Unwritten Fate [BL]-Chapter 49: The Quiet Power of Love

Billy arched a brow. "Is he usually right?"

Artur didn't answer right away. He ladled stew into their bowls, steam rising in comforting swirls.

When he finally looked up, his voice was low. "Sometimes."

Billy sat across from him, shifting a little as the chair creaked. His spoon hovered above the bowl, untouched.

Artur noticed. "Still not hungry?"

"I am." Billy's voice was quiet. "Just thinking."

Artur leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin resting on one hand. "About earlier?"

Billy's silence was answer enough.

The clink of Artur's spoon against ceramic was gentle, deliberate. "You left without a word. Made me think something was wrong."

Billy met his gaze. "I thought maybe there was."

Artur didn't flinch, but something behind his eyes shifted. "Because of Anna?"

Billy response hung in the air, the quiet between them stretching before he scooped a little stew into his spoon. His hand trembled slightly as he blew on it, eyes avoiding Artur.

"I guess..." Billy's voice faltered, a flicker of something sharp twisting in his gut. "I wasn't ready. To see someone from your past still acting like they had a claim on you." His words felt jagged, not quite right, as though they had been stuffed down too long.

Artur was quiet. Then, voice even, "She doesn't."

Billy looked up.

"I didn't ask her to come," Artur added. "And I didn't let her stay."

The silence stretched, but it wasn't sharp anymore. Just... bare.

Billy finally took a bite, chewing slowly. "I know that now," he said. "I just... wasn't thinking clearly then."

Artur watched him for a moment. "You were hurt."

Billy didn't deny it.

A breeze slipped through the half-open window, rustling the herbs hanging above the stove.

Artur leaned back, his tone gentler now. "Next time, just ask me."

Billy met his eyes. "You promise you'll answer?"

Artur gave a slow, quiet nod. "Every time."

Billy smiled faintly, spoon finally moving with purpose now.

And beside him, Artur began to eat too—less tense now, more grounded. Like something between them had shifted again, not in a grand way, but like the steady click of gears falling into place.

The night hummed around them, low and steady, as if waiting. Inside, the warmth of the stew had settled into their bones, but outside, the world seemed to hold its breath, as if aware of the quiet tension between them. They ate in the silence of unspoken things, each bite a fragile attempt at normality.

The last of the stew was gone, the bowls scraped clean. Billy leaned back in his chair, his shoulders relaxing just a little more with each bite, each breath. The sun had begun its descent, the sky softening into shades of orange and pink as it kissed the horizon.

Artur stood, stretching his arms above his head. "Good?" he asked, glancing at Billy, his tone easy, casual.

Billy nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. Thanks."

He stepped over to the door and glanced outside. The evening air was cool now, carrying the scent of earth and the promise of nightfall. Across the yard, Tomas, the neighbor, was tending to a small fire, the orange glow casting long shadows on the grass.

Tomas waved when he saw them, his wide grin lighting up his weathered face. "Evening, you two!" His voice carried easily across the distance. "Join me for a drink if you're not too full."

Billy raised an eyebrow, glancing toward Artur, who had already moved toward the door. There was something about the peaceful calm of the evening, the crackle of Tomas's fire, that made Billy feel like lingering.

Artur caught his eye and gave a small shrug. "Might as well. Better than sitting inside."

Without waiting for more words, they stepped outside, the cool evening air filling their lungs with each step. The fire was small, its flames flickering brightly against the darkness of the trees. Tomas had a few mismatched chairs set up around it, a kettle perched over the flames, with a few mugs nearby.

Billy took a seat, his fingers grazing the smooth wood of the chair. Artur sat beside him, their arms brushing briefly. It was a touch so natural it went unnoticed, yet it seemed to fill the space between them with something unspoken.

"Drink?" Tomas asked, holding up a bottle that caught the firelight, giving it a warm, amber glow.

Billy nodded, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Why not? We've earned it."

Tomas chuckled, pouring them each a mug, the liquid sloshing lazily as he handed one to Billy. "I thought you'd prefer a quieter evening after all that work. But you're still young, so maybe the fire's better."

Billy accepted the mug with a grateful nod, warming his hands on the sides of it. The deep, earthy aroma of the drink swirled around him, mixed with the smoke from the fire. He took a sip, feeling the heat travel down his throat, settling in his chest.

Artur didn't say much, just letting the silence between them stretch comfortably. He leaned back, the light from the fire reflecting off his face, making the sharp lines of his jaw more defined, his eyes softer, more thoughtful.

Billy watched him, the way his gaze softened as he looked into the fire, the small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, like there was something on his mind but he wasn't quite ready to share.

Tomas leaned forward, pushing a log into the fire, the flames crackling loudly for a moment. He grinned, looking between the two of them. "You two have a good day, I hope?"

Billy smirked, taking another sip of the drink. "We did. Spent it doing hard work, but I think I like it here."

