Unwritten Fate [BL]-Chapter 7: "Whispers on the Wind"

The festival's echoes still lingered in Artur's mind as they returned home, the lantern-lit village slowly settling into silence. That night, as he lay in bed, his thoughts strayed to Billy—his laughter, his curiosity, the way his eyes shone under the festival lights. Artur shook his head, trying to push away the unfamiliar warmth creeping into his chest.

The morning arrived with a golden glow, the scent of damp earth lingering from the festival's remnants. Billy stretched, the soreness in his muscles a reminder of the night's revelry. Artur was already outside, preparing their fishing gear. The quiet hum of the village waking up drifted through the open window, mingling with the distant sound of the river.

Billy stepped out, rubbing his eyes. Artur barely glanced at him but tossed him a fishing rod. "You coming or not?"

Billy grinned, catching it. "Wouldn't miss it."

They walked side by side toward the river, the dirt path cool under their feet. The river was alive with the morning sun, its surface glistening, reflecting patches of sky through the trees. Artur set the basket down and began preparing the bait, his hands moving with practiced ease. Billy, however, was more interested in watching him than the fishing.

"You always this serious?" Billy asked, leaning closer.

Artur huffed, not looking up. "It's fishing. You focus, or you don't catch anything."

Billy smirked. "You talk like you're some grand master of fishing."

Artur finally glanced at him, eyes sharp but amused. "I am. Watch and learn."

Billy mimicked his movements, though much clumsier, his fingers fumbling with the bait. Artur sighed, shifting closer. Without a word, he reached over, taking Billy's hands in his own, guiding them. The warmth of Artur's touch startled Billy, and he went still for a moment. Artur didn't seem to notice—or if he did, he didn't show it.

"Like this," Artur murmured, his fingers lingering a second too long before pulling away.

Billy swallowed, a strange flutter in his chest. He cleared his throat. "So... how long have you been doing this? Fishing, I mean."

"Since I could walk."

Billy hummed. "And what about your dad? He teach you?"

Artur nodded. "Yeah. Used to come out here with him every morning. Before work."

Billy watched him for a moment. There was something distant in Artur's voice, like he was lost in a memory. Billy wasn't sure what compelled him, but he nudged Artur's shoulder lightly. "Must've been nice."

Artur blinked, as if just realizing how close they were. He shifted slightly, not away, but just enough to regain composure. "Yeah. It was."

Billy smiled, turning his attention back to the water. "Alright, grand master. Teach me your ways."

Artur exhaled through his nose, shaking his head but unable to hide the small smile that tugged at his lips. "You're impossible."

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The sun climbed higher as they fished, their banter filling the quiet space between the ripples of the river. And for the first time since Billy had arrived, Artur felt something shift—something he wasn't sure he was ready for.

Billy Stare at him. He studied Artur for a moment before smirking. "You don't like talking about yourself, but you observe people a lot. You're careful with words. You notice things others don't."

Artur turned to him, caught off guard. "You figured all that out already?"

Billy shrugged. "I watch people too."

A comfortable silence stretched between them as they waited for a catch. Artur tried to focus on the water, but his mind kept drifting back to Billy's words, the way he spoke like he could see right through him. It was unsettling... yet oddly comforting.

Just then, Billy yelped as his fishing rod jerked violently. "I got one!" he exclaimed, gripping it tightly.

"Keep steady," Artur instructed, moving closer. He placed his hands over Billy's, guiding him through the struggle. Billy laughed, exhilarated, and for a moment, Artur forgot himself. He was too close—close enough to see the freckles on Billy's nose, the way his lips curved when he smiled. His heart gave an unfamiliar stutter.

The fish broke through the surface, glistening as Billy pulled it in. He turned to Artur, beaming. "Did you see that?"

Artur swallowed, stepping back. "Yeah. You did good."

Billy held up the fish proudly before slipping it into the basket. He grinned at Artur, eyes bright with triumph. "You're a good teacher."

Artur turned away, busying himself with his own rod. His pulse was unsteady, and he didn't like it. Billy was just a stranger—a temporary part of his life. So why did it feel like he was becoming something more?

The journey back home was quiet, the weight of the day settling between them. Artur walked ahead, the fishing net slung over his shoulder, while Billy trailed behind, occasionally glancing at the rippling water. The evening air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and fresh fish.

As they reached the house, Artur set down the net and stepped inside, expecting Billy to follow. Instead, Billy remained outside, crouching near the wooden steps, carefully inspecting the net Artur had used. His fingers traced the intricate knots, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Artur asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Billy glanced up, a small smile playing at his lips. "These knots... they're loose in some places. If they tear while fishing, you could lose a good catch."

