Unwritten Fate [BL]-Chapter 55: A Table Set with Love

The morning light spilled through the curtain in soft golden threads, drifting across their bed like a quiet breeze. It brushed against their faces gently, nudging the world awake.

Artur's lashes fluttered, and he blinked slowly, adjusting to the soft glow. He stirred beneath the blanket, only to find a pair of eyes already watching him—quiet and dreamy.

Billy was propped slightly on one elbow, his cheek resting in his palm, staring at him with a warm, almost playful look.

"Morning," Artur mumbled, voice still low and smirky from sleep.

"Morning, babe," Billy replied, a soft smile dancing across his lips as he leaned forward and nuzzled their noses together.

Artur chuckled, his hand sliding beneath the sheets to rest on Billy's waist. "You're awfully sweet this morning."

"I'm always sweet," Billy said, drawing small circles on Artur's shoulder with his fingers. "You're just noticing because the light makes me look holy."

Artur rolled his eyes, smiling. "Right. A morning angel."

Billy grinned and placed a slow, warm kiss on his neck. "You love it."

"I do," Artur admitted, closing his eyes for a second under the touch.

A peaceful silence hung between them. No rush. No weight. Just two hearts learning how to start the day wrapped in each other's comfort.

Eventually, Artur shifted, brushing Billy's hair from his forehead. "Let's get up."

"I don't want to," Billy murmured, arms tightening around Artur like a sleepy koala. "Just five more minutes. Or fifty."

Artur tried to move again, but Billy pressed his face to his chest. "Shhh. I'm comfortable."

"You're hopeless," Artur said, dragging a hand down his back in slow strokes.

"Hopelessly in love," Billy whispered. "Can't we lie here forever? I wouldn't mind. Not with you."

Artur smiled, heart swelling, but still took his wrist and gently pulled him upright. "Come on, if we stay here any longer, we'll become part of the mattress."

Billy groaned and flopped back for dramatic effect. Then, reluctantly, he slid to his feet and draped himself over Artur's shoulder like a sleepy cat.

"You carry a lot of heat," Billy muttered against his neck. "Like a walking fireplace."

They shuffled out of the room, Billy trailing his fingers along the doorframe as they entered the main room.

Artur moved to the kitchen, leaned on the counter casually as he reached for the kettle.

"Do you want some tea?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Billy was already behind him.

"No," he said softly, stepping close—closer than necessary. His hands slipped around Artur's waist, pulling him back just slightly. "But I want you."

Artur chuckled, the smile forming before he could stop it.

Billy tilted his head, kissing just below Artur's ear. "You smell like sleep and firewood."

Then he kissed the line of Artur's jaw, then his neck, slowly working his way around, until their lips finally met—slow at first, warm and lazy, just like the morning itself.

The kiss deepened quickly, melting into something that filled the quiet house with breathy hushes and the soft rustle of shirts.

They moved, lips still locked, Billy pushing slightly until Artur's back touched the wall. His hands roamed up Artur's sides, while Artur's fingers tangled in the back of Billy's hair.

Billy's eyes were closed, the world fading—just the beat of Artur's heart against his chest and the heat of their kiss.

The world narrowed into heat and breath—the kind that makes time pause. Artur tilted his head, deepening the kiss...

Then—knock.

Artur's brows pulled together, but Billy didn't stop.

Knock knock.

Artur gently pulled his mouth away, breathing against Billy's cheek. "Someone's at the door."

Billy leaned in again, lips brushing his. "Ignore it."

Knock, knock, knock.

Artur chuckled, pressing a light kiss to his temple. "Tempting. But let me check."

Billy groaned, resting his forehead on Artur's chest while he stepped away.

He remained by the counter, watching as Artur went to the door and cracked it open.

A man stood on the porch—one of the older neighbors.

"Artur," the man greeted. "Morning. Sorry to bother you this early. Just came to let you know... something's happened to your dad's fence out near the back fields. Thought you'd want to check it."

Artur nodded, his demeanor shifting into calm attentiveness. "Thanks. I'll head over there soon."

The man gave a parting nod, and Artur closed the door quietly.

