Chapter Text
William wasn’t supposed to be there.
Santa had dragged him along, half-bribing him with bubble tea, snacks, and some well-deserved gossip about his Phi’s new crush. William had come reluctantly—hoodie half on, hair still damp from his post-class shower—thinking he would get at least an hour of scroll time on his phone while Santa stared longingly at his future boyfriend.
The university’s indoor pool still had that mechanical smell of freshly installed bleachers, and every splash echoed like a drumbeat. The stands were mostly filled with swim team members and a few die-hard fan clubs.
Again, William wasn’t supposed to be there.
He was supposed to be in his dorm, cuddling with his cat, watching a K-drama with a face mask on and eating noodles.
Yet here he was—poolside, waiting for his Phi to look away from his new muse.
“Phi, do you even understand what’s going on, or do you just cheer whenever someone completes a lap?” William had asked after watching Santa cheer every time a freshman finished a practice lap.
“I cheer whenever someone looks at me. It’s a coincidence that the swimmers complete their lap at that moment,” Santa had replied, shrugging.
“Maybe he looks at you because you cheer so hard at random people doing practice laps,” William muttered under his breath.
Now he was stuck watching the swim team practice, already feeling himself prune up just thinking about spending that much time in chlorine.
But then—William saw him.
Not just anyone.
Not someone he could casually describe to his friends later.
No. William would remember this moment for the rest of his life.
Standing at the edge of the pool in a crisp white and blue swim jacket was the most beautiful man he had ever seen.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
The most perfect, tiny waist.
Lean muscles in all the right places.
Messy hair, curled slightly at the ends from the pool’s humidity.
William leaned forward just as the guy turned around.
Were those heart-shaped lips?
William swore he could see the soft curve of the swimmer’s mouth—like the beginning of a secret smile.
And just like that, William forgot to breathe.
“Bro. Earth to William?” Santa nudged.
“I need to sit down,” William said faintly—even though he was already sitting.
“You… are sitting?”
William didn’t answer. His eyes were glued to the swimmer.
As if on cue from God himself, the guy turned his head slightly to speak to a teammate. His side profile was even better—sharp nose, yes those were heart-shaped lips, eyes so small and pretty they looked like they could either love you forever or never notice you at all.
William believed in fate wholeheartedly. He believed in love at first sight. He was born on Valentine’s Day and had grown up watching rom-coms. He had imagined scenarios every night before sleeping about meeting his soulmate.
But he had never imagined this.
He had never imagined who it would be, or what it would feel like to have the wind knocked out of him by just a glance.
Finally, he had a face for all his daydreams.
“Who the hell is that?” William asked.
“Who?”
“The most beautiful guy I have ever seen in my life. My soulmate. The love of my life. My future husband!!!” William announced without a shred of hesitation.
Santa blinked, stunned. He had dragged William here so he could stare at the love of his life without being judged—yet now his nong had found his future husband???
“Do you mean Phi Est?” Santa said slowly. “The two-time university champion? Lives in water? Hates sunshine, small talk, and happiness?”
Est.
Est.
Est.
“Est,” William whispered like it was sacred. “I’m gonna marry him.”
“You what? You just found out his name! William, Phi Est is a third year. Plus, he radiates black cat energy. I get it—opposites attract—but this is like North and South.”
“Third year… tell me more.”
Santa stared at him. Aish, this kid.
“William, stop staring at that man and look at me,” Santa said, physically pulling him away. “Phi Est is cold. He’s not someone you mess with. He’s rejected countless students. He’s low-key nice, but I don’t know why he’s been single for so long—and I don’t think he’ll be breaking that spell anytime soon.”
“So what you’re saying is… he’s nice and he’s single.”
Santa slapped his forehead with his palm.
“Wait,” Santa said, sitting up straighter. “You seriously don’t know who Phi Est is?”
William finally tore his eyes away from the swimmer, but only halfway. “Should I?”
“William.”
“What?”
“He’s Est,” Santa said, like that explained everything. “Everyone knows Est.”
William frowned, genuinely confused. “I don’t.”
“How do you not know him?” Santa asked, sounding personally offended now. “He’s the vice captain of the swim team. Two-time university champion. Business major. Terrifyingly pretty. People literally come to meets just to stare at him and pretend they care about sports.”
