Unwritten Fate [BL]-Chapter 30: “A Little Closer Than Before”

The dirt path stretched ahead, sun-dappled and warm, as Billy and Artur walked side by side. The morning air carried the scent of damp earth and lingering rain from the night before. Birds chirped lazily in the distance, and somewhere nearby, the faint rustle of leaves played with the wind.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Artur kept stealing glances at Billy—who, to his surprise, wasn't stiff anymore. He walked with his hands tucked casually into his pockets, his shoulders no longer hunched like he was actively fighting for his life.

Artur gave him a sideways glance, one brow arched in silent victory. "So... not acting weird anymore?"

Billy's gaze flicked to him, cautious. "What do you mean?"

Artur grinned. "Well, back at home, you were so tense I thought you might actually implode." He leaned a little closer. "Is it because we're alone now?"

Billy felt a warmth creep up his neck. He was more at ease—but hearing Artur say it out loud made his ears burn.

He looked away, pretending to focus on the trees lining the road. "...You're annoying."

Artur chuckled. "That's not a denial."

Billy exhaled, shaking his head, but the corners of his lips twitched—just barely.

Artur caught it.

His smirk softened as he stepped just slightly closer, enough that their arms brushed. Not an accident. Not an obvious move either. Just... a quiet, lingering touch.

Billy felt it.

He didn't pull away.

Artur hummed, amused. "Ah, so we're doing this now?"

Billy shot him a glance. "Doing what?"

Artur smirked. "Pretending like you didn't just let that happen."

Billy's ears definitely turned red this time, but he rolled his eyes, exhaling. "It's just walking."

"Mm." Artur nudged him lightly. "Just walking, huh?"

Billy didn't answer. But the way he bit the inside of his cheek—trying not to smile—was answer enough.

Artur grinned.

For a moment, he let the silence stretch again, just enjoying the weight of Billy's presence beside him.

Then, casually, Artur reached for the sleeve of Billy's shirt—his fingers grazing the fabric for just a second before playfully tugging at it.

Billy glanced at him, raising a brow. "What are you doing?"

Artur tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Hm? Nothing."

Billy gave him a look. "You're literally pulling my sleeve."

Artur grinned. "Oh, am I?"

Billy rolled his eyes but stayed close, his silence more telling than any "...retort, staring ahead like he wasn't secretly fighting the urge to smile."

Artur saw right through him.

They kept walking, falling into an easy rhythm.

And maybe—just maybe—Artur's fingers lingered near Billy's sleeve a little longer than necessary.

And maybe—just maybe—Billy didn't mind at all.

The sun climbed higher, filtering through leaves as they reached the wooden trough nestled beneath a grove of trees. The crisp air brushed against Billy's damp sleeves, cooled from the shade and morning dew. "And the occasional rustling of leaves added to the tranquil hum of nature. The village still carried the remnants of early morning stillness, but here, away from everything, it was just them.

Billy stood at the wooden water trough, rolling up his sleeves with slow, practiced movements. His fingers worked the fabric of his shirt absentmindedly, his gaze flickering toward Artur, who stood a few steps away, testing the sturdiness of a fence post.

The moment their eyes met, Artur's lips curled, an unmistakable amusement dancing in his expression.

Billy knew that look.

He shook his head, biting back a small smile, before focusing on his task.

He dipped a bucket into the trough, the water rippling as he pulled it up. But before he could move, Artur was suddenly there, reaching for the bucket at the same time.

Their fingers brushed—just a second too long to be accidental.

Billy hesitated, eyes snapping up to Artur's, but Artur didn't pull away. If anything, his touch lingered.

"Wow, didn't know I was so helpless," Billy muttered, raising a brow.

Artur tilted his head slightly, his fingers still wrapped loosely around the handle. "Didn't realize I needed a reason."

Billy exhaled sharply, amused but unable to stop the warmth spreading through his chest.

He gave the bucket a small tug, expecting Artur to let go. Instead, Artur leaned in slightly, not enough to be obvious, but just enough for Billy to notice the space between them growing thinner.

