Unwritten Fate [BL]
Chapter 95: The Field Between Us

Chapter 95: The Field Between Us

Mark turned sharply, brushing past the stall without another word. His steps were brisk, shoulders tense, but he didn’t glance back.

A few paces behind, Jay moved too—casually, hands in his pockets, matching the path without matching the pace.

Mark threw a glance over his shoulder. "Why are you following me?"

Jay didn’t miss a beat. "Following you? Please. I’m going this way too."

Mark muttered under his breath, "Of all the roads in this village..."

Jay raised a brow. "Didn’t realize you had it reserved. Should I ask permission next time I take a walk?"

Mark didn’t answer. Just kept walking. Faster.

Jay matched him. "Wow. That city cardio’s still intact. Impressive."

Mark stopped. Turned. "Do you always talk this much, or is it just me who inspires you?"

Jay grinned. "Only when I smell fake charm and unresolved superiority issues."

Mark stared at him. "You haven’t changed."

Jay tilted his head, eyes gleaming. "Neither have you. Still walking around like the village owes you something."

"I grew up here."

"You left."

They locked eyes again.

Mark finally exhaled a dry chuckle. "This place really does collect strays."

Jay smiled, wide and unbothered. "And I bite."

Without another word, Mark turned and walked off again, jaw set.

Jay followed, at a slight distance, the silence crackling between them like two live wires too close to avoid.

Billy and Artur sat beneath the shade of a neem tree, sharing a bottle of water, dirt smudged across their forearms, tools resting nearby. Artur wiped the sweat from his neck with a towel, glancing up as footsteps approached.

Jay came into view first, unbothered, hands still in his pockets. Mark trailed just behind, brows slightly furrowed, muttering something under his breath.

Billy raised an eyebrow. "Thought you already ran off," he said, looking directly at Jay. "Didn’t show up to work this morning."

Jay smirked. "Had something to take care of."

"Something, huh?" Billy leaned back against the tree. "Village sure must be lucky to have your attention now and then."

Mark stepped in, eyeing them both before flopping down beside the bucket. "Even this annoying shit works now?" he said, nodding toward Jay.

Jay clicked his tongue. "If I’m annoying, what does that make you—terminal?"

Mark arched a brow. "Only when someone insists on testing my patience."

Artur chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You two gonna be like this the whole day?"

"Depends," Jay said, not taking his eyes off Mark. "You planning on babysitting him or should I bring earplugs next time?"

"Try bringing a muzzle for yourself," Mark muttered.

Billy handed the water bottle to Artur, whispering, "Do they always fight like this?"

Artur smirked. "Worse when they were younger."

Billy looked at them again—Mark sitting with his arms crossed like a judge, and Jay sprawled against a rock like he owned the place. Two storms in the same sky.

He exhaled. "This is going to be a long day."

Jay flashed him a grin. "You love it."

Billy narrowed his eyes. "Not if you two turn my peaceful village work into a battlefield."

Mark tossed a pebble at Jay’s boot. "Then someone better learn when to shut up."

Jay leaned in. "Teach me."

Artur stood, brushing dust off his pants. "Alright, enough. We’ve got work to finish."

Billy nodded and pushed himself up. "Let’s go before the field decides to die out of secondhand embarrassment."

The four of them walked together—uneven steps, clashing energies—but somehow, they moved forward.

"Let’s hurry and finish this early," Billy said, already picking up his tools.

Artur gave a small nod. "I think we should divide into two pairs. It’ll go faster that way."

Jay crossed his arms. "Don’t pair me with him."

Mark scoffed. "As if anyone wants to work with you."

Billy looked between them. "Seriously?"

Artur sighed. "Fine. You two can argue or you can get the far patch done while we do the other side. Your choice."

Jay and Mark both opened their mouths to object—paused—then glared at each other.

"Whatever," Jay muttered, snatching a hoe from the pile. "But if he talks too much, I’m burying him."

"Try it," Mark said, following with a shovel. "I dare you."

Billy leaned toward Artur, half-grinning. "This might be the most entertaining workday we’ve had."

Artur rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smirk. "Let’s just hope they don’t kill each other before we finish."

They split off—Jay and Mark walking ahead in stiff silence, both too proud to admit they didn’t know where to begin but too stubborn to ask. Billy and Artur watched them go.

"Ten minutes," Billy said.

Artur glanced over. "Until what?"

"Until one of them snaps."

They shared a laugh, then got to work—quietly, steadily, like they’d done many times before.

Meanwhile, across the field, Mark and Jay stood awkwardly on opposite sides of the soil, tools in hand, throwing glances like weapons.

"So," Jay muttered, stabbing the earth. "You always talk that much?"

Mark dug beside him. "Only when someone’s ego needs deflating."

Jay grinned. "Good luck with that."

Mark smirked. "You’ll see."

And despite the bickering, the field began to turn—row by row.

They were slower than Billy and Artur, messier too. But somehow, the work got done.

And with every jab of sarcasm and exchanged glare, something else was beginning to turn—something neither of them had the guts to name yet.

