Unwritten Fate [BL]-Chapter 16: "Between Denial and Desire"

A Morning of Silence and Stolen Glances

A soft golden light seeped through the window, casting a gentle glow inside Billy's room. The air was quiet, save for the occasional chirp of birds outside. Artur shifted, a deep sigh escaping his lips as consciousness slowly pulled him from sleep. His body felt heavy, his mind groggy. Blinking lazily, he stared up at the ceiling, his brows furrowing.

Something felt off.

The bed beneath him was softer than usual. The blanket smelled different—clean, fresh, and faintly like Billy. His breath hitched. Billy.

His eyes widened as realization dawned on him. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he turned his head to the side.

Billy was right there, lying beside him.

The sight made his stomach lurch. His heart pounded so loudly it drowned out all other sounds.

Billy's chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his face relaxed in sleep. Strands of hair framed his forehead, and the soft morning light traced the shape of his lips. Artur stared, his throat tightening as flashes of last night invaded his mind.

How did I...? Why am I...?

His head throbbed, and when he tried to sit up, a sharp pain shot through his skull. He groaned, gripping his temples. Damn it. The beer. He had drunk too much.

A stir beside him.

Billy's eyelashes fluttered slightly before his eyes slowly cracked open.

For a brief, breathless moment, neither of them moved. They just stared at each other.

Billy's sleepy gaze met Artur's, his brows lifting slightly in curiosity. His lips curved into a small, drowsy smile.

"Why are you smiling?" Artur croaked, his voice hoarse from sleep.

Billy smirked, stretching his arms lazily. "You're smiling too."

Artur blinked, unaware that he had been smiling. His gaze lingered on Billy's lips, then flickered up to his eyes. Something warm stirred in his chest, a sensation foreign yet oddly familiar.

Billy shifted slightly, lifting his face closer to Artur's, their noses nearly brushing.

The closeness sent an unexpected shiver down Artur's spine.

Then—like a floodgate bursting open—the memory hit him.

The party. The dancing. The teasing.

The kiss.

His eyes snapped wide.

Oh, hell no.

His body jolted as if struck by lightning. Without thinking, he shot upright, still seated but now completely alert. His mind scrambled, piecing together fragments of last night.

Billy watched him carefully. "What's wrong?"

Artur didn't answer. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as the memory of his lips pressing against Billy's rushed back. He could almost feel it again—the warmth, the softness, the way it made his chest tighten.

Billy opened his mouth again, but before he could say anything, Artur panicked.

"N-Nothing happened. Nothing happened," he blurted out, as if saying it enough times would make it true.

Billy frowned. "Did you—"

"Nothing happened!"No. This isn't happening. It was just the alcohol. Just a mistake. Right?" Artur cut him off, repeating the words like a desperate mantra. His ears burned, his pulse erratic. Without another word, he jumped to his feet, practically fleeing from the room.

Billy sat frozen, watching him go.

He blinked.

What the hell just happened?

His fingers unconsciously brushed his lips, recalling the sensation from last night. His heart pounded, confusion settling in his chest. Artur had practically run out of the room.

Was he embarrassed? Did he regret it?

The thought made Billy's stomach twist uncomfortably.

Or... was it something else?

Still deep in thought, Billy sighed and pushed himself out of bed.

Meanwhile, in Artur's Room...

Artur slammed his door shut, leaning heavily against it. His breathing was uneven, his hands clammy.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He rubbed his face, trying to ground himself, but the memory of the kiss refused to leave his mind.

Sitting at his small wooden table, he stared blankly at the wall, his fingers gripping the edge as if holding onto reality itself.

Why had he kissed Billy?

The more he tried to rationalize it, the less sense it made. He had never thought about it before—not seriously, at least. So why did it feel so... real?

And worse—why did he like it?

He caught himself smiling and immediately scowled.

"This is crazy," he muttered.

Pushing back his chair, he stormed into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. He looked up, meeting his own reflection in the mirror.

He saw it—the dazed look in his eyes, the remnants of a foolish grin.

"Stop thinking about it, you idiot," he scolded himself.

But his lips tingled, as if still remembering the warmth of Billy's.

He groaned, running a hand through his hair.

What the hell am I supposed to do now?

Back in Billy's Room...

