Unwritten Fate [BL]-Chapter 17: "What We Don’t Say"

The Sleepless Night

The house was silent.

Outside, the wind carried the distant sound of crickets, their rhythmic chirping filling the quiet night. But inside, in two separate rooms, neither Billy nor Artur found peace.

Artur lay on his bed, eyes open, staring at the wooden ceiling above him.

He had turned off the lantern, hoping the darkness would lull him into sleep. It didn't.

Because every time he closed his eyes, he saw Billy.

Billy's face, the way his lips curved into that teasing smile. The way his eyes softened when he looked at him.

And worst of all—the way his lips had felt against his own.

Artur exhaled sharply, shifting onto his side.

His heart did that stupid thing again. That quick flutter.

He scowled, pressing a hand over his chest, as if he could physically command it to stop.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Artur lay still, his fingers brushing his lips. Warmth lingered there, soft and fleeting—Billy's kiss. His breath hitched. He liked it. He wanted more.

The memory of the kiss came again, unbidden. The warmth. The softness.

He liked it.

Artur clenched his jaw, running a hand through his hair. No. That wasn't the problem.

The problem was—he liked it too much.

A frustrated groan left his lips as he flipped onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow.

But even then, Billy's face wouldn't leave his mind.

His smile. His voice. His damn lips.

Artur hated this.

And yet... he didn't.

In the next room, Billy lay on his back, one arm draped over his forehead, staring blankly at the ceiling.

He wasn't tossing and turning like Artur.

He wasn't groaning in frustration.

But he wasn't sleeping either.

Because no matter how still he lay, his thoughts refused to settle.

Artur doesn't want to talk about it.

Does that mean he regrets it?

Billy's lips pressed into a thin line.

It wasn't like he expected Artur to suddenly be open about his feelings—Artur wasn't like that. But something about the way he had acted today... it didn't sit right with him.

It was one thing to be awkward.

It was another to run away.

Billy sighed, shifting slightly, his fingers absentmindedly grazing his own lips.

He could still feel the ghost of the kiss.

A part of him wanted to laugh. Who knew Artur could be so shy?

But another part of him... felt uncertain.

Maybe Artur really did regret it.

Maybe Billy was just a fool for thinking otherwise.

His fingers curled slightly, resting on his chest.

Damn it.

Tonight, sleep wouldn't come for either of them.

The golden light of dawn seeped through the thin curtains, casting long shadows across the wooden floor. The house was quiet. Too quiet.

Artur lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. His arms were folded behind his head, his legs slightly bent, yet no matter how much he tried to relax, his body refused to loosen up.

He had barely slept.

Whenever he closed his eyes, flashes of last night came rushing back—the warmth of Billy's skin under his fingers, the stunned look in his eyes, the way his lips had parted slightly in shock.

And then... the kiss.

Artur swallowed, turning his head toward the dim light filtering through the window.

It wasn't just the fact that he had kissed Billy. It was how he had felt when he did it.

Like something had clicked into place.

Something he wasn't ready to face.

So, he made a decision.

Play it cool.

Like it had never happened. Like it was just a drunken mistake—not something that had kept him awake all night.

Taking a deep breath, Artur swung his legs over the bed and stood up. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking off the lingering drowsiness.

Act normal.

That's all, yeah I can do it.

By the time Artur stepped out of his room, Billy was already awake, sitting at the table.

A steaming cup of tea rested in front of him, his fingers loosely curled around the handle.

He wasn't drinking it. Just stirring it slowly, his gaze distant.

Artur paused, just for a second, then forced himself forward, masking the hesitation in his steps.

"Morning," he said, making his way to the table. His voice was deliberately light, casual.

Billy lifted his gaze briefly.

"...Yeah."

One word. Flat.

No teasing remark. No reaction.

Artur sat across from him, picking up a glass of water.

"We should go to work together," he said, watching Billy's expression. "We'll take the shorter route this time."

Billy finally took a small sip of his tea.

"Hmm."

