Unwritten Fate [BL]-Chapter 56: With You, Everything Heals

The morning sun was gentle, slipping through the clouds like a warm whisper. The soft earth pressed beneath their boots as Billy and Artur made their way back toward the shed. The familiar hum of village life drifted in from the distance—children laughing, a wheelbarrow creaking, birds weaving their morning melodies.

Billy clutched the notebook close, flipping it open again as they walked.

"Okay," he said, scanning the page, "first up: tools. Your dad mentioned checking the ones left behind the east side of the shed."

Artur nodded. "I haven't looked at those since last week."

"Then today's the day," Billy grinned, nudging him. "Lead the way, boss."

Artur rolled his eyes but smiled, turning the corner of the shed. Behind it, a few old tool racks leaned against the wall, some rusted, others missing parts.

Billy knelt beside them, running his fingers along the wooden handles. "They've seen better days..."

Artur crouched beside him, their shoulders brushing. "We'll fix what we can, toss what we can't."

Billy looked at him, gaze softening. "You always fix things."

Artur glanced at him, surprised by the sudden quietness in his tone. "What do you mean?"

"You always fix what others overlook," Billy said softly, his eyes lingering on the tools. "I see it—even if no one else does."

Artur didn't reply at first. Instead, he reached over and gently brushed dirt off a handle near Billy's knee, his fingers barely grazing him. "You're not broken."

Billy's breath hitched, eyes flickering as if trying to hide the sudden sting behind them. Their gazes locked—close, unmoving—until the silence thickened with something unspoken, tender and trembling.

"I know," he whispered. "But I think I started healing the moment you looked at me like I mattered."

Artur set the tool aside and leaned in, just a little, forehead touching Billy's for a moment that lingered like the hush before rain. Then he pulled back with a soft smile and stood.

"Come on," he said, voice lighter again. "We've got a whole list to go through."

Billy rose too, brushing off his hands. "Alright, but I'm keeping track. You owe me at least three emotional moments today."

"Three?" Artur laughed. "Is that how it works now?"

"Yup," Billy smirked, walking beside him. "And I collect with interest."

They spent the next hour inspecting tools, setting aside what could be repaired. Billy was surprisingly good at spotting loose hinges and bent nails, while Artur focused on sharpening and adjusting.

After a while, Billy wiped the sweat from his brow. "I think this earns us a break."

Artur gestured toward the fence. "Let's sit over there."

They sat side by side, leaning against the warm wood, legs stretched out. Billy sighed, letting the morning air fill his lungs.

"I like days like this," he said. "Quiet. Real."

Artur glanced over at him, watching how the light touched Billy's profile. "Me too."

A breeze stirred the leaves above, and Billy leaned his head lightly against Artur's shoulder.

"Still owe me two more moments," he murmured.

Artur chuckled, tilting his head until it rested atop Billy's. "I'll make it four."

They stayed there for a while—just the wind, the warmth, and the closeness between them that didn't need words.

The minutes stretched out lazily between them, the kind of silence that felt full rather than empty. Billy traced little patterns against Artur's arm with his fingertip, slow, absentminded swirls that made Artur's skin prickle pleasantly under his touch.

"You're going to put me to sleep like that," Artur said quietly, half-smiling without opening his eyes.

"Good," Billy replied, voice just as low. "You work too hard."

Artur cracked one eye open to look at him. "And what about you?"

Billy shrugged, his face playful but tender. "I only work half as hard so I can take care of you when you drop."

Artur gave a soft huff of laughter and tilted his head, pressing a small kiss into Billy's hair. Billy hummed at the contact, leaning even closer, like he could melt into him.

"You smell like sunshine," Artur muttered without thinking.

Billy chuckled, his voice a warm vibration against Artur's side. "And you smell like—" He paused, pretending to think hard. "Sweat. Dirt. A hint of soap."

Artur pinched his side gently, making Billy laugh louder, the sound ringing out bright and pure in the crisp morning air.

"Guess break time is officially over, huh?" Billy said, tilting his head up to meet Artur's gaze.

Artur didn't answer immediately. His hand found Billy's again, fingers threading through without a word, squeezing lightly.

"Yeah," he said at last. "But we'll keep stealing breaks like this. Just you and me."

Billy smiled so softly it almost hurt. "Promise?"

"Promise."

Reluctantly, they got up, brushing dust from their clothes. Billy picked up the notebook again, holding it with a sense of new purpose.

"Alright," Billy said, grinning. "Operation 'Fix Everything' continues."

Artur bumped his shoulder playfully as they walked back toward the tools. "With sunshine and soap boy leading the way?"

Billy smirked. "You know it."

And just like that, they slipped back into easy rhythm, side by side, hearts a little lighter, laughter tucked into every quiet moment between the work they shared.

The sun had climbed higher, drenching the fields and sheds in a gentle golden light as Billy and Artur moved side by side, sleeves rolled up and spirits high.

Their first task was repairing a small fence that had been battered by the last storm. Artur handed Billy a hammer, their fingers brushing on purpose this time, both pretending it was accidental.

Billy grinned and twirled the hammer once in his hand. "I feel dangerous."

"You're only dangerous to yourself," Artur teased, grabbing a handful of nails. "Try not to hammer your fingers, yeah?"

Billy mock-saluted him and got to work. Their hands moved quickly, Billy watching and mimicking Artur's technique, though every now and then he'd sneak little glances at Artur instead of the fence.

"Focus, Billy," Artur warned without even looking up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Billy laughed quietly. "Can't help it. My view's better than the fence."

Artur shook his head, but he didn't hide the smile that broke over his face. For a while, they worked in a quiet rhythm—passing tools back and forth, sharing half-hearted complaints about the stubborn nails and crooked boards, laughing at the little mistakes.

