Unwritten Fate [BL]
Chapter 76: A moment to breathe

Chapter 76: A moment to breathe

The wind shifted, soft and warm, rustling the grass like a secret passing through the earth.

The tree’s shade stretched wider now, more forgiving as the afternoon dipped gently toward evening.

The sun filtered through the branches, casting quiet shadows across Billy’s lap. He didn’t speak. Neither did Artur.

Their silence wasn’t empty—it was the kind that held comfort, like the worn quilt of an old memory.

Then, with a soft grunt, someone settled beside them on the bench made of roughly carved wood. The creak of the wood made Artur glance sideways.

It was Madam Elza.

Her shawl, a faded floral print, was pulled snug over her shoulders. Wisps of white hair escaped the knot at her nape, and her eyes—sharp and amused—landed on them both with a knowing smile.

"Well, well," she said, easing her weight into the seat like the tree had reserved it for her. "Two young men sitting still in this restless world. That’s a rare sight."

Billy chuckled lightly. "We’re practicing the art of doing nothing."

"Ah," Elza breathed out a satisfied sigh. "Then you’ve learned something most folks spend a lifetime missing."

Artur tilted his head, curious. "And what’s that?"

"That time moves without needing us to chase it," she said, pulling a small packet from her pocket—dried tamarind candy, which she unwrapped slowly, deliberately. "You see, when I was your age, I used to think that love, success, happiness—they were all uphill.

That you had to climb and keep climbing. But turns out..." She popped the candy into her mouth. "Sometimes they’re already sitting beside you. Quiet as this breeze. But you miss them if you’re too busy looking elsewhere."

Billy’s eyes softened. He glanced at Artur, who hadn’t moved, but something in his jaw had slackened. Listening.

Elza leaned forward slightly, eyes twinkling. "You two remind me of a story—two boys once sat under this very tree, one with a slingshot, the other with a notebook. One wanted to break things. The other wanted to understand them."

She chuckled, patting her knees. "They grew up. Went their ways. But this tree? It remembers. It remembers the way they used to sit just like you—close, stubborn, and quietly in love with the idea of staying."

Artur blinked slowly. "What happened to them?"

"One came back. The other never left." Elza shrugged. "I suppose that’s life. You’ll always have the tree. But who you sit with—ah, that’s the story you write yourselves."

A soft silence followed.

Billy looked down at his hands, then back at Artur.

"Do you believe in that?" he asked softly. "That the people we choose to sit with matter more than the places we go?"

Artur’s voice was quiet, thoughtful. "I didn’t... not always. But I think I do now."

Elza stood, brushing her hands together, then gave them a wink. "Good. Then sit a little longer, boys. Let the world wait for once."

She walked off with surprising grace for her age, her shawl fluttering like a bird’s wing.

Billy leaned back, lips tugging into a small smile. "She’s kind of magical, isn’t she?"

Artur nodded, eyes still on the path where Elza had disappeared. "Yeah. Like the tree. Like this moment."

Billy picked up a fallen twig and traced idle lines into the dry earth beneath his sandals. "I like it here," he said, barely above a murmur. "It’s simple... but it feels like everything I didn’t know I needed."

Artur leaned back against the tree trunk, one leg stretched out, the other bent. "Yeah. It’s boring sometimes," he admitted with a crooked smile, "but in the best way."

Billy grinned. "The kind of boring you miss when you’re surrounded by noise."

Billy paused, the twig stilled in his fingers. "We’ve changed, haven’t we?" he said, half to himself.

A breeze rustled the leaves above them, casting dancing shadows on their faces.

Billy tilted his head, watching how the light caught in Artur’s hair, turning the brown into soft amber.

"Do you always sit here when you’re tired of thinking?" Billy asked.

Artur nodded faintly. "When I was a kid, I’d come here after school. Sometimes with friends. Sometimes alone. It’s one of the few places that stayed the same while everything else kept changing."

Billy hummed in thought. "Even trees outlive heartbreak, huh?"

Artur chuckled. "Especially heartbreak."

They lapsed into silence again, but it was heavier now—filled with unspoken words and quiet understanding.

A couple of children ran past them chasing each other, laughter bouncing between tree trunks.

Then, a voice called from across the square.

"Artur!"

It was old Mr. Nino, waving a hand and grinning. "Your papa already left. Said you boys are still out here watching the tree grow!"

Artur waved back, smiling. "Sounds like him."

Billy snorted. "He left already? Didn’t even come back this way?"

Artur shook his head, but his eyes were soft. "Told you, he moves like wind. Comes and goes."

Billy stood slowly, brushing off the back of his trousers. "Guess we should head back then?"

"Yeah," Artur said, rising too, stretching his arms above his head before letting them fall with a soft sigh. "Sun’s nearly gone."

They walked side by side, their steps unhurried, their shadows long on the ground.

The village was settling for the evening—lamps glowing softly through windows, voices mellowing into nightfall.

Billy nudged Artur’s elbow gently. "Think the tree will remember us too?"

Artur glanced at him, a small, meaningful smile tugging his lips. "Only if we come back."

They turned the corner, heading toward the path that would lead them home—quietly, gently, like the day itself didn’t want to end just yet.

The soft crunch of gravel followed them as they returned home, the world dimming into evening hues.

Their little house stood quietly, washed in warm tones from the low sun, its windows glowing faintly like tired eyes welcoming them back.

Artur opened the gate with a quiet creak, holding it until Billy passed through. "Tired?" he asked, glancing at him sideways.

Billy shrugged. "A little. But it’s a good kind of tired."