Artur frowned. "I've used that net for years. It's never given me trouble."

Billy didn't argue. Instead, he carefully untangled one of the weaker sections and began retying it with swift, precise movements. Artur watched in silent intrigue. Billy's hands, despite being unfamiliar with farm work, moved with an unexpected confidence. It wasn't the clumsy work of a novice—it was practiced, like second nature.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Artur finally asked, stepping closer.

Billy hesitated, his hands stilling for a moment. "I... don't know. But it feels familiar."

Artur didn't press further, but something about the way Billy handled the net stirred something inside him. It was the first time he truly noticed how naturally Billy adapted to the village—to their way of life. There was something about him, something Artur couldn't quite place, that drew his attention in ways he wasn't ready to admit.

Billy tied off the last knot and looked up, grinning. "Try it now. Should be good as new."

Artur took the net from him, inspecting the repairs. They were neat, almost perfect. He exhaled, shaking his head. "You really are full of surprises."

Billy chuckled, standing and dusting off his hands. "Guess I am."

Artur found himself staring for a second too long before he turned away, setting the net aside. He had no idea what this feeling was, but for the first time in a long while, something in his chest felt unsteady.

As they head inside the house, the air between them carried a quiet charge. Artur found himself watching Billy more than he intended, taking note of the way he moved with an effortless confidence, the way his smile carried a warmth that made the house feel less empty. It was unsettling, this new awareness, but Artur pushed it aside.

Billy, oblivious to the shift in Artur's demeanor, stretched his arms behind his head and sighed. "That was fun. I didn't think fishing could be so... calming."

Artur scoffed, shaking his head. "It's work, not a hobby."

Billy grinned. "Says the guy who looked like he enjoyed it more than me."

Artur didn't respond, focusing instead on the path ahead. Billy's words had a way of creeping under his skin, not in a bothersome way, but in a manner that made him too aware of the space between them.

Mr. Dand was sitting outside, whittling away at a piece of wood. He glanced up with a knowing smile. "Back already? Catch anything worthwhile?"

Billy held up the small string of fish with a proud grin. "Enough for dinner, I'd say."

Dand chuckled. "Good. Artur, get them cleaned up."

Before Artur could step forward, Billy moved past him, grabbing the fish. "I'll do it."

Artur frowned. "You don't have to."

Billy shrugged. "I want to. You always do the hard work. I should at least contribute."

"You cook?" Artur asked, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed.

Billy glanced up with a lopsided grin. "I think so. Feels natural. Guess I must've done it before."

Artur wasn't sure what he expected, but he certainly didn't anticipate Billy handling the ingredients with such ease. The rhythmic chopping of vegetables, the sizzle of fish on the pan—Billy moved with an unspoken familiarity, as if he belonged here.

Artur hummed in response, watching as Billy plated the food. The smell was enticing, drawing him closer despite himself. When Billy slid a plate toward him and sat across the table, Artur hesitated before taking a bite.

His expression must have given him away because Billy smirked. "Good, huh?"

Artur cleared his throat, focusing on his plate. "Not bad." But truthfully, it was better than anything he had eaten in a long time. There was something about the gesture—about Billy making something just for them—that made Artur's chest tighten in a way he couldn't quite place.

Later that night, Artur sat by the window, staring at the darkened sky, his thoughts tangled. He was used to solitude, used to keeping people at a distance. But Billy—Billy was different. He was slipping past Artur's walls without even trying, and that realization made Artur's heart beat just a little faster.

The morning sun stretched over the horizon, casting a golden hue over the village. A crisp breeze carried the scent of damp earth and lingering traces of festival fires. Artur stood outside, adjusting the rope of a fishing net, his hands moving with instinctual precision. Today was different. There was no work to be done, no errands to run. Just a quiet morning—until Billy stepped out of the house, stretching like a lazy cat.

Billy's hair was a mess from sleep, and his oversized tunic slid off one shoulder. Artur found his gaze lingering longer than necessary. He shook his head and turned back to the net.

Billy yawned. "So, what's on the agenda today? More fish? More running around? Or—wait—do we get a break?"

Artur smirked. "That depends. Can you sit still for an hour?"

Billy laughed. "Doubt it. But I can try."

"Good. Follow me."

They walked past the village center, heading toward a secluded hill that overlooked the lake. A large oak tree stood at the peak, its roots exposed and twisted like the veins of the earth itself. Artur sat against the bark, patting the space beside him. Billy hesitated before flopping down, his knee knocking against Artur's.

