Unwritten Fate [BL]
Chapter 92: Between Two Lives

Chapter 92: Between Two Lives

The silence hung even after they all took their seats, the kind that made time feel like it had slowed down just enough for discomfort to seep in.

Mark sat at the edge of his seat, elbows on his knees, eyes still glued to Billy.

Billy kept a safe distance on the opposite chair, arms folded loosely, his gaze flickering to Artur beside him before landing back on Mark.

"I’m pretty sure it’s you," Mark said finally, his voice low but certain. "Mr. Leo."

Billy didn’t flinch. He just stared back, steady but unsure.

Mark pulled out his phone with a slight shake in his hand, tapped a few times, then turned the screen around. "Here—look."

On the screen was a photograph. A man stood under city lights, dressed in black with a confident stance, a wine glass in one hand, mid-laugh. His hair was styled neatly, suit sharp, posture relaxed and bold.

Billy’s eyes didn’t waver, but something flickered behind them — like he was trying to convince himself the photo wasn’t familiar.

The face was his.

But not quite.

Sharper around the jaw, expression cockier, eyes holding something he didn’t recognize. It felt like looking into a memory someone else had lived.

Mark looked between Billy and the screen. "That was two years ago. Some people said you ran. Others said... worse. But your family—Mr. Frank, especially—he never stopped looking. He refused to believe you were gone after the incident at seabreeze beach resort."

Billy’s jaw tensed. He sat back again, silent.

Artur shifted, eyes narrowing as he glanced at the image, then at Billy. "Frank?" he asked.

"Leo’s manager and also his uncle," Mark replied. "The one who managed everything for him."

That man would move mountains if he thought Leo was in trouble."

Mr. Dand, who had stayed quiet until now, let out a slow breath. "He didn’t run," he said.

Mark looked up, brows drawn. "You’re saying he didn’t disappear on purpose?"

Mr. Dand gave a small shake of his head. "He lost his memory."

Mark stared at him, skeptical.

Mr. Dand sat forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "That day... the river was flooded more than usual.

I went down to check my nets, and I found him. Face-down inside the water. The current had dragged him far. No ID, no phone. Nothing. He was barely breathing."

Billy watched Mr. Dand now, his chest tight.

"I brought him back here. Took a few days before he could sit up straight, longer before he could form a full sentence." Mr. Dand looked at Billy gently, his voice lowering.

"He didn’t know his name. Nothing about where he came from. Just fear in his eyes. Like the whole world had gone quiet inside his head."

Mark’s expression shifted—still guarded, but no longer argumentative.

"He didn’t lie to you," Mr. Dand added. "He didn’t even know who he was."

Billy lowered his gaze to his hands, fingers curling slowly into his palms.

Mark looked back at him. "You really don’t remember anything? Not even a little?"

Billy was quiet for a long beat before answering.

"No... I don’t," he said. "I’ve tried. I see things sometimes—flashes—but they’re like smoke. Gone before I can catch them."

Artur stayed silent beside him, eyes flicking between the two.

Mark exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "You were everywhere, you know? Magazines, parties, work events.

Always talking fast, smiling like the world was yours. And then one day, you just... vanished."

Billy pressed his thumb to his forehead, as if something deep inside hurt.

"And now?" Mark asked, voice quieter. "You’re... just living here?"

Billy glanced up. "I’m not pretending. I didn’t choose this. But maybe... maybe this found me when I needed it."

Mark didn’t respond right away. He just looked at him—long, hard—like trying to see the pieces of Leo beneath this quiet stranger in worn clothes.

"I don’t know what you’ve been through," Mark said at last, "but your family’s still out there. Still waiting."

Billy said nothing.

But something in his eyes shifted—just barely. Something that flickered and then vanished again.

The room settled into a strange hush. Mark leaned back slightly, still watching Billy, but not pressing anymore.

Mr. Dand stood, excusing himself quietly to check on the tea, leaving the three of them in the thick stillness.

Billy rubbed his hands together, then stood up, needing movement more than words.

He walked toward the window, looking out—not at anything in particular, just out.

Artur followed with his gaze, not moving, but his fingers curled slightly into the cushion. His voice came low, firm. "You okay?"

Billy didn’t answer right away.

"I don’t know," he said at last. "That picture... the way he said my name like it belonged to me."

Artur rose now, walking over without hesitation. He stood just a little behind Billy, close enough to feel the weight of his quiet.

"You didn’t ask for this," Artur said. "Whatever happened before... that version of you—it’s not the one who stands here now."