Not a yes. Not a no.

Just 'Hmm.'

Artur set his glass down a little harder than necessary.

"Less walking," he added, pretending to focus on the table. "Better for you, since you're always complaining about getting tired."

Billy's lips pressed into a thin line. He looked at Artur for half a second before lowering his gaze again.

"Okay."

That's it?

Just 'Okay'?

Artur shifted in his seat, feeling something unsettle in his chest.

Billy wasn't arguing with him.

He wasn't teasing him.

No sarcastic remarks. No playful eye-rolls.

Just short answers and silence.

He's actually taking my words seriously.

He really is trying to forget about it.

The thought sat heavily in Artur's stomach, but he shoved it down, gripping his glass and taking a slow sip.

He wouldn't think about it.

Wouldn't let it bother him.

Mr. Dand had left early that morning, giving them one simple task—cook for themselves.

It should've been easy.

It would've been easy.

If Billy wasn't acting like this.

Artur moved around the kitchen, pulling ingredients, setting the fire, chopping vegetables—doing everything normally.

And yet...

Billy wasn't speaking.

Every time Artur said something, Billy barely responded.

Artur stirred the pot, throwing a glance over his shoulder. "Can you pass me the salt?"

Billy handed it to him without a word.

Artur paused. Usually, Billy would complain about being asked to help. He'd roll his eyes, say something like 'Do I look like your servant?' before reluctantly giving in.

But now?

Just silent cooperation.

Artur set the spoon down, turning slightly. "Did you chop the onions yet?"

Billy, who was cutting them on the side, gave a brief nod.

"Yeah."

Another short answer.

Artur clicked his tongue, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know, you don't have to act so—"

Billy walked past him, brushing against his arm.

The touch was brief. Almost nothing.

But Artur felt it.

His fingers twitched at his side, his breath hitching for half a second.

Billy didn't seem to notice. He just moved to the other side of the counter, picking up a bowl like Artur wasn't even there.

Like last night hadn't happened at all.

Artur swallowed, gripping the counter.

The logical part of him knew this was exactly what he wanted.

Forget about it. Move on.

And yet...

Why did it feel so damn uncomfortable?

The kitchen smelled warm, rich with the aroma of simmering broth and freshly chopped herbs. The kind of comforting scent that usually made their meals feel easy, familiar, normal.

But today, nothing felt normal.

Artur sat down at the table first, serving himself a modest portion. He didn't glance up when Billy joined him, but he was painfully aware of every movement Billy made.

The quiet clink of his spoon. The way his sleeves were slightly rolled up, exposing his forearms. The occasional flick of his hair as he brushed his bangs back.

Artur wasn't staring.

Definitely not.

But he noticed. Too much.

Billy, on the other hand, was completely unreadable. He ate in silence, his posture relaxed but distant, his expression carefully blank.

Artur cleared his throat. "We should head out after this."

Billy nodded.

"Hmm yeah."

Artur's fingers tightened around his spoon.

That same short, indifferent response.

He forced a casual tone. "You're not talking much today."

Billy didn't stop eating, but his pause was just long enough to be noticed.

"...Guess I don't have much to say."

Artur hated how quickly those words bothered him.

He shifted in his seat, pretending to focus on his food. "That's new."

Billy didn't react.

No scoff. No teasing remark. Not even an eye-roll.

Just silence.

Artur exhaled through his nose, trying to ignore the uncomfortable tightness in his chest.

Maybe Billy was actually mad.

Maybe he did care.

Or maybe—

Artur's grip on his spoon faltered.

—Maybe Billy really was trying to forget.

The thought settled like a weight in his stomach.

He should be happy about that.

He wasn't.

Billy barely tasted his food.

His mind was somewhere else.

He could feel Artur glancing at him every few minutes, his usual confidence shaky, uncertain.

Good.

Let him be confused. Let him wonder.

Billy wasn't going to make this easy for him.

Artur was the one who had said, Let's just forget about it.

Fine.

Billy could pretend too.

