Chapter Text
Est wasn't usually the type of guy to pray like his life depended on it.
"I go to the Buddha as my refuge," sure—philosophically. Calmly. Aesthetic quotes on Instagram and all that.
But if this bus didn't stop trying to flip itself over like a pancake, that might very well have to change.
"If I perish on this journey," he hissed into his phone, trying to steady his voice as another violent bump launched him two centimeters into the air, "you have to take care of PB for me."
"Tell me the truth, Est," his best friend said calmly. Way too calmly. "Are you vibrating because of the road, or because you're panicking?"
Est clutched the seat in front of him as the bus swerved—again.
"I don't know what that has to do with anything," he snapped, voice shaking so much it sounded like a remix.
"Humans aren't meant to be driven like cargo at 120 km/h in a rainstorm," she replied. "This is unnatural. Abnormal. Against God."
If anything, 120 km/h seemed generous. Est was convinced they had hit 300 at least once. Maybe 400 when the driver overtook a truck on a curve in monsoon rain.
He tried to send her a voice message, but it came out as,
"H— h— H— ho— ly— sh— IF I DIE DELETE MY—"
Because every bump turned his lungs into a percussion instrument.
It wasn't like he'd been completely stupid. He'd planned to take a flight like any sane human being, but the bad weather in Bangkok delayed it by a full day.
And his vacation itself was two days.
Two.
If he didn't get to Phuket tonight, there was no point.
So now here he was, on the Night Bus From Hell, freezing because the AC was set to Antarctica, drenched from the rain he ran through to catch the bus, and surrounded by the unholy scent combination of instant noodles and durian.
Oh, and some mysterious uncle had sat down beside him twenty minutes ago and immediately fallen asleep on Est's shoulder—with alarming intimacy.
He would like to blame all of this on fate or divine punishment, but honestly? It was probably just his baseline luck.
The bus hit another pothole, sending Est's entire soul bouncing, and the uncle's forehead thunked gently against Est's collarbone.
Est stared at the ceiling.
"Why," he whispered to no god in particular. "Why me."
"Are you still alive?" his best friend asked.
The bus jerked sideways as the driver swerved dramatically to avoid a cow.
Est's phone flew out of his hand, landing somewhere near the mysterious uncle's shoe.
Est dove for it like his life depended on it.
Which... it kind of did.
When he finally retrieved it, hair mussed, dignity shattered, he hissed,
"If this bus starts drifting again, I am giving up. Who needs a vacation? Not me."
"You do, you dramatic maniac," his best friend said, suspiciously mid-chew.
"Even better if you were, I don't know, getting dicked down by some sweet alpha in Phuket—"
Est wrinkled his nose. "Gross. Don't say stuff like that."
"Don't get on a death bus in a monsoon, and I won't have to say stuff like that."
He was not on a death bus. Maybe just a little rain.
After all, he was overworked. Slightly stressed from his recently finalized divorce.
Possibly homicidal at the thought of Meen lounging in Paris with some omega half his size....maybe even sweeter...
Not that Est knew Meen was in Paris with an omega half his size and sweeter. It just seemed like exactly the brand of nonsense Meen would pull.
Like having more than a few one night stands with his omega co-star.
Finally—miraculously—the bus began to slow as it approached Phuket Bus Terminal. Est sagged with relief, peeling the uncle off his shoulder as gently as possible.
"If the roads flood and I get stuck here," he muttered, "I'm becoming a monk. I can't live like this."
"I'm hanging up," he added with a shaky exhale.
His best friend crunched something loudly—chips, probably. "I feel used."
"As you should. Bye."
Est hung up, aware Enza wouldn't actually hold a grudge. She was more worried about him than anything else. Which was silly. He was fine.
He shoved his phone into his pocket, grabbed his backpack, and stepped off the bus into the humid Phuket night with all the enthusiasm of a man freshly resurrected from the dead.
So he was twenty-seven and already divorced?
What of it?
He was also twenty-seven and about to become the head of his own department—the first omega in his university's history to ever do it. And the youngest, too.
Take that, societal expectations.
He stepped out of the tuk-tuk carefully, mindful not to trip on the little stone path leading to his private beachfront villa. The air was warm, the sky soft and cloudy in that calm, postcard-perfect Phuket way. Waves rolled lazily against the shore. Nothing dramatic. Nothing dangerous.
Just the kind of weather that made you want to lie down, sigh deeply, and pretend life had not bullied you for the last four years straight.
He grabbed his suitcase and walked up toward the room—well, "room" was underselling it. It was a sleek, modern villa with a private infinity pool that literally came right up to the deck, overlooking the clear blue ocean. No land in sight. Just the endless stretch of soft turquoise water.
He paused on the deck, scanning the pool.
On the villa next door, someone's pool lights were already glowing, which Est didn't love. If some grossly romantic couple was staying there, he'd have to watch them wrap themselves around each other like horny sea otters. Great. As if he needed help feeling more single than he already did.