Back in the kitchen, Billy was leaning against the counter again, arms folded with a slightly pouty expression.

"Tell me it wasn't important," he said.

Artur walked back to him, ruffling his hair. "It was fence business. Just a little damage out by the field."

Billy sighed dramatically, reaching for him again. "That fence ruined our morning."

Artur leaned in and kissed his forehead. "We'll finish it later."

Billy tilted his head up. "Promise?"

Artur smiled, touching their foreheads together. "You know I do." ƒrēenovelkiss.com

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Artur said, lacing up his boots by the doorway.

Billy watched from the edge of the kitchen, arms crossed, lips slightly pursed. "You sure you don't want me to come with you?"

Artur glanced up, smiling. "It's just a fence. I'll fix it quicker on my own. Stay, rest a bit." He reached over, pressed a soft kiss to Billy's temple, then added teasingly, "Try not to burn down the kitchen."

Billy gave a mock glare but didn't argue. He just stood there, watching as the door swung open—and closed behind him.

Silence settled thickly over the house the second Artur was gone. At first, Billy wandered around aimlessly, hands brushing over the backs of chairs, fiddling with the corner of a tablecloth. He sat. Stood. Walked to the window. Then the door.

Nothing. Just the soft chirps of the morning and the quiet creak of the old beams.

It's only been five minutes.

But it felt like longer.

His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt before he huffed and turned back into the kitchen. "He left without eating," he muttered to himself.

A tiny idea sparked.

"I'll make something. That way when he's back... at least the house won't feel this empty."

With that, Billy rolled up his sleeves, tied the apron—his favorite one with the small blue stitched waves—and got to work.

He didn't stop at one dish. No. He made his best—spiced stew with garden herbs, grilled bread slightly crisp on the edges, a bowl of sweet corn salad, and fried pastries dusted with sugar. Each movement helped pass the time. Stirring. Chopping. Baking. Waiting.

But the time still moved slower than it should.

He didn't just cook to pass time—he cooked because it was the one thing he could give back. After everything Artur had given him, Billy wanted something to offer... something steady. Something real.

He stirred the stew, but his mind wandered—to the warmth of Artur's hands, the way his voice had sounded so close that morning. The silence now felt too wide, like a room with all the air pulled out.

He glanced at the door between dishes.

Then the window.

Still no Artur.

As the last pastry cooled, Billy arranged everything on the table with gentle care. He poured a cup of tea into the white sun-spiral cup—Artur's favorite—and set it right in the center.

Then he stared at the empty chair across the table.

"Should I go find him?" he murmured aloud, voice small. "Maybe it's more work than he thought. Maybe I should've insisted on helping..."

He hovered near the window again, eyes scanning the road like someone waiting on a letter that never came.

Still no Artur.

Billy sat on the edge of the couch for two seconds—stood again. Walked to the door. Hesitated.

Then—

Footsteps.

Faint at first, but steady. Then the curve of a shadow by the far tree.

Billy's heart jumped. He stepped forward. Eyes locked on the silhouette approaching.

And then—Artur stepped into view, wiping sweat from his brow, the sun casting warm glints on his cheekbones.

Billy didn't wait.

He didn't think.

He pushed open the door, hurried forward, and threw himself into Artur's arms before the man could fully step inside.

The hug was fierce, arms around his neck, his face tucked under Artur's chin.

"Woah—Billy?" Artur chuckled, wrapping his arms around him, surprised by the intensity. "Missed me that much?"

"Billy nodded into his chest. 'You were gone forever. It felt like I was waiting on the sun to rise. "Felt like a year."

Artur smiled, rubbing soothing circles on his back. "I told you it wouldn't be long."

"It was long," Billy insisted, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. "So I cooked... everything. You didn't even eat before leaving."

Artur blinked, eyes softening. "You cooked?"

"A lot. Because I missed you," Billy said plainly, tugging him inside by the wrist. "Come see."

The door clicked shut behind them, and the scent of spices, warm bread, and something sweet instantly wrapped around Artur.

Billy didn't let go of his hand.

He tugged him gently through the main room, his steps light but urgent, like a child trying to show off a hidden treasure. Artur followed without a word, caught between surprise and awe.

