Unwritten Fate [BL]-Chapter 39: “The Quiet Between Heartbeats”

Evening fell slowly, drawing long golden shadows across the wooden floor. The light faded into quiet amber, and the hush of the house settled like a soft blanket over everything—no chores left, no tasks waiting. Just the calm weight of a day well spent.

Billy lay sprawled on the floor, arms wide, legs flung out like a starfish, eyes lazily following the worn ceiling beams. Beside him, Artur mirrored the stillness—one arm folded beneath his head, the other resting lightly over his chest, half-lidded eyes drifting.

Neither spoke for a while. The house creaked softly, settling into the quiet. Outside, the leaves rustled like whispers.

"This is nice," Billy murmured at last.

Artur hummed in agreement. "Mhm."

"We didn't really do anything."

"Exactly," Artur said, turning his head toward him. "That's what makes it nice."

Billy chuckled. "We sound like two retired men."

Artur smirked. "Speak for yourself, grandpa."

Billy swatted at him without lifting his head. "Tch. I cook once, and suddenly I'm a housewife and a grandpa. You've got a real talent for teasing me."

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"Someone's gotta keep you humble," Artur replied, voice lazy.

Billy tapped his fingers against the floor. "Do you ever just... not wanna move? Like, ever?"

"All the time," Artur said. "Especially when you're around."

Billy rolled his eyes. "You're such a sap."

"And you love it," Artur said with a grin in his voice.

Before Billy could reply, the front door creaked open. Heavy boots stepped across the threshold.

They didn't move.

Then came the voice, cutting across the stillness: "What the hell are you two doing?"

Billy and Artur jolted upright like guilty kids caught mid-mischief.

Mr. Dand stood in the doorway, arms crossed, staring at them with disbelief. "Lying on the floor like bored goats?"

"We were just..." Artur started, scratching the back of his head.

"Resting?" Billy added helpfully, sitting up straighter, his hair tousled from the floor.

Mr. Dand raised a brow, crossing his arms. "On the floor?"

Artur shrugged. "It was comfortable."

Mr. Dand looked between the two of them, unimpressed. "You're not children anymore—lying about like stray dogs. Get up before the floor claims your backs."

Billy stifled a laugh.

Mr. Dand muttered something under his breath and shook his head as he walked past. "One day you'll break your backs doing nonsense like that."

"Noted," Artur called after him with a smirk.

Billy leaned closer, whispering, "We definitely looked ridiculous."

Artur whispered back, "Totally worth it."

Laughter slowly faded into silence again, the comfort of each other's company lingering like the golden dusk around them. As Mr. Dand's footsteps faded down the hall...The warmth in the room hadn't faded. If anything, it only grew—quiet, steady, and impossibly soft.

"Quiet fell over the house like an exhale." Outside, the sky melted into dusky purples and burnt orange, the last of the light flickering through the windows. Mr. Dand had gone off to his room, muttering about "boys with no bones" under his breath—but with a faint smile that didn't quite match the scolding.

The main room was dim now, lit only by the soft flicker of a lamp in the corner. Artur and Billy sat side by side on the old wooden porch just outside the door. The breeze was cool, rustling the trees like a lullaby.

Billy had his knees pulled up to his chest, his chin resting lightly on them. Artur sat close, one leg stretched out, the other bent lazily, his shoulder just barely touching Billy's.

For a while, they didn't speak. Just sat there watching the stars begin to appear, one by one, shy but steady.

Artur broke the silence first, his voice low and warm. "Do you ever think... this might all be enough?"

Billy turned slightly to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"This. The quiet. The stillness. Just... being here. With you."

Billy blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in Artur's tone. "You sound like a poet."

Artur smirked. "Don't tell anyone. I've got a reputation."

Billy smiled, the kind of soft, crooked smile that only came when he wasn't trying to hide anything. "It is enough," he said, after a moment. "Even on the weird, lazy days where we end up lying on the floor like idiots."

Artur laughed quietly, the sound soft and genuine.

A beat passed. Billy leaned his head lightly on Artur's shoulder, letting the silence stretch again.

"You know," Billy said, voice almost a whisper, "today felt like something I'd remember for a long time."

"Because I broke the eggs wrong?"

"Because you always make something out of nothing," Billy murmured. "Even when it's silly, or messy... I don't know. You make it feel like it matters."

Artur's hand reached out, finding Billy's and linking their fingers together without a word.

"I still think you're the wife," Billy whispered playfully, squeezing his hand.

Artur tilted his head toward him. "Then I'm a damn lucky wife."