But that was a problem for later.
For now, he headed inside.
The villa was ridiculously modern—clean lines, smooth wood, giant windows framing the ocean. He stepped into the pleasantly chilled interior, sighing when the AC brushed over his warm skin. Just the sweet relief of an air conditioner set to "survive Thai humidity."
He wandered through the place—mini kitchen, small seating area, a bathroom that could fit a modest conference, and a lofted sleeping area above the main room. It was faux-minimalist, brand-new but trying to look rustic chic.
Honestly? Super cute.
And once he unpacked, it would feel cozy as hell.
Maybe Est would come here for his next heat.
...Okay, maybe not.
The sleeping loft had low ceilings—low enough that an alpha would probably have to crawl. Some omegas liked being squished into tiny spaces during their heat, but Est could see himself panicking after twelve minutes.
Then again, who else was going to be up there with him? It wasn't like some hot alpha was going to crawl over just to "dick Est down," as Enza had so horrifyingly put it.
Est's cheeks warmed. Damn Enza for poisoning his brain. She was a menace.
He shook it off, climbed back down, and opened the mini fridge to put away the tiny bottle of wine he'd brought. Because this WAS NOT a trip for moping, no matter what his traitorous brain insisted.
He was still young. Newly single. In his professional prime.
His promotion was basically official—department head at twenty-seven.
What else did he need?
By the time the sun dipped low, the infinity pool was shimmering with that seductive warm-blue glow that practically begged you to get in. Fortunately, the AC had cooled the villa enough that Est could strip down to his swim trunks without melting.
Swim trunks that Meen had picked out and were far too short for decency.
But it wasn't like anyone was around to see.
...Except maybe the couple next door. But whatever.
Est opened his wine and poured it into a plastic cup—no glass allowed near the pool, per the villa rules.
On the way out, he resisted the urge to pause in the bathroom mirror.
He knew exactly what he'd see: perfectly usual Est Supha, post-divorce, with dark brown hair that maybe needed a change and a swimmer's built that had seen better gym days.
Maybe he should do a twenty-something crisis makeover—bleach his hair blond, get cat-eye contacts, do something dramatic.
Or maybe he'd just drink his sad champagne in the pool and call it a night.
He stepped onto the deck, wincing at how hot the wood was under his bare feet—Phuket sun did NOT play. He placed his towel on a chair, set his champagne by the pool's edge, and slid into the water with a long, relieved groan.
Warm water.
Ocean breeze.
Champagne.
He was alone.
But at least the view was gorgeous.
And for tonight... that would do.
He'd only been in there a minute when a voice called out from below.
"Hey! Nice night, huh?"
Est blinked, scooting to the edge of the infinity pool and peering over the glass railing.
There was someone lounging in the private plunge pool of the villa below his—someone with inky black hair pushed back messily from his forehead, black eyes bright even in the soft amber balcony lighting, one arm hooked over the poolside with casual confidence. He wasn't tan, just naturally fair-skinned in that annoyingly flawless way some Bangkok boys managed. A beer can dangled between his fingers.
He looked so friendly—and so cockily adorable—that Est couldn't even muster irritation over his alone-time being interrupted.
"Hello!" Est called back. "It is a nice night!"
The guy raised his beer in salute. "You just get in?"
"A few hours ago."
"Cool. I've been here a night already. Heading out tomorrow."
Small talk. Est's personal hell. But the guy's voice was warm enough to take the edge off his awkwardness.
"You want some company?" the stranger asked suddenly.
At Est's clear blink of surprise, the guy gave a sheepish—but somehow still mischievous—grin. "A friend bailed on me last minute. I suck at doing vacations alone. Feel free to tell me no, though."
And Est could tell. The offer was genuine—this guy had zero shame and zero pressure in his tone, just that charmingly reckless friendliness.
Maybe Est would have said no.
But then the guy smiled wider.
God. That smile should have come with a warning label. Wide mouth, sharp dimples, eyes going crescent-shaped—irresistibly boyish but paired with the kind of confidence that said he knew exactly the effect he had on people.
Est was just shallow enough to be weak for that smile.
Plus, how often did he get to have a friendly chat with a hot...whatever? Beta? Alpha? The guy didn't scream "alpha" the way stereotypical ones did—he wasn't overly tall or towering, maybe only a hair taller than Est, and definitely not built like a bodybuilder. More like...lean-hot. Compact-hot. Shoulders broad enough to be interesting, waist tapered, chest defined but not sculpted. A body that said, I work out enough to be dangerous but not enough to be obnoxious.
"Sure," Est said, sounding much braver than he felt. "Come on up."
"Awesome!"
The guy climbed out of his pool and Est had a brief moment of panic. Not because the guy was huge—he wasn't—but because up close, he was even better looking. Wet black hair dripping down his neck, fair skin glistening, and tiny swim shorts that were criminal.
