Forced Hearts [WilliamEst]

Chapter 5

Est had settled into a routine that was both familiar and foreign. Every morning, he’d find William in the kitchen, casually preparing breakfast. It was such a simple, mundane gesture, but it had become a quiet constant in Est's life. And even though he always insisted on pushing William away, there was something grounding about the sight of him there every morning, waiting at the table with a cup of coffee in hand.

At first, he was annoyed. William’s morning presence felt like an invasion of his personal space, a reminder that he wasn’t truly alone in this house. But slowly, Est found himself softening, unable to maintain the same level of resentment that had once fueled him. It wasn’t that he’d forgiven William, or even wanted this marriage any more than he had before, but something in him was starting to settle. The walls he’d built around himself, high and sturdy, had started to crack—small, hairline fractures that he hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

One morning, when he had an unusually early schedule, Est found himself sitting at the table across from William. They exchanged polite nods, neither breaking the silence. But as he sipped his coffee, Est couldn’t shake the strange feeling blooming in his chest. There was a sense of ease he couldn’t quite name, an almost unsettling comfort in the familiarity of the routine they’d somehow created together. He was getting used to William’s presence, to the warmth of their shared silence in the morning, and that frightened him.

“What’s on your mind?” William’s voice was gentle, his gaze curious but not intrusive.

Est blinked, pulled out of his thoughts. “Nothing,” he said a bit too quickly, averting his eyes. “Just thinking about my schedule.”

William only nodded, his expression unreadable. But his gaze lingered on Est for a moment longer before he turned back to his own breakfast. It was in those quiet glances, the small ways William observed him without prying, that Est felt his defenses weakening.

They fell into a rhythm—Est would go off to his filming schedules, sometimes working until the early hours of the morning, while William threw himself into his own business commitments. But every morning, without fail, William was there, a silent presence at the breakfast table, often with Est’s coffee ready and a simple breakfast waiting. Est found himself lingering in the kitchen longer than he needed to, savoring the small moments that, despite his best efforts, felt more and more like a semblance of home.

Yet the comfort he found in these routines brought a gnawing sense of dread. He wasn’t supposed to feel at home here. He wasn’t supposed to grow comfortable in William’s presence. But the longer he stayed, the harder it became to resist. He had spent so long shutting people out, guarding his heart after what happened with Bank. Yet here was William, unassuming and steady, quietly tending to him in ways that didn’t demand anything in return.

One night, Est came home later than usual, his muscles aching from a particularly exhausting day on set. The house was dark, save for the soft glow coming from the living room. He stopped in his tracks as he noticed William, half-asleep on the couch with a book open on his lap. The sight of him there, waiting up, stirred something strange within Est—a strange warmth and guilt that mingled uneasily.

“William?” Est’s voice was barely a whisper, as if he feared waking him from a peaceful dream.

William stirred, opening his eyes and blinking groggily. He looked up at Est, his expression softening. “You’re back.”

“You… waited up for me?” Est asked, feeling foolish even as he said it.

William gave a small shrug, looking almost bashful. “You’ve been coming home so late. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Est felt his heart tighten, caught between gratitude and confusion. He wanted to snap back with something sarcastic, to keep the distance between them firmly in place, but the words wouldn’t come. He only nodded, muttering, “Thanks.”

An awkward silence settled between them before William spoke again, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of sincerity. “You should try to get more rest. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

Est scoffed lightly, trying to downplay the impact of William’s words. “I know my limits.”

“Do you?” William’s gaze was steady, his eyes searching Est’s face in a way that made him feel exposed. “You don’t always have to do everything alone, you know.”

Est’s defenses flared at the vulnerability in William’s words. “I’ve been doing fine on my own for years. I don’t need anyone to look out for me.”

“I know,” William replied softly, not pressing further. He didn’t need to; his words had already slipped past Est’s defenses, lingering in a way he couldn’t shake. Without another word, William rose from the couch, his presence solid and grounding as he passed by Est with a gentle nod. “Good night, Est.”

Est watched him retreat to his room, feeling a sense of loss he couldn’t quite explain. He’d fought so hard to keep his distance, to make this marriage as empty and meaningless as he could, but the weight of William’s kindness was beginning to wear down his resolve.

Over the following days, Est found himself more torn than ever. He still clung to his stubbornness, still told himself that he didn’t want William’s care or concern, yet he couldn’t deny the comfort it brought him. Some mornings, he found himself drawn to the kitchen earlier than he needed to be, sharing those quiet breakfasts with William in a silence that no longer felt strained.

It was on one of these mornings that William looked up from his tablet, his expression thoughtful. “You seem more at ease here lately.”

Est froze, his fingers curling around his coffee cup. He looked away, feeling his heartbeat quicken. “I guess I just… got used to it,” he mumbled, trying to keep his tone dismissive.

William gave a small, understanding nod, though his eyes held a glimmer of something that made Est’s chest tighten. “It’s okay to feel comfortable, you know.”

Est bristled, his walls snapping back into place. “I didn’t ask for your opinion on how I should feel.”

William only smiled, unperturbed. “I know you didn’t. But maybe it’s worth thinking about.” He returned his attention to his tablet, leaving Est to wrestle with the quiet turmoil brewing inside him.

The thought lingered with him throughout the day, gnawing at him even as he tried to focus on his work. The comfort he felt in this house, the ease that had begun to settle in his heart—it felt like a betrayal of everything he’d fought for, of the independence he’d clung to for so long. And yet, no matter how hard he tried to push it away, the feeling remained, warm and insistent, like a quiet invitation he couldn’t ignore.

That night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Est couldn’t shake the feeling that he was standing on the edge of something he didn’t fully understand. He was afraid to let himself hope, afraid to let down the walls he’d built so carefully. But as he closed his eyes, he remembered the gentle warmth in William’s gaze, the steady presence he’d come to rely on without even realizing it.

It scared him to think of what he might lose if he let himself feel, if he allowed himself to trust again. But maybe, just maybe, he was ready to stop running, to face the possibility that he didn’t have to carry everything alone.

The next morning, Est found himself in the kitchen before William, a small, tentative smile tugging at his lips as he prepared two cups of coffee. When William walked in, his eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Est already waiting for him.

“Good morning,” Est said softly, pushing one of the cups toward him.

William’s smile was slow, warm, and genuine, and for the first time, Est felt his heart lift in a way that didn’t scare him. “Good morning, Est.”

They shared breakfast in comfortable silence, and Est let himself believe that maybe, in this strange, unexpected life they’d found together, he could start letting his guard down—even if just a little.