Chapter Text
One april morning in the year of 1912, the sun shone bright and clear in the Southampton bay area.
The sky was very blue. A good omen. It held the promise of a smooth sailing journey and a cool, gentle wind carried the smells of coal and the sounds of seagulls.
The White Star Line dock was busy and noisy with the movements of hundreds of workers— dirty from coal, pushing large boxes onto the ship. Their grunts mixed with the sounds of metal cranes and loud shouts. Wagons full of luggage rolled by on the rough ground.
Above it all, the huge ship— the RMS Titanic, shined with new paint. Its four tall smokestacks already sent out thin lines of smoke into the clear sky. The dockside in Southampton was a lively, bustling scene.
William stood in line at the pier, taking lungfuls of the smoky salty sea air and sighing with glee. He’d arrive with his few belongings— a battered suitcase and a case containing his precious guitar strapped over his shoulder— amidst a haze of hundreds of other hopeful immigrants, all speaking a babel of languages.
The sheer scale of the ship was awe inspiring, yet also intimidating. It would be taking the lot of them to the city of New York.
William endured the long, slow moving queues. Lower Class passengers had to undergo basic health inspections to ensure they weren't carrying infectious diseases that could spread to others, particularly the more affluent passengers. He carried his little luggage with his guitar case strapped around his back as he boarded the boat, ignoring the gruff porters who treated all third class luggage as cargo.
Once aboard, he found his way to the general room, pushing his way through the relatively cramped, though clean, corridors leading to his shared cabin. He felt a sense of relief. Relief at finally being on board after a long, arduous journey to the port, and awe at the colossal size of the vessel.
Amidst the chatter of the vast, anonymous group, he felt an immediate sense of belonging. One with these group of diverse strangers, all sharing a common hope for a better future.
He entered his cabin and glanced at the strong looking built men sitting on the bunks.
“Hello! I’m William.” He beamed at his would be roommate, reaching out a hand to a young man, probably in his early thirties, a cigar wrapped around his bearded lips.
The man shook his hand firmly, cigar at the corner of his lips. “I’m Tui. You must be the guitarist. These are Nut, Hong, and Lego. We’re orchestra musicians.” He gestured to the other men sat on the tiny beds in the cramped space. They all exchanged handshakes at the introduction.
They were a traveling band of musicians going on a mini tour around the United States. New York was their next stop but they’d taken on a gig to entertain the elite passengers in the first class Grand Dining Saloon.
“You’re the voice that’s been making waves downtown.” Nut called out in his deep, throaty voice. “Can’t wait to see if you’re the real deal.”
William gave them a wide, toothed grin. “Well…I hope I don’t disappoint.”
He'd felt the ship's immense power, a slight vibration underfoot, and the distant hum of the engines. The air in his section of the ship was slightly stuffy, carrying the scent of new wood and damp clothes. A mix of immense relief and profound awe washed over him.
He felt the weight of his dreams for a new life, a fresh start where his music could truly flourish, intertwine with a quiet sense of adventure and perhaps a touch of trepidation about the unknown.
He laid on the top bunk that was to be his comfort for the next week, smiling bright eyed at the ceiling.
~~~
Later that evening, at the Port of Cherbourg France, Est—a former athlete and heir to Thai Chao Phraya Mills, a vast rice milling and export empire— stood at the pier, staring across at the Mammoth of a ship, anchored a distance away.
He’d arrived by private train to the Cherbourg pier, where he stood by while his personal valets handled his extensive luggage.
He took in breathfuls of the salty air, trying to soothe his pacing heart. For Est, water had always been his comfort, his safe space.
But today these waters— this vast ocean— would be taking him to a tragic, miserable future. One with an arranged marriage and the burden of a major Thai conglomerate placed on his shoulders.
He’d found an escape in swimming, made a name for himself in the athletic field, made his family proud winning Gold at the ripe age of twenty. He’d had a bright future as an athlete.
But the waves came crashing with a tragic accident, a dear friend lost and a career ending injury.
And now that burden— the one he’d thought he could escape, it came back to haunt him.