William’s eyes widened, then snapped back to Est at the edge of the pool.
People came here just to see him?
That made sense.
That made a lot of sense, actually.
“Well,” William said faintly, still staring, “if I had known he existed, Phi, do you really think I would’ve been peacefully living my life until now?”
Santa opened his mouth.
Closed it.
William pointed toward Est with a trembling finger. “Look at him. Look at that face. That is not the kind of face you let me discover accidentally.”
“You’re blaming me for your lack of campus awareness?”
“Yes,” William said immediately. “As my Phi, you should have warned me.”
“Warned you?”
“That somewhere on this campus was a man capable of rearranging my entire future.”
Santa groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You saw him thirty seconds ago.”
“And yet my life has already changed.”
Santa stared at him in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”
William smiled, soft and dazed, eyes never leaving Est for long.
“No,” he whispered. “I’m enlightened.”
Est had moved away from the pool and was now standing at the other end of the bleachers—just out of William’s line of vision.
William let out a long exhale, leaning back dramatically like he’d just survived a heart attack. “Phi… I didn’t even wanna come today.”
Santa raised a brow, arms crossed. “I know. You complained the whole way here. You literally said—and I quote—‘I’d rather eat expired seaweed snacks in bed with Mochi than smell like pool water for three hours.’”
“I stand by that,” William said quickly, “but also… thank you.”
Santa blinked. “What?”
William’s voice softened, eyes flicking toward the other end of the pool. “Thank you for dragging me here. Seriously. I was gonna waste today rotting in bed, but now? I think I just saw the face of my future. I'll thank you in our wedding speech.”
Santa stared at him in disbelief. “You’ve known him for, like, ten minutes. He hasn’t even spoken a word to you.”
William shrugged, smiling so wide it hurt. “Doesn’t matter. My soul spoke.”
Before Santa could snark back, Est turned again.
Just for a second.
His gaze swept across the bleachers, slow and disinterested, until it landed on William.
And stayed.
William’s breath caught in his throat. His spine straightened, eyes locked. For the briefest of seconds, everything else went quiet.
The sounds of the pool faded. The chatter blurred. Even Santa’s scoff barely registered.
Est didn’t smile. He didn’t frown either. He just… looked.
Right at William.
And then he looked away, as if nothing had happened.
But for William?
It had.
He slumped back against the bleacher seat, eyes wide, chest heaving just a little.
Santa noticed. “What? What happened?”
William turned slowly. “Phi.”
“Yeah?”
“He looked at me.”
Santa rolled his eyes. “Who? Phi Est? That doesn’t mean anything.”
William grabbed Santa’s wrist with both hands. “No. He looked at me. Like—not in passing. It was a moment.”
“It was a glance,” Santa corrected.
“A glance is a moment. A shared glance is practically intimacy. This is the beginning of our story.”
Santa groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
William didn’t care. He felt high.
Est had looked at him. The universe had tilted for just a second. And William, sitting in the middle of bleachers that still smelled like metal and pool chlorine, felt like he had just been cast in a drama where he already knew the ending.
William did not just lie on his bed after the swim meet.
No.
That would have been normal.
That would have been sane.
William was neither of those things.
William floated.
He floated through the hallway when he got back to his dorm, floated past Nut asking him why he looked like he had been hit by lightning, floated past Lego waving a half-eaten snack in his face, floated straight into his room like his body had forgotten how gravity worked. The entire world had turned soft around the edges. His hoodie still smelled faintly like chlorine from the pool area, his sleeves hung loose around his wrists, and there was still a ridiculous smile plastered across his face that no amount of biting his lip could hide.
He dropped onto his bed with a dramatic sigh, one hand over his chest like a tragic lead in a music video.
Mochi, who had been peacefully sleeping in the exact center of his bed like he paid rent, opened one eye.
William stared at the ceiling.
Mochi stared at William.
William smiled harder.
Mochi’s tail flicked once, slow and unimpressed.
Then, as if the universe itself had whispered the name into his ear, Est’s face flashed across William’s mind again.
The sharp line of his jaw. The wet strands of hair clinging to his forehead after the race. The way water had slipped down his neck. The way he had smiled, barely there, like smiling was something he did only when he forgot to stop himself. The way his lips—
William shot upright.
