Unwritten Fate [BL]
Chapter 73: Peace Sounds Like You

Chapter 73: Peace Sounds Like You

The sun had dipped low enough to cast a warm, golden hue over the fields as the boys made their way back from the market, the last hums of the crowd fading behind them.

The gravel path beneath their feet crunched softly with every step, birds calling from treetops, and the breeze lazily stirring the tips of the tall grass.

Billy slowed down, nudging Artur’s elbow. "Let’s stop by the fence."

Artur turned to him, one brow lifting. "You want to see the animals again?"

Billy gave him a soft smile. "I like seeing them. And they’ll probably like seeing you too."

Artur rolled his eyes, but his smile betrayed him. "You just want to feed the sheep."

"I want to feed the sheep with you," Billy corrected, already veering off the path.

The familiar wooden fence came into view, worn but sturdy, the kind Mr. Dand had built by hand.

Behind it, a few sheep lazily grazed near the far corner, their wool thick and slightly dusted from the field.

One of them lifted its head when it heard the creak of the gate and let out a soft bleat.

Billy laughed quietly. "That one always sounds like he’s complaining."

"That’s because you gave him too much corn last time," Artur said, stepping through the gate behind him. "You spoil them."

"Says the guy who talks to them like they’re his kids."

Artur glanced sideways, but didn’t argue. Instead, he moved toward the wooden trough near the shed and grabbed a small sack of feed.

Billy came up beside him, brushing close without thinking as he dipped his hands into the sack.

They worked quietly at first, scooping feed and scattering it gently, watching the sheep shuffle closer with soft baas and eager little steps.

One especially bold lamb nudged at Billy’s leg, making him laugh as he crouched down to stroke its head.

"See?" Billy said, looking up at Artur, "I think this one likes me."

Artur stood with a handful of feed resting in his palm, sunlight washing over his features. "She’s just hungry."

"Or maybe she can sense that I’m the nicer one between us."

Artur walked over, standing just behind him. "That’s not what she told me earlier."

Billy craned his neck, mock surprised. "You talk to her now?"

Artur leaned down a little, his breath brushing against Billy’s ear. "She said you’re dramatic."

Billy laughed and dropped some more feed to the ground. "Then I’ll have to win her back."

He stood slowly, brushing his palms against his pants, then glanced at Artur. For a moment, the teasing faded into something quieter—Billy’s eyes lingered on Artur’s face, on the way the light framed the softness in his expression.

"You always look gentler out here," Billy said, his voice lower now. "Like you belong in the quiet."

Artur’s gaze flicked toward him. "You saying I’m not gentle at home?"

Billy tilted his head, moving just a little closer. "You’re rougher at home."

Artur scoffed, but his lips curled into a half smile. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re blushing."

"I’m warm," Artur muttered, looking away and tossing the last handful of feed.

Billy leaned into him just enough for their arms to brush. "We could sit by the fence for a while... if you’re not in a rush."

Artur didn’t answer right away. He just let out a soft exhale and turned his face up to the sky, watching the clouds drift slowly above the trees. "No rush," he said. "Let’s stay until the sun goes down."

And so they did—side by side on the wooden fence, legs swinging gently above the grass, voices quiet as they shared unspoken understandings and quiet observations, thoughts that didn’t need to be clever or loud. Just soft. Just theirs.

The golden sun kept lowering, slow and deliberate, like it, too, wanted to stay a little longer.

The air was cooler now, softened with the scent of warm grass and earth.

The sheep had quieted down, some lying close together while others still wandered near the trough, content and lazy.

Billy’s heel tapped rhythmically against the wooden post beneath the fence, and his elbow brushed lightly against Artur’s arm every now and then, neither of them moving away. His voice broke the silence first—quiet, unhurried.

"You know," Billy began, "I think this might be my favorite part of the village."

Artur glanced at him, amused. "Feeding sheep?"

Billy shook his head, lips curling. "No. Sitting here like this. You and me. No noise. No pressure. Just..." He let the word stretch, tilting his head toward the sky."Peace.You’re my peace"

Artur’s mouth quirked slightly, not quite a full smile. "You’re getting soft."

Billy smirked. "I was always soft. You just weren’t paying attention."

"I was too busy saving your reckless ass."

Billy chuckled, nudging him playfully with his shoulder. "You love my reckless ass."

Artur looked at him, that soft look settling into his eyes again, deeper this time. "Yeah," he said simply. "I do."