And then he saw it.

The table—dressed in soft morning light—was filled edge to edge. Bowls, plates, warm steam curling into the air. The teacup with the sun-spiral sat at the center, waiting.

"You..." Artur blinked. "You made all this?"

Billy nodded, lips twitching upward in a bashful grin. "You left hungry. I couldn't just wait doing nothing."

Artur stepped closer, looking at the food like it was the most precious thing he'd seen all week. "It smells incredible."

Billy reached out and fixed a fold in the tablecloth. "It better. I put my heart in it."

"You always do," Artur said, brushing his knuckles gently over Billy's cheek.

They sat across from each other. For a moment, there was only the soft clinking of cutlery, the hum of morning birds outside, and the way their eyes kept drifting to each other between bites.

Billy reached for the bread, placing one on Artur's plate without being asked. "Eat more. You've been sweating like crazy."

Artur smiled behind the rim of his cup. "You're worse than my dad."

"Your dad doesn't make you food and kiss you senseless, though."

Artur nearly choked on his tea. Billy snickered.

"I'm serious," Billy said, leaning forward, elbows on the table. "You should've seen me—panicking like you went to war or something. I almost ran down the road barefoot."

"I'm sorry," Artur said softly, reaching over the table to take his hand. "Next time... I'll take you with me. Always."

Billy's expression flickered—something warm, vulnerable in his eyes. "I'd like that."

They stayed like that for a while. No rush. No need for words.

Just fingers brushing across the wood. Soft smiles between bites. Warmth spreading from food and heart alike.

Later, Artur reached for the last pastry. "You made these for me?"

Billy nodded. "With extra sugar. Because you like it too sweet."

"I like you too sweet," Artur replied, voice low.

Billy rolled his eyes. "That was awful. You're lucky you're cute."

Artur leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving Billy. "I am lucky."

After the last bite was savored and the plates sat empty, they lingered a little longer at the table, just enjoying the peace, their knees touching beneath the wood.

"Alright," Billy finally sighed, stretching his arms above his head. "That was the best breakfast you've ever had, right?"

Artur scoffed playfully. "It was your cooking."

"Exactly," Billy grinned, standing and gathering the plates. "Which means I'll let you do the dishes."

"Oh no you won't," Artur said, grabbing the cups before Billy could. "We're doing this together."

They stood side by side at the sink, sleeves rolled up, water running warm. Billy handed over the soapy plate, Artur rinsed. Their arms brushed again and again, deliberately left lingering each time.

"Hey—" Billy flicked a few soap bubbles at Artur's face.

Artur blinked, unimpressed. "You just started a war."

"Oh yeah?" Billy backed away, holding a dripping sponge as a shield. "You wouldn't dare—"

But Artur was already reaching for the dish towel, grinning like a boy about to break every rule.

In the middle of their quiet kitchen, laughter echoed, light and full. Billy ducked behind the chair, Artur tossed the towel at his back. It slid down and landed on the floor with a thud.

They paused, both breathless and smiling.

"I surrender," Billy said dramatically, arms raised, walking back to the sink.

"Coward."

"Romantic," Billy corrected, bumping Artur's hip. "There's a difference."

Once the last plate was set on the rack to dry, Billy wiped his hands and walked to the small shelf beside the door, pulling out the worn notebook Mr. Dand had left before leaving.

"Let's see what your dad planned for us today," he said, flipping through the neatly scribbled list. "Hmm... feeding, sorting, tool checks... all the fun stuff."

Artur dried his hands and leaned over Billy's shoulder, reading with him. "Nothing too hard."

Billy tilted his head. "Or... we could continue what we started."

Artur's eyes met his, that same amused sparkle dancing in them. "Aren't you tired?"

Billy didn't even let him finish. "No."

The way he said it—without pause, without hesitation—made Artur smile. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from Billy's forehead. "Alright then."

They exchanged a look—simple, silent understanding—and stepped into their boots.

Billy grabbed the notebook, tucking it under his arm. "Let's go."

Side by side, their shadows stretched beneath the sun as they walked toward the shed.

And behind them, the dishes gleamed quietly by the window, a small sign of their morning peace.