Mochi, who had somehow ended up on his stomach, slid two inches down his hoodie.
The cat gave him a look so personally offended that William immediately grabbed him under the front legs and lifted him gently.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” William said quickly, setting Mochi down on the floor with both hands. “Emergency meeting.”
Mochi landed neatly, sat down, and blinked at him like, This better involve food.
William grabbed his phone from beside his pillow with both hands. His fingers were already shaking. Not dramatically. Not in a cute way. In a fully ridiculous, heart-going-too-fast, brain-not-functioning way.
He stood up and started pacing.
Once across the room.
Twice.
A third time.
Then he spun on the balls of his feet and nearly tripped over Mochi, who had decided that the best place to sit was directly between William’s ankles.
“Okay,” William breathed out, pointing at the cat. “Okay, Mochi. Listen to me very carefully. This is not a drill.”
Mochi stared up at him.
William pressed his phone to his chest.
“I have officially met my soulmate.”
Mochi’s ears twitched.
“I know,” William said, nodding seriously. “I know I said that last semester about the guy who gave me extra tapioca pearls for free, but this is different.”
Mochi blinked.
“No, don’t look at me like that. That was a very emotional time for me.”
Mochi turned his head away.
William gasped. “Do not judge my love life. You have been in love with the same cardboard box for three months.”
At that, Mochi slowly looked back at him.
William pointed at him again. “Exactly. We all have our things.”
He resumed pacing, his hoodie sleeves swinging with every movement, the torn fabric at one cuff flapping dramatically like it, too, had been personally affected by Est Supha’s existence.
“You don’t understand,” William said, voice dropping into something awed. “I saw him today. Like, actually saw him. Not just around campus, not just passing by, not just hearing people talk about the swim team like background noise. I saw him.”
He stopped in the middle of the room.
For once, his grin softened.
“He was standing near the pool after the race, hair all wet, looking like some kind of sports magazine cover, and everyone was cheering so loudly, but he was just…” William swallowed, then made a vague gesture with his hands because words were suddenly useless. “He was so calm. Like the whole room could be screaming his name and he would still somehow look like he belonged to a quieter world.”
Mochi began licking his paw.
William stared at him.
“I am trying to tell you about the beginning of my greatest love story.”
Mochi continued licking his paw.
“You’re so cold,” William whispered.
Mochi paused long enough to blink.
William sighed and collapsed onto the floor in front of him, sitting cross-legged. “Fine. I’ll give you the important details. He has heart-shaped lips.”
Mochi’s paw stopped.
William leaned forward, eyes wide. “Heart. Shaped. Lips. Mochi, how am I supposed to survive that?”
Mochi slowly lowered his paw.
William took this as interest.
“Exactly!” he said, pointing. “You understand. You saw my problem immediately.”
Mochi did not, in fact, appear to understand.
William fell backward onto the rug, stretching out like a starfish. “And the worst part? The worst part is that I don’t know how I never noticed him before.”
His voice went softer, more confused now, the excitement shifting into something almost helpless.
“I mean, he’s been here this whole time. We go to the same university. The same campus. The same events sometimes. I’ve probably walked past him before. Maybe in the cafeteria. Maybe near the pool. Maybe outside the finance building. How did I not know?”
He lifted his phone over his face, staring at the dark screen.
“How did I not notice someone like that?”
Mochi padded closer, sniffed William’s sleeve once, then stepped over his arm like William was merely inconvenient furniture.
William turned his head and watched him go.
“Okay, rude.”
Mochi hopped onto the desk and sat beside William’s open notebook, tail curling neatly around himself.
William rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up, chin in his hands.
“I’m serious,” he said. “He looked like the kind of person people write songs about without even meaning to. Like you’re just living your normal life, and then one day you see him standing under fluorescent pool lights of all places, and suddenly your brain goes, ‘Oh. That’s him. That’s the reason half the love songs exist.’”
Mochi’s tail thumped against the desk.
William smiled, softer this time.
“And he looked at me.”
Mochi blinked.
“He did,” William insisted quickly. “Don’t make that face. He looked at me. For maybe two seconds. Maybe one. Maybe half of one. But it counted.”
