Unwritten Fate [BL]
Chapter 107: If I Was Leo

Chapter 107: If I Was Leo

The door had barely clicked shut when the silence in the house thickened. It wasn’t the comforting kind.

It was sharp-edged and lingering—like something unsaid had just filled the air between them.

Billy stood near the couch, shoulders slightly hunched, arms folded across his chest.

He hadn’t moved since Mr. Frank left, as if his feet were rooted to that moment.

Artur leaned against the doorframe, his gaze steady on Billy, though his jaw was tight. He didn’t speak right away.

Finally, it was Billy who broke the stillness. His voice was low, unsure.

"...That man... he really knew me."

Artur gave a quiet nod. "Yeah. He did."

Billy looked down at his hands. "He called me Leo. Like it was who I was. And I—" He paused, then shook his head slowly. "I didn’t feel it."

Artur pushed off the doorframe and took a few steps closer, but not too close. "It’s not your fault. You didn’t choose to forget."

Billy’s eyes flicked up to meet his, something fragile flickering behind them. "But he came all this way. He... looked at me like I was someone important."

"You are important to all of us," Artur said, without hesitation. "To them. And to me."

That last part sat between them for a breath.

Billy’s expression softened. "You’ve always said that."

"Because it’s true," Artur said. His voice was calm, but there was something behind it now—a shadow of uncertainty he couldn’t quite hide.

"I don’t know who you were before. But I know who you’ve been since you got here. And that person matters."

Billy nodded slowly, but then let out a shaky breath. "I don’t want things to change."

Artur’s brow furrowed. "They already have."

Silence again. Then Billy took a cautious step forward, eyes searching Artur’s face. "You think... I’ll go back with him?"

Artur didn’t answer right away. His gaze dropped for a second, then returned to Billy. "I think you might have to."

That hit harder than either of them expected.

Billy let the words fall out, raw and uneven. His hands trembled slightly, clenched so tightly his knuckles went pale. "I hate this."

"I know."

Artur finally closed the space between them, resting a hand gently on Billy’s arm. "But you’re not alone in this. Okay?"

Billy looked at him again, and this time, his eyes were glassy. "You’re not mad?"

Artur shook his head slowly. "No. Just scared."

Billy leaned into him then—just enough for his forehead to touch Artur’s shoulder. Artur wrapped an arm around his back, holding him there, steady.

The world outside kept turning. But for now, they stayed like that—quiet, unsure, and holding on to something that still felt real.

The road was quiet, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the path.

A breeze rustled through the trees, brushing against their clothes as Mark walked alongside Mr. Frank, hands tucked in his pockets, head slightly bowed.

They were nearly at the guest house when Mark spoke, hesitating at first.

"I thought you’d drag him the moment you saw him."

Mr. Frank gave a soft exhale, a half-smile forming before he replied.

"At first... that’s exactly what I planned to do." He paused.

"I came with every intention to take him back immediately. But when I saw him... the look in his eyes, the way he stood there—like the world wasn’t spinning around him anymore—I didn’t have the heart to pull him out of it right now."

Mark glanced at him, brows drawn.

"You didn’t know he lost his memory, did you?"

Mr. Frank shook his head, his voice low.

"No....no you didn’t tell me. I thought maybe he’d just... lost.

Taken time off or lost his way back. But the moment he looked at me like I was a stranger, I knew something had gone terribly wrong."

He stopped walking for a moment, looking toward the open sky. "He’s been through enough already... this whole life he had—it wasn’t really his. It was shaped by his father, by contracts, by expectations but here...here he seems happy."

Mark gave a small nod. "Of course he’s happy here."

Mr. Frank smiled faintly, though there was sadness in his eyes.

"I can see that now. The way he looks around. The way he talks. It’s the first time I’ve seen him breathe without bracing for something."

They resumed walking slowly.

"But still..." Mr. Frank added gently, "his family needs him. His mother’s been beside herself.

There’s a lot left for him in the city—unfinished things. A life that’s waiting to be either accepted or rewritten. And only he can decide to write it, but Fate has other plans."

Mark stayed quiet for a few paces, then said softly, "He’s not the same person anymore."

Mr. Frank nodded. "Maybe that’s a good thing."

When they reached the guest house, Mr. Frank placed a hand on the door but didn’t open it yet. He looked back at Mark.