At one point, Billy stood back, wiping his brow dramatically. "We're a masterpiece of construction," he declared, surveying the slightly uneven but solid fence.

"Or at least, a masterpiece of effort," Artur said, tossing an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close for a second.

Billy leaned into the side hug, pretending to sigh. "Effort and good looks. What a combination."

They moved on to clearing out the shed next, hauling out old tools and supplies under the warm sun. Dust spun in golden shafts of sunlight, curling like tiny ghosts through the warm air, turning the mundane into something quietly enchanted. like they were moving through golden smoke. Every time Billy coughed theatrically, Artur would roll his eyes and hand him another dusty crate.

"Drama queen," Artur muttered.

Billy threw his arms wide with exaggerated flair. "Thank you, thank you! I'll be here all week." causing Artur to laugh and lightly swat the back of his head with a rag.

The hours slipped by faster than either of them noticed. Between teasing each other, stealing small, fond touches—Billy wiping dirt off Artur's cheek with a thumb, Artur ruffling Billy's hair as he passed—they made the work feel light, almost fun.

Finally, they leaned against the now tidy shed, the tools neatly arranged, the fence standing proud behind them.

Billy bumped his shoulder into Artur's lazily. "Not bad for a couple of pretty boys."

Artur laughed low. "Yeah. We're unstoppable." frёeωebɳovel.com

Billy turned his head, just gazing at him for a moment, that soft, overwhelming affection clear in his eyes. "You make everything better, you know that?"

Artur glanced down at him, his smile slowing into something deeper. He didn't say anything—he didn't need to. His hand found Billy's, squeezing once, warm and sure.

Beneath the boundless sky, they stood side by side—fingers entwined, hearts still, as if the world had paused just for them. letting the breeze cool their flushed faces and the peace of the moment soak deep into their bones.

Billy leaned his head against Artur's shoulder again, this time more deliberately. "You know, I used to think peace was silence. Like... stillness. Emptiness."

He paused, eyes on the far-off hills. "But this... this is the kind that fills you up."

Artur shifted slightly, adjusting so Billy could rest more comfortably against him. "Peace isn't the absence of noise," he murmured. "It's the presence of something worth being quiet for."

Billy turned his head, his cheek brushing against Artur's shirt. "That sounded poetic. Did you steal that from a book?"

"Nope," Artur said. "Just made it up. You inspire weird things in me."

Billy chuckled, soft and low. "Weird good or weird terrifying?"

Artur smirked. "Little bit of both."

They fell into a hush again, but not the kind that begs to be broken—more like a shared breath. The world seemed to move around them while they stayed rooted to that sliver of space by the shed, dust and laughter still clinging to their skin.

Billy smiled faintly. "You're better at this than me."

"No," Artur said, brushing a strand of hair from Billy's forehead, "I just learned that with some people... you hold on to every second like it might vanish. And if I'm holding on to you, I'm not letting my head run off without me."

Billy's breath caught, but he managed a laugh to cover it. "God, you really are dangerous when you talk like that."

Artur grinned. "Guess you're rubbing off on me."

"Should I be worried?"

"Maybe," Artur teased. "I'm thinking of writing poetry now. About sunshine boys and emotional fences."

Billy threw his head back and laughed. "Emotional fences! That's it—I'm quitting manual labor and becoming your muse full-time."

"As long as you bring lunch."

Billy reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled energy bar. "Already prepared."

Artur raised an eyebrow. "That's... actually kind of perfect."

Billy unwrapped it, broke it in half, and handed a piece to him. "Feast of champions."

They ate in companionable silence, the chocolate smudging the corners of Billy's lips. Artur reached over without thinking and wiped it with his thumb, slow and gentle.

Billy didn't move. His gaze lingered, fixed on Artur's face like he was memorizing something.

"Can I ask you something?" Billy said after a beat.

"Of course."

"If I never get all my memories back... would you still want me? Just like this?"

Artur didn't hesitate. "I don't want the version of you that used to be. I want the one that's sitting next to me right now. Dirt on your face. Smart mouth. Soft heart. This is the you I choose."

Billy looked away quickly, blinking hard. "Damn it. That counts as two emotional moments in one."

"I warned you I'd make it four."

Billy laughed, but the sound cracked a little. He reached up, cupped Artur's jaw, and kissed him—not rushed or hungry, just there, like a promise whispered into skin. Artur's hand slid into Billy's hair, steady and sure, grounding them both.

When they pulled back, their foreheads rested together. Neither spoke.

Then Billy said, a little breathless, "I think I remember something."

Artur looked at him sharply, eyes wide. "You do?"

Billy nodded slowly. "Not a memory-memory. More like... a feeling. That I've wanted this for a long, long time. Even before I knew your name."

Artur's voice came out quiet. "Then maybe your heart remembered before your head did."

Billy smiled, tears glinting but unfallen. "Yeah. I think it did."

They stayed like that until the wind picked up, sending a swirl of dust through the grass. Eventually, Billy stood and stretched, pretending to shake it off.

"Well," he said with a grin, "we've got tools to finish sorting, feelings to repress, and at least one emotionally charged sunset to walk into."

Artur rolled his eyes fondly. "Let's save the sunset for tomorrow. I've had enough emotional fencing for one day."

Billy threw an arm over his shoulder and started walking. "Deal. But tomorrow, you're all mine again."

"You already have me," Artur replied.

Billy looked at him, heart full. "Good. Then don't go anywhere."

"Not planning to."

And with that, they walked on—two boys beneath an open sky, laughter tangled with love, and a thousand quiet promises echoing softly between their footsteps.