Unwritten Fate [BL]-Chapter 20: "Morning Came Too Soon"

Morning Came Too Soon

Billy wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep.

But when the morning light slipped through the cracks in the wooden window, he knew it had been a restless night.

His thoughts from yesterday clung to him like a fading dream—disjointed but persistent, refusing to be forgotten.

He lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the faint sounds outside. Footsteps, the distant murmur of voices. The village was already waking up.

Exhaling, Billy sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. His body felt heavy, not with exhaustion, but with something else entirely.

Something he still couldn't name.

He pushed himself up, changing into fresh clothes before stepping out of his room.

The scent of morning air mixed with the faint, lingering aroma of last night's fire. The house was quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of movement.

As he moved toward the kitchen, his steps slowed.

Artur was already there.

He stood near the table, back turned, fingers resting on the worn surface. His posture was rigid, but not in the usual way. Not in the way that came from exhaustion after a long day of work."

Billy hesitated in the doorway.

To anyone else, it would have been nothing—a shift in breath, the faint flex of fingers against wood. But Billy saw it. The way Artur's shoulders tensed before each exhale, the way his fingers curled like he was holding something in place. Holding himself in place.

Something about the sight made Billy's chest feel tight.

He shifted his weight, letting his presence be known without speaking.

Artur turned slightly, his gaze meeting Billy's for a brief second before he looked away. "You're up early," he said, his voice even but quieter than usual.

Billy nodded, stepping inside. "Yeah."

The silence between them felt fragile. Not uncomfortable, but not easy either.

Artur exhaled through his nose, pushing away from the table. "I was about to head out. There's some work to do in the field."

Billy didn't respond right away. He just watched the way Artur moved—collected, steady, but with something restrained beneath the surface.

He could feel it now.

That thing he had spent the last day trying to understand.

Billy lowered his gaze for a moment, fingers brushing over the rough edge of the table before he finally spoke.

"I'll come with you."

Artur stilled. Not visibly, not in a way anyone else would have noticed. But Billy caught it.

A pause, just a fraction too long.

Then Artur nodded. "Alright."

And just like that, they fell into step, moving toward the door.

The morning air was crisp, the quiet hum of the village filling the spaces between them. But something had shifted.

Something neither of them spoke about.

But they both felt it.

The fields stretched out before them, bathed in the soft glow of morning light. Dew clung to the grass, shimmering as the first rays of sunlight kissed the earth. The air was cool, crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp soil and greenery.

Billy followed Artur through the narrow path, their boots crunching against the soft ground. The silence between them wasn't empty. It stretched, unspoken but present, carrying everything they weren't saying. And somehow, for now, that was enough.

They reached the section where the crops needed tending. Artur barely paused before picking up a wooden crate, setting it down near the first row. Without a word, he got to work, hands moving with practiced ease as he inspected the plants.

Billy hesitated for only a moment before crouching down beside him, mimicking his movements. His fingers brushed against the leaves, damp with morning dew. The soil felt cool beneath his touch. He focused on the task, but his mind wasn't fully there.

Artur worked in silence, his movements steady, efficient. Every now and then, his arm would brush against Billy's as they reached for the same plant. Each time, Billy felt the faintest hitch in his breath.

"It shouldn't matter. It never had before. So why did it feel like it did now?"

Maybe he had always noticed, but only now was he paying attention.

After a while, Artur finally spoke.

"Your hands are slower today."

Billy blinked, glancing at his own hands. They had stilled, fingers resting lightly on the leaves. He quickly resumed, pushing away the thoughts creeping in.

"I was just thinking."

Artur hummed, his gaze flickering to Billy for a moment before he returned to his task. "About what?"

Billy hesitated, then shrugged. "Nothing important."

Artur exhaled through his nose, amused but unconvinced. "You sure?"

Billy nodded, but the slight crease between his brows betrayed him.

They continued working, the silence stretching between them again. This time, it was different. Not awkward, not distant. Just... waiting.

At one point, Artur reached over to grab something, and his fingers brushed against Billy's wrist—just for a second. Billy's muscles tensed ever so slightly, but he didn't move away.

Artur didn't either.

Their eyes met, the pause stretching between them.

Then, without a word, Artur pulled back and resumed working, as if nothing had happened.

But it had.

And they both knew it.

The sun climbed higher, casting warm golden hues over the fields. Their hands remained busy, the rhythm of work keeping them grounded. Yet, no matter how much Billy focused, his mind kept circling back—back to the fleeting touches, the glances, the words left unsaid.

Artur barely spoke after that moment. He kept his head down, working with a steady efficiency that left little room for conversation. Billy found himself doing the same, his fingers moving through the motions while his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

Then, a voice broke the quiet.

"You two are working slower than usual today."

Billy and Artur both turned. Mr. Dand stood a few steps away, arms crossed, a knowing look in his eyes.

Artur straightened, wiping his hands on his pants. "We're still getting it done."

Mr. Dand snorted. "I didn't say you weren't." His gaze shifted to Billy. "Everything alright with you, boy?"

