Unwritten Fate [BL]
Chapter 91: The Boy Called Leo

Chapter 91: The Boy Called Leo

Artur leaned his hoe against the cart. "Let’s rest somewhere cool. This heat’s gnawing at my spine."

Billy didn’t argue. He simply set his tool aside, brushing the dirt from his palms. "You got a place in mind?"

Artur didn’t answer right away. He just started walking. Billy followed without question.

They cut through the narrow path behind the fields, past a cluster of old fences and slanting shadows, until the quiet started to shift.

The breeze softened. The earth smelled cooler.

There, beyond the last slope of grass, the lake appeared—still, silver-edged, and waiting.

A crooked tree stretched beside it, long branches casting gentle shade.

Artur stopped under the tree and pressed a hand to the bark. "Used to come here when I wanted quiet."

Billy stepped beside him. "You still do?"

"Only when the world gets too loud."

Billy looked out over the water. "It’s the kind of quiet that doesn’t ask questions."

Artur nodded. "Exactly."

They stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the light ripple over the lake. No rush to speak. No need to fill the silence.

Billy finally said, "You never brought me here before."

Artur glanced at him. "Didn’t know if you’d stay long enough."

Billy turned to face him fully. "You still afraid I won’t?"

Artur didn’t blink. "Sometimes."

Billy let that settle. Then: "I’m still here."

Artur’s fingers brushed Billy’s. "I know."

The lake stretched out in front of them—vast and undisturbed.

But it wasn’t the water that held them steady. It was the quiet between them.

"Billy’s gaze lingered on the lake, then drifted upward to the rustling branches above. A strange warmth stirred beneath his ribs—quiet, certain. He tilted his head, voice quiet but sure.

"This is just like the place you want, isn’t it?"

Artur looked at him.

Billy didn’t turn. "Like the one you mentioned before. The lake. The tree. The cool air. Just as you described it."

Artur stepped closer, his voice low. "Didn’t think you remembered that."

Billy gave a faint smile. "I did."

A breeze swept past them, lifting the edge of Billy’s shirt, brushing through Artur’s hair.

For a moment, neither moved. Then Artur reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against Billy’s hand.

Billy didn’t pull away.

"I used to picture it alone," Artur murmured. "Didn’t know it could feel like this."

Billy turned his palm upward, letting their fingers fit together.

"It does now," he said.

Artur’s thumb moved slowly over the back of Billy’s hand. "You make it more than I ever imagined."

Billy leaned his head slightly, resting it against Artur’s shoulder.

Not a word spoken between them for a while—just the hush of the leaves, the distant sound of water touching earth.

Their hands stayed linked. No rush. No questions. Just presence.

Artur whispered, "Stay a little longer."

Billy closed his eyes. "I was never leaving."

Artur shifted just slightly, enough to turn toward Billy, though he didn’t let go of his hand. "You always make the noise in my head quiet down."

Billy looked at him then, slow and steady. "That’s funny... you’re the one who makes me feel grounded."

Artur let out a quiet laugh through his nose. "We sound like we’ve been waiting a long time for this."

"Maybe we have," Billy said, eyes never leaving his.

Their foreheads brushed. Not intentional—just the natural pull between them. Neither stepped back.

Billy’s voice lowered, barely more than breath. "I don’t know when it started... but being around you feels like something I don’t want to unlearn."

Artur’s eyes softened. "Then don’t."

Their hands tightened, fingers lacing completely.

The wind picked up a little, leaves rustling like soft applause above them.

Artur leaned in, close enough for his voice to carry straight into Billy’s skin. "You ever think maybe we were meant to find this place for each other?"

Billy gave a small, crooked smile. "I don’t believe in fate... but I believe in this."

Artur didn’t answer—not with words. He lifted Billy’s hand slowly and pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles, lingering there as if that one touch could say everything else he couldn’t voice.

Billy looked at him, his throat tightening in that quiet way that came when words felt too fragile.

The breeze moved again, wrapping around them like a shield from the world.

