One shot

The night was already quiet when William leaned back against the headboard, watching Est settle into the bed. The lamp on the far side was off, leaving the room dim except for the glow of William’s phone screen. Est had laughed earlier when William showed up at his door with his arms full of daisies — an uncountable mess of white and yellow, stems tangled, petals still holding the scent of a summer field.

“Why so many?” Est had asked, half-teasing, half-bewildered, as William shoved the bouquet into his arms.

William hadn’t answered then, only pressing the flowers closer to his chest. “Because I wanted you to have more than enough.”

Now, lying shirtless beneath the covers, Est had let the flowers spill over him, a blanket softer than any quilt. His hair was damp from a shower, skin still carrying the warmth of steam. He closed his eyes, smiling faintly as though trying to trap the moment somewhere behind his eyelids.

William lifted his phone, angled it carefully, and snapped the photo. Est, half-asleep, half-pretending, didn’t protest — only raised one hand to his forehead, an absent gesture of surrender.

“You’ll make me look ridiculous,” Est murmured, his voice heavy with drowsiness.

“You look like everything I’ll ever need,” William replied softly. He set the phone down, careful not to disturb the stillness between them.

There was a pause, broken only by the sound of the sheets shifting as William moved closer. He slipped a hand beneath the pillow, the other resting lightly over the mound of flowers covering Est’s chest. Beneath the weight of petals, William could feel the steady rhythm of Est’s breathing.

“Keep the photo,” Est whispered without opening his eyes. “So you won’t forget this.”

“As if I ever could.”

William bent forward, brushing a kiss against Est’s temple, the scent of daisies wrapping around them like a promise. And in that fragile darkness, with nothing but flowers and the soft press of skin, William thought he’d never known peace so simple, so whole.