Billy blinked, caught off guard. He opened his mouth, then hesitated.

He felt Artur's eyes on him.

"I'm fine," Billy said after a beat, forcing a small nod.

Mr. Dand didn't seem convinced, but he didn't push. "Well, don't work yourselves to death. There's still plenty more to do tomorrow."

With that, he walked off, leaving them in silence once more.

Billy exhaled, shifting his weight. His hands itched to do something—move, work, distract himself. But when he glanced at Artur, he found the other already looking at him.

Not with frustration. Not with distance.

Just looking.

Billy didn't know what to do with that.

So he looked away first.

As the day stretched on, they moved to another part of the field. The soil needed turning, the work rougher than before. Billy welcomed the physical strain, throwing himself into it.

Artur did the same, but his pace was different—sharper, more focused, like he was trying to burn off whatever was running through his head.

They worked like that for a while, side by side, until a sudden voice cut through the air.

"Oi, Artur! Give me a hand over here!"

They both turned to see an older man struggling with a heavy sack near the storage area.

Artur sighed, brushing dirt off his hands. "I'll be back."

Billy nodded, watching as Artur walked off. He turned back to the task, but the moment Artur was out of sight, he felt it again—that strange weight in his chest.

It was stupid.

He was thinking about him too much.

He needed to stop thinking like this.

Billy inhaled deeply, shaking his head, and forced himself to focus on the work in front of him.

But the momentary absence of Artur felt more noticeable than it should.

Billy didn't realize how often he glanced toward the storage area until Artur finally reappeared.

It was ridiculous.

He had only been gone for a short while, but Billy felt the shift immediately—the subtle pull, the awareness that settled over him again.

Artur didn't say anything as he returned. He just picked up where he left off, falling into rhythm beside Billy once more.

Billy tried to ignore the way his chest eased.

Tried to ignore the way the air felt different with Artur close again.

He shouldn't be noticing these things.

But he was.

And he had no idea what to do about it.

The afternoon stretched on. They worked in near silence, the occasional exchange of words brief and to the point.

At some point, Billy's hands slowed, muscles aching from the strain. He exhaled, leaning back on his heels, glancing toward Artur.

He expected the usual—focused, steady, pushing through.

But instead, Artur was looking at him.

Not in passing. Not like before.

Really looking.

Billy's fingers curled against the earth. "What?"

Artur blinked once, as if pulled from a thought. Then he shook his head, muttering, "Nothing."

But it wasn't nothing.

Billy could feel it.

The weight of it settled between them, pressing against his ribs.

And for the first time, Billy thought—maybe it wasn't just him feeling it.

Maybe Artur was feeling it too.

Before Billy could dwell on it, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the moment.

"Billy!"

He turned just as Jay strolled up, hands on his hips. "You two have been working all day. Don't tell me you're planning to keep at it till sunset?"

Billy huffed, rolling his shoulders. "That's the plan."

Jay groaned. "You need a break. Come on."

Billy hesitated, but before he could answer, Jay's eyes flickered toward Artur.

Something unreadable passed across his face.

Then, with a slow smirk, he leaned in slightly, voice dropping. "Or maybe I should just leave you two alone,

"You sure you two don't need a moment?"

Billy tensed. "It's not like that."

Jay raised a brow. "Right."

Billy shot him a look, but Jay only laughed, stepping back. "Fine, fine. I won't pry." Then, more casually, "But if you ever feel like talking, you know where to find me."

He gave Billy one last pointed glance before walking off.

Billy exhaled through his nose.

Jay knew.

Of course, he did.

And somehow, that realization made everything feel even more real.

Billy turned back to Artur, expecting him to have already moved on.

But Artur was still standing there.

Still watching.

Billy shifted under the weight of his gaze, suddenly restless. "We should—"

"I'll finish up here," Artur interrupted, voice quieter than usual. "You go."

Billy frowned. "I didn't say I was leaving."

Artur glanced away, hands flexing at his sides. "Still. Go."

Billy opened his mouth to argue—but then stopped.

Because something in Artur's tone wasn't frustration.

It wasn't annoyance.

It was something else.

Something Billy wasn't ready to name yet.

So, instead, he nodded once.

Then he turned and walked away.

But even as he left, the tension between them didn't fade.

If anything—

It only grew stronger.

Billy walked away, but the weight of the moment didn't leave him.

Even as he moved past the open fields and into the quieter paths leading home, his mind stayed behind—back there, in the charged silence between him and Artur.

He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling sharply.

This wasn't normal.

They had worked together before, spent entire days side by side, and it had never felt like this.

But now... now every glance, every pause in conversation, every shift in Artur's posture—it all felt like something.

And Billy still didn't know what.

The worst part?

He wasn't sure he wanted to ignore it anymore.

Billy's steps slowed as he neared the house.

The weight in his chest hadn't lessened. If anything, the further he got from Artur, the more unsettled he felt.

What was he even supposed to do now?

Jay had already seen through him. Maybe I should just leave you two alone.

And Artur—

Billy scowled, running a hand through his hair.

He didn't know what Artur was thinking. That was the problem.

