Unwritten Fate [BL]
Chapter 81: The Promise

Chapter 81: The Promise

The evening hung gently around them, casting the fields in hues of honey and dusk. On the porch, Artur and Billy hadn’t moved.

Their shadows stretched behind them, touching like fingers on wood, yet both stood still, not wanting to break the quiet that had cradled their hearts just moments ago.

Billy finally turned, his voice soft and sure.

"I think I’m going to talk to him," he said, watching the horizon fade into deeper golds and blues. "He deserves to hear it from me too."

Artur’s eyes searched his face. "Are you sure?"

Billy reached down, lacing his fingers with Artur’s.

"He took me in when he didn’t have to. Fed me. Let me stay. Gave me work—even when I didn’t know who I was." His thumb brushed across Artur’s knuckles. "He should know that no matter what happens... my love for you isn’t borrowed or owed. It’s mine. Ours."

Artur gave a small nod, his throat tightening. The boy who once said little now carried weight in every word.

As the sun slipped behind the hills, they walked side by side, their joined hands swinging lightly between them.

The wind was gentler now, carrying the earthy scent of tilled fields and distant smoke. At the porch steps, Artur paused and gave Billy’s hand a squeeze.

"You’re sure?" he asked again, quieter this time. "You don’t have to push yourself if you’re not ready."

Billy glanced at him, gaze steady. "I’m ready," he said. "I should’ve told him sooner."

Inside the house, silence greeted them. The walls held a lived-in warmth, the air tinged with woodsmoke and the earthy scent of peeled potatoes.

Mr. Dand sat near the fire, a dull pocketknife in hand, carving into a small pile of potatoes with a rhythm both slow and practiced. He didn’t look up.

"You’re back already?" he muttered.

Billy stepped forward and knelt across from him, fidgeting slightly with the hem of his shirt. He glanced at the fire, then at Mr. Dand’s hands.

A long beat passed. Then he spoke.

"I need to tell you something."

Mr. Dand’s knife paused mid-slice. He looked at the boy briefly, then down again.

"You finally gonna say what’s weighing on you?" he said.

Billy huffed a soft, nervous laugh. "Guess I’m more transparent than I thought."

Mr. Dand’s lips twitched at the edge—maybe a smile, maybe not.

"You wear your heart on your sleeve, boy. Always have. Even when you didn’t know your name."

Billy exhaled and sat up straighter.

"You gave me more than shelter. You gave me... a chance.

You let me figure out who I am—without needing answers first. You gave me a name. A life."

The fire popped softly.

Billy looked at him now, fully.

"That’s why it’s hard—I don’t want to disappoint you."

He took a breath. Then another.

"I love your son."

The knife stopped.

For a long time, Mr. Dand didn’t speak. He set the potato down slowly, resting the blade on the table.

Billy pressed forward, voice steadier than he expected.

"I didn’t plan it. It just happened. Slowly. Completely." He swallowed. "And I know I don’t have all the answers yet.

But I know this one thing—I don’t want to live without him."

Mr. Dand looked at him now, truly looked. His weathered eyes, always more observant than they let on, studied Billy’s face, like he was searching for something behind the boy’s words.

Then he asked, voice low but clear: "You plan on leaving, someday?"

Billy’s heart knocked against his ribs. "If I get my memory back... maybe. I don’t know where it’ll take me." He hesitated, then leaned forward, voice thick with resolve.

"But I wouldn’t leave Artur behind. Not in the ways that matter. I’d come back. Or take him with me. I’d fight for him. Every time."

"I don’t know what my past held. I don’t know what the future will bring.

But right now, here, I know one thing for certain, "Life without him... isn’t something I can imagine."

Another silence fell.

Then Mr. Dand leaned back, his arms crossing loosely over his chest.

"Are you okay?" Billy asked, voice softer. "Are you... mad about it?"

The question hovered.

Mr. Dand let out a long, measured breath. "Mad?" He shook his head. "No. I’m not mad."

He looked into the fire. "I saw this coming a long time ago.

When you’d sit next to him in the fields and he’d pretend not to notice how often you looked at him. When he’d say your name too softly, like it was something rare."

Billy flushed, but didn’t look away.

"I’m not mad," Mr. Dand repeated, his voice more certain now. "I’m scared. For my boy. Because I’ve seen what losing someone can do.

And if you leave—if your past calls you back—I’m afraid of what that’ll do to him."

"I’m afraid of that too," Billy admitted, eyes glistening. "But I swear to you—I’m not here to hurt him. If I go, it won’t be without him knowing how deeply I care. I won’t vanish. Not from his life."

Mr. Dand gave a slow nod. "Then don’t make promises lightly, son.

Because when he loves, he does it with everything he has. That kind of heart... it breaks hard."

Billy’s voice dropped. "Mine does too."