But pretending didn't stop the ache in his chest.

It didn't stop him from remembering the warmth of Artur's lips, the weight of his touch, the way his heart had skipped when it happened.

It didn't stop him from feeling completely, utterly unfair.

If it was a mistake, why did Artur hesitate this morning?

If it was nothing, why did he look at Billy like that before running away?

Billy stabbed his fork into a piece of meat, his expression cool, unreadable.

He'd let Artur play it cool.

But he wouldn't make it easy.

The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting long shadows over the dirt path. The village wasn't too busy, yet the hum of chatter and the distant sound of waves filled the air.

Usually, they walked side by side—familiar, in sync.

But today, their steps didn't match.

Artur kept stealing glances at Billy, searching for something—anything—that wasn't this silence.

His hands fidgeted, shoving into his pockets, pulling out, ruffling through his hair. Then back into his pockets again.

He cleared his throat. "We should check the fishing docks later. See if they got any fresh catch."

Billy's eyes barely moved, fixed somewhere ahead. A pause. Then—

"Sure."

Artur exhaled through his nose, tilting his head back slightly.

Billy didn't even look at him.

He tried again, forcing his voice to sound light. "I think Old Man Ross fixed that broken cart. You still wanna check it out?"

Billy nodded, but still didn't turn his way.

"Alright."

Something about that single word itched at Artur's nerves.

Billy wasn't snapping at him, wasn't pushing him away. But he wasn't really there either.

A weird tension sat between them, stretching longer with every step.

They were just passing the small market—wooden stalls stacked with fresh produce, the smell of baked bread lingering in the air—when a voice cut through the space between them.

"Artur!"

Artur didn't even have to turn to know who it was.

Billy finally looked up, just a quick flick of his eyes, before returning them to the ground, like he already knew this wasn't going to be good.

Jay strolled toward them, a wide grin stretching across his face.

Too wide. Too knowing.

Billy didn't react much. Not a flinch, not a shift. Just... still.

But Artur?

His shoulders tensed the second Jay reached them.

Jay's grin only widened as he clapped a hand on Artur's shoulder. "Man, you look fresh today."

Artur shrugged him off instantly. "What do you want?"

Jay laughed, leaning in slightly. "Oh, nothing."

Then, voice lowering just for Artur—

"Just checking if you survived that night."

Artur's stomach dropped.

Billy didn't react, didn't flinch. But Artur could feel it—the air shifting around them.

Jay smirked. "Damn, man. Never seen you like that before."

Artur kept his jaw tight. "Like what?"

Jay's eyes glimmered with pure amusement. "You know." He lifted a brow. "Dancing. Laughing. Looking like some lovesick fool."

Artur's fingers twitched.

His face felt hot.

Billy still hadn't said a word.

Jay leaned closer, just enough to whisper—

"Billy couldn't stop looking at you, you know."

Artur's chest tightened.

His eyes darted to Billy—just for a second.

Billy wasn't looking at him.

Jay pulled back, grinning like he just threw a lit match into dry grass. "That whole time, man. Just staring. And after everything that happened after that—"

Artur shoved him off. "I said shut up."

Jay only laughed, stepping back. "Relax, I won't say more."

His gaze flicked to Billy—searching. Watching.

Billy didn't react.

Didn't frown.

Didn't smile.

Just... looked away.

Artur clenched his fists, his jaw locked tight.

This walk just got worse.

The market's noise faded behind them, but the weight of Jay's words lingered.

Artur stayed tense, his shoulders stiff as they walked. His hands twitched, like he wanted to shove them into his pockets but couldn't decide. He kept glancing at Billy—waiting, expecting... something.

But Billy's face remained unreadable.

His strides were slower than usual, his eyes fixed ahead, not once looking Artur's way.

That silence between them?

It stretched. Thick, suffocating.

Artur's tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. He didn't like this. Didn't like the way Billy was acting, but also like everything had changed.

He swallowed. "Ignore him. Jay just talks too much."