Billy turned a little, just enough to glance over his shoulder. "But it is me, Artur. Whether I remember or not... it’s still me."

Artur’s brow tightened. "Maybe. But it doesn’t change who you’ve become here. With us."

Billy studied him—his voice, his posture, the way Artur’s eyes didn’t shift away like they usually did when things got emotional. There was something steady about him tonight.

"You believe that?" Billy asked.

Artur stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against Billy’s arm. "I don’t care if your name was Leo or someone else. I know who you are now. And I trust this you."

Billy’s throat tightened. "Even if the other me was someone you wouldn’t have liked?"

Artur gave a soft, almost tired smile. "We all have ghosts. What matters is who you choose to be... and who you let close."

Billy looked at him for a long moment. "And you’re still here."

"I’m not going anywhere."

The quiet between them wasn’t awkward now—it was weighted, charged. Billy dropped his gaze to where their arms nearly touched.

"I didn’t think a name could unravel me like this." Billy murmured.

"It’s like that name unlocked a door in me, and now I don’t know what’s behind it."

Artur gently reached out, resting his fingers just over Billy’s wrist. "You don’t have to open it all at once."

Billy let out a small, breathy laugh. "You always make things sound simple."

"Not simple," Artur replied. "Just... real."

Billy looked at him, his eyes softer now. "Can we step out? Just a little walk?"

Artur nodded. "Yeah."

Without a word to the others, they slipped out the door together, their steps quiet in the deepening dusk.

Inside the house, the low clink of cups echoed as Mr. Dand returned from the kitchen, a small tray in hand. He paused near the entrance to the sitting room and glanced around.

"They stepped out?" he asked, voice calm but slightly curious.

Mark nodded, already halfway reclined on the couch. "Yeah. Just now."

Mr. Dand studied the door for a moment, his brows knitting together—only briefly—before he set the tray down.

"You’ve come a long way," he said gently. "Why don’t I show you the room? You need the rest."

Mark rubbed his temple, exhaustion softening the sharpness in his face. "Yeah... guess I do."

Without much more, Mr. Dand walked over and helped Mark up, a supportive hand at his back.

No more questions, no more mentions of Leo. Just the quiet shuffling of steps down the hallway, and the soft thud of a door closing behind them.

They walked back slowly, not really heading anywhere, just letting the quiet settle between them.

The sky had deepened, the stars just starting to claim their space above.

Billy and Artur walked in slow silence, not rushing anywhere. They ended up by the edge of the fence near the field, where the air felt clean and the world a little quieter.

When they reached the old fence line.

Billy rested against the fence post, fingers tracing the weathered grain, eyes lost in the horizon.

Artur stopped beside him, silent for a beat. "You’ve gone quiet."

Billy shifted his weight, arms folding across his chest. "Just thinking."

"About Mark?"

Billy nodded faintly. "He looked at me like I was someone he used to know. Someone who mattered."

Artur tilted his head, watching him. "That bother you?"

"I don’t know if I’m supposed to feel grateful or guilty," Billy murmured. "He said people are still looking. That a man named Frank still believes I’m out there."

Artur leaned on the fence beside him. "You think that’s true?"

Billy exhaled, a dry laugh. "I don’t even know who I was.

But the way he looked at me... like I was supposed to apologize for vanishing."

"You don’t owe anyone anything," Artur said.

Billy looked at him. "Even if I left them? Even if I ran?"

"You don’t remember running. You remember surviving. That’s what matters now."

Billy was quiet again, then glanced down at their hands—close, almost touching.

His voice came low. "What if the version of me he knew... wouldn’t have liked who I’ve become?"

Artur’s answer came without pause. "Then he didn’t know you at all."

Billy lifted his eyes. "But you do?"

Artur didn’t flinch. "I’m starting to."

They stood like that for a while, the silence now more intimate than still. Billy looked toward the stars, then back at Artur.

"I like who I am when I’m with you," Billy said, his voice steadier now. "Like I don’t have to be anyone else — not Leo, not a ghost."

Artur’s gaze held his. Steady. Quiet. "So do I."

Billy leaned forward, forehead resting briefly on Artur’s shoulder—not asking, not explaining. Just being.

And Artur didn’t move. He stayed there, letting the moment stretch, one hand slowly lifting to brush gently along Billy’s back.

Not everything needed a name.

And for a moment, with the soft wind at their backs and the stars above them, neither of them moved away.

The stars shimmered in silent witness — not to who Billy had been, but to who he was choosing to become.