Billy stared at himself in the mirror, towel in hand.

His reflection didn't give him any answers either.

The way Artur had looked at him this morning... it was different. Something had shifted between them.

But then why did Artur run?

Billy huffed, rubbing his temples. He wasn't even sure he understood what was happening between them.

Did Artur regret it?

Or was he just scared?

Tch. He's avoiding me now, isn't he?

Sighing, Billy grabbed his towel, drying his damp hair.

Then, as if on cue—

Click.

The door across the hall creaked open.

Billy instinctively turned, his fingers still tangled in his towel.

At the same time, Artur stepped out of his room.

Their eyes met.

Neither moved.

A heavy silence hung between them, stretching long enough to be noticeable.

Billy opened his mouth.

Artur did too.

Neither spoke.

Then, before Billy could say anything, Artur's gaze flickered away.

Billy narrowed his eyes slightly. Avoiding me, huh?

Just then—

"Hey, you two! What are you standing around for?"

Mr. Dand's voice broke the silence, making them both snap out of their daze.

He stood near the dining table, arms crossed, brow raised. "Come on, sit down and eat before the food gets cold."

Billy finally tore his gaze from Artur and walked over to sit down.

Artur followed a second later, but as he sat across from Billy, he kept his eyes firmly on the table.

The atmosphere was... odd.

Billy watched him, testing the waters. He tapped the table lightly. "Hey."

Artur immediately stood up.

"I'll help set the table," he announced, his voice too loud. He grabbed the plates hastily. "Need help, Dad?"

Mr. Dand gave him a suspicious look. "I already set the table. Just sit and eat."

Billy smirked. You're so obvious, Artur.

They sat in tense silence, eating.

It didn't take long for Mr. Dand to notice. His eyes flicked between them, brows knitting together.

"You two have a fight or something?" he asked.

Both of them stiffened.

"No," they said—at the exact same time.

Dand gave them a slow, knowing look. "Didn't say you were. But alright, keep your little secrets."

Billy chuckled under his breath.

Artur just shoved a spoonful of food into his mouth, eyes still fixed on his plate.

And for the first time that morning, Billy felt something settle inside him.

This wasn't over yet.

Not by a long shot.

The soft clatter of wooden chopsticks against ceramic bowls filled the air, mingling with the occasional creak of the chairs as they shifted. The aroma of freshly made soup curled around the room, comforting and familiar, yet the atmosphere at the table felt anything but.

Billy didn't eat right away. Instead, he rested his elbow against the edge of the table, chin propped lazily on his palm, his gaze fixed on the person across from him.

Artur.

The other man sat stiffly, his posture unnaturally rigid, as if his entire focus was on the food in front of him. His fingers curled around his chopsticks, unmoving, while his eyes remained stubbornly locked on his bowl.

Billy's lips twitched. Oh?

He glanced at Artur's food. The soup barely had a dent in it, the rice untouched. His chopsticks had hovered over his plate a few times, but he hadn't taken a single bite since sitting down.

Even more interesting was how Artur's movements felt... deliberate. He wasn't acting like someone lost in thought. No, this was something else.

Billy's fingers drummed lightly against the table.

What are you trying so hard not to do, Artur?

A spoon clinked gently against the edge of a bowl. Mr. Dand let out a satisfied sigh, finishing his portion as he leaned back slightly.

"You're quiet today," he remarked casually, glancing between them. "Not like you two at all."

Billy hummed, not breaking his gaze. "Yeah. Isn't that strange?"

For the first time since sitting down, Artur moved.

His grip on his chopsticks tightened, and his jaw clenched for a fraction of a second. It was quick, almost imperceptible—but Billy caught it.

A slow, knowing smirk curled at the edge of his lips. Ah. So, that's how it is.

Still, he didn't push just yet. Instead, he simply lifted his own chopsticks, taking a small bite while keeping Artur in his peripheral vision.

The seconds stretched.

Then, just as Billy expected—

Artur exhaled quietly, set his chopsticks down, and pushed back his chair.

"I have things to do," he muttered.

Billy didn't blink.

Didn't move.

Didn't even shift his expression.

But internally?

He almost laughed.

The way Artur stood so quickly. The way he refused to meet his eyes. The way his hand gripped the edge of the table just a little too tightly before letting go.

