Unwritten Fate [BL]
Chapter 119: I Wished for You

Chapter 119: I Wished for You

The light from the window had turned amber, then dusky gold... and now, it faded into the dim gray of evening.

Billy still hadn’t moved.

His back rested against the wall, legs folded close, the wooden floor beneath him cold and unwelcoming — though he barely felt it.

His fingers were curled into the hem of his shirt, white-knuckled.

His head rested gently against the wall, turned just enough to catch the shadowed outline of the door where Artur had stood.

The room was hollow—quiet in the kind of way that makes everything louder in your head.

Somewhere far off, a dog barked. A bird called. Life continued.

But in here, everything had paused.

He blinked slowly, eyes unfocused, mouth slightly parted like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. Not even for himself.

His throat felt tight, the kind of tight that doesn’t come from crying, but from trying not to.

"He was right," he whispered, so faint even he barely heard it.

It wasn’t just about the secret.

It was about the trust.

And the timing.

And the fear of losing something he never thought he’d find here, in this forgotten village with its sun-scorched fences and dust-covered windows. A place that had become home without him realizing.

He tilted his head back against the wall, eyes toward the ceiling — blinking hard, breathing shallow, as if holding in every piece of himself.

His voice cracked, soft and shaking.

"I didn’t want it to end like this..."

He didn’t say Artur’s name.

But he didn’t have to.

Every breath, every ache inside him was saying it louder than words ever could.

Billy stepped out into the night with the door still swinging behind him.

The chill of the air hit him like a second silence — not as heavy as the one inside, but just as cutting.

His eyes scanned the darkness, heart pounding louder than his footsteps on the dirt path.

"Artur..." he called, barely above a whisper.

No answer.

He turned left — toward the old trail behind the house — where the fields rolled into the woods, where they used to sneak away in the evenings just to steal moments alone. He checked the path. Nothing but crickets.

He doubled back, faster now, shoes crunching dry grass. Past the chicken fence, past the edge of Tomas’s field. Still no sign of him.

The lamplights near the village square glowed softly in the distance, warm halos against the quiet dark.

Billy rushed toward them, eyes darting down every turn, every lane. His breath grew quicker. His chest tighter.

He slowed at the well.

Paused.

Waited.

But Artur wasn’t there either.

Billy turned in a slow circle. Any moment now, he thought—Artur would call his name, like always. But only the stillness answered.

But the village only answered with stillness.

His shoulders slumped. He rubbed his hands through his hair, frustration burning behind his eyes.

"Where did you go..."

His voice cracked at the end.

Not because he was tired from walking.

But because he was scared.

He wasn’t just losing Artur for the night.

He might be losing them — everything they were, everything they could’ve been.

Billy stood still in the quiet crossroad of the village. Not ready to go home. Not ready to give up.

But with nowhere else to look.

The air was still outside, thick with the hush of an evening that had forgotten how to breathe.

"Artur didn’t know where his feet were leading—only that forward felt quieter than staying still."

He just walked—past the sheep pens, past the garden gate, down the narrow path behind Mr. Tomas’s shed where the ground felt softer, like it could swallow noise and footsteps and pain alike.

His fists were clenched, but not from anger. It was the kind of tension that builds in the chest when something sacred is shaken, when you realize someone you gave your entire heart to had a piece of themselves you never touched.

He leaned against the old cypress tree near the stream. The one Billy had once slipped near. The one where he laughed, cheeks flushed, arms flailing. That laugh still rang in Artur’s memory.

Now it felt like an echo from someone else’s life.

He looked up at the sky—pale clouds drifting like they were lost too.

He didn’t cry. But his jaw tensed. His shoulders pulled in. That quiet way men do when they’re breaking but don’t know how to fall apart properly.

"Engaged."

The word gnawed at him. He didn’t know who she was. Didn’t want to. Didn’t care.

But what he cared about... What twisted his insides... Was that Billy didn’t trust him enough to say it.

They were supposed to be more than this. He would’ve understood. Hell, he would’ve fought for him. Still would.

But silence? Silence felt like betrayal dressed in politeness.

A single breath escaped his throat—uneven, bitter.