Billy stilled.

The air shifted.

Artur's voice was lower this time, teasing yet impossibly soft. "Something wrong?"

Billy narrowed his eyes, feigning suspicion, though his pulse betrayed him. "You're up to something."

Artur smirked, finally letting go of the bucket, but not before letting his fingers graze against Billy's wrist on their way down. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Billy shook his head, turning away—but not before Artur caught the way his ears reddened just slightly.

They moved into their tasks, side by side. Billy set the bucket down near the wooden benches, preparing to wipe them clean, while Artur busied himself with the stacked firewood, adjusting and sorting through the pieces.

But there was no rushing today.

Every movement, every glance, every small moment stretched between them like a silent conversation.

Billy swept a damp cloth over the wooden surface of the benches, his fingers moving in slow, rhythmic motions. Artur, from his spot by the firewood, watched him for a beat too long before finally moving closer.

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Wordlessly, he took the cloth from Billy's hands.

Billy blinked up at him. "I was using that."

Artur hummed. "Mm-hm." But instead of handing it back, he stepped behind Billy, gently taking his wrist and guiding his hand back to the bench.

Billy stiffened slightly, more out of surprise than anything else.

Artur's voice was close to his ear, low and entirely too smug. "You missed a spot."

Billy let out a small breath, shaking his head. The words caught in his throat—too honest, too soon. "You're so—"

"What?" Artur prompted, lips twitching.

Billy exhaled, pulling away—but he didn't try to take the cloth back. Instead, he stepped toward the wooden post nearby, leaning against it with crossed arms, watching as Artur continued where he left off.

The thing was—Artur was bad at this.

Billy tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "Are you—are you actually making it dirtier?"

Artur glanced at the smudges he had somehow added to the bench and frowned. "...No."

Billy's jaw tensed, but a laugh threatened to break through. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, like they might hide what his face couldn't.

"...Artur looked up—completely serious about his terrible cleaning job—Billy lost it."

His laughter slipped out, sudden and bright, shaking his shoulders slightly as he covered his mouth.

Artur blinked at him, then grinned. "Oh? That funny, huh?"

Billy nodded, still breathless. "It really, really is."

Artur watched him for a long moment. Then, without warning, he dipped the cloth into the water bucket—and flicked it toward Billy.

A few droplets splattered against Billy's shirt.

A jolt zipped down Billy's spine.

Artur smirked, holding up the wet cloth like a weapon. "That's for laughing."

Billy's mouth parted in mock offense. "You did not just—"

Artur raised a brow, challenging.

Billy grabbed a small bowl of water from the work table.

Artur's smirk immediately dropped. "Billy. Billy, no—"

Billy tossed a handful of water in his direction.

Artur dodged—almost—but a few drops still caught his face, and his expression of pure betrayal was priceless.

Billy laughed again—softer, unguarded. His shoulders shook, and the morning sun kissed his cheek like it belonged there.

Artur's smirk faded, his gaze lingering—not playful now, but something deeper, quieter.

There was something undeniable about the way "...Billy looked then—unguarded smile, eyes bright, sunlight tangled in his hair."

Artur swallowed, the teasing remark he had ready suddenly slipping from his mind.

Instead, he stepped closer, voice quieter now.

"...I like it."

Billy looked up, still smiling. "Like what?"

Artur searched his expression for a second before murmuring, "You. Laughing like that."

Billy froze, caught off guard. For a heartbeat, the sunlight, the laughter, the banter—all of it slowed. And then it hit him: "Artur caught it immediately."

His fingers flexed against the damp cloth, his heart tripping over itself.

For a moment, they simply stood there—nothing but the distant rustling of the trees filling the space between them.

"Billy looked away first with a soft exhale. 'You really don't stop, do you?'"

Artur chuckled, stepping back—but not too far. "Not when I like something."

Billy let out a breathy laugh, rolling his eyes—but this time, there was no tension, no nervous edge.

Just warmth.