Avoidance.

A clear, undeniable attempt at running away.

Billy's lips curved slightly against the rim of his cup as he took a slow sip.

Interesting.

"Leaving already?" Mr. Dand raised an eyebrow, oblivious to the underlying tension. "You barely touched your food, son."

Artur paused mid-step.

"It's fine," he said quickly. "Not that hungry."

Billy's smirk deepened behind his cup. Liar.

Without another word, Artur turned toward the door, shoulders too square, posture too stiff, movements too quick.

Billy watched him go, tapping his fingers lightly against his thigh.

"Well," Mr. Dand huffed, stretching. "Guess it's just us eating today."

Billy took another bite, still watching the door Artur had disappeared through.

Oh, Artur.

You should know better than to run from me.

Billy didn't chase after him. Not yet.

Instead, he went about his usual routine, his movements casual, easy—but his mind?

His mind was fully occupied with the new, unexpected game Artur had decided to play.

Avoiding him.

"Alright, Artur. If you're going to run... I'll just have to make sure you can't hide."Let's see how far you'll take this.

And so, the day began.

First attempt.

Billy wandered over to the well, filling a bucket with water. The soft trickle echoed in the quiet morning air. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Artur standing nearby, arms crossed, seemingly checking the fence posts.

Casual. Normal. Innocent.

Billy smiled. Too bad you're fooling no one, Artur.

He turned slightly, gaze locking onto the other man.

The second their eyes met—

Artur suddenly spun on his heel and walked away.

Billy blinked.

A slow grin tugged at the corner of his lips. Seriously?

He exhaled a small chuckle. Alright, let's try again.

Second attempt.

Billy strolled toward the storage shed, stretching his arms. He wasn't looking for anything in particular, but he made a show of peering inside, casually scanning the shelves.

Footsteps.

Billy knew that sound.

He turned his head slightly—just in time to see Artur near the entrance, already mid-step into the shed.

Another second.

Another glance.

Another silent, mutual awareness of each other's presence.

And then—

Artur, without hesitation, immediately turned around and left.

Billy exhaled through his nose.

His grip tightened around the wooden doorframe.

You've got to be kidding me.

Third attempt.

Billy walked toward the barn, lazily kicking a stray rock as he went. He hadn't actually planned on going inside, but curiosity got the better of him.

The second he stepped in, a soft rustling noise caught his attention.

His gaze flicked toward the far corner—just in time to see Artur duck behind a stack of hay bales.

Billy stared.

Slowly, deliberately, he took a step forward.

Silence.

Another step.

Still silent.

Another.

A muffled shuffling sound.

Billy closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply.

Oh, Artur.

This is just getting sad.

He turned on his heel, walking out without a word.

Fine. I'll let you have this round. But you're making it too easy.

By the time noon arrived, Billy's patience had worn thin.

Artur wasn't just avoiding him.

He was practically running .

And that?

That was annoying.

Billy knew how to play games. He knew how to let people have their space when needed. But this?

This wasn't space.

This was an escape attempt.

So, when Artur entered the house through the back door, clearly hoping to dodge him again, Billy decided he'd had enough.

This time, Billy was already waiting—leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, eyes steady.

The moment Artur stepped inside, their gazes met.

Billy didn't blink.

Didn't move.

Didn't even shift his stance.

He just stood there. Watching.

Artur stopped mid-step.

A flicker of hesitation crossed his face.

His eyes darted—first to the side, then to the door behind him.

Billy smirked. Oh, don't even think about it.

Artur's lips parted slightly, as if searching for an excuse.

Billy raised an eyebrow. "Alright. That's enough."

Silence.

Artur swallowed.

Billy took a slow step forward. "You wanna tell me what your problem is, or should I start guessing?"

Artur stiffened.

The air between them grew heavy.

Neither spoke.

Then, finally—

Artur's gaze darted everywhere except Billy's face. "...No problem."

Billy scoffed. "Yeah? So it's just a coincidence that you've been acting like a skittish rabbit all day?"

Artur swallowed.

Billy took a slow step forward. "You've been running from me since this morning. Wanna tell me why?"

Artur backed up. "I—"

Billy took another step.

Artur backed up again.

The chase ended when Artur's back hit the wall.