Neither of them moved to break the silence.

They didn’t need to.

Billy leaned back slightly, his shoulder brushing Artur’s. "You said once... if you found a place like this, you’d never leave it."

"I did," Artur murmured, eyes on the lake.

"You meant it?"

Artur nodded. "Back when things were harder... I used to think if I could find somewhere quiet like this, where I could just exist without fighting everything—I’d make a wish and ask it to give me something that lasts. Not perfect. Just... real."

Billy was quiet for a moment, then turned to face him fully. "Did you ever make that wish?"

Artur chuckled, his voice low and rough. "Once. I was younger. Thought the tree here had magic in its roots or something."

Billy’s eyes flicked toward the thick trunk behind them. Then to the shimmer of the lake ahead.

"You believe it worked?" he asked.

Artur shrugged. "I don’t know. Maybe. Life didn’t get easier—but I stopped waiting for perfect things.

And now..." He glanced sideways at Billy. "Now some things feel worth it."

Billy didn’t say anything at first. He stepped away from the tree, walking down the slight slope toward the edge of the lake, shoes brushing over earth.

He stopped when the water was only a breath away, still as glass. Then he closed his eyes, hands loosely at his sides.

"What are you doing?" Artur called, grinning.

Billy didn’t open his eyes. "Making a wish."

Artur laughed from where he stood. "You know I was just joking, right? The whole magic tree thing?"

Billy’s voice came back, calm and firm. "Yeah, but I believe you anyway."

Artur’s smile faltered, not because he didn’t like what he heard—but because it settled somewhere deep, somewhere soft.

Billy opened his eyes slowly and turned toward him, face warm, open. "It doesn’t have to be real magic. Sometimes it’s enough that someone you trust said it might be."

Artur walked down to meet him, his steps slower now.

"What’d you wish for?" he asked, stopping just a pace away.

Billy smiled. "Can’t tell you. Might not come true."

Artur stepped closer, brushing a hand along Billy’s jaw, gentle. "Then I hope I already know what it is."

Their eyes held—steady, calm, full of all the words they hadn’t needed until now.

And when Artur leaned in, pressing his lips softly to Billy’s, it wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t even planned.

It just felt like something that had been waiting to happen.

When they parted, Billy’s voice was a whisper against Artur’s skin.

"You were right. This place is magic."

The kiss lingered between them, as if time itself paused to watch.

Neither of them moved right away. Artur’s forehead rested lightly against Billy’s, the air between them warm and still.

Billy reached for his hand, fingers locking in without hesitation.

"You ever bring anyone here before?" he asked, voice barely above the rustle of leaves.

Artur shook his head, thumb brushing over Billy’s knuckles. "No. Just me, sometimes. To think. To get away from everything."

"And now?"

Artur pulled back enough to look at him, his voice soft. "Now it doesn’t feel like something I need to run from."

Billy smiled at that.

They sat beneath the tree again, backs pressed to its trunk, shoulder to shoulder.

Artur pulled a small blade of grass, rolling it between his fingers absently. Billy tilted his head, watching the lake shimmer under the breeze.

It wasn’t just quiet—it was the kind that listened back.

Not absence, but understanding.

Billy turned slightly, resting his head against Artur’s shoulder.

"I wish I could remember who I was before," he murmured. "But I’m not sure it matters anymore."

Artur’s jaw tightened, his arm looping gently around Billy’s back. "You are who you are now. And that’s the person I see."

Billy closed his eyes for a moment. The words settled in.

"Thank you."

Artur kissed his hair, soft and brief.

They stayed like that for a while longer, letting time slip past without the usual need to chase it.

Eventually, Billy stretched his arms and sighed. "We should head back before Mr. Dand starts thinking we fell into the lake."

Artur stood, then reached down to help him up. "We’d deserve it. We’ve barely done any work."

Billy smirked, brushing dirt from his pants. "Speak for yourself. I made a magical wish and confessed my feelings. That’s worth at least half a day."