Inside, the house was still. A faint breeze drifted through the open window, carrying in the scent of jasmine from the edge of the yard.

The leftover warmth of the day clung to the walls. Billy slipped off his shoes near the door, stretching with a groan that earned a small chuckle from Artur.

"I’ll get some water," Artur said, heading toward the kitchen.

Billy followed a few steps behind. "Want me to help?"

Artur tilted his head back with a playful sigh. "You’ll only get in the way."

Billy grinned. "So ungrateful."

By the time they settled in the living room, two glasses of water and a small plate of roasted groundnuts sat between them. Billy plucked one up, tossing it into his mouth. "So... tomorrow, what do we do?"

Artur leaned his head back against the cushion, rubbing his eyes gently. "Rest. Maybe fix the fence out back. Or help dad if he’s still wandering the village looking for things to do."

Billy leaned in a bit, propping his chin on his hand. "And tonight?"

Artur glanced at him, his lips curving into something between a smirk and a smile. "Talk to me. Or fall asleep beside me. Whichever comes first."

Billy laughed softly, eyes glinting. "Guess we’ll see."

The evening deepened slowly. The lamplight flickered softly above them. Outside, the world hushed down to the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of crickets.

They spoke of little things—memories from the day, Ren’s endless teasing, the old woman’s advice under the tree.

At some point, Billy scooted closer, his leg brushing against Artur’s. Neither of them moved away.

No rush. No noise. Just the quiet rhythm of two hearts learning how to beat in sync.

Inside the quiet room, the door clicked shut behind them, sealing away the outside world.

Billy paused by the door, fingers brushing the frame. "Do you ever wonder if we’ll have this forever?"

Artur stepped closer, voice low. "I don’t need forever right now. Just tonight. Just you."

The lantern on the desk cast a golden halo, soft and flickering, painting warm shadows across the walls and the curves of their faces.

Billy stood by the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt slowly, not in haste or routine but with a kind of stillness that made Artur pause. Their eyes met across the room.

Billy’s smile was faint—curved with something unreadable, something tender.

Artur stepped forward. "You okay?"

Billy nodded. "Yeah. Just... don’t want today to end yet."

There was a silence, stretched between them like a thin thread.

Then Artur reached out, his fingers brushing Billy’s cheek, then sliding to his jaw, his thumb resting lightly there.

"Then let’s not let it end yet."

Billy tilted his face slightly into Artur’s hand, his eyes half-lidded. "What do you suggest?"

Artur didn’t answer right away. He leaned in, slow, careful, and pressed a kiss just under Billy’s eye.

Then another, softer, along the edge of his mouth. Billy’s hands slid up under Artur’s shirt, palms warm against bare skin.

They moved together gently, like a dance with no music, guided by the quiet thrum in their chests.

There was no urgency—only the hush of breath, the rustle of clothes slipping to the floor, the creak of the bed as they eased down together.

Fingers laced. Eyes locked. Foreheads touched in the in-between.

Artur whispered, "You’re here. That’s all I need."

Billy’s voice was barely a murmur. "Then I’m not going anywhere."

They lay close after, wrapped under the light sheet. Artur’s arm draped over Billy’s waist, their legs tangled, skin warm against skin. Outside, the wind stirred the branches, a gentle rustle against the windowpane.

Time slowed in that quiet room. No words needed. Just the soft rise and fall of breath, the steady heartbeat echoing into the night.

"The hush between them felt charged—less like silence, more like a language they both understood."

Billy shifted closer beneath the sheet, his chest brushing against Artur’s, skin to skin. "You’re staring again," he said, voice low and teasing.

Artur didn’t look away. His fingers gently traced the curve of Billy’s shoulder, the slow path down his arm as if committing every inch of him to memory. "I can’t help it," he murmured. "When you’re this close, it feels unreal."

Billy’s smile softened. "I’m real. You can touch me, remember?"

"I am," Artur whispered, drawing a trail of his lips along Billy’s collarbone. "Every time I do, I remember how lucky I am."

Billy’s fingers curled into Artur’s hair, gently tugging. "You’ve got a sweet mouth when no one’s listening."

Artur chuckled against his skin, warm breath dancing across it. "Only for you."

Billy’s fingers curled into his, anchoring them together. "Then remember this too—we’re home now."

They shifted again, the sheets sliding between them as their bodies molded together with an easy, practiced intimacy.

Artur kissed the hollow of Billy’s throat, then lower, lingering, his lips unhurried and tender.

Billy arched slightly, his hand gripping Artur’s back, pulling him closer, grounding them both in the warmth of the moment.

Their kisses turned deeper—not rushed, not frenzied, but full of meaning. Each press of lips said stay. Each breathless pause said I’m here.

Their bodies moved like two halves finding their fit, the kind of closeness that didn’t need words to feel whole.

Later, they lay tangled together again, breath slowing, skin damp and flushed.

Billy ran his fingers lazily over Artur’s chest, his tone light but eyes thoughtful. "I never thought I’d feel this safe again. Not like this."

Artur kissed the top of his head, his hand resting at the small of Billy’s back. "Me neither. But here we are."

The lantern dimmed with a final flicker, leaving only the soft blue hush of night spilling through the window. Outside, a dog barked once in the distance. The wind had stilled.

Inside, everything felt still too—but in the best way. Not the kind of stillness that meant nothing was happening, but the kind that meant everything was happening in the quiet.

Billy whispered, sleep tugging gently at his voice, "Don’t let go."

"I won’t," Artur said, holding him tighter. "Even in my dreams."

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