"Good." Tomas nodded, his voice low. "Work's good for the soul. Keeps the mind clear."

Artur shifted beside Billy, the words almost too soft to catch. "I haven't had many days like this... where everything feels simple." His voice faltered, as if he was testing the sound of it—like he wasn't sure how to claim the quiet peace they'd found.

Billy turned to him, catching the way his posture had shifted, more relaxed now, like he was finally letting the weight of the day settle into his bones.

"It's nice, though," Billy murmured. "Isn't it?"

Artur glanced at him, his gaze meeting Billy's for just a moment before looking back to the fire. "Yeah," he said quietly. "It is."

They sat there in silence for a while, the fire's warmth spreading through them, the flickering light reflecting off their faces, catching the quiet exchange of glances and small movements. The evening settled around them like a soft blanket—nothing urgent, just the easy flow of time.

Tomas hummed a quiet tune under his breath, but it didn't break the peace. He seemed content, sipping his drink and watching the fire crackle.

Billy found himself leaning slightly closer to Artur, the steady rhythm of their breathing somehow syncing in the cool night air.

"Is this your idea of a good night?" Billy asked, voice quiet, but playful.

Artur chuckled softly. "I could get used to it."

The last of the sunlight vanished completely, leaving the sky deep and starry. The only light left was the soft glow of the fire and the moon hanging low in the sky above them.

For a moment, everything was still. The night, the fire, the quiet hum of the world around them. No need for words.

Billy felt something—maybe it was the way Artur's presence seemed to calm him, or maybe just the comfort of being in this moment, in this place. Whatever it was, it was enough to make him stay just a little longer, to let the night stretch out before them like an open road.

Artur shifted beside him, stretching his legs out, the light flickering in his eyes. He didn't say anything, but Billy could feel the unspoken understanding between them, quiet but powerful.

It didn't matter how long they stayed, or what the future held.

Right now, everything was just as it should be.

This chapter is updat𝓮d by freēnovelkiss.com.

The fire crackled low, casting dancing shadows across the yard. Billy had stopped sipping his drink, letting the mug rest between his palms. Artur sat close, arms resting loosely over his knees, his gaze locked somewhere deep in the fire's core. The night wrapped around them like a hush, the kind only a village could hold after a long, honest day.

Inside the house, the door creaked faintly.

Mr. Dand stepped in, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced around. "Boys?" he called out.

No answer.

He squinted toward the darkened corners of the kitchen, then noticed the faint flicker of light brushing against the windowpane. The scent of smoke lingered in the air, warm and earthy.

With a quiet sigh, he followed it.

Outside, the night air hit his face, cool and gentle. His eyes adjusted quickly, and there they were—his son and Billy, seated by the fire with Tomas, their faces soft in the amber glow, voices low, shoulders relaxed.

Mr. Dand watched for a moment, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. It had been a long while since he'd seen Artur this at ease.

Tomas spotted him first. "Ah, there he is," he greeted with a little wave. "Didn't wake you, did we?"

Mr. Dand huffed a short laugh, stepping closer. "No, no. I was just looking for my house. Turns out it's moved into the yard."

Billy gave him a crooked grin. "We were kidnapped. Tomas offered fire and drink. We couldn't refuse."

"Dangerous man, that Tomas," Mr. Dand teased, but his voice was quiet, warm.

Artur scooted slightly, offering space on the log beside them, but Mr. Dand waved it off.

"I'd sit, but this old body's already given its notice. I'm good for nothing now but dreams and snoring." He stepped forward just enough for the firelight to catch the tired lines under his eyes. "Don't stay up too long. Tomorrow'll come looking for you whether you're ready or not."

Tomas chuckled. "Ain't that the truth."

Mr. Dand gave a small nod, eyes drifting briefly to Artur—just a glance, just enough to say I see you—then turned back toward the house. "Good night, boys."

"Night," Artur and Billy said in near unison, their voices barely above the whisper of the flames.

His footsteps faded, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

The silence returned, more settled now. Tomas took one last sip from his mug, then stood, joints creaking slightly with the motion.

"Well," he exhaled, "this old man's off too. That fire won't watch itself, but I trust you'll keep it company."

Billy looked up at him, mouth tugging in a smile. "Thanks for the drink."

"And the chair," Artur added, smirking faintly.

Tomas chuckled. "Any time. You two take your time. Nights like these don't come often."

And with that, he gave a short wave and wandered off into the darkness, the faint rhythm of his footsteps trailing behind him, swallowed by the hush of night.

Now it was just them. Alone beneath a sky stitched with stars, the fire's gentle glow flickering against their faces. The silence didn't press—it wrapped. Soft, like a thread pulling them quietly, slowly, toward each other.

The fire whispered quietly, the flames flicking at the dry wood with soft crackles, each sound settling in the space between them. A warm, golden glow bathed their faces, but there was something more—something unspoken in the way they sat together, the way the silence stretched, comfortable and full of quiet understanding.