Billy leaned in slightly, arms crossed. He wasn't touching Artur, but the closeness was enough to make the other man stiffen.

Artur was trapped.

Billy studied him, his voice softer now. "Is it about last night?"

Artur's breath hitched.

Bullseye.

Billy tilted his head. "So, you do remember."

Artur pressed his lips together.

Billy's gaze searched his face. "what's wrong?"

Artur's fingers clenched at his sides. "I—"

His voice faltered.

Billy waited.

Silence stretched between them.

Then, finally, Artur exhaled shakily, looking away. "I don't know."

Billy's expression didn't change. He had expected some hesitation, but...

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

Artur shook his head.

Billy studied him for a moment before sighing. "Fine."

He stepped back, finally giving Artur some space.

Artur visibly relaxed.

Billy narrowed his eyes slightly. "But stop avoiding me. It's annoying."

Artur hesitated before nodding slowly.

Billy watched him for a second longer, then smirked. "Good. Because I was about to start chasing you properly."

Artur shot him a wary glance. "You already were."

Billy chuckled. "Yeah, but I was being nice about it."

Artur groaned, rubbing his face. Why is he like this?

Billy grinned. "Come on, let's eat before my patience runs out again."

Artur sighed. This day is never gonna be normal again, is it?

Billy narrowed his eyes.

He wasn't going to let this go.

Not today.

Not after that kiss.

The room was quiet, save for the occasional clink of chopsticks against ceramic bowls. The aroma of freshly cooked stew lingered in the air, warm and inviting. But despite the pleasant meal before them, the tension at the table was thick.

Billy barely touched his food. His gaze flicked to the man sitting across from him, watching the way Artur kept his head slightly down, eyes fixed on his bowl as if the pattern of the ceramic was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world.

Billy exhaled through his nose, setting his chopsticks down with a soft clack.

"You really don't want to talk about it?" he asked, voice even but laced with curiosity.

Artur didn't answer at first. His fingers tightened slightly around his chopsticks, knuckles going taut. He took another bite—too slow, too deliberate—chewing longer than necessary, as if buying time.

Billy leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. His gaze never wavered.

Then finally—

"Let's just forget about it," Artur said, his voice firm, as if that would make it final.

Billy stilled.

Something about the way Artur said it—so casual, so absolute—made something in his chest tighten. His fingers curled against the edge of the table as his expression darkened.

Forget about it?

His throat felt dry. He reached for his drink, taking a slow sip to ease the sudden weight pressing against his ribs. But it did nothing to calm the irritation creeping up his spine.

He let the words hang between them for a moment, waiting—hoping—that Artur would say more. That he'd explain. That he'd give him something.

But he didn't.

Billy's lips pressed into a thin line. "Forget about it?" he echoed, voice sharp with disbelief.

Artur didn't flinch. "Yeah."

Just like that. Simple. Final.

Billy's grip tightened around his chopsticks. His stomach twisted—not with hunger, but frustration.

Unbelievable.

After what happened last night—**after everything—**now Artur wanted to pretend it didn't exist?

Just sweep it under the rug?

Like it was nothing?

Billy let out a sharp, humorless chuckle, shaking his head as he picked at his rice. He wasn't even hungry anymore, but forcing himself to eat was better than letting the growing irritation show on his face.

His heart wasn't racing. His stomach wasn't flipping. He wasn't affected.

At least, that's what he told himself.

"You're serious?" he muttered under his breath.

Artur said nothing.

Billy exhaled through his nose, fighting the urge to glare. "Right. Okay."

The tension in the air sharpened, pressing down on them like an invisible weight.

Artur continued eating, his movements stiff, calculated—but Billy could see it.

The slight tension in his shoulders.

The way his grip on the chopsticks wavered for a split second.

The way his gaze refused to lift.

Oh, so you're not as unaffected as you want to pretend, huh?

Billy narrowed his eyes, tapping his fingers lightly against the table.

His chest burned. A mixture of frustration, disbelief—and something else he didn't want to name.

Fine.

If Artur wanted to pretend nothing happened, Billy would let him.

For now.

But he wasn't going to just let this go.

Not a chance.

The tension from lunch lingered, stretching between them like a taut rope. Even after they had put away their dishes, neither Billy nor Artur spoke about what had just happened.

