Unwritten Fate [BL]-Chapter 52: When the World Went Quiet

The faint creak of floorboards and the muffled sound of footsteps in the main room stirred Billy first. He blinked against the morning light filtering through the shutters, warmth still wrapped around him—his cheek against Artur's chest, their legs tangled.

Artur's arm instinctively tightened for a second, then relaxed as his eyes fluttered open. His voice came out rough with sleep. "Is that... my dad?"

Billy nodded, groggy. "Sounds like his boots."

They exchanged a look—half panic, half amusement—before slipping out of bed, moving carefully so the sheets wouldn't betray them with too much noise. Billy smoothed down his shirt, Artur ran a quick hand through his sleep-mussed hair, and together, they padded out into the main room.

Mr. Dand stood by the door, tugging on a well-worn coat over a neatly pressed shirt. His beard was combed, boots clean, and the faint smell of shaving cream still lingered around him.

He looked up at them, a little surprised. "Oh, you're awake. Morning, boys."

"Morning," Artur said, rubbing the back of his neck. Billy echoed it softly, stepping beside him.

"You're all dressed up," Artur added, eyeing his father's unusual attire. "Something good today?"

Mr. Dand poured the last sip of coffee into a tin flask and gave them both a half-smile. "Urgent errands, actually. Got to head out of town. Might be gone a week."

Artur's brows shot up. "A week? You didn't tell me."

"I came back late," Mr. Dand said, tightening his coat with a firm tug. "You two were knocked out like children after harvest. Didn't want to wake you."

Artur frowned. "Still, a week? That's a lot. Why not let me go instead?"

Mr. Dand chuckled and shook his head. "You're needed here. The shed's halfway done, the animals won't feed themselves, and someone's got to keep Tomas from trying to fix things he shouldn't."

Artur huffed, but there was no real fight in it. Just concern. "You sure you'll be alright?"

"I'm old, son. Not dead," Dand said, slapping him lightly on the shoulder before softening. "Besides... it's not the kind of thing I can send someone else for."

Billy stood quietly beside them, watching the two men—so alike in the eyes, in their stubborn stance. There was something deeply grounding about it. Family.

Mr. Dand looked between them and added, with a slight lift of his brow, "You'll manage here just fine. Just don't burn the kitchen down."

Artur grinned. "That was one time."

Billy smirked. "Still smelled like smoke for three days."

Mr. Dand gave a satisfied nod, slipping his bag over one shoulder. "I've left the list of things to keep up with on the counter. Don't forget to check on the grain shipment from Harn's place."

Artur walked with him to the door. "Be careful, alright?"

Mr. Dand paused at the threshold, hand on the doorframe. "Always am."

He looked back once more, eyes lingering not just on Artur but on Billy, too. for a second longer—and said, with quiet warmth, "Take care of each other."

The door clicked shut behind him.

And just like that, the house felt a little bigger. A little quieter.

Artur exhaled and looked toward Billy. "Well," he said, voice low, "looks like it's just you and me."

Billy arched a brow. "Just us?"

Artur gave him a slow smile. "For a whole week."

Billy leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching the dust particles dance in the morning light as silence settled around them. A different kind of quiet—emptier without Mr. Dand's usual rustling and humming, but not uncomfortable.

"Just us for a whole week," he repeated softly, lips quirking. "Feels like we should celebrate or something."

Artur glanced over his shoulder, that same boyish smile playing at the corner of his mouth.Throw a party in the shed? Tomas can bring his signature charcoal sausages."

Billy smirked. "Tempting. But I had something more... blanket-thief level lazy in mind."

Artur stepped closer until they were standing chest to chest. "You sure you won't get bored of me by day three?"

Billy looked up, eyes soft but amused. "I've been glued to your side for weeks and I'm still here. Think you're stuck with me."

Artur's hand found Billy's waist, fingers curling there. "Good. Because I don't really want to share you today."

Billy's face warmed, his smile quieter now. "You don't have to."

Their foreheads touched gently, breath mingling. For a long second, they stood there—no rush, no words—just the steady beat of closeness.

Then Billy whispered, "So... breakfast together?"

Artur raised an eyebrow. "You really liked it that much?"

Billy laughed, wrapping his arms loosely around his neck. "Not the food. The cook."

Artur blushed, actually blushed, and mumbled, "Shut up."

Billy chuckled and tugged him gently toward the kitchen. "Come on, Chef. Let's eat something before I drag you back to bed for dessert."

"You're trouble," Artur said, but he followed willingly, fingers entwining with Billy's.

Later, after a few lazy minutes tangled in half-hearted plans and teasing kisses, they decided breakfast could wait.

They didn't bother making breakfast again.

Artur grabbed his bag and keys. Billy threw on a hoodie, still stretching from sleep. The house felt too quiet without Mr. Dand moving around in it, so when Artur said, "Let's go get something from town," Billy didn't hesitate.

The morning air was crisp but sunny, carrying the scent of dew and something faintly floral. The village felt slower today, like everyone else was still waking up too. A couple of dogs barked lazily from a porch. Somewhere in the distance, a rooster was late to his job.

By the time they reached the small row of stalls near the square, the air was already thick with smells—bread, grilled meats, roasted corn, oil and sweet spice.

"Same lady's frying again," Billy muttered, recognizing the golden curls of dough stacked high on a wooden tray.

Artur smirked. "You always say that like it's a bad thing."

Billy bumped his shoulder. "That's because you never let me get more than one."

"Because you inhale them like air."

They stopped by a cart where an older woman already had two skewers ready, steaming hot. "You boys look hungry," she said with a wink.

"We are," Artur said, handing over the coins.