One moment, it felt like something was shifting between them. The next, Artur was pushing him away with nothing more than a few words and an unreadable look.

Billy let out a slow breath, eyes flickering toward the sky. The sun was dipping lower, streaking the horizon with warm oranges and fading blues.

Artur would be back soon.

That was enough to pull Billy forward again, toward home.

When Billy stepped inside, the house felt strangely quiet.

He knew it was because he was alone, but for some reason, it still felt different tonight.

He stood there for a moment, fingers grazing the wooden table. The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of settling wood.

Then, with a quiet exhale, he moved toward the kitchen.

Cooking.

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A task with steps, a process that didn't ask questions or demand answers. Just movement. Just something to fill the silence in his head.

And maybe, if he kept his hands busy, his thoughts would stop circling the same frustrating loop.

By the time Billy finished, the scent of food filled the house. A steady, grounding warmth.

He set things up without thinking much about it, but the second he straightened, footsteps sounded outside.

Billy turned toward the door just as it pushed open.

Artur stepped in, bringing the cool scent of the evening air with him. His presence was familiar—worn from the day's work, hair slightly damp from washing up.

But something about the way he paused at the entrance, like he'd stepped into a space heavier than when he left, made Billy's fingers press against the table.

Artur's gaze flickered toward the food. Then toward Billy.

Billy didn't know why his heart kicked up a little.

He crossed his arms. "You're late."

Artur raised a brow. "Didn't know we had a schedule."

Billy huffed, looking away. "I just meant I thought you'd be back earlier."

Artur didn't reply right away. He stepped further in, moving like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure if he should.

Then, finally, he settled into his usual seat. "You already ate?"

Billy hesitated, then shook his head.

Another pause.

Then Artur pulled a bowl toward him, silent permission for Billy to join.

Billy sat.

The space between them wasn't much. Just the table, the air, the tension neither of them seemed willing to acknowledge.

They ate in quiet, the usual rhythm of their evenings playing out as if nothing had changed.

But Billy knew better.

And when he caught Artur glancing at him—just briefly, just enough to make his fingers tighten around his spoon—Billy knew Artur knew it too.

Something had changed.

And neither of them was ready to face it yet.

The meal passed in near silence.

Not the usual kind—the comfortable, familiar quiet that Billy had grown used to.

This was different.

It was the kind that lingered in the air, pressing down like something unspoken was sitting between them, waiting to be acknowledged.

Billy tried to ignore it.

Tried to focus on eating, on the warmth of the food, on anything except the way his mind kept circling back to Artur.

But when he glanced up, Artur was watching him again.

Not staring. Not obvious.

Just brief, unreadable flickers of attention.

Billy set his spoon down with a quiet clink, fingers lingering against the edge of the bowl. "What?"

Artur barely hesitated. "Nothing."

Billy's lips pressed together. "You've been acting weird all day."

Artur's brow furrowed slightly. "You're the one acting weird."

Billy scoffed. "How?"

Artur didn't answer right away.

Instead, he leaned back slightly, studying Billy in that way that made his stomach feel uneasy—like Artur was looking through him rather than at him.

Then, finally, he said, "You've been distracted."

Billy stilled.

His first instinct was to deny it. To brush it off, to pretend it wasn't true.

But what was the point?

Artur clearly saw it.

And maybe Billy was just tired—tired of dodging something that wasn't going away.

So instead, he exhaled. "Maybe."

Artur didn't react much. He just hummed, gaze dipping toward his half-empty bowl.

Billy hesitated, then spoke again. "And you?"

Artur looked back at him. "What about me?"

Billy held his stare. "You've been off too."

Artur didn't answer right away.

And for some reason, that silence made Billy more restless than if he had outright denied it.

Then, finally, Artur exhaled.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe."

That was all he said.

But it was enough to make something loosen in his chest—something he hadn't even realized had been wound tight.

Because maybe was better than nothing.

Maybe meant Billy wasn't imagining things.

Maybe meant Artur felt it too.

The meal ended soon after, both of them falling back into routine—clearing up, settling into the usual rhythm of their evening.

Billy tried not to think too much.

Tried not to overanalyze every glance, every pause, every flicker of hesitation.

But when he turned toward the door, ready to step outside for some air, Artur spoke.

"Billy."

Billy stopped, glancing back.

Artur sat still, hands resting on the table, but his fingers twitched—curling, uncurling. Like he was trying to grasp something unseen, something unspoken

Billy's chest tightened.

"...Yeah?"

Artur hesitated.

Then, finally, he said, "Never mind."

Billy frowned. "What?"

Artur shook his head, looking away. "It's nothing."

Billy wanted to push.

Wanted to ask.

But the way Artur's jaw tightened—the way he deliberately looked away—made him stop.

Because whatever it was—

Artur wasn't ready to say it yet.

And Billy wasn't sure he was ready to hear it either.

So, instead, he just nodded.

Then he stepped outside.

And even as the cool night air wrapped around him, the weight of that unfinished conversation stayed right where it was—

Between them.

Unspoken.

But impossible to ignore