His father had given him time to heal, time to grieve. Then he’d gone back to school for his post graduate studies. It was a grace period for him, the last dregs of freedom he could have before his life practically ended.
That's what this journey felt like to him— The end of his life. Alive but not human. Not living. Not free.
“You look like you’ve seen the grim reaper.” A soft voice spoke, her accent fainter from all her years abroad. “Cheer up!” She cooed, her lips curling into a smile, even though it didn’t meet her eyes.
Est looked down at his older, fair skinned sister who would be accompanying him on this trip. Along with their mother— who was currently busy giving instructions to the staff.
They’d been sent here as his guide, to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. To make sure he didn’t get away. He didn’t say anything, just returned his eyes gloomily to the ship.
Earna grabbed his hand with her small palms, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Est looked down again. She swept her gaze through his face, eyes bright with encouragement. “You can do this.” She said. “I know you think this is the end of the world for you but you can shape your own destiny Est. You’re stronger than you know.”
Earna’s story wasn’t much different from his. Her path had also been carved out for her. She’d been married off to a wealthy statesman, a marital bond to strengthen business ties and fuel power.
But over the years, she had fallen madly in love with her husband, and now they had a toddler back home waiting for her.
And in her small glassy eyes, Est could see she hope it would be the same for him. Maybe not love, but some form of happiness or even contentment he could shape out with the woman— Mary— who was waiting for him.
He knew that would not be the case for him. He knew it too well. He gave her a small smile and quickly blinked away his melancholy, squeezing her hand back.
His mother skittered forward, her high pitched voice calling out. “Alright! Alright. It’s time to leave. Est darling, are we ready?”
“Hmmm.” He nodded quietly at his mother’s question and took the first step on the ferry that would take him to a dark, inevitable future.
When he boarded the vessel, he ascended a wide, carpeted gangway directly onto the First Class reception area on the A-Deck, greeted by smiling stewards and the hushed elegance of the ship's interior.
There were no queues, no inspections, just swift, respectful service.
Est parted with his family and was escorted to his lavish private suite, a spacious cabin with fine wood paneling and comfortable furnishings. His luggage was already in his room, meticulously placed.
He quickly undressed and headed into the washroom to bathe and get dressed for dinner. After his hot shower, he dressed slowly in front of the mirror. The dark, tailored suit settled on his tall, lean body, its hue a stark contrast to his fair skin.
His eyes still held a weariness he could not conceal and his face was upturned in a frown. He tried forcing a smile and failed miserably. His mother had always scolded him about his expressive, subtltled face. It was second nature to him at this point, a habit he could never kill.
He sighed loudly before exiting his suite and heading downstairs for dinner.
The grand dining saloon was a very fancy room with rich wooden walls and shining crystal lights. White tablecloths covered every table, set with sparkling glasses and silver. A small orchestra played soft, elegant music.
Over the course of the night, the space became filled with the scent of an array of dishes, expensive cigars, fresh flowers, and the distinct and powerful perfumes of the guests.
The soft hum of the ship's machinery was barely discernible, now replaced by the loud murmur of boastful gossip and the distant strains of string quartets.
The guests chatted and laughed— talking about money, fashion, and quiet gossip about others.
Est sat with his mother and sister amidst other guests, trying to pay attention to his surroundings. He offered forced, polite smiles and nodded subconsciously at questions, his usually sharp mind adrift.
The weight of his impending marriage and the future of the family business pressed down on him like a clamp, compressing and unyielding.
Slowly, the familiar, formal melodies of the orchestra faded, soon replaced by the warm, resonant pluck of a guitar. A familiar yet unfamiliar rhythm filled the room pulling Est out of his wandering thoughts.
A boy—younger than him—sat on the platform, at the far end of the saloon, dressed in a simple dress shirt and dark tailored pants with suspenders.
His face was finely sculpted, with youthful yet intense eyes, and his dark hair fell in loose, messy waves across his face.
