Unwritten Fate [BL]-Chapter 54: The Evening Belongs to Us

The sun had begun its lazy descent, casting golden-orange hues over the village. Billy and Artur stepped outside, the warmth of their nap still lingering in their limbs. The air was crisp but pleasant, carrying the faint scent of roasted corn and something sweet—maybe cinnamon or caramelized sugar.

The street near their home wasn't crowded, but alive. A couple of children chased each other around a wooden bench. A woman hung laundry on a clothesline while humming softly to herself. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, followed by laughter.

Billy inhaled deeply. "It's warmer than I expected."

Artur glanced sideways. "Still sleepy?"

Billy shook his head, stretching his arms over his head with a little yawn. "Not anymore. It's nice... seeing everyone out. It's peaceful."

They didn't wander far—just leaned against the fence a little ways down, where they could take in the view of the small village square and the evening glow. A nearby vendor cart clattered as an older man arranged fried plantains into a basket. A boy helped him, mimicking his every move.

Billy nudged Artur with his shoulder. "Remember when we used to pretend chores were some secret mission?"

Artur smirked. "You still do that. Yesterday you called lifting a crate a 'noble sacrifice.'"

"It was heavy," Billy defended, laughing.

Their eyes met. The village sounds faded just a little.

Artur's hand found Billy's. No words—just a quiet intertwining of fingers between them. Not secret, not loud. Just... there. ƒгeewebnovёl.com

An older woman passed by with a gentle smile. She didn't say anything, only offered a knowing nod before disappearing down the lane.

Billy smiled softly, glancing down at their joined hands. "You know... I stopped believing I'd ever feel this again.

Artur looked over. "Like what?"

Billy's voice was low. "Safe. Wanted."Not just safety... but the kind that doesn't vanish in the morning."

Artur didn't answer right away. Instead, he rubbed his thumb lightly across Billy's knuckles. Then, quietly: "You are. With me... always."

A breeze stirred the trees, and a few leaves fluttered to the ground. Behind them, someone laughed—an easy, cheerful sound.

Billy leaned in closer, resting his head lightly against Artur's shoulder. "You think one day, we'll be the old couple the kids run past and tease?"

Artur gave a breathy chuckle. "Only if you stop being so clingy."

Billy grinned without moving. "Never."

They stayed like that for a while—soaking in the village's heartbeat, the fading light, and the silent promise wrapped in the way they simply existed beside each other.

Eventually, Artur nudged him gently. "Want to grab something warm to drink? Or just head home?"

Billy tilted his face up with a playful grin. "Only if you let me keep holding your hand."

Artur pretended to sigh. "You're impossible."

But he didn't let go.

They wandered toward the small drink stall tucked beneath the shade of a broad fig tree. The vendor—a round, cheerful man with a towel slung over his shoulder—was pouring iced fruit tea into glass jars lined with lemon slices.

Artur ordered two. Billy leaned forward, sniffing the steam rising from a nearby kettle. "What's that?"

"Ginger tea," the vendor said proudly. "Warms the chest, clears the head."

Billy laughed. "You should bottle that. I'll take one of each."

Artur raised a brow. "You're not going to sleep tonight."

"Sleep is for the unloved," Billy declared, dramatically placing a hand over his heart.

Before Artur could respond, a voice sliced through the air—smooth, familiar, and too at ease, like an unwelcome memory finding its way back.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite lovebirds."

Billy froze halfway through sipping his drink. Artur's jaw tightened ever so slightly.

Jay strolled up with his usual swagger, dressed like he hadn't walked a single dusty path. Crisp shirt, open collar, hands in his pockets, and that damn knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"I was hoping I'd run into you," Jay said, eyeing Billy before giving Artur a glance that said I know you saw that.

Billy gave a polite nod. "Hey, Jay."

Jay stepped in closer than necessary, fingers brushing Billy's arm as if dusting off an invisible speck. "You've gotten some color. Village life suits you." His gaze lingered, sharp and almost challenging. "Doesn't it, Artur?"

Artur didn't flinch. He took a slow sip from his drink, watching the two of them.

"I'd say it suits him just fine," he replied. Calm. Grounded. But his fingers tightened slightly on the glass.

Jay's hand drifted toward Billy's back, playful, pushing boundaries—but before he made contact, Artur's jaw tensed. Something low and cold uncoiled in his chest—old instincts sharpening, not from fear but from the raw, unforgiving knowledge of what he could lose. He stepped forward, not aggressively, just... present.

The message was clear.

Billy shifted subtly too, stepping closer to Artur, his hand finding Artur's wrist with a soft but certain grip.

Jay noticed. His smirk twitched.

