Unwritten Fate [BL]-Chapter 69: Wherever You Are

The late afternoon sun poured golden light across the quiet path, casting long shadows that danced with every step they took. Dry leaves crackled beneath their shoes as they walked slowly, the world hushed around them. The bike rolled beside Billy, its wheels turning lazily, guided by his hand on the handle.

Neither of them rushed. There was no reason to.

Artur walked close, their arms brushing now and then. Every so often, he'd glance sideways—not to speak, just to look. Billy didn't say anything either, but he felt it too. That silence wasn't empty. It was full of something quiet and warm.

Billy nudged him gently with his elbow. "You okay?"

Artur hummed in response, then nodded. "Yeah. Just... a little full in the chest, you know?"

"I know," Billy said, voice soft. "But not heavy?"

Artur glanced up at the sky before answering. "No. Not heavy."

The breeze brushed past, cool and sweet with the smell of earth and distant smoke. Billy adjusted the bike with one hand, and with the other, he reached out—looping his pinky around Artur's.

Artur looked down at the small gesture, then smiled. Not wide. Not bright. Just honest.

"You're really not going to let go, huh?" he teased.

"Not if I can help it," Billy murmured. "You've been walking beside me since the first day. I'm just... matching your pace now."

Artur bumped their shoulders together, his smirk returning. "You're getting good at this sweet-talking thing."

Billy chuckled, eyes on the path ahead. "I have a good teacher."

They fell quiet again, letting the rhythm of their steps and the occasional chirp of birds fill the space between. "Near the stone wall, Artur slipped behind him briefly, his hand gliding across Billy's back—subtle, grounding—before falling back into step."

"Can't believe you remembered to pick up the bike before My Dad comes back," he said.

Billy grinned. "Are you doubting me?"

"I'm just surprised," Artur said, then added with a smirk, "You did crash it."

"You distracted me," Billy replied, mock offense in his tone. "I was trying to keep up, and your stupid smile kept throwing me off balance."

Artur laughed, the sound rich and boyish. "So it's my fault?"

"Entirely."

Artur leaned his head briefly on Billy's shoulder as they walked. "Then I guess I owe you."

Billy tilted his head to rest against Artur's for a moment. "You're already paying. Step by step."

And so they walked on—slow and steady, the golden hour wrapping them in warmth, the world quiet but alive around them. The bike beside them creaked gently over stones, and though the road stretched long, neither of them minded. Together, home wasn't a place. It was wherever the other was.

The front gate creaked softly as Billy pushed it open, the familiar crunch of gravel welcoming them back. The house stood quiet under the slanting rays of early evening sun, its windows reflecting gold. A breeze swayed the curtain behind the porch screen, and for a moment, everything felt still—settled.

Billy wheeled the bike toward the side wall, parking it carefully where Mr. Dand usually left it. Artur leaned against the porch railing, watching him with a quiet smile.

"I think we made it just in time," Billy said, patting the seat. "It'll be like it never happened."

Artur raised a brow. "Except the scratch on the pedal."

Billy frowned. "A scratch adds character."

Artur snorted softly. "Try telling Dand that."

Billy walked up the steps and stood in front of him, just close enough their shoes touched. "We got everything done, didn't we?"

Artur's smile softened. "Yeah. We really did."

Billy reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded list Mr. Dand had left them—a little smudged and creased at the corners. He held it up between them. "Every single one."

Artur glanced over it and nodded. "You're gonna frame that or burn it?"

Billy laughed, tucking it back into his pocket. "Maybe both."

He stepped past Artur, opening the door. The house was cool inside, the faint scent of tea still lingering from earlier. Billy kicked off his shoes and stretched his arms overhead, groaning lightly. "I didn't realize how much my legs were aching until we stopped walking."

Artur followed behind, shutting the door and locking it with a click. "You carried the bike most of the way."

"I was showing off," Billy said, flopping onto the couch and sprawling dramatically.

Artur chuckled and made his way to the sink, pouring them both glasses of water. He handed one to Billy, then sat beside him with a quiet sigh, their knees brushing. For a moment, they just sipped in silence.

"You know," Billy said after a minute, voice softer, "This house... it's really starting to feel like something more."

Artur looked at him, expression unreadable but warm.

"Not just walls," Billy added. "More like... something I want to come home to."

Artur didn't respond right away. Instead, he leaned forward and gently rested his head on Billy's shoulder, just like he had during the walk.

"I'm glad," he murmured.

Billy shifted slightly, wrapping one arm around him. "Me too."

They sat there like that for a while—nothing urgent, no lists to tick off, just the quiet sound of the world outside and the two of them inside, wrapped in the calm of a shared evening.

