Unwritten Fate [BL]
Chapter 71: Charmed by You

Chapter 71: Charmed by You

The sunlight had fully poured into the room by the time they stirred again, warm and golden against the wood-paneled walls.

"The towel lay folded at the bed’s edge. The quiet between them unraveled into soft laughter as they dressed."

No hurried words. No declared plans. Just a silent understanding—it was time to head out.

Outside, the world greeted them in full color.

The village market pulsed with life—woven baskets balanced atop heads, bundles of herbs tied in twine, and the scent of roasted peanuts, dried fish, and fresh fruit thick in the air like memory itself.

Billy and Artur walked side by side, unhurried, letting the rhythm of the crowd guide their steps.

Children darted between stalls. A dog barked near a crate of yams. Elders exchanged stories beneath swaying cloth canopies.

A woman selling oranges called out to Artur and waved. He returned the gesture, his hand brushing against Billy’s.

Neither pulled away.

Billy glanced around, quiet awe in his eyes. "It’s... louder than usual."

"Everyone comes down from the hills around this time. End of the month, mostly," Artur replied, angling his body to dodge a cart overflowing with onions.

Billy smiled. "Feels like the whole world’s here."

"Pretty much." Artur’s gaze shifted. "You okay in the crowd?"

"Yeah," Billy murmured, eyes bright as he tilted his head. "Just don’t let go of my hand."

Artur’s expression softened. He reached down and intertwined their fingers without a second thought.

The crowd, the noise, the heat—faded into background hum.

"Where to first?" Artur asked.

"Nowhere in particular." Billy shrugged. "Let’s just walk."

They strolled past rows of vibrant fabrics and baskets brimming with spice.

"Billy eyes caught a small stall tucked between two larger ones... —dried flowers dangled from its wooden frame, and a row of delicate wind chimes danced in the breeze with soft, metallic laughter.

He tugged gently at Artur’s hand. "Wait... I want to see that."

Artur followed his line of sight. "Ah. That’s Mrs. Hana’s stall. Handmade things—charms, herbs, stories if she likes you."

Billy’s lips curved. "Let’s go."

Behind the table, Mrs. Hana sat perched on a stool, her silver-streaked braid looping messily over one shoulder.

She threaded beads with nimble fingers, but looked up as they approached—her gaze sharp, smile sly.

"Well, if it isn’t Dand’s boy," she said, her voice textured with mischief. "And the quiet one who’s always at your side now."

Artur chuckled softly. "Afternoon, Hana. You’re looking well."

Billy dipped his head politely. "Hi. I’ve heard you tell good stories."

Hana laughed, warm and low. "Stories only bloom when the heart’s open."

Billy’s eyes landed on a carved charm shaped like a fish, its sides etched with fine, deliberate lines. "You made all these?"

"Every single one." Hana straightened with pride. "That one’s for safe travels across water. This—" she lifted a crescent moon charm "—is for lovers."

Artur’s ears flushed pink. Billy blinked once, then grinned, bold and bright. "We’ll take the moon."

Hana’s eyes twinkled as she handed it over. "No charge. Just promise to keep holding hands."

As they stepped away, Billy slid the charm into Artur’s palm. "A little token from our adventure," he murmured.

He offered it to Artur again, more seriously this time. "Hold onto it for me?"

Artur looked down at the charm, then back at Billy. "You sure?"

"I am," Billy said, his voice soft. "It’ll remind me this wasn’t just a dream."

Artur’s gaze lingered on him, and then he took the charm, closing his hand around it like a promise.

"Thank you," he said softly.

Billy leaned in, smile tugging at his lips. "We’ve still got the whole market ahead of us. You ready?"

Artur’s grin returned. "Only if you don’t disappear again."

Billy bumped his shoulder. "No promises."

The market buzzed like a hive—laughter mixing with vendors’ cries, the clatter of cart wheels, the scent of roasted chestnuts and something sugary Billy couldn’t quite name.

They wandered past women haggling over tomatoes, men comparing bundles of cinnamon and ginger, children skipping along in faded sandals.

"Billy’s hand found Artur’s again and again—each touch easy, unhidden."

"Look at this," Billy said, stopping beside a honey stall. Jars of amber glowed under the sun. "Think Mr. Dand would forgive us if we brought him something sweet?"

Artur leaned in to sniff the air. "If you’re trying to make up for wrecking his bicycle, honey’s a good start."

Billy laughed. "Still not over that?"

"Never will be."

They tasted a sample offered by the seller—floral and citrusy. Billy licked the honey from his thumb. "Let’s get one."

They moved on, passing a boy chasing a runaway chicken through the legs of laughing adults. The bird darted near Artur, and the boy nearly barreled into him.

Artur steadied him with gentle hands. "Careful," he said, voice low.