"Still as protective as ever," he said lightly.

"Not protective," Artur said, eyes meeting his without blinking. "I just don't like people touching what's already mine."

The silence between them held for a beat—tense, but not explosive. Then Billy, trying to defuse, chuckled and leaned into Artur's side.

"Okay, cavemen," he muttered, teasing, but affectionate.

Jay laughed, raising his hands in surrender. "Relax, just messing around. I should've known Billy wouldn't fall for the same tricks twice."

Billy gave him a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You're a little late for that show."

Jay shrugged. "Fair enough. I'll let you two get back to your date, then."

As he turned to go, he tossed a wink over his shoulder. "Enjoy the tea. It's good for jealousy too, or so I've heard."

They watched him disappear into the crowd.

Billy finally exhaled. "He hasn't changed, has he?"

"Nope," Artur said, sipping again.

Billy looked up at him. "You okay?"

Artur met his eyes and smiled—genuine, soft, and sure. "Better than okay."

Billy bumped his shoulder against him. "Thanks for not punching him."

"I wanted to," Artur admitted. "But... I trust you. That matters more."

Billy leaned in, lips brushing just under Artur's jaw, whispering, "And I trust you not to let him near me again."

Artur pressed a soft kiss to Billy's temple. "He won't get close enough to try."

The path home was quieter than before. Evening draped itself over the village like a familiar shawl—soft golden light stretching across rooftops, shadows cooling along fences and garden beds. The voices of nearby homes drifted faintly, laughter, cooking sounds, and the clink of dishes, all weaving into the comforting lull of dusk.

Billy walked with his hand loosely curled around Artur's, their fingers brushing more than locking, like neither wanted to force the moment but both needed the touch.

They didn't speak at first. No words were needed.

Artur occasionally glanced sideways, catching Billy's calm expression—his face lit in amber from the lowering sun, eyes soft and thoughtful. That was all he needed to shake off the last remnants of Jay's visit.

When the house came into view, Artur gave Billy's hand a small tug, slowing him.

"You okay?" he asked gently.

Billy looked up, lips tilting in a quiet smile. "Better now."

"Good."

They stepped through the front gate, shoes scuffing lightly over gravel. Billy paused just outside the door, his hand still in Artur's.

"I like walking home with you," he said softly.

Artur leaned in, forehead brushing Billy's for just a second. "Then walk home with me forever."

Billy blinked, breath catching.

He didn't reply with words. Just leaned in, pressing his lips to Artur's with that slow, unhurried kind of kiss—the kind that tastes like trust, like knowing you're exactly where you should be.

When they pulled apart, Billy whispered, "I'm in so much trouble with you."

Artur grinned. "Good."

They stepped inside the house, shoes left near the door, the scent of home welcoming them in. A breeze fluttered the kitchen curtain. The rest was still—quiet, lived-in.

Artur walked over to the stove, checking the kettle. "Want tea?"

Billy flopped onto the couch with a sigh, stretching. "I want you next to me."

Artur chuckled under his breath, setting two cups on the counter but leaving them empty. He walked over and sat beside Billy, letting him lean against his chest.

The quiet of the evening wrapped around them again—nothing pressing, nothing in the way. Just the soft hum of a night beginning, and two hearts beating in sync.

Artur settled back into the couch beside Billy, the weight of the day loosening from his shoulders the longer he sat there. The room was quiet, filled with the hush of evening, the occasional creak of old wood beneath them, and the faint whirr of wind brushing the windows.

The kettle eventually let out a soft whistle from the kitchen, and Artur reluctantly got up. Billy's eyes followed him without moving, a small smile on his face.

"Don't take too long," he murmured.

"I wouldn't dare," Artur replied, tossing the words over his shoulder.

He poured the tea with practiced ease, the scent of herbs and chamomile blooming into the room. When he returned, he carried two mismatched mugs—but Billy's eyes instantly found his.

White, with a golden spiral hand-painted along the side like a tiny sun unfurling. The handle was a little crooked, the glaze imperfect. It was the cup Billy had made for him weeks ago, the first time he dared to try the pottery wheel on his own. He had handed it to Artur with red ears and a nervous, "It's ugly but it's yours."

Artur had kept it like treasure ever since.

Billy took the mug from him now, wrapping his fingers around the warm ceramic. His thumb grazed the spiral almost absentmindedly.

"You kept using it," he said softly.

Artur sat down beside him, their thighs brushing. "Of course I did."

"I thought you only drank from it when I was watching."

Artur sipped his tea, then gave him a quiet side-glance. "I drink from it more when you're not watching."

Billy's smile grew, eyes dropping as if to hide it. "Why?"