They continued working, falling into an easy rhythm. Artur stacked the last of the firewood while Billy swept the remaining dust from the seating area. But every now and then—small things remained between them.

A brush of fingers when passing tools.

A nudge of shoulders when stepping aside.

A lingering glance when the other wasn't looking.

They didn't need to say it.

It was already there.

And as the sun slipped higher over the trees, their shadows stretched side by side—silent proof that neither had moved away.

As they finished their tasks, the morning breeze carried the scent of freshly turned earth and sun-warmed wood. Billy stretched his arms, letting out a quiet sigh as he stepped back to admire their work. The benches gleamed under the sunlight, the firewood was neatly stacked, and the space looked welcoming, as if it had been touched with something lighter.

Or maybe that was just them.

Artur squinted at the cleaned benches. Then, with a sideways glance: "Not so jittery anymore, huh?"

Billy stiffened for half a second.

Artur smirked. He noticed.

Billy shot him a look, lips pressing into a thin line. "What do you mean?"

Artur turned toward him fully, resting his weight on one leg. "Back at home, you were all nervous, avoiding me in front of my father." He leaned in slightly, voice laced with teasing. "Now, here? Totally fine."

Billy glanced away, pretending to busy himself with wiping his hands on his shirt. "You're imagining things."

Artur chuckled, crossing his arms. "Oh? So you didn't flinch every time I so much as looked at you this morning?"

Billy scoffed. "I was not flinching."

Artur hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head. "Mhm. Then what do you call this—"

He suddenly reached out, barely brushing his fingers against Billy's wrist.

Billy jerked away instinctively, his body reacting before his mind caught up.

Artur grinned. Caught.

"Billy sighed, rubbing his temple, though a reluctant smile still tugged at the edge of his lips." "You're insufferable."

"And you're adorable when you're flustered," Artur shot back, easy and smooth.

Billy groaned, throwing his head back slightly. "I knew you were going to be like this."

Artur leaned in, voice dropping just a fraction. "Like what?"

Billy clenched his jaw, knowing he was so close to losing this battle. "...Annoying."

Artur only smirked. "And yet, here you are."

Billy rolled his eyes but didn't move away this time. Instead, he exhaled and shook his head. "...It's not that I was nervous."

Artur raised a brow, waiting.

Billy hesitated, then ran a hand through his hair. "I just—" He sighed. "I didn't want your father to notice, I don't know how to act in front of him."

Artur blinked, as if that thought hadn't even crossed his mind. "Why?"

Billy threw him a look. "Why?" He let out a dry laugh. "Do you want him to figure out that we—" He gestured vaguely between them.

Artur watched him for a moment, then shrugged. "Does it matter?"

Billy's breath caught.

Artur said it so simply. So easily. As if it was nothing.

But to Billy—who had spent so long carefully tiptoeing around things, afraid of what people might think, afraid of being seen—it was everything.

Billy swallowed, looking down briefly before shaking his head. "You really don't care what anyone thinks, do you?"

Artur stepped closer, his voice quieter now. "Not when it comes to you."

Billy froze.

But only for a second.

Something shifted inside him—something warm and inexplicably light.

The air shifted between them, charged with something quiet but undeniable.

Artur watched him carefully, gauging his reaction, but Billy—he wasn't sure how to respond.

So he did what he always did when things felt too heavy.

He deflected.

Billy scoffed, shaking his head. "You're a smooth talker, huh?"

Artur grinned. "Only for you."

Billy's cheeks burned.

He turned sharply, walking away before Artur could see just how much that affected him. "Let's go. We still have work to do."

Artur followed, still smirking, hands tucked casually in his pockets. "Whatever you say."

But as they walked side by side—Billy's fingers just barely brushing against Artur's, a quiet, unspoken thing lingering between them—neither of them were really thinking about work.

Not anymore.

And yet, in that fragile silence, something had already been said.

Whatever they were meant to do that day, it no longer mattered.

Not when the space between them had become something electric. Not when every step forward felt like it was leading somewhere else entirely.

Somewhere neither of them were ready for.

And yet—neither of them wanted to turn back.