His fingers strummed the guitar strings so naturally—like his arm was an extension of the instrument itself— and a subtle, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips as he lost himself in the acoustic notes. He began to sing, and the gentle, lilting notes of "Moonlight Bay" filled the space.
🎶By the light of the moon, by the light of the moon, Oh, take me back to the place that I knew…🎶
His voice was not loud, but it carried an unexpected depth, a heartfelt tenderness that cut through the polite hum of elite chatter and silenced them with its magic. It wasn't the polished, formal delivery of the orchestra— it was raw, earnest, and infused with a quiet, undeniable longing.
Est felt an invisible thread tug at his weary attention. The frown on his face softened, almost imperceptibly, as his gaze drew to the distant singer.
His burden of polished facade and familial duty seemed to lessen, replaced for a precious few moments by the simple, aching beauty of a song about a moonlit stroll and a whispered promise. He just listened, lost as something new, something warm grew in him.
William was focused entirely on his guitar strings, his fingers dancing across them with a practiced grace, while he effortlessly captured the crowd with his music.
All eyes were on him, a sea of admiring faces, but one seemed to burn into him with a singular intensity.
He met Est's gaze across the polished room, and for a brief, breathless moment, held it— a look of quiet intrigue etched on his face, before he looked down at his guitar again, his lips curling into a private, knowing smile as the notes of the song blended into the perfumed air.
The song ended in a too short moment, earning applause from the crowd. The boy bowed before stepping off the platform— Est's eyes following him until he disappeared into a corner.
Est lay in bed that night, unable to find sleep. His mind replayed the scene over and over in his head and he could not get the boy with the guitar out of his head.
He wondered who he was? What his life was like?
The intense and overpowering soul in his voice— conveying feelings of fondness, romance, and a gentle wistfulness for bygone days—made Est wonder.
Had he lost somebody? A lover? A friend?
He eventually turned off his light and went to bed.
The morning after hearing William sing, Est woke to another day of tiring luxury.
He started with a leisurely breakfast with his family in the first class dining room, leafing through his old copy of The Art of War by Sun Tzu, but that offered little of interest.
After that, he moved to the swimming pool, a marvel of engineering, and swam a few laps in the heated saltwater, but the the familiar rhythm of his strokes couldn't quiet his mind.
He dressed for a stroll on the First Class deck, nodding to fellow socialites, forcing small talk about the delightful weather or the impressive speed of the ship.
He spent an hour in the reading and writing room, pretending to compose letters while gazing out at the endless grey-blue sea, wishing for something, anything, truly new.
Lunch was another drawn out affair, followed by an attempt to read a novel in the lounge, but the words blurred, and he found himself staring into space.
The card games in the smoking room held no appeal either, and the thought of another formal dinner filled him with dread.
By late afternoon, a profound boredom, heavier than any family obligation, settled over him. His privileged world felt like a beautiful, suffocating prison.
That evening, dinner felt slow and tedious. His only hope for reprieve was hearing the fine tunes from the intriguing, mysterious singer who’d somehow carved his way into his head and would not leave.
But the boy did not come to play.
Est waited, patiently.
He waited until he began to lose his patience, until his leg shook in anticipation.
But he didn’t come.
He subtly scanned the room, looking for any signs of him around but he did not find any.
After clearing his plate, he politely excused himself from the table— earning a questionable look from Earna, one he ignored.
Est discreetly approached a junior steward. "The singer from last night…" Est began, trying to sound casual. "The one who played the guitar. Where might one find him?" His voice was low, his posture straight. Inconspicuous.
The steward, flustered by a first class passenger's asking about a lower class performer, stammered. "Oh, sir, he's... he's typically in the general room, sir, for the Third Class passengers. Or with the crew." His tone suggested this was highly improper.
Est's mind raced.
He knew the general room was off limits, but the thought of that voice, that raw emotion, ate at him. He needed to hear it again, to find that unexpected feeling that had broken through his weariness.
Later that night, when most elite passengers had retired to sleep, Est sought out a bribable crew member.
"I need something." Est whispered, pressing a few coins into the man's hand. "Something plain. Clothes. Something that won't draw attention on the lower decks."
