Unwritten Fate [BL]-Chapter 61: The Easy Kind of Love

"Time stretched and melted, and for once, neither cared where they were meant to be."

"Sunlight filtered through the canopy, tracing gold veins across their skin — as if nature itself paused to bless this moment."

Here, under this tree, on this day — they were exactly where they wanted to be.

Breaths synced. Movements stilled. For a long time, neither spoke.

Neither wanted to be the first to move, to break the spell.

Billy shifted lazily beneath Artur, fingers drawing absent circles over his back.

His voice was low, almost teasing.

"If you could live anywhere," he asked, "where would you go?"

Artur hummed thoughtfully, nuzzling closer into the crook of Billy's neck.

"Somewhere quiet," he said. "With a lot of trees. A place like this... but maybe closer to the ocean too."

Billy raised a brow, smirking. "Greedy. Trees and ocean?"

Artur didn't open his eyes. "If you're dreaming, dream big," he murmured, tracing lazy circles against Billy's shirt.

Billy chuckled, a soft vibration against Artur's cheek.

"Alright, Mr. Dreamer. Your ocean forest."

He brushed his lips against Artur's temple. "As long as there's a little house in the middle for just the two of us."

Artur shifted to look at him, resting his chin lightly on Billy's chest.

"And a big porch," he added seriously. "So you can sit and watch me chop wood and admire me."

Billy let out a loud laugh, covering his mouth dramatically.

"Chop wood? You? You'll break the axe before you split anything!"

Artur scoffed, pretending to be offended. ƒreewebɳovel.com

"I'm strong!"

Billy grinned, reaching up to ruffle his hair playfully.

"You're strong, sure. But you're also clumsy."

Artur batted his hand away, laughing, then settled back down with a little exaggerated huff.

"Fine. You chop the wood then. I'll sit and admire you."

Billy smirked.

"That's more like it."

Quiet returned, but this time it wasn't empty — it was full of unspoken promises. watching clouds drift lazily overhead.

The warmth between them was more than just the sun — it was the kind of warmth that settled deep into your bones, the kind that made everything else seem so far away, so small.

After a while, Artur let out a long, happy sigh.

His hand found Billy's again, fingers threading together easily, like they were made to fit.

"Don't wanna move," he mumbled.

Billy squeezed his hand lightly.

"Then we won't."

Artur closed his eyes, smiling.

They could have stayed there forever, wrapped up in that perfect little world where only they existed — where dreams could be built with simple words and the brush of a hand.

But somewhere in the distance, the golden light was starting to stretch longer, and a few birds began calling out to each other, as if reminding them that time still moved, even when they didn't want it to.

Billy opened his eyes and whispered, almost reluctantly,

"We should head back before it gets dark..."

Artur groaned dramatically into his chest.

"Nooo."

Billy laughed quietly, running his fingers through Artur's hair.

"Come on, strongman. Your 'race' is waiting."

Artur lifted his head with a playful glare.

"I'm still gonna beat you back."

Billy raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"Talk is cheap."

With a mischievous glint, Artur suddenly jumped to his feet, pulling Billy with him.

"Let's see then!"

Billy stumbled after him, laughing as they sprinted toward the bikes, the lazy peace of the afternoon exploding into playful energy.

Their hands brushed, their laughter filled the wide open fields — and it felt, once again, like the world was made just for them.

The race back started with a rush of laughter and the thrill of wind cutting against their faces.

Billy leaned into the pedals, determined to catch up with Artur's flying figure ahead. The countryside blurred around him — golden fields, dipping hills, the sky stretching endless and open.

But then—

Clank. Creak. Whirrrr...

Billy's bike gave a pathetic sputter and rolled to a lazy stop, the front wheel wobbling awkwardly.

He frowned, glancing down.

"Seriously?" he muttered.

Artur slowed and circled back, already grinning.

"What's the matter, city boy? Can't even handle a good ol' country bike?"

Billy shot him a dry look, stepping off and kicking the tire lightly.

"Pretty sure your dad's bike has a personal vendetta against city boys."

Artur chuckled, easy and teasing but without a shred of malice.

"Guess I have to rescue you now."

He wiggled his eyebrows dramatically, reaching out a hand.

Billy sighed exaggeratedly, but a small smile pulled at his lips as he accepted it.

"Fine. But if you crash us, I'm never letting you live it down."

Artur only smirked, steadying the bike as Billy clambered up behind him.