And yet he still had that adorable menace energy, like he would flirt shamelessly and apologize for nothing.
He slipped into a pair of slippers and padded up the short path toward Est's villa, unfazed by the humid Phuket night. Meanwhile, Est chugged champagne like a man preparing for battle.
Why was he always like this? He could lecture 300 undergrads without blinking, but put him in a pool with one hot stranger and suddenly he forgot how to function.
His ex always joked about it—about how confident Est was in work and how tragically soft he became socially. And his ex's "preferred omega type" in the end had been laughably predictable.
Whatever. Est was over it.
And then the stranger appeared at the top of the steps, grinning like he owned the place.
Est nearly died.
"Hey," the guy said, still dripping, still unfairly cute. "I'm William."
"Hi." Est gave a stupid wave, staring determinedly at William's forehead. Safe spot. "Est."
"Thanks for letting me invade your night." William toed off his slippers and slid into the infinity pool with a pleased groan, beer still in hand—a certified rule-breaker. "God, that feels amazing."
No drooling, Est reminded himself. No staring at his chest. No staring at anything.
He raised his champagne to sip—mostly to hide his face.
Judging by the lack of scent clarity (salt and chlorine was a blessing), William probably couldn't immediately tell Est was an omega. Good. Let him assume Est was a petite beta. Est wasn't ashamed of his designation, but anonymity helped make this feel...normal. Casual. Not loaded.
William caught him staring and grinned—dimples and all.
"So what brings you to Phuket?" William asked.
"A little solo vacation," Est said, hoping he sounded breezy. "And, um...a celebration. Work stuff."
"Oh?" William leaned in with nosy enthusiasm. "Promotion?"
"Yeah. I'm...uh...going to be head of a department soon." He cleared his throat. "First omega in my uni to have one."
William's eyebrows shot up. "No way. Dude—that's awesome."
Est warmed. "Thanks."
"What about you?" he asked. "You're studying...?"
"MA." William wrinkled his nose. "And my thesis is kicking my ass."
Est relaxed a bit more. Not a kid, then. Not too young.
"And your friend ditched you?" Est asked. "Or—someone else? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?"
Why was he asking that? And so blatantly?
But William just laughed. "Just a friend. Though knowing him, he's probably third-wheeling someone right now." He clinked his beer to Est's cup. "New friends are more fun anyway."
Est found himself smiling back. God, when had he last made a new friend?
They talked for ages, the sky deepening, the ocean turning velvet-blue. William was from a big Bangkok family, the type that teased each other relentlessly. He asked Est fast, easy questions. Phuket recs. Whether Est hated Bangkok traffic as much as everyone else. If Thai romcoms were masterpieces or disasters (both, apparently).
Eventually William tilted his head. "So...celebration?"
Est exhaled. "Yeah. The promotion. And also—my divorce paperwork finally went through."
William blinked. His lashes were long—unfairly long for someone with black eyes that intense.
"Damn," he said softly.
Est grimaced at his empty cup. "Twenty-seven and already divorced. Kind of pathetic, right?"
"I mean..." William scooted closer, dropping his voice to a playful whisper. "Wanna hear something that'll definitely make you feel better?"
Est snorted. "Hit me."
William leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief.
And Est braced himself—for whatever ridiculous, cocky, adorably confident thing was about to come out of that unbelievably dangerous mouth.
William exaggeratedly swept his gaze left and right, as if checking for spies, then leaned in—close enough that Est felt a faint brush of his breath.
"I've never been with anyone," he said, voice dropping. "Like... anyone, anyone. I'm still a virgin."
Est choked. Actually choked.
"You?" he spluttered when he finally stopped coughing.
"Me," William said cheerfully, dimples flashing like he was announcing he'd won a prize.
Est squinted. "You're lying."
William put a hand to his chest, scandalized. "Wow. The betrayal. From my brand-new infinity-pool friend, no less."
Est gestured vaguely in William's direction. "No, I mean—look at you."
That wiped the grin from William's lips, but not the mischief in his eyes. He tilted his head, studying Est as if deciding whether he could handle the next part.
"It's not really about looks," he said lightly—but something under the words wasn't light at all. "It's compatibility. Scent. Pheromones." He tapped the bridge of his nose. "And I'm extremely picky."
Est suddenly became hyper-aware of the water around them, of their knees brushing occasionally, of just how near William had drifted.
Talking pheromones with someone he'd met an hour ago felt... intimate. Younger people probably did this without thinking. He was twenty-seven and mature enough to remember when scent-talk meant you were about to make a very specific kind of mistake.
William's knee bumped his again—definitely not accidental this time.
"You smell good, though," William said quietly.
Est froze. "You can pick it out? With all this chlorine?"
William's eyes warmed, intent. "Yeah. I can tell."
Something thickened in the heat between them. William wasn't smiling now—just watching him like he'd pieced something together.
"You're an omega, right?"