Within the hour, Est stood in his cabin, facing a mirror. Gone was his usual tailored suit. In its place was a rough shapeless shirt, baggy trousers, and worn boots. The fabric felt coarse against his skin, alien and oddly liberating. He pulled a cap low over his face, hiding his finely sculpted features.
Taking a deep breath, his heart thumping with a mix of fear and excitement, Est slipped out of his suite, ready to step into a world he had only ever imagined, driven by the compelling memory of that singer’s voice.
He knew this was risky, even foolish, but the thought of the boy’s music was a pull he couldn't resist.
The Third Class general room was a swirl of noise and movement. Feet stomped on the wooden floor, laughing voices rose and fell, and the air hummed with raw energy.
William stood on a makeshift stage, strummed his guitar, his voice soaring over the clapping and cheering. A wide, genuine smile lit his face as he watched the crowd dance, completely lost in the rhythm.
It was in moments like this—holding his guitar and sharing his music— that's when he was truly free and utterly, wholeheartedly happy.
People danced loudly and shouted praise, their shadows jumping on the walls as the ship rocked. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of cheap beer and sweat, a stark contrast to the perfumed, polished air Est usually breathed.
He pushed through the mass of bodies with awkward stiffness, his broad shoulders and tall frame seeming to absorb the light rather than blend into it.
While his borrowed, shabby clothes was meant to make him inconspicuous, they only seemed to hang on him strangely, emphasizing his discomfort. He held himself too rigidly, his head held a fraction too high, his eyes wide and darting, not truly seeing the faces around him. He stood out like a sore thumb.
William finished the last verse of the lively ballad, then, with a confident grin, silenced his guitar. The music didn't stop though. He launched into the chorus in acappella, his voice a powerful, rhythmic pulse.
🎶Oh, a cannonball flew and it missed my nose! Left me only a scratch on my fancy toes! So hooray for the captain, and hurrah for the crew, Another fine adventure, for me and for you!🎶
Hands clapped, bare feet stomped, and the entire room became a single, vibrating unit, drawn in by the magnetic energy of his voice. Every beat, every note, resonated through the wooden floor and up into the bodies of the dancing crowd.
And in that vibrant, unbridled, joyous moment, all noise and movement around Est melted away, and he stood utterly frozen, captivated by the pure power of William's voice. Amidst the joyful chaos, William's eyes scanned the crowd.
And then he saw him. Standing near the back, looking out of place despite his rough clothes, was the man from the saloon. Their gazes locked and William remembered him.
Remembered the pale, delicate beauty who had trained his eyes on him that night while he sang his heart out. He could never forget those dark, endless pools that shone so bright under the chandelier lights, even from across a distance.
A spark of surprise, then interest, lit in William's chest. He finished his song with a flourish, the applause thundering around him. He put his guitar away and slowly made his way through the dancing bodies, heading straight for Est, who turned at the sight of him, ready to flee.
"Hello!" William's voice cut through the loud chatter, his lips curved in a playful smile. His soft tone halted Est's attempt to flee mid-step. He couldn’t run away now without being too obvious and getting noticed.
He slowly turned around and met William’s curious gaze.
William took a step forward. “You came here to watch the show?”
Est blinked. He’d half expected accusations and was already shaping lies in his head. “Hmmm.” He nodded in assent.
“Well… did you enjoy it?" William’s eyes swept over his pretty features.
The boy looked even more stunning up close. His eyes sparkled with interest.
What was this stranger doing here?
Est blinked again—surprised at his casual inquisition. He studied the small smile at the corner of the boy’s lips and peered at him even closer. He felt something warm pool in his stomach and he gulped at his sudden dry throat. His face flushed and his gaze darted around.
"Y-yes." He managed, his voice a quiet, almost shaky whisper. William beamed at his simple word. His voice was a soft, rich tone that matched his subtle, angelic features.
He couldn’t help but be enchanted by him. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling for him and it was a dangerous one for the time they lived in, but he welcomed it with carefree glee.