Billy leaned slightly to the side and reached for the basket on the small table. "Leftover roasted peanuts and dried mango," he announced, holding them up like treasure. "Gourmet dinner, courtesy of our pantry."

Artur smirked, still half-curled against his side. "Don't knock it. That mango's probably the sweetest thing we've got in this house."

Billy popped a piece into his mouth and offered one to Artur, who accepted it with a lazy hum of approval. "Okay, maybe you're right," Billy admitted, chewing thoughtfully. "Still not as sweet as you, though."

Artur chuckled, low and warm. "You're laying it on thick today, city boy."

Billy grinned, tossing a peanut up and catching it with his mouth. "What can I say? I've had a long week of carrying bikes, fixing fences, and chasing chickens. I'm a romantic under duress."

Artur tilted his head slightly to look at him. "You don't have to try so hard, you know."

Billy paused, his hand still in the peanut bowl. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Artur reached over, gently brushing Billy's messy bangs away from his forehead. "You already make this place feel... lighter. Just by being here. You don't have to do or say anything extra."

The room grew quiet for a beat.

Billy smiled, but it was softer this time, his expression slightly bashful. His hand hesitated over the peanut bowl, fingers curling slightly. "Sometimes I feel like I'm walking on glass—afraid I'll crack something important."

Artur leaned forward, forehead gently bumping against Billy's. "You're not messing anything up. You're... making it better."

Billy blinked, his voice almost a whisper. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Artur murmured, their noses nearly touching now. "Even if you did scratch the bike."

Billy laughed, his breath brushing between them. "You're never letting that go, are you?"

"Not a chance," Artur grinned.

They both reached into the bowl at the same time and their fingers brushed. Billy caught Artur's hand before he could pull away, lacing their fingers together with a quiet confidence that wasn't there a few weeks ago.

"You know what else I don't want to let go of?" Billy said, eyes steady.

Artur tilted his head. "Hmm?"

Billy gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "This."

A silence fell again, this time full of warmth.

Artur's grin cracked the silence. "Even if my stomach betrays us again?"

Billy snorted. "That might be the only thing that could ruin the mood."

They burst into laughter again, the sound echoing softly around the small room like music, like home.

The sun dipped lower, casting a honeyed glow through the thin curtains. The room was quiet now, save for the gentle rustle of wind against the windows and the soft clink of the empty peanut bowl.

Billy stretched his legs, one hand still loosely holding Artur's. "Feels like we've been sitting here forever," he murmured, though his tone carried no complaint.

Artur shifted, head now resting on Billy's shoulder. "We deserve forever on days like this."

Billy glanced at him, a smile forming slow and genuine. "Look at you. Turning all poetic on me."

"Must be the dried mango," Artur replied with a faint chuckle. "It's inspiring."

They fell into a quiet moment, their breathing falling into the same rhythm. Outside, the light faded further, and the shadows deepened, wrapping around the furniture like a soft blanket.

Billy gave a slight squeeze to Artur's fingers. "You tired yet?"

Artur let out a breath, not quite a sigh. "A little. But I don't want to move. You're comfortable."

Billy leaned his head lightly against Artur's. "Guess I'll take that as a compliment."

"I mean it," Artur said, lifting their joined hands to rest over his chest. "It's strange... how calm everything feels now. I used to come home and not notice the silence. Now it feels like the silence has changed."

Billy turned, gaze brushing over Artur's profile—relaxed, open in the hush of the evening. "That's not silence," Billy said softly. "That's peace."

They didn't speak for a while. The silence stretched on, companionable, like a slow dance of breath and warmth. Then Billy shifted slightly and pressed a kiss to Artur's hair. "Should we move to bed?"

Artur tilted his head just enough to glance at him. "Will you carry me?"

Billy gave a dry laugh. "If you want to land on the floor, sure."

Artur smirked but didn't protest when Billy slowly got up, tugging him along by the hand.

As they crossed the dim hallway toward their shared room, Billy paused to turn off the last light. The house slipped into quiet darkness, save for the hush of their feet against the wooden floor.

Once inside the room, Artur flopped gently onto the bed, arms spread wide. "It's strange," Artur murmured, "how you feel more like home than the house ever did."

Billy didn't answer. He just climbed in beside him, slid under the blanket, and let his arm curl around Artur's waist. They lay there face to face, eyes half-lidded, breath mixing between them.

Artur whispered, "Good night, city boy."

Billy smiled, leaning in just enough to press a kiss to Artur's cheek. "Good night... countryside speed demon."

And slowly, quietly, they drifted into sleep—wrapped in warmth, laughter, and a closeness neither of them had expected, but both had come to need.