Silent Bond || EstWilliam au

Twenty

That night, after the emotionally charged conversation, William ended up staying over at Est's apartment. Neither of them had planned for it, but it felt right. It felt like they were taking the first tentative steps toward mending the pieces of their broken bond.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Est had cooked a simple meal, nothing too fancy—a stir-fry with rice, some vegetables on the side, and a light soup. William sat at the small dining table, watching as Est moved around the kitchen. He noticed the way Est still prepared food with the same precision he always had, the way he hummed quietly to himself while chopping vegetables. It was a sight that brought back so many memories, moments from when they used to live together, when Est would cook and William would hover around, stealing bites before the meal was even done.

Now, the air was thick with an awkwardness neither of them could fully shake, but it wasn't the painful silence of before. It was more tentative, like they were both testing the waters, unsure of how to navigate this new territory they found themselves in.

As they sat down to eat, Est finally broke the silence. "Is the food okay?" he asked, his voice soft, unsure.

William, who had taken a bite of the stir-fry, looked up and gave a small nod. "It's good," he replied, his tone casual, but there was something genuine in the way he said it.

Those simple words made Est's heart flutter. He hadn't realized how much he missed this—missed hearing William compliment his cooking, missed sharing meals with him like this. For a moment, the years they had spent apart seemed to fade away, and it was almost as if nothing had changed.

They ate in silence after that, but it was a more comfortable kind of quiet. Est could see that William was still processing everything, and he didn't want to push. He was just grateful to have him here, sitting across the table, eating the food he had cooked, the same way they used to.

After dinner, they moved to the living room. Est suggested they watch a movie, trying to fill the silence with something that would give them both a break from the heavy emotions of earlier. "You pick," Est said, handing William the remote.

William took it and scrolled through the options for a while before settling on a comedy. Something light, something that wouldn't demand too much of them emotionally. It seemed like a good choice, a way to ease back into things without confronting too much at once.

They sat side by side on the sofa, sharing a blanket that Est had draped over them. In front of them, Est had placed a few snacks on the coffee table—cookies he had brought back from California on his last trip, some chips, and a couple of soft drinks. William reached for the cookies first, taking a bite and giving Est a subtle nod of approval. Est smiled, feeling a warmth in his chest that had been absent for far too long.

The movie played on, and for the first time in a long while, the two of them shared genuine laughter. The scenes on screen were funny, and every so often, one of them would crack a smile or chuckle at a particularly ridiculous moment. It was a strange feeling—this return to normalcy, this act of sitting together and laughing, like they used to. Est couldn't help but steal glances at William from time to time, watching as his brother relaxed, as the tension slowly left his body.

Midway through the movie, Est felt a slight nudge on his shoulder. At first, he thought William had accidentally bumped into him, but when he turned his head, he saw that William had fallen asleep. His head rested lightly against Est's shoulder, his face peaceful and calm, a stark contrast to the emotional storm he had been weathering just hours earlier.

Est's heart swelled at the sight. He hadn't seen William look this calm, this at peace, in what felt like years. His brother, who had been so full of anger and pain, was now beside him, asleep and vulnerable, trusting him in this moment.

For a long while, Est didn't move. He didn't want to. He just sat there, staring down at William, taking in every detail of his face. The slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the way his lashes brushed against his cheeks, the faint remnants of tears still visible around his eyes. This was the William he had known, the William he had adored and cherished. And for the first time in a long time, Est felt like he had his brother back.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He didn't dare make any sudden movements, not wanting to wake William. Instead, he carefully adjusted the blanket so it covered more of his brother, making sure he was warm and comfortable.

His thoughts drifted as he stared at William's sleeping form. There was hope now—hope that maybe, just maybe, they could heal. Maybe they could rebuild what had been lost, piece by piece, no matter how long it took. Est knew it wouldn't be easy, and he knew there were still wounds to tend to, but in this moment, none of that mattered. What mattered was that William was here, beside him, and that they were finally starting to find their way back to each other.

Est's eyes softened as he continued to watch his brother sleep, the faint glow of the TV casting a warm light over them both.

The movie played on, but Est's attention was elsewhere. He kept his gaze on William, feeling a sense of peace he hadn't felt in a long time. His brother was back in his life, and for the first time, Est allowed himself to believe that everything would be alright.

Eventually, Est's own eyes began to grow heavy. He leaned his head back against the sofa, his body relaxing as the warmth of the moment enveloped him. As he drifted off to sleep beside his brother, a small, hopeful smile remained on his face, knowing that they were finally on the path to healing—together.