He wanted to scream, but it would wake the chickens.

So he stood there.

Still.

Waiting for something to settle inside him. But nothing did.

The cypress tree held him like a secret.

Artur slid down its trunk slowly, until he was sitting in the tall grass, knees bent, elbows resting on them. His fingers wove together, tense and unmoving.

Above him, the stars blinked faintly through the dusk, distant and indifferent.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t even wipe the dust off his palms.

All he could think of was the way Billy had smiled that morning—carefree, soft, like nothing in the world could touch them.

And then that conversation. That silence that said too much. The weight in Billy’s eyes when he looked away.

Artur’s head tipped back against the bark. He remembered...

The first time Billy fell asleep on his shoulder under this very tree.

The way he mumbled in his sleep, fingers curling lightly around Artur’s shirt.

How Artur had closed his eyes and whispered, "Please stay." Not out loud, not even to Billy—just a prayer into the night.

He thought maybe this was what love felt like.

But now—now it just felt like he’d been handed something fragile and told it was his, only to learn someone else had already carved their name into it.

His heart wasn’t broken. Not yet.

But it was bruised. Quietly. The kind that aches more because you don’t scream.

The breeze shifted the leaves above, and for a moment it sounded like someone calling.

He didn’t respond. Not yet.

If Billy was looking for him, let him try. Let him feel what it meant to be alone in something that used to be shared.

And if he didn’t come?

Then maybe Artur would stay here until the sky turned red with morning.

Billy’s feet crunched softly on the pebbled path, the silence of Solmere folding in around him like an old coat.

The sun had dipped behind the hills, leaving the sky a muted canvas of fading gold and pale indigo.

He’d already passed the cypress tree. The hills near Tomas’s farm.

Even the narrow clearing where they sometimes sat under the stars, shoulder to shoulder.

But Artur wasn’t anywhere.

His chest tightened as he turned down the familiar path leading to the lake—their lake.

That secret sliver of quiet tucked behind the trees where the world always seemed to pause.

The place where laughter echoed loudest, and silence felt safe.

Billy stepped into the clearing. The lake stretched still and wide before him, the water catching the last threads of light like scattered wishes.

Empty.

No footsteps on the shore. No figure leaning against the twisted old willow.

Just the breeze, brushing through the grass.

He walked closer to the water’s edge, shoes forgotten. The chill kissed his toes, grounding him in the present even as his heart pulled him backward.

He remembered.

That evening when Artur had grinned and said, "You know this lake grants wishes."They say if you make a wish here it might comes true.

Billy had scoffed, teased back—"Do I look like I believe in that?"—but later, quietly, he’d made one.

Let me stay. Let this feeling stay. Let him stay.

And for a while... it had come true.

But now?

Now the water reflected only his own shadow.

Billy swallowed hard, blinking back the sting in his eyes. The ache behind his ribs wouldn’t stop twisting.

Then, his voice cracked the silence—raw and too loud.

"Is this what I wished for?"

It echoed across the water, empty of answer.

He clenched his fists, teeth gritted, and shouted again, louder:

"Is this what you think I wanted?!"

His voice caught at the end, fragile now.

"I didn’t even know I had a life before this—and I still chose you. Doesn’t that mean anything?"

The wind carried it away, like it didn’t want to hold the pain either.

He stood there now, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the reflection of the sky in the water. His lips parted, but no sound came at first. Then, quietly, like a whisper slipping from his chest—

"I wished for you."

His voice cracked.

Then louder. A sudden release of all he’d been holding in:

"I WISHED FOR YOU!"

The words split the air.

Echoed.

Bounced back—

But the lake was empty."

That Artur wasn’t here to hear it.

Billy dropped to a crouch, hands shaking, elbows on his knees. "I’m sorry," he whispered. "I should’ve told you. I should’ve trusted you."

But the only answer was the breeze brushing through the grass.

No one was listening.

Or maybe, someone was—but not close enough to come back yet.

He stayed like that, silent, until the moon began its slow climb over the hills.

Billy sat down at the edge of the lake, legs pulled close to his chest. Eyes on the ripples. Waiting for the water to whisper something back

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.