The boy nodded, breathless, and dashed off again.

Further along, the noise softened. Cloth canopies above them fluttered, casting dappled shadows across their faces.

Artur paused by a display of rings—stones wrapped in thin brass or silver.

Billy watched him quietly. "You like any of them?"

Artur shrugged. "Just looking."

Billy picked up a slim ring with a pale blue stone and held it up to Artur’s hand. "This suits you."

Artur blinked. Then smiled. "You think so?"

"Yeah. Want me to buy it for you?"

Artur hesitated. "No... maybe later."

Billy nodded and gently set it back, his fingers brushing Artur’s—lingering just a moment longer than needed.

A musician nearby began playing a slow tune on a wooden flute. The world softened.

Billy nudged Artur. "Want to find something to drink?"

Artur gave a small smile. "Only if it’s cold."

"Then I’m on a mission."

They headed toward a stall shaded under a patchwork of tarps and trailing vines.

The air was thick with the scent of citrus and mint. Glass jars clinked behind the counter, filled with muddled berries, lime slices, and crushed ice.

Billy stepped up. "Two of the coldest drinks you’ve got. Surprise us."

The vendor—a woman with a sun-faded scarf and a radiant smile—grinned. "You boys look like you’ve walked the whole market twice."

"Feels like it," Billy said with a laugh. "His fault."

Artur rolled his eyes, leaning a little closer. "You’re the one stopping at every stall."

"It’s called culture appreciation," Billy replied.

They were handed two drinks—one tangy with passionfruit, the other cool with cucumber and mint.

They settled on a shaded bench nearby. Billy sipped first, then whistled. "That’s good. You’ll like this one."

He held his cup toward Artur.

Artur raised an eyebrow. "You want me to try yours?"

Billy grinned. "We’re practically married already."

Artur hesitated, then leaned forward, sipping from the same straw. Their eyes met—and held. Billy didn’t look away.

Artur leaned back slowly. "You’re unbelievable," he murmured into his own cup, but his voice was full of warmth.

A kite flitted past, tugged by a laughing child. Sunlight shimmered through the market.

For a while, they sat, drinks in hand, legs touching under the bench.

Billy tilted his head. "This is nice."

Artur nodded, quiet. "Yeah... it really is."

The breeze shifted, tugging Billy’s hair as he leaned back, arm resting behind Artur. Their drinks sweated in their hands.

Across the way, two men argued over fish. A woman bartered over mangoes.

Billy sipped again, eyes distant. "This market... it’s its own little world. Loud, but not noisy. Just... alive."

Artur let his shoulder rest gently against Billy’s. "It’s always like this. You grow up knowing who sells the best pineapples, who overcharges for sweet potatoes."

Billy chuckled. "You love this place."

Artur gave a small nod. "Yeah. Never thought I’d share it like this though."

"Like this?" Billy tilted his head.

Artur turned, really looked at him. "With someone who makes it all feel new."

Billy’s lips curved slowly. "You make it easy to fall in love with things," he whispered.

Artur blinked, looked down into his cup. "Don’t say stuff like that in public."

Billy leaned in, voice a low tease. "What? Afraid the mango lady thinks we’re together?"

"I’m afraid she’ll ask when the wedding is," Artur muttered, but he was grinning.

"Artur’s fingers toyed with the crescent moon charm Billy had given him. He hadn’t let go of it since—his thumb brushing the grooves like a secret only he understood."

Billy watched him from the corner of his eye, chin resting on his knees. "You keep staring at it like it’s magic."

Artur smiled faintly. "Maybe it is."

There was a pause—soft, thoughtful.

"You didn’t have to give it to me," Artur said, voice low. "You could’ve kept it."

Billy shrugged, but there was something in the motion—quiet vulnerability masked as nonchalance. "It felt right. Like it belonged with you."

Artur looked over at him. The way Billy sat, arms wrapped loosely around his legs, hair falling over his brow, made something tug deep in his chest. "You’re strange, you know."

Billy lifted a brow. "Thanks?"

"No," Artur chuckled, then shook his head. "Not in a bad way. Just... you’ve turned this whole place upside down. My days used to be simple. Predictable."

"And now they’re not?" Billy asked, a small, crooked smile forming.

"No," Artur murmured, "now they feel... alive."

A pause stretched between them, comfortable, heavy with unspoken feelings and light with summer air.

A merchant with rows of clay wind chimes waved to them from across the stall. Billy pointed lazily. "Want to check those out?"

Artur shrugged with a playful smile. "Only if we don’t end up buying half the market."

Billy stood and held out his hand. "Can’t make promises."

Artur took it without hesitation, letting himself be pulled to his feet. Their fingers didn’t part right away, and for a moment longer, they stood there—just two boys, caught between breeze and laughter and the quiet promise of something deeper.

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