He stepped closer, his voice dropping a little, more intimate now. "I’ve seen you before…" He said, a knowing look in his eyes. "Upstairs where things are a little more... glamorous. What brings you down here to these parts?"
Est's eyes widened further, surprise and a hint of fear flickering in them. He swallowed, visibly flustered, and tried to turn away again. "I... I should go."
He stepped out with long careful strides.
But William was quick. He followed Est out of the noisy room— a natural ease in his movements around the dark path. Est moved with purpose, and as soon as William felt him slipping away, he reached out, gently grabbing his hand.
Sparks flew and Est froze at the contact. He looked down at their intertwined hands before looking up to meet William’s gaze.
“Where are you going? The show hasn't ended yet… Did I say something wrong?” The panicked look in William's eyes stunned Est.
Est tried to find the words to explain why he couldn’t stay but everything he came up with was firmly lodged in his throat.
William studied his face, a million emotions playing in his eyes, and he gently squeezed his hand. Est’s breath caught.
"Can you at least tell me your name?" William murmured, his voice soft but firm.
He looked directly at Est, his curiosity burning bright.
The question so simple, the look in his eyes awakened something that Est had closed himself off to for a very long time. His whole life.
But he quickly shut it down. He could never explore that part of himself. Not today or tomorrow. Not in this lifetime.
He took a slow, steady breath and looked down, his shoulders tense. "I... I can't." He whispered, the words barely audible.
The tension between them was soft, almost a current, hinting at a strange, undeniable pull. William tilted his head, his expression softening further, a sympathetic look in his eye. "I understand..."
He still held on to Est’s soft, well-manicured fingers, a stark contrast against his strong, calloused hands, afraid that once it slipped out of his, it would be the last time he would hold them. He had to see him again.
This beautiful stranger who’d so suddenly enchanted him.
He thought deeply and let a brief silence hang in the air before offering— a low, sweet promise in his tone. "Tell me your name and I'll sing you a song. Just for you."
Est looked up, his quiet gaze meeting William's confident one. The offer, so simple yet so personal, seemed to break something in him.
He knew he should turn around and walk away from this situation, from this stranger whose voice kept him up for long hours of the night.
But he thought about his long, boring day that were leading him to a longer, boring, miserable life. He could trade that for a few days of comforting melodies from this stranger, a fleeting escape from the suffocating path laid out for him.
He hesitated, before his lips parted— a small, quiet, almost imperceptible "Est..." escaping him. His name slipped out of those heart shaped lips, a soft, almost hesitant promise to William.
William smiled wholeheartedly, a genuine warmth radiating from him. "Est…" It tasted like the finest plum wine as it rolled off his tongue. "As beautiful as you are."
Est's breath hitched, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. He tried to express distaste at the word, a familiar scowl forming between his brows.
He usually hated it when Earna called him beautiful. But from this boy's lips, spoken with such earnest adoration, he could only blush at the adjective.
His efforts to look annoyed were half-hearted at best, his expressive face betraying a flicker of something new, something almost pleased.
William's eyes, dark and knowing, sparkled with genuine adoration at Est's subtle, undeniable expression of flattered embarrassment.
"You should tell me your name," Est mumbled lightly, his voice still a quiet murmur. "So I know who owes me a song."
William only chuckled, a low, warm sound. "I'm William…"
~~~
That night, sleep was a distant shore for Est.
He lay in the opulent silence of his suite, replaying his evening over and over in his mind.
The plush mattress did little to ease the turmoil in his mind. William's face, his confident smile, and the warmth of his hand lingered vividly in his head.
Est replayed their quiet conversation again and again, each murmured word, each lingering glance, each tense silence. His mind raced with doubts and fears.
What was he doing?
This boy, this singer from another world on this very ship, was dangerous. He was a threat to everything Est knew, everything he was expected to be. His family’s legacy, their honor—it all felt like a crushing weight, a responsibility he couldn't, wouldn't, escape.
Any sort of relationship with William—even a fleeting one, was unthinkable, a reckless act that could shatter his carefully constructed life and bring shame upon his family.