It should've felt awkward — the too-small seat, the press of their bodies — but instead, something eased inside Billy, like a held breath finally let go,his arms slipping hesitantly around Artur's waist — It felt... right.

They set off again, a little slower this time. The breeze picked up, tugging at their shirts and ruffling their hair.

Billy instinctively pressed closer, his hands tightening slightly around Artur's middle.

Artur felt it immediately and chuckled, tilting his head just enough to tease over his shoulder,

"Scared?"

Billy, cheeks warming, tightened his grip but muttered,

"Not scared. Just... comfortable."

Artur grinned, his chest tightening with something he couldn't quite name.

He leaned back slightly into the warmth behind him and said, voice soft but sure,

"Good. You're not going anywhere now."

Billy's heart skipped a beat — not because of the speed, not because of the road stretching ahead — but because of the quiet certainty in Artur's voice, the easy way those words settled between them like a promise.

They rode the rest of the way without much talking.

Just the sound of the wind in the fields, the creak of the old bike under them, and the steady thrum of two hearts quietly beating in sync.

When the house came into view, bathed in the soft orange haze of late afternoon, neither one was quite ready to let go.

But even without speaking, they knew:

Billy didn't know when the laughter had softened into something else. All he knew was that when Artur leaned into him, it no longer felt new — it felt inevitable.

And for now, that was enough.

They reached the house, the old tires crunching softly against the gravel.

Artur slowed them to a stop, one foot kicking out to balance the bike upright.

He glanced over his shoulder, expecting Billy to hop off right away — but instead, he felt Billy's arms tighten just a little, clinging for a moment longer.

Artur smiled to himself, the kind of quiet smile that didn't need showing.

He didn't say anything.

Didn't tease.

Just let Billy stay like that, soaking in the closeness like sunlight.

The silence between them wasn't awkward — it was full, tender, like something precious they were both afraid to move too quickly and disturb.

"Can we stay like this a little longer?" Billy murmured, his voice barely a whisper against Artur's back.

Artur didn't turn, didn't nod. He just answered in the same low tone,

"As long as you want."

A few more seconds passed, stretched and soft, before Billy finally loosened his hold, clearing his throat a little as he slid down from the seat.

His cheeks were a soft pink, but he kept his chin up, trying to act casual.

Artur pretended not to notice — though inside, his heart was swelling with something almost too big to contain.

Billy nudged him with an elbow, playful.

"You're a decent rescue driver," he said, half-smirking.

Artur shrugged, leading the bike toward the porch.

"You're a terrible passenger."

Billy laughed — the sound bright and warm, drifting between them like smoke from a campfire.

But then his voice turned softer, as he glanced sideways, eyes a little unsure.

"...But I wouldn't have minded if the ride lasted longer."

Artur stopped at the porch, turning to face him.

His expression had shifted — something more open, more unguarded.

"Yeah?" he asked, a quiet smile tugging at his lips.

Billy hesitated, then nodded once.

"Yeah."

He looked down briefly, as if the admission had cost him something — but when he looked up again, his eyes didn't waver.

"I feel... safer when I'm close to you."

Artur didn't speak for a second — just stepped forward, closing the small distance between them.

He reached out, tucking a wind-blown strand of hair behind Billy's ear with surprising gentleness.

"You don't have to wait for a broken bike to hold onto me," he said softly. "I'd let you... anytime."

Billy blinked, caught off guard by the words — raw and simple and impossibly sincere.

He smiled, slow and crooked and full of emotion.

"Then maybe I'll start holding on more often."

They leaned the bikes against the porch rail.

For a moment, they just stood there, side by side, looking out at the fading light over the fields.

The air was cooling, carrying the soft scent of earth and hay.

Billy, feeling strangely bold, let his hand brush against Artur's.

Not grabbing — just touching, a quiet connection.

Artur shifted his fingers just enough so that they linked, naturally, easily, like they'd been doing it forever.

No rush to go inside.

No need to say anything clever.

The light kissed the edges of their faces in soft orange-gold, and neither pulled away.

Billy whispered, barely audible, "I think... I'm a little afraid of how easy this feels."

Artur turned to him, eyes searching his. "Don't be," he murmured. "Some things are supposed to be easy — like breathing. Or... falling for you."

Billy's breath caught. He didn't reply right away.

Just stepped a little closer, his forehead brushing gently against Artur's.

They didn't need to speak.

The quiet between them already said everything — louder than words, steadier than breath.