Billy barely reacted. "Yeah."

Artur exhaled sharply through his nose. That same one-word answer again.

It made something uneasy coil in his stomach.

"You know he's just messing around," he tried again.

Billy nodded. "I know."

Still no glance.

Still no shift in expression.

Artur's jaw tightened.

Why did this feel worse than if Billy had just called him an idiot?

The sun had risen higher, casting sharp shadows across the open field where Artur and Billy worked. The village's usual quiet hum surrounded them—the distant chatter of people, the occasional bark of a dog, the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

But between them?

Silence.

Artur had hoped that once they started working, things would fall back into place. That Billy would shake off whatever mood he was in. That maybe—just maybe—he would talk.

But it didn't happen.

Billy worked methodically, his sleeves rolled up, hands busy. His movements were quick and efficient—too focused, too careful. He barely looked up, barely glanced Artur's way.

It was unnatural. This wasn't how they worked together.

Artur had always been the one to get distracted, to joke around, to mess things up while Billy scolded him with that amused huff.

Now?

Billy wasn't scolding him. He wasn't amused. He wasn't anything.

Artur shifted his weight, gripping the handle of a wooden crate, his fingers tightening around it. He should say something.

But what?

Billy's silenc, made his stomach twist.

Artur cleared his throat. "Pass me that rope."

Billy, without a word, grabbed the coil of rope from the side and tossed it toward him. Artur caught it easily, but the lack of acknowledgment stung.

He tried again.

"Think we'll finish early today?"

Billy barely looked up. "Dunno."

Another short answer.

Not even a glance.

Artur scowled, dropping the rope onto the crate. He wasn't sure what pissed him off more—Billy's cold replies or the fact that he was letting it get to him.

This wasn't how things were supposed to be.

He grabbed a bundle of wood, stacking it against the fence. Normally, Billy would have said something by now.

Would have laughed, nudged him, called him an idiot for slacking off.

Instead, Billy just continued working, as if Artur wasn't even there.

Artur's jaw clenched.

Read 𝓁at𝙚st chapters at ƒrēenovelkiss.com Only.

Fine. Two can play this game.

The road back home stretched ahead, lined with towering trees and the distant hum of the village settling into the evening. The sky, streaked with orange and purple, cast long shadows across the dirt path.

Billy and Artur walked side by side, but the distance between them felt wider than ever.

Neither of them spoke.

Not even when they passed familiar faces. Not even when the wind picked up, rustling the leaves. The silence between them was thick, heavy—almost suffocating.

Then, up ahead, an old woman stood by the village well, struggling to lift two full buckets of water. Her frail arms trembled as she tried to balance the weight.

Without a word, Billy and Artur both moved at the same time.

Billy reached her first, gently taking one bucket from her hands. Artur grabbed the other.

"Oh, bless you boys," the old woman sighed in relief, brushing sweat from her wrinkled forehead. "My arms aren't what they used to be."

"Where's your house, granny?" Artur asked, shifting the bucket to his side.

"Just around the bend, not too far," she said, motioning toward a narrow pathway.

Billy nodded. "We'll take them for you."

They walked in silence, following the woman down the path, their boots crunching against the dirt. Artur stole a glance at Billy—the way his posture remained stiff, the way he hadn't looked at him all day.

His grip tightened on the handle of the bucket.

As they set the buckets down by her doorstep, the old woman clasped her hands together, her wrinkled face lighting up with gratitude.

"Oh, bless you both!" she said, her voice warm. "Come inside, let me get you something to drink."

Billy wiped his damp hands on his shirt, exchanging a quick glance with Artur. "That's kind, but we should get going," he said with a small smile.

Artur gave a polite nod, stepping back slightly. "Maybe next time," he added, his tone gentle yet firm.

The old woman sighed but chuckled, waving them off. "Alright, alright. But don't think you can always refuse an old woman's hospitality!"

As they turned back toward the village, Artur felt it again—the unbearable silence.

He hated it.