He pushed down the strange, warm feeling William stirred, burying it beneath layers of duty and fear.
He decided, firmly, he would not pursue this. He would not see William again.
The next morning, Est went through his usual privileged routine.
Breakfast was tasteless. His laps in the pool felt heavy. The social chatter was unbearable, and the books in the reading room remained unread.
He tried to focus, to distract himself with the familiar, but William's voice, his curious eyes, kept breaking through his resolve. The day felt eerily long, stretched thin by an unwelcome anticipation.
When evening finally arrived, bringing with it the time for dinner, Est felt a strange mix of dread and a faint, desperate hope.
He entered the Grand dining saloon, the familiar opulence now feeling like a trap. Est kept his gaze firmly trained on his meal.
He tried paying no mind to the orchestra’s notes, tried to ignore every familiar tune—an unbearable task, knowing what would follow.
He was acutely aware of William’s imminent approach. So he thought it best to avoid the music.
He would put William out of his mind by all means.
His mind noticed the sharp silence and the hushed coos of the guests at the approaching figure. The whispers of praise, a soft ripple, seemed to follow William’s every step as he moved towards the platform.
William stepped onto the orchestra platform—guitar in hand, a confident, captivating presence. He gave the room a gentle, almost enigmatic smile, then settled the guitar.
A soft, intricate melody began to flow from his fingertips, acoustic notes filling the air with a beauty. Then, his voice—rich and tender, carried the words of "A Bird in a Gilded Cage"
🎶 He's a bird in a gilded cage, A beautiful sight to see, You may think he's happy and gay, But he longs for the wild and the free. His heart is sad, though his home is grand, He dreams of skies unknown, For a bird in a cage, though of shining gold, Can never truly own… 🎶
The pronoun change, the sincerity in William's voice was palpable, a raw thread of emotion woven into each note. It wasn't just a song— it felt like a story, whispered privately, intimately to Est.
He sang of longing, of hidden sorrow beneath a beautiful surface, of a yearning for freedom that Est—listening from his own grand prison— felt deep in his bones.
Slowly, almost against his will, Est's gaze lifted from his untouched meal. His eyes, heavy witha new wave of melancholy, found William on the platform.
William’s dark hair fell in soft waves, lashes fluttered as he leaned into the microphone, his expression one of profound connection to the music.
Their eyes met across the vast, sparkling room, and in William's gaze, Est thought he saw a silent, knowing understanding that sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn't look away.
When William finished the last note, the saloon erupted not just with applause, but with a collective, heartfelt sigh.
The guests, usually so composed, burst into loud, fervent claps and murmurs of appreciation. Many stood, some even called out “Bravo!” and "Encore!". A rare display of such genuine emotion from the very ignorant socialites.
William bowed—a soft, graceful gesture— his eyes, for a fleeting moment, meeting Est's once more before he turned to leave the stage.
After dinner, as Est politely made his excuses to his family and left the hall. He noticed William standing discreetly outside the entrance, clearly waiting for him.
William's gaze met his, a soft, inviting smile on his lips. He ignored the curious glances from passing staff and a few lingering guests.
"Good evening, Est," William said, his voice low, only for him. "How was your day? And did you like the song I promised you?" His eyes sparkled with playful warmth, oblivious to the icy wall Est was frantically trying to erect around himself.
Est's eyes darted wildly. He felt cornered, exposed. Trapped. He panicked and his words came out sharper than he intended, a desperate attempt to create distance. "My day was fine. And I think you shouldn't stand too close to me. Before people misunderstand." He spoke quickly, dismissing William.
William's smile faltered, a flicker of hurt crossing his face. Before he could respond, a sharp, authoritative voice cut in. "Is this man bothering you, sir?" A burly guard stepped forward, his eyes fixed on William with suspicion.
Est's heart jumped. He couldn't risk a scene, couldn't risk William being disciplined. Or worse, he couldn't risk they connection being exposed. "No!" He said, too quickly, the word feeling heavy. "We were just... talking."
