts, flames, thirst-filled captions calling Est hot , dangerous , the best view of the trip. His blood roared in his ears.
Slowly, deliberately, William looked up.
Across the gym, Est was watching him. Watching the exact moment William saw the post. His lips curved, that damned smirk tugging wider. And then — casual, devastating — he winked.
William’s fists tightened around his phone until the plastic creaked. He wanted to snatch Est away from the others, wipe the grin off his face, delete every thirsty comment before Est could even read them.
Instead, he stood there, burning, as Est leaned casually against the bench, laughter spilling into the air like he knew exactly what he was doing.
Because he did.
After dinner, William finally caught him. The hallway was quiet, the hum of voices fading behind the banquet doors. He reached out, fingers wrapping firmly around Est’s wrist, tugging him to a stop.
“Come with me,” William murmured, leaning close enough that his breath brushed Est’s ear. “Just us.”
For a moment, he thought he had him. Est’s eyes flicked down at the grip, a sharp glint flashing through them. But then — slippery as always — he twisted free with infuriating ease.
“Sorry,” Est said lightly, voice drenched in casual apology. “Already promised P’Tay I’d hang out in their room. Movie night with the boys.”
William’s grin faltered, teeth catching behind it. “…Boys?”
Est nodded, smile syrup-sweet, deliberate. “Yeah. Fourth, Nut, Daou, Joong… a few more.” He tilted his head, grin widening as if to twist the knife. “Don’t wait up.”
And then he was gone, jogging up the hall with the same easy stride that had been driving William insane all day.
-
The so-called “movie night” was nothing of the sort.
The makeshift party sprawled across two beds, bottles lined up on the dresser, music thumping from someone’s speaker. Too many boys crammed into the small space, laughing, shouting, dancing, the air thick with sweat and cheap alcohol.
William leaned against the wall near the door, sunglasses long gone but his eyes hidden all the same, fixed entirely on Est. Movie night, his ass. This was chaos.
Est was in the center of it all — perched on Tay's bed with Joong and Daou, drink in hand, laughter spilling out of him louder than the music. His shirt had ridden up just enough to show a sliver of skin, and William caught the exact moment Joong leaned in close, saying something directly into Est’s ear.
William’s jaw ached from clenching.
When Est finally rose, weaving through the tangle of boys toward the drinks table, William slipped forward, intercepting him before anyone else could. Their shoulders brushed, William’s voice low, sharp, and meant for Est alone.
“You’ve been running from me all day.”
Est tilted his head, eyes glinting with mischief, smirk curving slow and deliberate. “Have I? Or have you just been too slow to catch me?”
Before William could grab his wrist, Mark stumbled up, grinning wide, and threw an arm around Est’s shoulders. “Come on!” he shouted, dragging him back toward the crowd.
And Est — Est didn’t resist. He let himself be pulled, body loose, laughter bright, only glancing back long enough to mouth across the distance: jealous yet?
William’s fist curled at his side. He didn’t follow. Not with half the company watching.
But the fire in his chest had already turned into something feral.
-
Outside, the night air was cooler, salted by the ocean breeze. William stepped onto the balcony that overlooked the resort grounds, shoving a hand through his hair. Music still pulsed faintly through the walls behind him, carrying Est’s voice with it — light, teasing, untouchable.
He gripped the railing hard enough that his knuckles burned.
Tomorrow, he decided.
Tomorrow Est wouldn’t get to slip away, not into another crowd, not into someone else’s laughter.
Tomorrow, he was going to catch him. And Est wasn’t going to get free.
By the second morning, William was fraying.
He hadn’t slept well, pacing the room long after the makeshift party had died down. Every laugh he heard through the walls had crawled under his skin, every muffled cheer grinding deeper until it was all he could think about. By sunrise, he was raw — tight with exhaustion and restless energy.
Which was why, when he finally found Est, it felt like the last straw.
The balcony door was open, sea breeze drifting in with the smell of salt and sunscreen. And there he was. Est, shirtless again, stretched out in a lounge chair like he was the star of his own commercial. Sunlight clung to his skin, highlighting every line of muscle, every drop of sweat that caught the light.
Joong stood at the railing, phone lifted, snapping shot after shot while Daou egged him on.
“Flex harder! The fans are gonna die for this one!” Daou laughed, already reaching for his own phone.
William froze in the doorway. His fists curled tight at his sides, shoulders tense, breath caught somewhere between anger and want.
Est must have felt it. Slowly, lazily, he turned his head. Their eyes locked — dark against dark. And then that smirk curved across his face, infuriatingly calm.
He raised his glass of orange juice in a mock toast. A silent message, sharp as a blade: this one’s for you.
Then he tipped the glass back and turned away, shifting his body deliberately for Joong’s camera. Stretching just a little farther, letting the light carve out the cut of his abs.