Billy watched as Artur quickly excused himself, mumbling something about checking on the animals outside. A convenient excuse.

He didn't bother stopping him.

Instead, Billy remained in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he slowly ran his fingers along the rim of his glass.

Forget about it.

The words replayed in his mind, rubbing against his nerves like sandpaper.

He scoffed under his breath, shaking his head.

He knew Artur was avoiding him. He wasn't even being subtle about it.

Why?

Was it regret? Embarrassment?

Billy wasn't sure which answer he wanted to hear.

He took a deep breath, pushing himself off the counter. He wasn't the type to sit around overthinking things—if Artur wanted to avoid him, then fine.

But that didn't mean Billy would just act like nothing happened, either.

Artur stood by the wooden fence, absentmindedly tossing small handfuls of grain toward the chickens as they pecked eagerly at the ground.

His mind, however, was elsewhere.

The afternoon sun felt too warm on his skin, but he barely noticed. He was too focused on the rapid thumping in his chest, the ghost of a memory pressing against his thoughts.

Billy's lips.

Soft. Warm. Dangerous.

Artur exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face.

He still couldn't believe it. He had kissed Billy.

And worse—he could still feel it.

His body betrayed him, recalling the slight hitch in Billy's breath, the way their gazes locked in the dimly lit room, the way Billy's stunned expression had sent something sharp and undeniably real rushing through his veins.

What the hell was I thinking?

The answer was simple—he hadn't been thinking at all.

The alcohol, the late night, the way Billy had looked at him—it had all blurred together into something reckless. Something he wasn't ready to face.

Artur groaned, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

Forget about it. That's what he had told Billy.

But standing here now, the memory playing in his mind like a scene on repeat, he knew—

He was the one who couldn't forget.

Billy spotted Artur near the barn, fixing a section of the wooden fence. Normally, he would have walked up, teased him about working too hard, maybe even offered to help.

But today was different.

Instead, he leaned against a nearby tree, arms crossed, watching.

Artur was aware of him—Billy could tell.

His posture was slightly stiff, his movements too careful. Normally, Artur would have thrown a glance his way, at least acknowledged his presence with a nod or a sarcastic remark.

But he didn't.

He kept his head down, focusing intently on the wood, as if it was the most important thing in the world.

Avoiding me again, huh?

Billy exhaled, shaking his head.

It was almost funny.

Almost.

"You missed a spot," Billy finally said, breaking the silence.

Artur's shoulders tensed. Just for a second.

Then he went back to hammering the nail in place, completely ignoring him.

Billy smirked. Oh, so that's how we're playing it?

He pushed off the tree, slowly making his way closer.

"You really plan on avoiding me all day?" he asked, voice light, almost teasing.

No answer.

Artur just kept working, his jaw tight, his grip firm on the hammer.

Billy tilted his head, stepping even closer. He didn't say anything else—he just watched.

Watched the way Artur's brows furrowed in concentration, the way his fingers flexed around the worn wooden handle of the hammer. Watched how his Adam's apple bobbed slightly when he swallowed.

Billy didn't know why he was staring so intently.

Maybe because Artur was acting like a coward.

Maybe because he wanted a reaction.

Maybe because—

Artur finally spoke.

"Shouldn't you be helping my dad with something?"

Billy raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be acting normal?"

Artur's hammering slowed. Just slightly.

Billy took that as a small victory.

"Since when do you care about what's normal, anyway?" Billy added, arms still crossed.

Silence.

Artur finally exhaled, setting the hammer down.

"I don't," he admitted, voice quieter than before.

Billy's smirk softened slightly.

Then Artur turned, finally looking at him—but only for a brief second.

Billy's expression flickered.

Billy let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

This was going to be interesting.

The rest of the afternoon passed like a slow-moving storm—quiet but charged with an underlying tension.

Billy didn't try to force Artur into a conversation again, but he didn't stop watching him either.

Artur, on the other hand, was a master at pretending.

He kept busy, moving from one task to the next—checking on the animals, hauling supplies, helping his father fix a section of the roof. He acted like everything was normal, but his actions were just a little too hurried. His responses, when necessary, were just a little too short.

Billy noticed. Of course, he did.