He pressed both hands over his face and groaned into his palms.
“Mochi, he has eyes.”
There was silence.
William peeked through his fingers.
Mochi looked deeply unimpressed.
“I know everyone has eyes,” William said, sitting up straighter. “But not like that. His eyes are different. They’re like…” He paused, searching for the words, then gave up with a helpless little laugh. “They’re dangerous. Quiet dangerous. Like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. Like he could look at you once and ruin your entire week.”
Mochi gave a small meow.
William gasped. “Yes! Exactly! Ruin it! Thank you.”
The cat meowed again.
“No, I’m not giving you food yet. This is important.”
Mochi’s eyes narrowed.
William held up a hand. “Five minutes. Give me five minutes and then I will feed you like the spoiled prince you are.”
Mochi remained still.
William took that as permission.
He unlocked his phone and opened Instagram.
“Okay,” he muttered, settling onto the floor with his back against the bed. “Let’s not be weird. We’re just looking. Respectfully. Like a normal person. Let’s find out everything about Mr. Est. Mr. Perfectly Fine. Mr. Black Cat Energy.”
His fingers hesitated, then typed carefully: @est — a private account. Hm.
Mochi jumped down from the desk and came closer, sitting beside William’s knee as if supervising.
William typed carefully.
@est
Another private account appeared.
William froze.
“Oh,” he said.
He clicked on it.
Private.
No profile picture except a small, blurry shot that could have been Est’s side profile or could have been a shadow if William were any less insane.
William stared at it.
Mochi looked at the screen.
William looked at Mochi.
Mochi looked back at William.
William whispered, “This feels like a locked gate to a palace.”
Mochi blinked.
“You’re right,” William said quickly, pulling back. “We respect privacy. We are respectful. We are gentlemen. We are not creeps.”
Mochi’s tail flicked.
William cleared his throat. “But public accounts are public for a reason.”
He went back to the search bar.
“Okay,” he said. “Maybe the swim team tagged him. Maybe there are photos. Maybe just one. I can survive one photo. I am very normal about this.”
He typed Est’s name carefully. The results loaded.
William stopped breathing.
There were accounts.
Not one.
Not two.
Several.
His thumb hovered over the screen.
“Mochi,” he said slowly.
The cat glanced up.
William’s voice came out strangled. “Mochi.”
Mochi meowed, irritated now.
William turned the phone toward him as if Mochi could read.
“He has fan accounts.”
Mochi stared at the glowing screen, then at William.
William stared back, eyes wide with growing horror and admiration.
“He has fan accounts,” William repeated, louder this time. “Fan accounts. Not just people tagging him. Not just swim team posts. Fan. Accounts.”
He clicked one.
The page loaded, and William immediately regretted having eyes.
There were edits.
Actual edits.
Slow-motion clips of Est diving into the pool. Est pushing wet hair back from his forehead. Est standing on the podium with a medal against his chest. Est walking across campus in a black shirt and loose trousers, one hand holding iced coffee, expression unreadable. Est in sunglasses. Est in a team jacket. Est sitting with a golden retriever puppy on his lap, the dog’s tongue out while Est looked down at it with the softest expression William had ever seen.
William’s mouth dropped open.
“Oh no,” he whispered.
Mochi sniffed the corner of the phone.
William clutched it closer. “No, don’t lick him.”
Mochi sat back.
William scrolled.
There were comments everywhere.
P’Est looks so good here.
National treasure honestly.
How does he look this expensive after swimming????
Black cat prince energy.
William’s eyes widened at the last one.
He pointed at the comment like it had personally confirmed something cosmic.
“Do you see that?” he demanded. “Black cat prince energy. Mochi, the people know. The people understand.”
Mochi looked bored.
William clicked another post.
It was a video of Est after a race, water dripping from his hair, towel hanging around his neck, while someone off-camera asked him something. Est gave a short answer, almost shy, and then looked away with the smallest smile.
William made a wounded sound.
Mochi’s ears perked.
“No, no, I’m fine,” William said quickly, though he was absolutely not fine. “I just got emotionally attacked by a seven-second video.”
He watched it again.
Then again.
Then one more time.
Mochi placed one paw on William’s knee.
William glanced down.
The cat stared at him.