Artur looked at the mug in his own hands, turning it slightly. "Because it's mine. You made it for me. That's enough."

They sat in silence after that, both sipping tea—Artur from a plain brown mug, Billy from the one he'd crafted with his own fingers, imperfect and beautiful. The light dimmed gradually around them, and the corners of the room took on that golden blur of evening comfort.

Billy leaned in after a moment, resting his head lightly on Artur's shoulder, his voice quiet.

"You make even silence feel safe."

Artur tilted his head against Billy's, letting his cheek press into the soft strands of hair.

"That's what I want to be for you," he murmured. "Safe. Constant. Yours."

Billy didn't reply—not with words. Just a little squeeze of Artur's arm, his thumb drawing slow circles where his hand rested. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of Artur's words settle into the quiet. In that moment, the world could wait.

The tea had gone lukewarm, but neither of them moved. Billy cradled his handmade cup in both hands, the white glaze catching soft shadows, the sun spiral painted along one side peeking up each time he shifted. Artur's thumb traced the rim of his own cup absently, eyes half-lidded in thought. The room was dim now, washed in the low amber glow of a single lamp near the bookshelf.

"I still can't believe you made this," Artur said, lifting the cup slightly, a soft smile playing at his lips.

Billy shrugged lightly, though his cheeks were a little warm. "I just wanted something that felt like... here. Like us."

Artur looked over at him, gaze lingering. "It does."

Silence again. Not the awkward kind—just the quiet comfort of two people who no longer needed to fill the space.

Billy's head tilted slightly, studying the shape of Artur's hand curled around the ceramic, the veins just barely visible under the skin, the relaxed line of his mouth. He set his cup down on the table gently, fingers brushing against Artur's as he did.

Artur turned toward him.

Their eyes met, unhurried.

Billy leaned in first—slow, careful. Their foreheads touched before anything else, a breath shared between them. Then lips—soft, searching, familiar now but still electric. Artur's hand came up to cradle the side of Billy's neck, thumb brushing just under his jaw. The kiss deepened—not rushed, just drawn out with quiet need, the kind that said I missed you, even if I saw you an hour ago.

Billy smiled into it.

Artur chuckled low. "What?"

"You taste like herbal tea."

"Better than glue paint," Artur said, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against Billy's again.

They stayed like that for a long moment, breathing the same quiet air, eyes closed.

Billy eventually whispered, "Should we go to bed?"

Artur gave a tired nod, but didn't let go right away. Instead, he stood slowly and extended a hand.

Billy took it without hesitation.

Their fingers remained laced as they moved through the room, lights dimmed, the familiar creak of old floorboards under their steps. The bedroom welcomed them like a cocoon—soft sheets, cool air, the faint scent of lavender from the bundle hanging by the window.

They climbed in, still quiet, still holding on.

Billy settled beside Artur, his arm across his chest, head tucked into the space between his shoulder and neck. Artur pulled the blanket up around them, hand tracing slow circles along Billy's back.

Billy leaned in slowly, his lips brushing Artur's in a kiss that started soft, but deepened with every passing second. Their mouths moved in slow rhythm, lips parting and curling, a mix of hesitation and hunger. Billy's fingers gripped the edge of the blanket as if anchoring himself to the moment.

Artur slid his hand under the blanket, cupping Billy's face with a warmth that steadied them both. His other hand moved behind Billy's neck, drawing him closer, deepening the kiss until it became a quiet, breathless pull between them. Then, without breaking contact, Artur's lips began to wander—along Billy's jaw, down the line of his throat, to the center of his chest. Each kiss left behind a heat that lingered.

Billy inhaled sharply, his chest rising against Artur's mouth. He reached down, fingers fumbling with Artur's shirt, tugging it up and over in a hurried motion. His breath hitched as their bare skin met, heat sliding between them like a second heartbeat. The friction was maddening—too much and not enough.

Artur followed, pushing Billy's shirt up with measured hands, his fingers dragging along his ribs and over his waist. When he lay over Billy again, their bodies aligned, skin to skin, and the warmth between them turned electric. Artur kissed along Billy's collarbone, then up to the soft spot beneath his ear. Billy arched slightly, hands tightening around Artur's arms, legs shifting to tangle with his.

His breath came faster now—shallow, deliberate, needy.

Then, Billy opened his eyes, gaze sharp and full of desire. He brought a hand to Artur's chin, tilting his face, and kissed him again—more urgently this time. He kissed him like he was starving, like every part of him craved more. Their mouths pressed hard, then pulled back just enough to feel the ache.

