Unwritten Fate [BL]-Chapter 50: Where Mornings Begin and Hearts Stir

Balancing the tray wasn't easy, but he managed. He nudged the door open with his foot and stepped inside his room, where Billy was still curled beneath the blankets like a stubborn cat. The tray found its place on the bedside table.

Artur didn't wake him—not yet. Instead, he lay down again beside him, head propped on his hand as he just watched. Billy's lashes fluttered slightly. He looked younger in sleep, the usual hints of sarcasm softened into something more vulnerable.

Artur couldn't help but smile.

Then Billy stirred, lids lifting slowly, blinking against the soft light—and found Artur watching him.

A lazy grin tugged at his lips.

"You'll have to pay for the stare," Billy murmured, voice husky with sleep.

Artur leaned in a little. "How will I pay?"

Billy reached up, fingers finding the bridge of Artur's nose and pressing gently. "With this," he said, teasing, drawing him closer.

Artur chuckled under his breath. "You're clingy this morning."

"It's part of my charm," Billy whispered back, fingers drawing lazy circles.

"I made you breakfast," Artur offered after a beat, tapping Billy's side gently.

Billy squinted. "What breakfast?"

Artur blinked. "Yeah... what?"

Billy smirked, stretching like a cat under the blankets. "Nothing. Just hope I'm not gonna die today."

"You're not gonna die," Artur grinned. "I carefully made it with love. I'm pretty sure it's edible."

Billy turned toward the tray and took the toast, eyeing it suspiciously before biting in. His brows lifted in surprise.

"Well?"

"Well," Billy repeated slowly, chewing thoughtfully. Then narrowed his eyes at Artur. "What did you put in this?"

Artur looked startled. "Nothing. Is it bad?"

"No," Billy said, swallowing. "It's good. Like... suspiciously good. Seems like you put some love potion in it."

Artur laughed, leaning back on his elbow. "So dramatic in the morning."

"I'm just saying, if I suddenly start singing love songs in my sleep, it's your fault."

"I wouldn't mind," Artur teased.

Billy reached for another bite, smirking. "Careful. I might start serenading you with a fork in hand."

They stayed there—two cups of coffee cooling beside them, soft laughter between bites, the warmth of a quiet morning wrapping around them like a blanket neither wanted to shake off just yet.

Billy finished the last bite of toast, licking a crumb off his thumb like he didn't want to waste even a second of Artur's effort.

"Okay," he sighed, settling deeper under the blanket. "Now I owe you."

Artur raised an eyebrow, resting his cheek on his hand. "You do?"

"You fed me. Let you stare. Let you breathe the same air as me." Billy grinned, nudging Artur's knee under the blanket. "That's at least three debts."

Artur leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make Billy's stomach flutter. "Then pay up."

Billy paused. His fingers found Artur's shirt, pulling him in slowly by the fabric. "Alright. But I charge interest for morning kisses."

Before Artur could respond, Billy kissed him—soft and slow. Not the kind of kiss meant to lead anywhere. Just one that said I see you. I'm still here. And I like it.

Artur melted into it for a moment, then pulled back, brushing his thumb along Billy's cheek.

"You always like this after sleep?" he asked quietly.

Billy blinked, then smirked. "You mean charming? Magnetic? A gift to mankind?"

Artur rolled his eyes, but the smile stayed on his lips. "No, I meant soft."

Billy's smirk faltered. His eyes dropped for just a second—long enough to betray the crack in his mask. "Only with you," he murmured, and this time, it wasn't a tease.

The silence that followed wasn't awkward—it was full. Safe.

Artur brushed his fingers through Billy's hair, letting them settle just behind his ear, then said, "We don't have to do anything today, you know."

Billy closed his eyes. "Good. 'Cause I don't wanna move. You made breakfast, now entertain me. Dance or something."

"You're unbearable," Artur muttered, shifting to lay down beside him again.

"You love it," Billy whispered back, curling closer, fingers tracing random patterns over Artur's chest. "Even if you don't admit it."

Artur didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

Instead, he pulled the blanket higher over both of them and kissed the top of Billy's head, letting the stillness of the morning wrap around them again.

No rush. No noise.

Just them, tangled in warmth, hearts ticking gently in time.

Eventually, the warmth of the blanket began to lose its hold—just enough for Billy to groan softly and roll onto his back.

"If we stay here any longer, I'll melt into the bed," he muttered, rubbing his face.