William sighed. “Fine. I’ll stop.”
He did not stop. He clicked the tagged photos. That was a mistake.
There were more. So many more.
Est at competitions. Est on campus. Est with his team. Est laughing at something someone said, head tilted slightly back, one hand covering his mouth. Est with damp hair and a medal. Est holding a bouquet after a meet. Est sitting alone on a bench with headphones in. Est looking impossibly unreachable and somehow painfully human at the same time.
William felt overwhelmed so suddenly that he lowered the phone to his lap.
His room went quiet.
The silly excitement was still there, fluttering wildly in his chest, but underneath it was something else now. Something heavier. Something nervous.
Because Est was not just the beautiful swimmer William had seen from the bleachers.
Est was known.
Est was watched.
Est was admired.
Est had strangers making edits of him, people commenting under his photos, people calling him perfect, prince-like, untouchable. He was the kind of person people noticed from across a room. The kind of person who already had an entire world orbiting him.
And William—
William was sitting on the floor of his dorm room in an oversized hoodie, talking to his cat like a lunatic.
He looked at Mochi.
“Mochi,” he said softly, “he’s famous famous. How did I not know this?”
Mochi blinked.
William swallowed.
“Like, people make edits of him. People know his races. People know his schedule. They call him P’Est. They have favorite photos.” His voice rose slightly with every sentence. “There are compilations, Mochi. Compilations. Someone made a thirteen-slide post just about his hands.”
Mochi’s tail moved once.
William looked back at his phone, horrified.
“I liked it.”
Mochi stared.
“I didn’t mean to!” William said quickly, panic flooding his face. “My thumb slipped! Mochi, my thumb slipped! What if they see? Can people see? Can Est see? Oh my God, what if Est sees?”
He threw the phone facedown on the bed and stood up too quickly.
Then immediately grabbed it again.
“Wait, no, what if it didn’t unlike?”
He checked.
It was unliked.
William exhaled so dramatically that Mochi stood up and walked two steps away from him.
“Don’t leave me in my time of need.”
Mochi kept walking.
William followed him with tiny, pleading steps. “I’m serious. This is crisis management. I almost exposed myself as a desperate man.”
Mochi stopped near the door.
William crouched in front of him.
“I need you to be honest with me,” William said, holding both hands out. “Am I being too much?”
Mochi stared at him.
William waited.
Mochi meowed.
William’s face fell. “That sounded like yes.”
Mochi paused.
William’s eyes widened again as the another picture loaded.
“Look. Look at this.”
The photo filled the screen.
Est sat outdoors, sunlight brushing the side of his face, his posture relaxed in a way William had not seen at the pool. A golden retriever puppy was perched happily on his lap, paws pressed against Est’s arm, tongue lolling out. Est’s expression was soft, almost fond, his fingers curled gently around the puppy’s body to keep it from tumbling off.
William stared at it like it was evidence in court.
“A golden retriever,” he whispered. “He has a golden retriever.”
Mochi sniffed the screen and then turned away.
“A golden retriever?!” he exclaimed. “Mochi, this is proof. He has a golden retriever. And I am a golden retriever. We were made for each other.”
He leapt off the floor and started dancing around the room again, doing a ridiculous spin with arms outstretched, chanting, “Golden retriever and black cat. Opposites attract! Golden retriever and black cat! Meant to be! Meant to be!”
Mochi meowed again.
William gasped. “Do not disrespect your future sibling-in-law.”
Mochi stopped walking.
William pointed at the photo. “This is proof. He has a golden retriever. And I am basically a golden retriever in human form.”
Mochi walked toward his food bowl.
William spun after him. “You know what this means, right?”
Mochi sat beside the bowl.
“It means destiny is real.”
Mochi stared at the empty bowl.
“It means the universe placed us on the same campus.”
Mochi stared harder.
“It means I have somehow spent years existing in the same space as Est Supha without noticing him, which is frankly embarrassing for me as an artist.”
Mochi lifted one paw and tapped the bowl.
William froze.
“Oh.”
Mochi tapped it again.
William pointed at him. “You are so manipulative.”
Mochi meowed.
“And yet,” William sighed, walking over to grab the food bag, “so effective.”
He poured food into Mochi’s bowl, watching as the cat immediately lowered his head to eat, all previous emotional support forgotten.