Billy chuckled under his breath, cheeks warming. "Yeah," he said. "You are."

They sat like that for a while longer—hands clasped, shoulders brushing, the stars above them multiplying in the darkening sky. No more teasing, no more talk. Just the soft rhythm of breath and heartbeat and the quiet understanding that something unspoken had deepened between them tonight.

Eventually, Billy stood first, tugging Artur up with him. "C'mon," he said, his voice still laced with that warm tiredness. "Let's go in."

Artur didn't let go of his hand until they were both inside, the door quietly clicking shut behind them. And even as the lamp flickered off and the house faded into stillness, the warmth lingered, tucked between them like a promise.

Morning light spilled over the village rooftops, golden and soft, casting long shadows across the cobbled paths. The distant clatter of tools and quiet chatter hinted that the day had already begun for most. Damp earth released a clean, comforting scent as the sun began warming the dew-kissed ground, and the crisp air held the last traces of night's coolness.

Birdsong flitted through the trees, interrupted occasionally by the rustle of brooms and the scrape of wooden carts.

The villagers had their own rhythm—gentle but deeply rooted in routine. On days like this, when the sky was clear and spirits high, the community came together for what they called 'cleaning day'.

They used to fix a day each month to volunteer together—sweeping the roads, trimming the pathways, and tidying the small corners of the village they all shared. It wasn't official work, just something done out of pride and habit.

the sky was still painted in soft pastels—hints of lavender and faded gold—and a cool breeze rustled through the trees as Mr. Dand stepped into his worn boots. The old floorboards creaked beneath his weight as he straightened up, glancing out the window at the quiet dawn. The broom stood by the door, leaning like an old companion.

Just as he reached for it, the sound of a door clicking open echoed faintly.

Artur emerged, hair tousled and voice still laced with sleep. "Where are you going this early?" he asked, stifling a yawn.

Mr. Dand gave him a side glance and shook his head. "You forget already?" He grabbed the broom. "We've got community work today. Everyone's gathering early."

Artur blinked slowly, then rubbed his hair with the back of his hand. "Right... I totally forgot."

"Well, hurry up. I'm heading out. Wake billy up—we don't want the others to finish before we even show up," he muttered with a half-smile before stepping out into the crisp morning air.

Artur turned toward the hallway, already smirking to himself.

The wooden floor creaked softly beneath Artur's bare feet as he stepped into the room, sunlight spilling through the half-open window, casting a golden haze across Billy's sleeping figure. The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew and fresh earth. Somewhere outside, a rooster crowed—faint, distant, like a sleepy reminder that the village was already waking.

But here, inside this quiet room, time hadn't caught up yet.

Billy lay curled under the light blanket, one arm draped lazily across the pillow, his chest rising and falling in an easy rhythm. There was a gentle smile tugging at his lips, soft and boyish—the kind of expression that made Artur's chest ache in the best way.

He sat carefully at the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath his weight. He reached out, brushing back a stray strand of hair from Billy's forehead, his fingers lingering longer than they needed to.

"What are you dreaming this morning?" he whispered, voice barely a breath, like he was afraid to wake the dream too soon.

Billy didn't stir—just let out the softest sigh and shifted slightly, his cheek pressing more firmly into the pillow.

Billy stirred then, eyelids fluttering. His lashes lifted, revealing sleepy eyes that blinked up at Artur, a dazed smile spreading across his face like sunlight over water.

"Morning..." he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

Artur smiled back. "Morning."

Artur couldn't help it—he leaned down, brushing his lips gently against Billy's temple. Just a soft press, warm and lingering.

Billy stretched, the blanket slipping slightly off his shoulder, revealing the smooth line of his collarbone. "You always sneak into my room like this?"

"Only when you look this peaceful. Couldn't resist."

Billy chuckled, rolling onto his back, one arm now resting behind his head. "So, what's the excuse today?"

"Village cleanup. General work day. My dad's already out."

Billy groaned dramatically, dragging the pillow over his face. "Of course. Why do they always start these things so early?"

Artur chuckled, tugging the pillow gently away. "C'mon, you promised to help this time."

"Lies. I don't remember signing anything."

"I'll make it worth your while."

Billy raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? How?"

Artur leaned down again, lips hovering just above Billy's. "Like this," he whispered before closing the space.

"If I kiss you, will you go back to sleep or get up?"

"Depends how good the kiss is."

Without another word, Artur pressed a soft kiss to Billy's lips—unhurried and tender. Billy responded slowly, one hand lifting to curl lazily around Artur's neck. The kiss deepened just for a moment before they pulled apart, their foreheads touching briefly.