Billy froze just slightly, his laughter caught somewhere between his chest and throat.

He didn’t answer right away, just stared at Artur like the world around them had faded to background noise.

The sheep, the wind, the birds—they all stepped back for this one small moment.

A slow smile touched Billy’s lips, but a tremor of something deeper ran beneath it. "Say that again," he whispered, needing to hear it solidify in the quiet air.

Artur kept his gaze fixed on the horizon, his ears a more pronounced shade of pink. "I’m not repeating myself."

Billy leaned in, closer now, voice low. "Say it again."

Artur finally turned, his eyes meeting Billy’s, the warmth in them undeniable. "I love you, you ridiculous boy. Don’t make me say it a third time."

A grin bloomed on Billy’s face, chasing away the lingering surprise. He shifted, pressing his temple against Artur’s shoulder, a soft sigh escaping him. "Third time’s the charm," he murmured, the words settling comfortably between them.

Artur didn’t respond—at least not with words. He shifted, resting his cheek lightly against the top of Billy’s head.

Their hands didn’t quite touch, but they hung close on the fence rail, fingers twitching as if reaching for the same rhythm.

After a beat, Billy whispered, "Let’s stay a little longer. Until the sky turns violet."

Artur nodded against him. "Until the stars come out, if you want."

Billy smiled without looking up. "I want."

They didn’t speak for a while after that. Just sat there, surrounded by soft bleating, golden skies, and the quiet rhythm of a bond too deep for noise.

The sky melted from amber to lavender, and finally into a deepening indigo.

A few stars shyly peeked through the clouds, scattered like whispers across the velvet canvas.

Billy tilted his head, counting them silently. Artur stayed close, arms resting on the fence, eyes far-off but calm.

Neither of them wanted to break the spell.

But eventually, the breeze picked up, cooler now, brushing against their sleeves. Billy exhaled a little sigh, stretching his legs.

"We should go," he murmured.

Artur hummed in agreement, but didn’t move right away. Then, wordlessly, they stepped away from the fence, fingers brushing, not quite holding, yet still together in every step.

The walk back was quieter than usual—not heavy, just full. Like the moment was still wrapped around them.

The gravel crunched gently beneath their feet, the village mostly asleep by now. A few dogs barked faintly in the distance. Someone’s window flickered with lanternlight before going dark.

As they walked back towards the house, a familiar comfort settled between them, the weight of the shared confession a sweet ache in the quiet air.

But as the house came into view, Billy faltered, his steps slowing.

Artur squinted ahead. "Wait... is that—?"

"Light," Billy said under his breath.

They froze in sync.

"That wasn’t on when we left, was it?" Billy asked, voice low.

"No," Artur said, already taking a cautious step forward.

Billy’s eyes narrowed. "Do you think someone’s—"

"A thief?" Artur finished grimly.

They both ducked slightly, creeping along the side wall, shoes muted in the dirt. Billy gestured toward the back entrance, the one near the shed. Artur nodded, circling wide.

They exchanged a glance as they reached the door—Billy raised three fingers.

One... two... three—

He shoved it open.

"Hey—!" Billy started, but then stopped mid-shout.

Because standing in the kitchen with a cup of steaming tea, calmly flipping through a newspaper, was none other than Mr. Dand.

The old man blinked at them, unbothered. "Evening."

Artur and Billy both stood frozen at the doorway like they were the intruders.

"You scared the hell out of us," Artur breathed.

Mr. Dand raised a brow. "Why are you sneaking around like burglars?"

"We thought you were one!" Billy said, dragging a hand down his face. "You didn’t say you were coming back today."

Mr. Dand shrugged. "Didn’t plan to. Finished early. Thought I’d surprise you."

Artur stepped forward, expression softening now with disbelief. "You really should’ve called..."

Mr. Dand chuckled, a knowing glint in his eye as he sipped his tea. "And miss the look on your faces? Especially yours, Billy? Not a chance.

Billy, half-laughing and half-relieved, leaned against the doorframe. "You nearly gave us heart attacks."

"Well," Mr. Dand said, "you two should come in before you catch a cold standing there whispering like spies."

Artur stepped inside first, shaking his head, and Billy followed—grinning now, heart finally slowing back to normal.

"Welcome home," Billy said, voice light.

Mr. Dand glanced at him with a knowing look. "Good to be back."