William crouched beside him.
“You only love me for food.”
Mochi crunched loudly.
William smiled to himself and leaned against the wall, phone still in his hand.
He opened the fan account again despite knowing it was dangerous.
Another post appeared.
Est standing near the pool, hair damp, expression unreadable.
William stared at the photo for a long moment.
His smile softened into something less ridiculous.
“You know,” he said quietly, more to Mochi than to himself, “it’s kind of scary.”
Mochi kept eating.
William looked down at him.
“Because everyone sees him. Everyone admires him. Everyone already knows he’s incredible. And I’m just…” He laughed under his breath, a little embarrassed. “I’m just me.”
Mochi paused mid-bite.
William’s voice went quieter.
“What if I talk to him and he thinks I’m annoying?”
Mochi lifted his head.
“What if I say something stupid?” William continued. “What if he looks at me with those terrifying eyes and I forget every word I’ve ever learned? What if I try to be cool and somehow make it worse?”
What William seemed to conveniently forget, in the middle of his dramatic floor-bound breakdown, was that he was not exactly anonymous either. He had been famous on campus since freshman year, back when LYKN had first started getting invited to perform at university events, back when people had begun whispering his name in hallways and posting clips of him singing under fairy lights in the courtyard. There were fan accounts for him too. Edits. Screaming comments. Entire threads about his smile, his voice, his hands on a guitar. But apparently, all of that stopped existing the moment Est Supha appeared on his screen looking like an untouchable swimming prince with a golden retriever in his lap.
Mochi swallowed, then walked over and bumped his head against William’s knee.
William stopped.
The touch was small. Almost lazy. Completely unimpressed.
But it was there.
William looked down, then smiled.
“Oh,” he said softly. “So now you care?”
Mochi rubbed his cheek against William’s leg once, then walked away again like the moment had never happened.
William laughed, warm and breathless.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
He stood and returned to the bed, falling backward onto it with his phone pressed to his chest.
The ceiling looked brighter than it had before.
He thought of Est again.
The pool lights. The cheers. The water. The quiet smile. The puppy photo. The fan edits. The way Est seemed untouchable and still somehow gentle enough to hold a golden retriever like it was something precious.
William turned onto his side, curling around his phone.
“How did I never notice you?” he whispered.
From the floor, Mochi gave a soft, grumpy meow.
William smiled.
“I know, I know. I’m late. I’m sorry. But I noticed now.”
He wanted to talk to Est.
Really talk to him.
He wanted Est to look at him because William had made him laugh. Because William had said something stupid and honest. Because William had found a way to cross the impossible distance between the bleachers and the pool.
William placed the phone facedown on his chest.
“Tomorrow,” he whispered, eyes bright even in the dim room, “I’m gonna find a way to talk to him.”
Mochi meowed from beside the food bowl.
William lifted his head. “For real this time.”
Mochi blinked at him.
William grinned.
“I’m gonna talk to him as me.”
The words made his stomach flip.
He covered his face with both hands and let out a muffled scream into his palms.
Mochi immediately looked up, offended.
William dropped his hands.
“Sorry,” he said. “That was the sound of my future changing.”
Mochi’s tail flicked.
William laughed again and flopped back against the pillows, the smile returning full force.
“Golden retriever and black cat,” he murmured, softer now, like a secret. “Maybe we really are meant to be.”
Mochi, who had clearly had enough of William’s nonsense for one night, padded toward the door with all the elegance of a tiny, furry king abandoning his court.
William lifted his head. “Where are you going?”
Mochi stopped at the threshold and looked back.
William narrowed his eyes. “Don’t give me that look. You’re going to tell Nut, aren’t you?”
Mochi meowed.
William gasped. “Traitor.”
The cat disappeared into the hallway.
William collapsed onto his bed, laughing into the blanket, phone clutched tightly against his heart.
Outside his room, Mochi’s soft paws padded away like a judgmental little shadow.
William smiled into the dark.
“Fine,” he called after him. “Food first. Then destiny.”
A beat passed.
Then, quieter, with his cheeks aching from smiling, he added, “And then world domination.”
From the hallway, Mochi meowed once.
William grinned.
“Exactly. You get it.”