But Artur? He refused to look at Billy longer than a second. Refused.

It was almost childish.

Billy smirked to himself. So this is how Artur handles things he doesn't understand.

By running.

As the sun dipped lower, the golden hues of the evening painted long shadows across the yard. Mr. Dand had called them in for dinner, but Billy found himself lingering outside, casually leaning against the barn wall.

He knew Artur would come this way eventually.

And sure enough—

The sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears, uneven and hesitant.

Billy didn't move.

Artur stopped a few feet away, arms crossed, his jaw set as if bracing himself.

Neither of them spoke at first. The air between them felt thick—like something was waiting to snap.

Then Billy tilted his head, studying Artur with a lazy curiosity.

"You done avoiding me yet?" he asked, voice smooth, unbothered.

Artur stiffened, eyes flickering away. "I'm not avoiding you."

Billy let out a small laugh. "Oh? So you just suddenly enjoy ignoring someone standing right in front of you?"

Artur huffed. "You're imagining things."

Billy stepped forward. Just one step.

Artur immediately took a step back.

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Billy's smirk widened. "See? You're doing it again."

But before Artur could respond, Mr. Dand's voice rang from inside the house.

"Are you two coming, or should I eat everything myself?!"

Billy sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Guess we're being summoned."

Artur didn't move at first. Then, without another word, he turned toward the house.

Billy watched him go, something unreadable in his expression.

This wasn't over.

Not even close.

If breakfast had been tense, dinner was unbearable.

Mr. Dand definitely noticed this time.

The way Artur kept his head down, focusing entirely on his food. The way Billy kept sneaking glances at him, clearly waiting for some kind of reaction.

And the way neither of them spoke to each other. At all.

Mr. Dand set down his fork, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

"Alright," he said, tone exasperated. "Who's gonna tell me what's going on?"

Billy barely reacted, casually lifting his glass of water to his lips.

Artur, however, froze mid-bite.

Mr. Dand raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

Artur quickly shoved another spoonful of food into his mouth, chewing aggressively, as if stalling for time.

Billy smirked, setting his glass down.

"Ask him," he said, nodding toward Artur.

Artur swallowed his food and immediately started coughing.

Mr. Dand sighed, rubbing his temple. "Good lord, you two..."

Billy chuckled, but Artur—eyes slightly watering from his coughing fit—quickly stood up. "I'm done," he announced, grabbing his plate and all but escaping to the kitchen.

Billy leaned back, watching him go with amused patience.

Mr. Dand sighed again, shaking his head. "I swear, if I didn't know better, I'd say you two were fighting like a damn couple."

Billy paused.

Then he smirked.

"I wonder why," he murmured under his breath, before picking up another bite of food.

Artur was still hiding.

After dinner, he had gone straight to his room, shutting the door behind him.

Billy stood outside that door now, arms crossed, staring at the wooden barrier as if debating his next move.

He could let it go. He could walk away and wait for Artur to come to him whenever he was ready.

But where was the fun in that?

Billy knocked, not waiting for a response before pushing the door open.

Artur was sitting on the edge of his bed, back slightly hunched, fingers loosely clasped together. His head snapped up at the intrusion, eyes widening slightly.

Billy leaned against the doorframe. "You know, hiding isn't gonna make it disappear."

Artur's jaw tightened. "I'm not hiding."

Billy lifted an eyebrow. "You've been running from me all day."

Artur scoffed, looking away. "It's not like it matters."

Billy took a step forward. "It does to me."

Artur's breath hitched.

Silence stretched between them.

Then Billy, tilting his head, voice lower this time—calmer, but not any less firm.

"...Do you regret it?"

Artur inhaled sharply, his grip tightening on the edge of his bed.

Billy caught the movement.

His gaze softened, but he didn't look away. Didn't ease the tension.

Because he needed to know.

Artur finally exhaled, closing his eyes for a second before shaking his head.

"...I don't know," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Billy studied him for a long moment. Then, with a small nod, he finally turned.

"Okay," he said simply, stepping toward the door.

Artur blinked, caught off guard by the lack of a reaction.

Billy glanced over his shoulder, smirking slightly.

"I'll let you figure it out, then."

And with that, he left, closing the door behind him.

Leaving Artur alone with nothing but his thoughts.