William—gaze now steely, didn't wait. He looked from Est's pale face to the guard, steeling his jaw. "Yeah and we're done talking." He said, his voice flat, free of its usual warmth.
Without another word, he turned and walked away, disappearing quickly down a service corridor.
Est watched him go, a cold knot forming in his stomach, ignoring the guard's questioning stare that was burning into him.
That night, the silence of Est's room felt heavier than usual. His insomnia was something he’d come to terms with and he stared at ceiling—drawing invisible lines, his mind occupied.
He felt a sharp sting of regret from his earlier words to William. He kept seeing the hurt flicker in William's eyes, the way he’d turned away. Suddenly the walls of guilt closed in on him and he felt suffocated.
He needed air, space, a place where he could breathe away the pretense. Driven by a restless ache he couldn't name, Est pulled on his plain, borrowed clothes once more.
He moved through the hushed, deserted corridors like a ghost, slipping past the grand staircase, feeling like a thief in his own lavish prison.
He’d sailed this ship before. He knew certain routes, service passages. He'd glimpsed through open doors, forgotten stairwells that lead downwards and also lead upwards, to less guarded spots.
He found a narrow staircase, dimly lit, that seemed to ascend higher than usual. His heart thumped a nervous rhythm against his ribs as he climbed, careful not to make a sound.
He pushed open a heavy door at the top, stepping out onto a vast, open deck. The air was crisp— cold and clean, tasting of salt and the endless ocean. Above him, the sky was a deep, velvet black, studded with more stars than he had ever seen in the city. The only sound was the rhythmic rush of the sea against the ship, and the whistling wind.
This was the very front of the Titanic, a forbidden expanse of deck that felt like the edge of the world. It was deserted, vast, terrifying, and utterly free.
And then he saw him.
William sat at the railing, facing the vast, dark ocean, his silhouette stark against the twinkling stars. He was motionless, his head slightly bowed, his guitar held loosely in his hand.
He wasn't playing, he was simply there, a lonely figure swallowed by the immensity of the night.
Est hesitated, a fresh wave of awkwardness washing over him. He felt guilt and turned to depart.
But he hesitated.
The sight of William— so unexpectedly vulnerable, held him in place.
He took a hesitant step forward, the light sound of his worn boot on the deck planks breaking the silence.
William’s head snapped up. He turned slowly, his eyes, dark and unreadable in the dim light, fixing on Est. There was no surprise, no anger, only a quiet, almost resigned knowing in them.
The moment stretched, tense and fragile, filled only by the whisper of the wind and the crashing waves.
"Its you…" William murmured, his voice soft, barely audible above the ocean. He didn't smile as he usually would, Est noticed. There was a raw edge to his tone that Est hadn't heard before, a quiet hurt that mirrored his own.
The vast expanse of the deck stretched before them, silent save for the roar of the ocean.
Est stood rigid for a moment, then, his voice— a quiet murmur, asked. "What are you doing here?"
William shrugged, his hands still loosely holding his guitar. "Came here to think. The stars are clearer out here." He looked at Est, a hint of hardness still evident in those luminous pools.
Est hadn’t meant on the deck, but on the ship itself. He shifted, awkward. "No, I mean... what are you doing ‘here’? On this ship? You don't look much older than nineteen." His voice held a surprising gentleness.
William snorted softly, a cocky smile touching his lips. "Nineteen? Try twenty. And I've been making a name for myself as a musician. I'm going to New York to pursue my dreams." His words were confident, filled with a youthful, eager ambition.
He then tilted his head, looking at Est from head to toe. "And you? What brings an elite passenger down here, out of your fancy clothes?"
The air between them, despite the roaring ocean, became soft and gentle.
Est hesitated, before lowering himself next to William. He gently gazed at him a moment, sighing loudly before the words spilled out.
He told William everything. He spoke of the vast rice empire, the weight of a future already written. He spoke of swimming, of gold medals, of a bright athletic future that had ended suddenly.
He spoke of everything. Everything but his arranged marriage. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to share that.
William listened, his expression serious, his eyes holding a deep understanding. "I get you. I would like to be rich like you… but not at the cost of my freedom. I’m sorry that happened to you.”