"I’m not here to force anything. I just want him to know he’s not lost. He’s loved, and missed. And when he’s ready—if he’s ready—he’ll have a home to return to."

Mark studied the man, slowly understanding the weight he carried. "He’ll need time," he said quietly. "But I think... hearing that will matter to him."

Mr. Frank gave him a grateful look. "Thank you, Mark. For everything. You did what none of us could."

As soon as the door to the guest house closed behind Mr. Frank, Mark stood still on the quiet road, the weight of everything finally catching up to him.

The golden hue of the fading sunlight painted soft streaks across the dirt path, but none of it reached the heaviness in his chest.

He turned slowly, walking aimlessly past the hedges and out toward the edge of the fields, where the wind blew stronger and the world felt a little wider.

There, just beneath a crooked tree, he stopped. His hands rested on his hips, and then he exhaled—long and slow—as if he were trying to force the air to carry away the tension in his shoulders.

His jaw clenched for a moment before he muttered under his breath, "This wasn’t supposed to be today..."

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

He fished it out, blinking against the sudden brightness of the screen. A few missed calls. messages.

Jay.

"Still waiting. Don’t tell me you’re running from me too."

Mark let out a dry, tired chuckle. Trust Jay to cut through the noise with something sharp yet grounding.

He stared at the message a little longer, thumb hovering over the screen. Then he sighed again—less heavy this time—and typed back:

"Just needed a moment. I’m on my way."

He slipped the phone back into his pocket, gave one last glance at the field stretching out in front of him, then turned around—step by step, walking back toward whatever waited.

Toward Jay. Toward whatever came next.

Jay leaned against the porch rail of Mr. Dand’s house, arms folded, one foot tapping against the wood in a rhythm that betrayed more impatience than he’d ever admit.

The sky had dipped into that early indigo blue, where the day hadn’t quite died but the shadows had begun to settle in.

Lantern light flickered from the windows behind him, catching in the glass just enough to paint faint halos on his shoulder.

He heard the footsteps before he saw him.

Turning his head just slightly, Jay caught sight of Mark walking up the path—hands in his pockets, head a little lower than usual, like the earth had pulled something out of him and hadn’t yet returned it.

Jay raised an eyebrow, masking concern with sarcasm, "You take the scenic route, or did a wild chicken talk you into running away with her?"

Mark offered the ghost of a smile, but didn’t reply right away.

Jay’s smirk faltered just a little. "Hey... I’m joking."

Mark came up the steps without a word, passed him by, and sat down heavily on the bench by the wall.

He leaned back, staring at the open sky, lips pressed tight like he was trying to hold back words he hadn’t even figured out yet.

Jay studied him from a distance.

Something wasn’t right.

Jay moved, slow and casual, sitting beside him—not too close, not too far. "You always disappear on me like that, or am I just special?"

Still, silence.

Jay’s teasing edge softened. "Mark...what’s wrong man?"

Mark didn’t look at him. "He came for Leo."

That made Jay sit up straighter.

"He found him," Mark continued, voice rough, low, like he was confessing something he shouldn’t. "Mr. Frank. That’s Leo’s uncle."

Jay blinked, trying to piece it together.

"You mean Billy—"

"Leo," Mark interrupted, still not looking at him. "His real name. Leo’s the one who went missing at the Resort. Big actor, rich family. Mr. Frank’s his manager and his uncle. He’s been looking for him since the accident."

Jay sat back, breath catching in his throat. "And now he found him."

Mark finally turned his head, eyes meeting Jay’s.

"And I’m the one who told him where."

Jay didn’t speak at first. He just looked at Mark—really looked—and saw what was beneath the calm surface: the regret, the doubt, the fear that he might’ve handed someone he cared about back to a life that would tear him away again.

Jay exhaled quietly, then bumped his shoulder against Mark’s. "You didn’t do anything wrong you should be happy about it."

Mark didn’t answer, but he didn’t pull away either.

For a while, they sat like that, the wind gentle around them, the evening soft and stretching.

Finally, Jay said, "You want to talk about it?"

Mark shook his head.

Then don’t," Jay said, voice lower now. He didn’t reach out, but his thigh brushed against Mark’s. "Just sit here with me. That’s enough for me.

And Mark did. For now, it was okay.

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