Artur laughed, pulling him into a side hug as they began walking back. "Then I guess I owe you the other half."

And so they went—back toward the path, back toward the quiet life waiting beyond the trees—but not as they came.

Something between them had shifted.

And neither of them needed to say it out loud to feel it.

The door creaked open with the familiar warmth of home, the scent of dried herbs and wood greeting them.

Billy stepped in first, shaking dust from his sleeves, followed closely by Artur, who was mid-sentence about needing to fix the barn latch later in the week.

But both of them stopped short.

Mr. Dand sat upright on the old couch, his gaze flicking toward them with a smile—then shifted to the figure seated behind him.

A well-dressed young man in a tailored black suit sat with casual confidence, one leg crossed over the other, a half-empty glass of water in his hand.

His relaxed posture shifted the moment he saw the doorway. The glass in his hand stilled mid-air.

He rose almost immediately.

"Artur?" the man said, voice steady but touched with surprise.

Artur blinked, then a smile curved across his face as he stepped forward. "Mark?"

They met in a strong hug, thumping each other’s backs like old friends rather than distant cousins.

"You’ve changed a lot, bro," Mark said, pulling back with a quick laugh as he looked Artur over. "More grounded. Like a man who actually enjoys farm mud."

Artur grinned. "Not by choice. It just clings."

Mark chuckled, but then his gaze shifted—casual at first, then slower, more focused.

His eyes settled on Billy, standing slightly behind Artur, wiping his hands on his pants from habit.

The smile on Mark’s face faltered, his brow knitting in confusion.

He stepped closer, water glass forgotten on the table.

"Is that—" Mark’s voice dropped, like he didn’t quite trust it. "No way..."

Billy straightened unconsciously. "Sorry?"

Mark’s stare intensified, his mouth parting slightly. "Mr... Leo?"

Billy’s spine stiffened. Not from recognition, but from the weight of someone else’s certainty pressing into the hollow space inside him—where answers should have lived but didn’t. His palms suddenly felt damp. "I’m not... Leo. "I think you’re mistaking me for someone else."

But Mark was already taking another step forward, his eyes scanning Billy’s face with desperate familiarity.

He looked like a man trying to catch a memory before it slipped away.

"No—no, that’s you. That’s definitely you," he said, breath catching. "Leo. You’re alive."

Billy took a step back, glancing at Artur, confused. "I really don’t know what you’re talking about."

Mark’s voice rose with emotion, hands slightly lifted as if trying to ground himself in what he was seeing.

"You disappeared! No one knew where you went! What happened to you? Why did you hide out here?"

"I’m not hiding," Billy said, voice calm but wary. "And I’m not... Leo."

Mr. Dand stood slowly from the couch, his eyes flicking between the three of them but offering no words. He simply folded his arms, letting the tension settle.

Artur’s posture had shifted, too—less relaxed now. His gaze moved from Mark to Billy, narrowing slightly, protective.

Mark shook his head, disbelieving. "You don’t remember me?"

Billy opened his mouth, then closed it again.

He didn’t.

He didn’t remember anything before waking in this village, on that morning when everything began anew.

"I’m sorry," Billy said, voice softer now. "I really think you have the wrong person."

Mark stared at him, frozen, like someone who’d just watched a ghost walk past.

Artur stepped beside Billy, a hand hovering at his back but not touching yet. "Mark," he said gently, "maybe you should sit."

Mark swallowed, jaw tight. "You’re telling me this guy’s been living here and no one knew?"

Billy glanced down, unsure of what he was supposed to feel—guilt? Confusion? The strange ache rising in his chest was neither.

"I don’t know who I was before," he admitted, "and maybe... maybe I don’t want to yet."

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy—it was full. Of questions. Of breath held too long. Of truths not yet ready to be faced.

Artur’s voice cut through gently. "Come on, let’s all sit down. Talk."

But Billy didn’t move. He just looked at Mark, brows drawn, heart uncertain.

And Mark—he didn’t look ready to let go of the past.