Est only smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
William watched him closely, and felt the need to change the topic. “You know…" He murmured— a faint smile touching his lips. "You're Thai, like me."
Est blinked, surprised that William also was. “Really?” He asked, eyes bright with this unexpected knowledge.
"But you look more Chinese than Thai." William noted, a soft tease in his voice.
Est gave a smal huff, a vein forming on his forehead. "And you don't look purely Thai either." He countered softly.
William chuckled, a low, warm sound. "Guilty. I'm quarter American."
“Only quarter?” Est teased
William ignored him, rolling his eyes.
A pause.
Est watched him closely, then gently nudged William’s shoulder with his. "You know I’m older than you. You should call me Phi." William snorted again, shaking his head.
"No way I’m doing that. We look the same age." His voice was stubborn, playful.
"I’m Twenty-four." Est deadpanned.
William's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "Twenty-four! Really? Stop lying."
“Is it really that hard to believe?” Est eyes dance with humor.
“Well…you don’t really look it.” He paused, then a confident, charming smile spread across his face. "Alright then. I'll call you... Nong Luk Est."
Est's brow twitched, lips pouted in slight annoyance, and he bit back a retort. Then looked away, face flushed.
He knew the affection in the name, the boldness of it. "You should tell me full your name." He mumbled, changing the topic. He had to regain some form of composure. "So I remember you when you become famous."
William's smile widened at his words. "I'm William. William Jakrapatr."
"Est Supha." Est replied, the full name feeling strangely right to say to William. He added, almost shyly, "It used to be Ravipon. But I changed it… for superstitious reasons."
“Superstitious, huh? Do tell.”
“I had my fortune read and they said my old name— Ravipon. Made me hot tempered and too emotional. So I changed it. Silly right?” He smiled embarrassed.
William laughed, shaking his head—a bright, clear sound that carried on the wind. "No it's not. It's kind of admirable. And cute." He said earnestly.
Then he spun his head again to stare at Est, his eyes sparkling with adoration. "Yesterday you were pretty… but today you're cute. I wonder what tomorrow will bring." His voice a mellow, teasing tone.
Est flushed—a deep, undeniable blush that crept up his neck despite himself. The compliment, so direct and genuine from William, warmed him. He playfully shoved William, anything to hide his heated face.
William had a way with words that made it it so easy to be around him.
A brief silence.
“I-I apologize for my rudeness earlier.” Est stuttered, embarrassed.
"It's okay," William said softly, understanding in his eyes. "I get it. I really do."
Another comfortable silence.
William the stood, moving smoothly to the railing and leaning over, gazing down at the churning dark water. "You know…this ocean." He murmured, his voice now serious, almost somber. "It's beautiful, but treacherous. Imagine all the bodies that lie underneath these waves, all those untold stories, all the lost treasures." He gazed deeply into the dark, endless sea over the railings and felt a call, a pull.
A sudden wave of unease washed over Est.
William was leaning too far. Accessing the dangerous situation, Est reached out, pulling William back with more force than he intended. William stumbled, caught off guard, and the ship gave a sudden lurch. They both nearly fell, their feet tangling.
But William—with swiftness and surprising strength—caught Est. Est's fingers splayed against William’s shoulder, holding on tight, while William’s hand wrapped firmly around Est’s waist, steadying them both.
They stood there, pressed close, the wind whipping around them, their eyes locked in an intense, silent gaze. The world seemed to shrink to just the two of them, the thrum of the ship a distant heartbeat.
William's gaze swept over Est’s face slowly and his voice lowered— a husky whisper "You know…you’ve unlocked something in me, P’ Est." He gently took Est's free hand and placed it on his own chest, directly over his heart. "Do you feel it too?"
Est could feel the warmth of William's skin and the rapid, powerful pound of his heart beneath his palm.
He gazed deeply into William’s eyes, lost in the unspoken connection between them. They stood still, wrapped around each other on the lonely, windswept deck underneath the starry nights of the treacherous, monstrous ocean.