Hated how Billy kept walking beside him, but felt so far away.

Hated the way his voice sounded today. Empty. Distant. Not Billy.

They rounded a corner, and before Billy could take another step, Artur grabbed his wrist.

Billy barely had time to react before Artur pushed him back against the stone wall of a narrow alley, his grip firm, his eyes burning with frustration.

Billy's breath hitched.

Artur didn't say anything at first. He just stared.

His chest rose and fell, his fingers still wrapped around Billy's wrist.

Then, through clenched teeth—"I hate it."

Billy blinked, confused. "Hate what?"

"The way you're acting today." Artur's voice was low, frustrated. "The way you answer me like I'm a stranger. The way you sound—like you don't care. I hate it."

Billy exhaled sharply. He shook off Artur's grip and looked him dead in the eye.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Artur frowned. "What?"

Billy took a step closer. "You said to forget about it. To pretend it didn't happen. So I'm doing exactly that." His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it—something sharp beneath the surface.

Artur stiffened.

"Why do you even care?" Billy pressed. "It was just a mistake, right?" Fine let's forget about it then."

Artur's stomach twisted.

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

"Yeah." His voice was quiet. "It was just a mistake."

Billy's jaw tensed. He let out a bitter chuckle, then brushed past Artur without another word.

Artur stood there, unmoving, watching Billy's back disappear down the road.

His chest ached.

But he didn't know why.

Artur remained standing there, staring at the space where Billy had been just moments ago.

His hands hung limply by his sides, the warmth of Billy's wrist still lingering on his fingertips. The last words Billy had thrown at him repeated in his mind like an echo he couldn't shake.

"Then let's forget about it."

Billy had said it so easily—so coldly.

Artur exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. His heartbeat was uneven, fast, and his chest felt tight. Why was he feeling like this?

His feet refused to move right away. He just stood there, hands on his hips, staring at the empty road ahead.

Billy was already gone.

And Artur hated it.

By the time Artur made it home, the sky had dimmed, and the scent of burning wood from nearby homes filled the air. He saw Billy's silhouette outside the house, tending to a small fire near the side of the barn.

For a moment, Artur thought about walking over, about saying something—anything.

But Billy didn't even glance his way.

He sat by the fire, gaze fixed on the flames, the orange light flickering against his face.

Artur clenched his jaw and walked inside instead.

The house felt colder than usual.

Mr. Dand sat by the window, carving a piece of wood, but he barely lifted his head when Artur entered.

"You're late," Dand murmured, blowing off wood shavings. "Billy got back a while ago."

Artur didn't answer. He just nodded, heading straight to his room.

Billy didn't come inside for a long time.

Artur could hear the faint crackling of the fire outside, the occasional sound of wood shifting. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, one arm thrown over his forehead.

This is what you wanted, isn't it?

Billy's voice still rang in his ears, sharp and bitter.

Artur exhaled, turning onto his side. The bed felt too big, too cold. His fingers twitched against the sheets.

After everything that had happened, Billy had been the one keeping his distance this time.

And Artur finally understood what it felt like.

He hated it.

The night stretched on, long and restless. The house was silent, save for the occasional creak of wood settling in the cold.

Billy lay on his bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. The dim glow of the moon cast long shadows against the walls. He could hear Artur shifting in his room, just as restless.

Sleep wouldn't come.

With a quiet sigh, Billy pushed off the covers and got up. The floor was cool under his feet as he made his way to the door, careful not to make a sound.

Outside, the air was crisp, the wind carrying the distant rustle of trees. The sky stretched endlessly above him, stars scattered like tiny specks of silver. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cool night air.

Sitting on a wooden step outside the house, he wrapped his arms around his knees, letting his mind drift.

Everything had felt off these past two days. The tension between him and Artur, the avoidance, the words left unsaid—it was suffocating.

He closed his eyes.

What am I even waiting for?

The sound of a door opening broke through the silence. Billy didn't move, but his ears picked up the soft footsteps approaching.

A shadow loomed beside him.