"So? What now?"

Artur exhaled slowly, letting the silence settle. "Just listen."

Billy frowned, then turned his ear to the world around him. The rustling leaves, the distant chatter of villagers, the gentle lapping of water. It was peaceful.

"You bring me here to meditate?" Billy teased, nudging Artur's leg with his own.

Artur chuckled, but there was a weight in his voice. "I used to come here with my mother. Before she got sick."

Billy's teasing faded. He studied Artur's face—the slight tension in his jaw, the distant look in his eyes.

"She said the wind here carried whispers of the past. That if you sit still, you can hear the ones you've lost."

Billy turned his gaze to the sky. "Sounds like something worth listening to."

A silence stretched between them, but it wasn't empty. It was full—of unsaid words, of understanding, of something unspoken and fragile.

Artur glanced at Billy, who had closed his eyes, letting the wind tousle his hair. There was something about the way he sat there, so unguarded, so effortlessly present, that made Artur's chest tighten. He swallowed hard and looked away.

Billy cracked one eye open. "You keep staring at me. Should I be worried?"

Artur scoffed, throwing a twig at him. "Shut up."

Billy laughed, catching the twig before flicking it back. Artur caught it easily. Their fingers brushed for the briefest moment, and Artur felt the strangest sensation—like a ripple in a still lake.

Billy grinned. "You know, Artur, I think I like this side of you."

Artur looked at him—really looked at him—and for the first time, he had no idea what to say.

The silence stretched between them, charged with something neither of them wanted to name. Billy tilted his head back, eyes tracing the clouds drifting lazily across the sky. He looked at peace. Artur, however, felt anything but.

Billy shifted slightly, propping his elbow on his knee and resting his chin in his palm. "So, what's next? You gonna teach me some ancient fishing technique or are we just gonna sit here and pretend we're not freezing?"

Artur smirked, nudging Billy's arm. "It's not that cold."

Billy gasped dramatically, rubbing his arms. "Easy for you to say, mountain man. I, on the other hand, am a delicate soul."

Artur snorted. "Delicate isn't the word I'd use."

Billy grinned. "Charming? Irresistible? Mysterious?"

Artur rolled his eyes, but the teasing warmth in Billy's voice settled something inside him. "More like exhausting."

Billy chuckled, nudging him again. Their bodies were close now, the space between them barely more than a breath. Artur could feel the heat radiating from Billy's skin, even through the thin fabric of his tunic. He told himself to move, to put some distance between them—but he didn't.

Billy turned his gaze back to the lake, sighing softly. "I think I needed this."

Artur glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Needed what?"

"This. A moment where everything feels... still." Billy exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Ever since I woke up, it's like I've been playing catch-up with a life I don't even remember. Trying to be someone when I don't even know who I am. But right now? I don't have to think. I can just be."

Artur's chest tightened. He wanted to say something—something meaningful, something reassuring—but he wasn't good at that kind of thing. So instead, he reached down, picked up a smooth river stone, and handed it to Billy.

Billy frowned. "What's this?"

"A skipping stone. You ever tried?"

Billy scoffed. "Of course!" He hesitated. "Maybe. Probably not."

Artur smirked. "Here, I'll show you."

He stood, stepping closer to the edge of the hill where the lake stretched below them. Billy followed, watching as Artur adjusted his stance, angled the stone, and sent it flying over the water. It bounced five times before disappearing beneath the surface.

Billy whistled. "Okay, show-off. My turn."

He mimicked Artur's movements, throwing his own stone. It plopped straight into the water without a single skip.

Artur bit back a smile. "Not bad. If you were trying to drown it."

Billy huffed. "Harsh."

"Try again."

Billy picked up another stone, adjusting his grip. He furrowed his brows, lips pressing together in determination. Artur, without thinking, stepped behind him, reaching out to guide his wrist. "You need to angle it more. Like this."

Billy stilled. The moment Artur's fingers brushed his skin, a quiet tension rippled between them. Billy turned his head slightly, his breath warm against Artur's cheek. "Like this?"

Artur swallowed. "Y-yeah."

Billy held his gaze a moment longer before nodding and throwing the stone. It skipped twice before vanishing into the water.

Billy whooped, pumping his fist. "Did you see that? I did it!"

Artur chuckled, stepping back, suddenly needing space. "Not bad."

Billy grinned at him, and for a second, Artur forgot how to breathe.

The feeling was strange. Unfamiliar. And yet, as they made their way back to the village, he couldn't shake the lingering warmth of Billy's touch—or the way his heart had stuttered just a little too fast.