Billy rolled them gently, now on top, his body hovering just enough to tease. He kissed down Artur's chest, tongue flicking lightly over skin as he descended. Artur's fingers clenched the sheets, a low sound escaping him.

Billy reached for the waistband of Artur's trousers, his fingers deliberate, tugging them down slowly while kissing the inside of his thigh—slow, wet, and deliberate. Artur gasped, his back arching slightly, one hand finding Billy's hair.

When Billy came back up, they met in another deep kiss, mouths hot, breathing ragged, everything between them dissolving into sensation and movement.

The moment spilled over—rhythmic, aching, full of friction and soft moans swallowed into each other's mouths. The room filled with the sounds of rustling sheets, soft gasps, and the quiet creak of the bed beneath their bodies.

And when it was over, when the world slowed again, they lay tangled together beneath the blanket. Skin slick, hearts thudding in sync, their chests rose and fell against each other—breathless, spent, and full of something deeper than just touch.

Billy pressed a final kiss to Artur's shoulder, his eyes closed, lips still parted.

And Artur's arm wrapped around him tightly, anchoring him there, as if to say—you're mine... and I'm not letting go.

"I like this," Billy murmured, voice barely audible. "Ending the day with you."

Artur pressed a kiss into his hair. "Me too."

Outside, the wind rustled through the trees. Inside, they lay together, wrapped in the warmth of each other—no rush, no weight, just steady heartbeats and the kind of closeness that didn't need words anymore.

And in the dark, before sleep pulled them under, Billy whispered, "Don't let go."

"I won't," Artur said softly. "Not ever."

They didn't speak for a long while. Just lay there, still entangled beneath the soft weight of the blanket. Billy's cheek rested on Artur's bare shoulder now, his breath warm against the skin, his fingers gently tracing aimless shapes along Artur's chest—slow, quiet circles like he was memorizing the rhythm of his heartbeat.

"You're quiet," Artur whispered eventually, not moving, not pushing.

Billy hesitated, then gave a soft hum. "I'm just... feeling it. Everything."

Artur turned his head slightly, brushing his lips against Billy's temple. "Is it too much?"

"No," Billy said. "It's not too much. It's just—deep. Deeper than I expected. I didn't think it would be like this."

"Like what?"

"Like... peace. Like safety. Like I could stay here and forget the rest of the world ever existed."

Artur's arm tightened around him.

Billy shifted, lifted his head just enough to meet his eyes in the soft glow from the window.

"I don't want to lose this," Billy whispered.

"You won't," Artur said, voice steady but soft. "I won't let you."

Billy's eyes searched his. "Even if things get hard?"

Artur leaned in, brushing their noses together. "Especially then."

Billy closed his eyes, his voice barely a breath. "I'm scared, you know. Of what your dad would say. Of what would happen if this—us—was out in the open."

Artur didn't speak at first. His hand moved slowly up Billy's back, drawing him close again.

"I've been thinking about that too," he admitted quietly. "I want to tell him. Not just because I don't like hiding... but because I want you to know I'm not ashamed of us. That I never will be."

Billy's fingers paused on his skin. "But what if he doesn't take it well?"

"Then we face that together," Artur said simply. "Because I'm not going anywhere. You hear me?"

Billy nodded against his chest, eyes stinging a little. "I hear you."

Another kiss—soft, slow, full of quiet promise—sealed the moment.

They stayed close, speaking only with their fingertips now. The way Billy's hand slid down to interlace their fingers again. The way Artur's lips found the curve of his neck, barely grazing, leaving warmth in their wake.

Eventually, Billy pulled back just far enough to whisper, "Can I ask you something?"

Artur's voice was hushed. "Anything."

"What made you fall for me?"

A quiet smile formed on Artur's lips. "It wasn't one thing. It was... a hundred little moments. You asking questions you don't remember the answers to. The way you talk to animals like they understand you. The way you throw your whole heart into things, even when you're afraid."

He reached up and gently cupped Billy's cheek. "And the way you look at me like I'm someone worth loving."

Billy's eyes welled up then, but he smiled through it—small and real.

"You are," he whispered.

Artur brushed his lips against his again—this time longer, deeper, their bodies pressed close, breath shared and skin warm. It wasn't lust. It wasn't urgency. It was gravity—gentle and slow, like being pulled toward each other by something older than either of them.

Billy's hands curled into the fabric of Artur's shirt. "Stay close tonight."

"I'm right here," Artur whispered. "And I will be when you wake up."

They stayed that way—foreheads touching, fingers laced, hearts steady—until sleep slowly took them both.

And in the stillness of the night, nothing felt missing. Nothing needed fixing. They were just two souls wrapped up in each other's quiet warmth.

Exactly where they were meant to be.