Billy took his and blew gently on the end, then took a big bite and groaned in satisfaction. "You know... I'd marry this if I could."

Artur raised an eyebrow. "What happened to me?"

Billy looked sideways, smirking with his mouth full. "You're the side dish."

Artur rolled his eyes and shook his head, but there was laughter in it.

They found a low stone wall to sit on, sharing bites between jokes, letting the moment stretch longer than it needed to. When they finally stood, wiping their hands on napkins, Artur gave a small sigh.

"Alright," he said, adjusting his bag, "ready to earn our meals?"

Billy cracked his knuckles dramatically. "Lead the way, boss."

And so they did—shoulder to shoulder as they walked back toward the fields and shed. The sun rising higher. A quiet rhythm forming again between them.

The shed sat at the edge of the property, leaning slightly like it might sigh and crumble with one strong gust. Its door hung crooked on rusted hinges, and a few planks along the side had already given up on staying attached.

Billy stared at it with both hands on his hips. "She's seen better days."

Artur exhaled, stepping forward with a small grin. "So have I. Doesn't mean I'm ready to fall apart."

Billy chuckled. "You're still salvageable. This thing might not be."

They pushed the door open, the creak loud enough to spook the birds out of the nearby tree. Inside, the air was thick with dust and the musky scent of aged wood and forgotten tools. A rake leaned against the far wall, half its teeth missing. Buckets. Nails. Rope tangled in itself like it gave up halfway through a knot.

"Alright," Artur said, rubbing his palms together. "Let's see what we can do." freewēbnoveℓ.com

For a while, they didn't speak much—just moved in rhythm, clearing old clutter, pulling out boxes, folding tarps. Billy wiped his brow with the back of his arm, shirt sticking slightly to his skin.

"You always keep it this messy?" he asked, pulling a rusted hook from under a pile of wood.

Artur glanced over. "That was dad's corner."

"Ah," Billy said, inspecting the hook, then tossing it aside. "Now it makes sense."

Artur smiled faintly and tossed a plank outside. Dust puffed up in a lazy cloud. Billy took a deep breath, eyes following Artur's back as he moved—a little sweat on the back of his neck, shirt pulled tight over his shoulders.

"Stop staring," Artur said without turning around.

"I wasn't," Billy said quickly, though his smirk gave him away.

Artur glanced back with that same boyish look he always wore when he knew he was being watched and didn't mind it.

"Hand me that hammer," he said.

Billy tossed it, and Artur caught it one-handed. Then he looked at Billy again. "You're enjoying this more than you should."

Billy leaned against the frame of the doorway. "Not the dust, not the heat. Just... this."

Artur's brow lifted. "The shed?"

"No." Billy's smile softened. "You."

For a second, Artur didn't respond. Just met his eyes and held the look longer than necessary. Then he looked away, hiding a small grin as he bent to pick up another plank.

"Get back to work," he muttered.

"Slave driver," Billy said, still smiling.

They kept going, the quiet moments filled with the clink of nails, the occasional grunt of effort, and sometimes just silence—comfortable and unspoken. Outside, the breeze picked up. Light filtered through the cracks in the shed wall, casting thin golden lines across the floor.

And time passed like that—simple, shared, and slow.

When the last nail sank into place and the crooked door finally hung straight, Artur stepped back and wiped the sweat from his brow with the edge of his shirt. "It's not perfect, but I'd say we won the battle."

Billy dropped down onto the grass with a dramatic sigh, flopping onto his back like he'd just conquered a mountain. "I don't know about you, but I deserve a medal."

Artur snorted and dropped beside him, one arm bent behind his head, eyes squinting at the sky. The sun had shifted higher, casting a golden hue over the yard. A soft breeze stirred the leaves, cooling their flushed faces.

For a moment, neither spoke—just the quiet hum of nature, the occasional chirp of a bird, and the rustling of the trees. Then Billy shifted, turning on his side to face Artur, one hand tucked under his head.

"You've got a leaf in your hair," he said, reaching out and gently brushing it away.

Artur didn't flinch—just watched him, eyes soft. "I bet I've got about five more stuck somewhere."

Billy grinned. "Lucky for you, I charge one kiss per leaf."

Artur raised an eyebrow. "You sure you want to start that count?"

"Positive." Billy leaned closer, their foreheads nearly touching. "You're in debt already."

Artur caught his lower lip between his teeth, clearly amused, then shifted so their noses brushed. "Alright, debt collector. Pay yourself."

Their lips met—soft, unhurried, warm. It wasn't a kiss that needed proving anything. Just the kind that said this is mine, this is safe. When they pulled apart, Billy stayed close, pressing his forehead gently against Artur's.

"Can we just stay like this forever?" he murmured.

Artur chuckled quietly, his hand trailing lazily down Billy's arm. "Shed fixed, heart full... I could manage."

Billy smiled, his fingers tracing idle shapes on Artur's chest. "You know, I didn't really care about that shed."

"I know."

"I just wanted to spend the day with you."

Artur's fingers stilled, then resumed their slow motion, comforting. "Same."

They lay there a bit longer, letting the wind cool their skin and the quiet stretch around them like a blanket. The world felt far away.

For a long time, they lay there in the grass, side by side, saying nothing. The shed stood fixed now—like a quiet testament to shared effort. And for once, Billy didn't feel like a guest. He felt like he belonged.

Eventually, Artur tilted his head toward the house. "Wanna head in?"

Billy groaned playfully. "Only if there's more kissing involved."

"No promises," Artur said, getting up and offering a hand.

Billy took it, and the two of them walked back toward the house—fingers brushing, hearts light, like the world might just be alright.