"Couldn't sleep?" Artur's voice was quiet, almost careful.

Billy inhaled, nodding. "Yeah..."

Silence hung between them. The fire from earlier had long since burned out, leaving only faint embers glowing in the pit.

After a moment, Billy exhaled sharply and pushed himself up. "I'm heading back inside."

He turned, but before he could take a step, Artur's hand wrapped around his wrist.

"Wait."

Billy stilled.

Artur's grip was firm, but not forceful. His fingers were warm against Billy's skin.

"Let's talk."

Billy let out a short breath, glancing down at Artur's hand before slowly sitting back down.

Now you want to talk?

He didn't say it out loud, but Artur must have seen the thought in his eyes because he hesitated before sitting down beside him.

A beat passed.

Artur lowered himself onto the bench beside Billy, the wood creaking beneath his weight. The air between them felt thick—charged with something unspoken.

Billy kept his gaze on the floor, fingers idly tracing the fabric of his sleeve. Artur, however, didn't look away. His eyes lingered on Billy, searching, hesitating.

Seconds stretched.

Billy finally shifted, the silence pressing too hard against his chest. He turned his head slightly, voice barely above a whisper.

"...What do you want to say?"

Artur parted his lips as if to speak—but no words came. Instead, he just sat there, staring, the weight of something unreadable in his eyes.

Then, without warning—**without hesitation—**Artur leaned in.

Soft lips pressed against Billy's.

Billy's breath caught, his entire body freezing for a second. Artur's warmth, his scent, the way he tasted faintly of something sweet—it sent a shiver down Billy's spine.

His eyes fluttered shut.

And slowly—hesitantly—he kissed back.

It was nothing like that night when Artur had been drunk.

This time, there was no haze, no confusion—just the quiet press of lips, deliberate and clear.

Artur pulled back first, exhaling against Billy's skin.

Billy's voice was barely above a whisper. "What was that for? Tell me what you're thinking... I don't want to misunderstand again. Was that still a mistake?"

Artur exhaled, his shoulders tense, fingers digging into his knees. His gaze flickered to Billy, then away, as if afraid to look too long.

"You don't know how I feel," Artur murmured, his fingers pressing into his palms. His breath came a little unsteady. "I couldn't get that kiss out of my mind, but..." He hesitated, exhaling sharply. "I don't know if you'd understand."Whenever I see you, the way you talk, the way you look at me... I don't know what to do, Billy."

His hands clenched, then released, like he was fighting something within himself. He shook his head slightly, lips pressing into a thin line, as if the words he wanted to say were just out of reach.

Billy's fingers curled slightly against his knees. His heart pounded so hard he thought Artur might hear it.

It wasn't the first time they had kissed.

But it still left him speechless.

Artur shifted closer, searching his face. "Billy..." Artur's voice was quiet, careful. "How do you feel about it?"

Billy stilled. His breath caught, just for a second, before he looked away. His fingers curled against his knee, tightening, then loosening. He blinked once, twice, his lips parting as if he might say something—but no words came. His throat moved in a slow swallow, his hands shifting, restless, before he finally lowered them to his lap, still.

Artur didn't press him. He watched the flicker of uncertainty in Billy's expression, the way his chest rose in a quiet inhale, the tension in his shoulders that never quite eased. That silence was enough.

Billy didn't have an answer. Not yet.

Billy lowered his gaze.

He didn't know what to say.

He wasn't sure what to feel.

A part of him wanted to ask—what does this mean?

Another part of him was afraid of the answer.

Artur exhaled sharply.

"I'm not sure you understand how I feel." His voice was tight, almost frustrated.

Billy swallowed, fingers clenching.

Before he could even think of a response, Artur pushed himself up and stepped away.

He lingered for a second, as if waiting for something.

Billy kept his gaze down.

Artur let out a quiet sigh.

"Then, without another word, he turned and walked back inside, the door closing softly behind him—leaving Billy alone in the quiet hum of the night, his thoughts louder than ever."