Mr. Dand stared at him one more moment, then picked up the potato again and resumed peeling, this time slower.

"I figured you’d be the one to tell me eventually," he muttered. "Glad you did."

Billy let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. A soft, shaky smile curved on his lips.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"You’re still peeling tomorrow’s batch," Mr. Dand said with a grunt. "Don’t think honesty gets you out of chores."

Billy laughed, the sound soft and full.

As the fire crackled between them, Artur stepped closer from the doorway where he’d been listening, unseen.

He didn’t say a word—just walked up behind Billy and placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

Billy tilted his head back to look at him.

"Did I do okay?" he asked under his breath.

Artur gave the faintest smile. "You did more than okay."

And in that moment, surrounded by flickering firelight, peeling potatoes, and the quiet company of understanding, a new kind of peace settled over the little house.

The fire had burned lower now, casting flickers of amber and gold across the room.

Shadows danced lazily on the walls, and a hush had settled over the small house.

Mr. Dand, without another word after Billy’s confession, had eventually stood and retreated to his room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

Billy stayed there a while, still in the warmth of the hearth, the silence thick but not heavy. Something in him had unknotted.

He let out a long breath.

Artur touched his hand lightly. "You okay?"

Billy looked up. "Yeah... I think I am."

With a small nod, he got up and disappeared into the washroom.

Artur lingered in the main room, stoking the fire absentmindedly.

He didn’t know what Dand was thinking behind that closed door—but he knew his father well enough. He’d heard everything Billy said. And he hadn’t turned his back.

That was enough, for now.

When Billy returned, his hair was still damp and curling slightly at the edges.

He wore his clean shirt loose over his shoulders, sleeves pushed halfway up. His face looked softer somehow—not just from the wash, but from the weight he had finally let go.

Artur turned to face him, eyes tracking him from head to toe without meaning to.

Billy walked over, stopping just short. "You waited up?"

Artur gave a one-shoulder shrug. "Couldn’t sleep."

Billy smiled faintly. "Me neither."

They slowly get inside the room.

Artur picked up the towel with a quiet purpose. "Come here," he said—not as a command, but an invitation.

Billy raised an eyebrow, amused. what?"

"You’re dripping on the floor," Artur said dryly, even though Billy clearly wasn’t.

Billy chuckled but stepped closer anyway.

Artur didn’t say another word—he just unfolded the towel and began gently running it over Billy’s hair, drying what little dampness was left.

Billy watched him in silence, heart aching at the care in every motion.

His touch was tender but firm, fingers brushing along Billy’s scalp, thumbs skimming behind his ears. He stood close, their bodies nearly brushing.

The room felt smaller in that moment—not cramped, but wrapped in something quiet and warm.

Billy closed his eyes, letting him.

"You don’t have to do this," he murmured.

"I want to," Artur replied simply.

He moved around, now drying the back of Billy’s neck, then letting the towel fall to rest around Billy’s shoulders.

His fingers lingered there, not pulling away.

Billy looked up, eyes shining in the low light.

"I was scared," he said, voice low. "Not just of Dand’s reaction... but of saying it out loud. Saying I love you. Like it might change something."

Artur didn’t look away.

"And did it?"

Billy stepped in closer. "No. It just made it feel more real."

Artur exhaled slowly, his hand still resting near Billy’s collarbone, thumb brushing his skin absentmindedly.

Billy’s voice dropped further, intimate. "I thought he’d be angry," he murmured.

Artur didn’t speak. letting Billy feel safe in the quiet.

"I meant everything I said," Billy added, opening his eyes again. "Even if my past comes back... it’s you. I choose you."

Artur’s hands stilled. He met Billy’s gaze then, a soft fire flickering behind his usually guarded eyes.

"You’ve already given me more than I thought I’d ever get," he said. "If you stay... I won’t ask for more. But if you go—" He exhaled. "Just don’t leave like you were never here."

Billy reached out then, fingers curling lightly around Artur’s wrist.

"I couldn’t, even if I tried."

The room was hushed, the only sound the low groan of the house settling and the hush of the wind outside.

Billy leaned in, his forehead brushing against Artur’s. They stood like that for a moment—breathing each other in, steadying.

No kiss. Just closeness.

Then Artur murmured, "You should sleep."

Billy hummed. "Only if you stay close."

Artur nodded, guiding him gently toward the bed.

They settled side by side, not tangled, just touching—a shoulder, a knee, fingers brushing under the covers.

Outside, the wind had stilled. The night wrapped around the house like a soft blanket.

Billy closed his eyes.

And this time, sleep came easy.

They didn’t need to say more—not tonight. Not after everything.

They lay side by side, the night folding in around them like a soft blanket, and slowly, Billy turned into Artur’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

For the first time in a long time, Billy didn’t feel like a question waiting to be answered.

He felt like a choice that had already been made.

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