Billy sat cross-legged on the ground, arms draped over his knees, watching the firelight flicker in the dark. He wasn't saying much, but he didn't need to. Sometimes, silence said more.

Artur sat beside him, slightly slouched, hands outstretched toward the fire. He was quieter than usual, not tired exactly—just settled, like a storm had passed through him and left stillness behind.

Billy tilted his head, eyes tracing the way the firelight caught in Artur's hair, glinting off the curve of his cheekbone.

"You always sit this quiet when it's just the two of us?" he asked softly, not teasing, just curious.

Artur glanced at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Only when I want the night to last longer."

Billy's lips twitched. "So you're saying I'm better company than Tomas?"

"Don't make me lie this close to bedtime."

Billy let out a laugh, soft and low, and leaned back on his hands. "I like this," he said after a while. "The fire, the quiet... you not bossing me around."

Artur gave a mock scoff. "You mean I give you one task and suddenly I'm a tyrant?"

Billy grinned and bumped his shoulder gently. "Exactly that."

A long pause settled between them again, but it wasn't empty. The fire crackled and spat, the breeze hummed low through the trees, and somewhere in the dark a frog croaked once, then fell quiet.

Artur yawned, sudden and deep, blinking slowly as he scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm turning in before I start talking in my sleep."

Billy leaned into him slightly, chin propped on his hand. "You sure you haven't already? I've been hearing weird stuff all evening."

Artur rolled his eyes with a half-laugh and stood, stretching his arms over his head. "Come on. Before I fall asleep right here."

Billy looked at the fire one more time, glowing softly like it was breathing, then pushed himself up and followed. Their steps back to the house were quiet, unhurried—shoulders brushing now and then, warmth lingering even as the fire faded behind them.

The house welcomed them with stillness. The warmth of the fire still clung faintly to their clothes as they stepped inside, the wooden floor cool under their feet. A single oil lamp flickered in the corner, its glow barely reaching the hallway.

Artur yawned again, this one slower, heavier, like his body had finally caught up to his fatigue. He rubbed the back of his neck, his shoulders slack.

"Night," he mumbled, eyes half-lidded.

Billy gave him a soft nod, watching as Artur dragged his feet down the hall and disappeared into his room without so much as a teasing glance or sarcastic remark. Strange. Not a word. No smirk. No sly comment about a goodnight kiss.

Billy blinked after him, standing there in the quiet, confused... and a little amused.

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "That's new," he whispered. "Artur skipping his daily sarcasm? Must really be tired."

Still, something about it felt off in the funniest way. A tiny itch behind his ribs that refused to settle.

Billy entered his own room and closed the door gently behind him, but sleep didn't come. He lay on his side, eyes wide open, staring at the wooden wall. The silence stretched long. His fingers tapped at the blanket, restless.

He muttered under his breath, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. "Addicted, huh?" He sat up, raked his hair back, then tiptoed to his door and cracked it open.

The house was hushed. Mr. Dand's bedroom was quiet, his soft snores barely audible. A candle somewhere had burnt out, leaving the hallway bathed in shadows. Billy padded forward, bare feet soundless on the floorboards.

He slipped into Artur's room.

The air inside was still warm from sleep. Artur lay on his side, blanket draped over his shoulder, one arm tucked under his pillow. His breath came slow and even.

Billy climbed in behind him carefully, sliding under the blanket and curling close. He wrapped an arm gently around Artur's waist, nose brushing the back of his neck.

Artur stirred, half-asleep, and turned slowly until they were face to face.

His eyes barely opened. "What are you doing?"

"Let me sleep here," Billy murmured, his voice soft. "I want to cuddle you."

Artur blinked once, then a small sleepy smile appeared on his lips. "Aren't you scared of my dad anymore?"

Billy smirked, brushing his nose against Artur's. "I still am... But I think I'm addicted to you or something. I don't wanna sleep alone tonight."

Artur didn't answer right away. He just shifted closer, resting his forehead against Billy's and sliding an arm around his back. His breath warmed the space between them, steady and calm.

Billy lowered his chin to rest atop Artur's head. His voice dropped to a whisper as he spoke again, his words like fragments of thoughts he didn't realize he was sharing.

"You always smell like pine and firewood... it's weird but comforting. Like something that reminds me of home, even if I don't know what that is anymore."

No reply.

"You're kind of bossy... but only when you care. And I like that. Even if I pretend not to."

Still no reply.

Billy shifted just a little to glance down—and saw that Artur had fallen asleep again, breathing slow and deep, completely unaware of the quiet confessions being whispered against his hair.

Billy smiled to himself, something soft and full blooming in his chest.

He closed his eyes.

And there, wrapped around each other in the quiet hush of night, they both slept soundly—peaceful, warm, and perfectly tangled in each other's arms.