Artur, still lying beside him, gave a lazy smile. "Wouldn't be the worst way to go."

Billy stretched, arms above his head, shirt riding up just enough for Artur's eyes to linger a second too long.

"We don't have to do anything today, right?" Billy asked, sitting up slowly.

"Nope," Artur said. "Dad said he'd handle things."

"Still..." Billy looked toward the window, where morning light painted soft streaks across the floor. "I don't want to just sit around like some lost stray. We should do something."

Artur rose too, brushing his fingers through his hair. "You mean, like fixing the fence again for fun?"

Billy made a face. "I said something, not torture."

Artur chuckled and moved to collect the empty tray. "Alright, no fences. But we can go check the shed—Dad mentioned the roof tiles were coming loose on the back end."

Billy stood, adjusting his clothes with a playful huff. "Sheds and rooftops. Sounds like a date."

Artur leaned in as he passed, murmuring close to Billy's ear, "Only if you fall into my arms dramatically."

Billy followed, bumping his shoulder. "Only if you catch me right."

They moved through the house with unhurried ease—mugs rinsed, tray set aside, feet bare against wooden floors. The house felt quiet without Mr. Dand around, the kind of stillness that invited shared glances, soft chuckles, and wordless touches.

The door creaked open with the scent of earth and sun spilling in. The floor cooled under their feet as they stepped

Outside, the breeze was gentle, the sky wide and open.

Billy stepped into his boots, squinting up at the roof in question. "So... how tall is this death trap?"

Artur handed him a ladder, smirking. "Tall enough to regret teasing me."

Billy grinned, took the ladder—and somehow, even with the promise of minor manual labor ahead, it didn't feel like a chore. Not when it was the two of them.

Just something simple to fill the day.

Together.

The shed sat quietly at the edge of the field, half-tucked behind an old fig tree, its slanted roof catching the morning sun in uneven patches. From a distance, it looked harmless. Up close, though, the back end showed signs of age—wood darkened from past rain, and a few crooked tiles threatening to slide off with the next breeze.

Billy tilted his head, arms crossed. "So this is the victim?"

Artur dropped the toolbox onto the grass with a gentle thud. "Don't be dramatic. It just needs a little love."

"If this shed collapses, I'll know your love is cursed."

"Then stop holding the ladder like you wanna test fate."Artur nudged him with his shoulder.

Billy didn't argue.

They worked in quiet rhythm at first—passing nails, holding boards, brushing off leaves and old cobwebs. The ladder creaked under Artur's weight as he climbed carefully, fingers adjusting the loose tiles.

Billy stood at the bottom, holding the ladder steady, shielding his eyes from the sun to watch him.

"You sure you're not scared of heights?" he called up.

Artur glanced down with a half-smile. "Not when someone like you's got my back."

Billy scoffed but looked away quickly, ears tinged red. "That was smooth."

Artur carefully adjusted another tile, his voice softer now. "Wasn't trying to be."

Billy ran a hand along the weathered wall of the shed, feeling the rough grooves under his fingers. This place had history, much like the man balanced above him—worn in the corners, strong where it counted.

"Hand me that rag," Artur called down, pointing with a nod.

Billy passed it up, watching how easily Artur moved up there. Confident. Familiar.

"You know," Billy said, shifting his stance, "you're kind of good at this."

"I better be," Artur chuckled. "Dad used to make me fix everything out here when I was a teenager. Said it built character."

"And now you're out here building mine," Billy teased.

"Exactly." Artur tossed a grin over his shoulder.

When he finally came down, the last tile fixed and the sun higher above them, both stood back to inspect their work.

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Billy wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Well... it's not collapsing. That's a good sign."

Artur set the hammer down, brushing dust from his palms. "It'll hold through the next storm."

Billy looked at him—sleeves rolled up, a streak of dirt across his cheek, hair messier than before.

And smiled.

He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Well... maybe you really are good with your hands."

Artur bumped his shoulder. "Told you. Character-building."

They stood there a moment longer, the sun catching in their hair, the shed whole again—and something quiet and steady settling between them.

"Wanna head back?" Artur asked, eyes meeting his.

Billy nodded. "Yeah. But let's take the long way around the field."

Artur arched a brow. "For the view?"

"For the quiet," Billy murmured.

They didn't speak after that. Just walked side by side, the shed behind them standing straighter, and the morning stretching gently into afternoon.