Billy smiled with eyes half-lidded. "Okay... that's a strong case for staying in bed."

"Don't tempt me," Artur whispered.

"Billy sat up finally, stretching like a cat, arms overhead and hair falling across his face. "Why does it have to be morning ?"

"Village sweeping. Of course morning."

Billy groaned. "Right. Dirt duty."

Artur stood and offered his hand. "Come on, sleepyhead. The village awaits."

Billy took his hand, letting himself be pulled up. "You just like waking me up with kisses, admit it."

Artur smirked. "Can you blame me?"

Billy sat up, hair tousled, blanket pooling around his waist. "You better help me pick what to wear. If I'm going out to sweep dirt, I want to look at least slightly charming while doing it."

Artur stood, offering his hand. "With bed hair like that, you're already halfway there."

Billy rolled his eyes but took the hand anyway, letting Artur pull him up."...his body still heavy with sleep, but the look he gave Artur was all mischief. 'Alright, but only because you bribed me.'"

As they moved around the room, helping each other get ready, brushing shoulders, exchanging glances—they didn't need to speak much. The warmth lingered. In every stolen touch. In every smile caught mid-motion. It wasn't a rushed morning—it was soft, slow, a quiet kind of love spoken only through actions.

And outside, the village waited.

By the time they stepped outside, the village had already begun to hum with life. The crisp morning air smelled faintly of dew and fresh soil, and golden sunlight slipped through the gaps between rooftops and tree branches, casting long, sleepy shadows across the ground.

The main path was lined with villagers, brooms and baskets in hand, chatting and laughing as they worked together. A rhythm of sweeping, scraping, and the occasional grunt of effort filled the air like an early morning song.

Artur and Billy walked side by side down the narrow stone path, their shoulders brushing occasionally, neither rushing nor speaking much. The quiet comfort between them lingered from the earlier moments in Billy's room.

As they neared the others, Mr. Theo looked up from his sweeping and squinted at them, his broom pausing mid-air. "Look who finally rolled out of bed," he called, grinning through his white mustache.

"Must be nice to be young," Mrs. Eliza added from a few feet away, hands on her hips. "Probably had time for breakfast, a stretch, and a slow stroll while the rest of us were breaking our backs."

Billy blinked, startled by the attention, while Artur chuckled and shot back, "We were doing the hard work of getting ready to look this good."

Mrs. Eliza scoffed. "You still look like you just woke up, Artur."

The others laughed as Billy quickly grabbed a nearby broom and got to work, hoping the focus would shift. Artur, on the other hand, leaned against the fence and watched Billy with amusement before finally joining in.

They fell into rhythm quickly—sweeping the path, collecting fallen leaves, helping repair a loose wooden step near a small bridge. The work was light but steady, the kind that brought people together without pressure.

"You missed a spot," Artur murmured, nodding toward a small patch near Billy's feet.

Billy arched a brow. "You're just saying that because I'm sweeping better than you."

"Better?" Artur pretended to examine his own work. "I'm just letting you have your moment."

Billy gave him a light bump with his shoulder. "How generous of you."

A group of kids darted past them, chasing each other with twig brooms and laughing loud enough to echo. One of them accidentally bumped into Artur, who caught the boy before he could fall. "Careful there, champion."

"Sorry!" the boy squeaked, already running again.

"You used to be just like that," Mr. Theo called out. "Running wild like you had wings on your shoes."

Mrs. Eliza joined in, "And always dragging your friends into trouble. You remember the time you broke the mayor's fence trying to impress the girls?"

Billy looked at Artur, intrigued. "You broke a fence?"

Artur groaned. "It was one time. And it was already half-broken."

"It collapsed on top of you," Mrs. Eliza said, laughing. "You were crying like a goat!"

Billy grinned wide, brushing a few leaves into the basket. "I would've paid to see that."

Artur gave him a mock glare. "Don't get too excited. You're next if these old stories keep popping up."

Billy chuckled, eyes twinkling. "I'll take my chances."

The teasing faded into laughter, and the rest of the morning unfolded with gentle camaraderie and quiet work. The sun rose higher, warming their backs as they swept, fixed, and tidied up the village together.

By the time the bulk of the work was done, a gentle tiredness had set in—not the kind that wore down, but the kind that made everything feel earned.

Artur glanced at Billy, who wiped a bit of dust from his brow, his cheeks slightly flushed from the sun. "You didn't do too bad," Artur said, nudging him.

Billy handed over a full basket of leaves. "You either. For someone who cries like a goat."

Artur burst out laughing. "You're not gonna let that go, are you?"

"Not a chance."