The last rays of afternoon stretched across the field as Mark and Jay dropped their tools, sweaty and dust-smudged.

Neither spoke, but the air between them felt lighter—less sharp, somehow.

Billy and Artur were waiting by the gate, folding their arms and exchanging a quiet smile.

"Done?" Artur called out.

Mark wiped his brow. "Yeah. Somehow."

Jay cracked a rare grin. "Don’t get used to it."

Billy nudged Artur. "See? Progress."

The four of them started walking back toward the village, footsteps slow in the cooling air.

Mark glanced sideways at Jay, who caught the look but didn’t flinch.

"I didn’t say thanks," Mark muttered quietly.

Jay’s smirk softened just a little. "Don’t make a habit of it."

Artur caught Billy’s eye and said softly, "Maybe next time, they’ll surprise us."

Billy nodded, the faintest warmth spreading through him.

The village lights flickered on ahead, promising quiet, familiar nights after the day’s noise.

No words were needed. . . .

The four of them moved toward the village square, where a worn wooden bench stood beneath a flickering streetlamp.

Without much word, they settled down—Mark and Jay on one side, Billy and Artur on the other.

Mark’s jaw tightened as Jay leaned back, arms crossed, eyes scanning the quiet street. Jay’s gaze flicked to Mark, sharp but unreadable. Mark met it head-on, refusing to look away.

Billy shifted closer to Artur, sensing the silent standoff across from them.

"So," Billy said, breaking the silence, "what’s next for everyone?"

Jay snorted softly, "Hopefully less work."

Mark’s eyes didn’t waver. "Depends if you keep slacking."

Jay shot him a cold smile. "Careful, cousin. Or you might be the one doing all the work."

Artur cleared his throat, trying to ease the tension. "We should focus on what’s ahead. There’s plenty to do."

Mark nodded slowly but kept his gaze fixed on Jay, who didn’t flinch.

Billy squeezed Artur’s hand lightly. "Yeah. Let’s keep moving forward."

The quiet hum of the village evening wrapped around them—familiar, but charged with an edge neither Mark nor Jay would let go of just yet.

Mark shifted on the bench, eyes narrowing. "You’ve been avoiding work since you got here. What’s your real game, Jay?"

Jay’s smile curled into something sharper. "My game? Unlike you, I don’t have to prove anything."

Mark’s voice dropped low, edged with warning. "Don’t get cocky. You’re not the only one with ties to this place."

Jay leaned forward, voice cool and deliberate. "I’m not here to make friends. You should remember that."

Billy’s hand tightened around Artur’s, sensing the brewing storm.

Artur spoke gently but firmly, "Enough. This isn’t helping anyone."

Jay’s eyes flicked to Artur, then back to Mark. "I’m not done yet."

Mark stood, voice low but cold. "Neither am I."

The space between them crackled—words unspoken hanging in the air, promises of a fight neither wanted but neither would back down from.

Billy looked between them, caught in the middle, heart pounding.

Artur sighed, trying to hold the fragile calm together. "Let’s finish what we came here for. Later, we settle this."

Jay’s laugh was soft but edged with menace. "Looking forward to it."

Mark’s glare followed him as he sat back down, the tension thick enough to taste.

The tension still hung in the air, a silent crackle between Mark and Jay. But beside them, another kind of silence bloomed—gentler, warmer.

Billy leaned a little closer to Artur, his fingers moving almost unconsciously. He brushed a loose strand of hair away from Artur’s face, tucking it softly behind his ear.

Artur blinked, caught off guard—not by the gesture, but by the ease of it. No defenses, no fear. Just Billy, always seeing the quiet parts of him. He felt the stir of something ancient and new.

His gaze lingered on Billy, lips parting slightly, but no words came. Just a quiet exchange of something understood.

Billy gave a faint smile. "It was bothering me," he said simply.

Artur nodded once, almost shy. "Thanks."

From the side, Mark had gone still.

He watched—quiet, alert, eyes narrowing just slightly. The way Billy looked at Artur.

The unspoken ease in their movements. The way Artur leaned into the small gesture without hesitation.

Mark’s smile faltered. His eyes lingered—too long, too quietly—on the curve of Artur’s shoulder brushing against Billy’s.

He looked away, jaw tight. A different kind of silence settled in his chest.

"He didn’t say a word, but in that moment, something small and sharp lodged in his chest."

Jay noticed too, his eyes flicking from Mark to the pair. He crossed his arms, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Well, isn’t this sweet," Jay drawled. "Should we leave you two alone?"

Billy flushed a little but didn’t move away.

Mark looked down, then gave a small huff of breath—half a laugh, half something else.

"So... this is what you’ve been doing all this time, Artur?" he asked, voice carefully light. "Playing house?"

Artur didn’t rise to it. He only looked at Billy for a second longer before turning to Mark.

"I’ve been living," he said.

Mark gave a short, dry chuckle. "Right."

Billy looked between them, sensing something more underneath.

But for now, he stayed where he was—close to Artur, the warmth of the moment like a quiet flame in the cold shadow Mark couldn’t quite name."