One-Shot

The club was too loud.
William hated places like this — flashing lights, bodies too close together, music vibrating through the floor. But tonight he stayed.
Because Est was here.
Across the room.
Leaning against the bar.
Laughing.
Not with William.
With someone else.

William sat in the dark corner booth, his glass untouched. The ice had already melted, diluting the whiskey into something weak and bitter.
Just like the feeling in his chest.
Est tilted his head back as he laughed, the dim purple lights sliding across his throat. The stranger beside him said something close to his ear.
Too close.
William’s jaw tightened.
He’s just talking.
That’s what William told himself.
But then the stranger’s hand brushed Est’s wrist.
Too familiar.
Too comfortable.

William stood up.
The movement was sharp enough that the table shook, the glass rattling against the wood.
He crossed the club slowly, weaving through people without taking his eyes off Est.
Est didn’t notice him at first.
He was still smiling.
That soft smile William knew too well.
The one that used to belong only to him.
“Est.”
His voice cut through the music.
Est turned immediately.
The smile vanished.
“William?”

The stranger looked between them, confused.
William didn’t look at him.
Not once.
His eyes stayed locked on Est.
“What are you doing?” William asked quietly.
Est frowned slightly. “Talking.”
“With him?”
“Yes.”
William finally glanced at the stranger — slow, cold, measuring.
The guy suddenly looked much less confident.
“Leave,” William said.
The stranger hesitated.
Est sighed. “William, don’t start — ”
“I said leave.”

Something in William’s voice made the man step back immediately.
Within seconds he disappeared into the crowd.
Now it was just them.
Est crossed his arms.
“You embarrassed me.”
William leaned closer.
“Did I?”
“Yes.”
“You seemed comfortable enough.”
“I was having a conversation.”
William’s eyes darkened.
“I saw how he touched you.”
Est rolled his eyes. “He brushed my wrist.”

William grabbed that same wrist suddenly.
Not painfully.
But firmly.
“You don’t notice these things,” William said quietly. “But I do.”
Est tried to pull his hand away.
William didn’t let go.
“William.”
“What?”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?”
William stepped closer.
Too close.
Est’s back almost touched the bar behind him.
“You’re mine,” William murmured.
Est’s expression changed immediately.
Not fear.
Something sharper.
“You don’t own me.”
William tilted his head slightly.
“No,” he said softly.
“But I know you.”

Est’s breathing slowed.
William’s thumb brushed over the inside of Est’s wrist, right where the pulse was strongest.
“I know the way you look when you’re bored,” William continued. “When you’re pretending to enjoy a conversation. When you're waiting for someone else to interrupt.”
Est didn’t respond.
William leaned closer to his ear.
“You were waiting for me.”
Est finally pushed him back a little.
“Your jealousy is insane.”
“Yet you're still here.”
Est stared at him.
For a long moment the music, the lights, the people — everything disappeared around them.
“You could have just said you missed me,” Est said quietly.
William’s expression shifted.
Barely.
“I did miss you.”
“Then act like it instead of scaring away half the room.”
William’s lips curved slightly.
“I only scared away one person.”
Est sighed.

Then, after a moment, he grabbed William’s collar and pulled him down just enough to whisper:
“Next time,” Est said softly, “if you're jealous… take me outside instead of starting a scene.”
William’s eyes darkened again.
“Oh,” he murmured.
“That can be arranged.”
Est smiled this time.
Slow.

Dangerous.
And suddenly William didn’t mind the loud club anymore.
Because Est was looking at him again.
Exactly the way he wanted.