“God, your abs look insane,” Joong said, loud enough to cut through the morning air. Deliberately loud enough for William to hear.
The sound of William’s control cracking was subtle — a sharp inhale, a pulse at his temple, his jaw grinding hard. Then, without a word, he slammed the balcony door shut, hard enough that the frame rattled in protest.
Inside, the silence pressed in on him, thick and stifling. But Est’s smirk stayed with him, etched behind his eyelids, mocking and irresistible all at once.
Later that afternoon, the side lounge throbbed with noise. Music pulsed from someone’s speaker, laughter spilling into the hallway like waves crashing over the resort walls. William followed it on instinct — drawn by the sound of Est’s voice — and stepped inside just in time to see his patience snap another thread.
Est was in the middle of the room, dancing through a TikTok challenge with Pond and Phuwin. The cropped shirt he wore clung and lifted with every movement, flashing the hard cut of his waist — and the thin silver chain glinting against his skin. Each twist of his hips caught the light, drawing eyes whether he meant to or not.
Daou let out a sharp whistle from behind the camera. “Bro, you actually wore a waist chain? You’re trying to kill someone.”
Joong laughed, leaning over his shoulder. “Not someone. Just one person.” His gaze flicked deliberately toward William.
William’s nostrils flared, jaw set so tight it hurt. He didn’t move, didn’t speak — just stared like he could burn the chain straight off Est’s body.
Est caught his eyes mid-dance, smirked, and let the shirt ride just a little higher.
The camera caught the wink. William caught the message.
Daou crouched in front with his phone, cackling as he filmed. “William, bro, you gotta duet this!” he shouted over the music.
William’s nostrils flared. His reply was flat, final. “No.”
The music cut for a beat as the dance ended, Pond and Phuwin collapsing into laughter. Est, flushed and grinning, leaned close to Daou’s camera, sweat glinting on his skin. His smile turned slow, deliberate, a knife’s edge in sugar.
“Don’t be mad,” he teased, voice dripping honey, eyes flicking straight to William. And then, with that same infuriating flair as the pool, he winked at the lens.
Daou lowered the phone, gaze darting between Est’s smug face and William’s expression — tight jaw, flaring nostrils, fists curling loose then tight again. A knowing smirk curved across Daou’s mouth.
“You’re gonna explode if he keeps this up,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for William to hear.
William didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His chest was a furnace, every muscle strung tight with the need to drag Est out of the room, shove him against the nearest wall, make him stop.
Instead, he turned on his heel and walked out before he grabbed Est in front of everyone. The sound of Est’s laughter chased him into the hall, light and sharp, like he knew exactly how close William was to breaking.
By the end of Day Two, William wasn’t just jealous. He was feral.
Two days of Est slipping through his fingers, laughing into other people’s shoulders, smiling into cameras that weren’t his. Two days of syrup-sweet excuses, sly glances, and winks that made his chest burn. Every time William reached for him, someone else was there. Nut dragging him into the sea. Pond and Phuwin stealing him for the gym. Tay hosting “movie night.” Joong and Daou snapping photos like they were Est’s personal paparazzi.
And Est… Est had let them. Worse, he’d enjoyed it. Posing, laughing, riling him on purpose — that damned silver waist chain flashing under cropped shirts and catching the light every time he moved. Every smirk, every tease, every soft line of “don’t be mad” had been a challenge, thrown straight at William’s control.
By the second sunset, William’s control was gone. His chest was tight, jaw aching, blood running too hot to ignore. He wasn’t pacing the edges of Est’s orbit anymore — he was circling like a predator, seconds from breaking.
And Est knew it. God, he knew it. He’d felt William’s stare across every room, fed on it, sharpened it into a game. Joong and Daou knew it too, trading grins behind their cameras every time Est leaned too close, every time William’s fists curled white at his sides.
Hell, by now everyone at the GMMTV Outing knew it. The tension was obvious, thrumming like static through every laugh, every glance. And not a single one of them was planning to stop it. Some of them wanted to see what would happen when William finally snapped.
That night, when the official cameras were packed away and the staff finally loosened their grip on schedules, the resort shifted. No rules. No handlers. No eyes but their own.
Est, reckless as ever, slipped onto the balcony with a drink in hand, a white see-through button-up hanging open with only the middle button done. The humid night air clung to the fabric, making it nearly transparent, every shift of his body flashing the thin silver waist chain still glinting against his skin. The ocean breeze caught in his hair, the curve of his smile smug, satisfied — like he thought he’d won.
He didn’t notice William follow.
Not yet.
But he would — he would feel the shadow at his back, the heat he’d been taunting for two days straight. He would feel hands that wouldn’t let go this time, devotion sharpened into something possessive enough to burn.
Because Est wasn’t just about to learn how jealous William could be.
He was about to learn what it meant to be wanted so completely, so dangerously, that escape was no longer an option.