Unwritten Fate [BL]-Chapter 27: "A Breath Away from You"

The night stretched long and heavy, the last traces of sunlight bleeding into the horizon. A cool breeze stirred the curtains, but Billy hardly noticed. His mind was elsewhere—stuck on a voice, a glance, a moment that wouldn't let him go.

Billy sat on the edge of his bed, one leg stretched out, the other bent, his elbow resting lazily against his knee. He let out a slow breath, dragging a hand through his hair.

It had been a long day.

Jay showing him around, the open fields, the stories, the easy laughter.

And then—

Artur.

His weird, unreadable character.

And those words.

"Forget it."

Billy let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. Of course, he'd say that.

That's what Artur always did, wasn't it? Say one thing, act another, and then pretend like nothing had happened.

Like it didn't matter.

Like it wasn't something that had been pressing against Billy's ribs all evening, making his thoughts restless, making his chest feel too tight.

Billy leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

The faint murmur of voices from the main room reached his ears. Dand was probably still up, but Artur... Billy wasn't sure. He hadn't seen him since he got back.

The house was quiet. Not peaceful—just quiet.

Billy exhaled sharply.

The silence stretched, pressing against the walls, against Billy's chest. He should be tired. His body was, but his mind—his mind wouldn't rest.

His fingers tapped absently against his knee before he let out a slow breath and stood. The floor was cool beneath his feet as he moved toward the small table by the window, reaching for the pitcher of water.

The moment he poured a cup, movement outside caught his eye.

A shadow.

Near the fence, by the trees.

Billy's brows furrowed slightly.

He didn't have to guess.

Even without stepping closer, he knew.

Artur.

Standing alone, hands shoved in his pockets, staring at nothing.

Billy swallowed, his grip tightening around the cup.

Why?

Why was he out there?

Why did he look like someone who had something to say—

—but wouldn't say it?

The air in the room suddenly felt heavier.

Billy turned away from the window, jaw tight.

Forget it.

If Artur wasn't going to say anything, then neither would he.

The night deepened, settling heavily over the house. The only sounds were the distant rustling of trees and the occasional creak of the wooden beams shifting with the wind.

Artur sat on the edge of his bed, elbows braced against his knees, head bowed.

The silence wasn't comforting. It wasn't peaceful.

It was suffocating.

His thoughts had been relentless since he got back—since he watched Billy and Jay disappear down that path, laughter trailing behind them.

He'd told himself it didn't matter.

That it wasn't his concern.

That Billy wasn't his to—

To what?

To keep?

To hold onto?

Artur let out a sharp breath, fingers threading into his hair.

Damn it.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He wasn't supposed to care.

But he did.

And every time he tried to push it down, to bury it under reason, under denial, it clawed its way back up, stronger.

"It wasn't a big deal. It shouldn't be a big deal. Jay was just being Jay. Billy was just— Artur clenched his jaw. Damn it. Why did it still feel like he was losing something?"

"Artur's stomach coiled, a sharp twist that had nothing to do with hunger. His fingers curled into his palms, nails digging in. He could still see it—Jay's hand brushing something from Billy's hair, the ease in Billy's laughter. It sat in Artur's chest like a stone, heavy, immovable."

Because he didn't know how to reach Billy like that.

Didn't know how to speak to him without pushing him away.

Didn't know if Billy would even want him to.

A sharp exhale.

Sitting here, drowning in thoughts, wasn't going to change anything.

Before he could stop himself, Artur was already on his feet, already moving.

His chest was tight, his steps quick, his pulse uneven.

He barely hesitated as he reached Billy's door.

But then—

He did hesitate.

He stood there, fingers hovering just above the wood.

What was he even doing?

What was he going to say?

He should turn back.

He should.

But instead—

He knocked.

Once.

And then stopped, his breath catching.

Seconds stretched.

He should just go—

But his hand moved before his mind could catch up.

Another knock.

Then stillness.

Maybe Billy was already asleep.

Maybe this was stupid.

Artur exhaled sharply and turned to leave—

But before he could take a step—

A soft creak.

The door cracked open.

And there—standing in the dim light, half-lidded eyes hazy with exhaustion, hair slightly tousled—

Was Billy.

The moment Billy saw Artur at his door, his breath faltered. The sharp lines of Artur's tense posture, the shadow in his eyes—something was wrong. A chill prickled down Billy's spine as his mind scrambled for answers.

"...What's wrong?"

His voice was low, drowsy, carrying that quiet rasp of someone barely pulled from sleep.

Artur just—

Stared.

Everything inside him—the frustration, the restraint, the walls he'd built so carefully—

Tensed.

Then—

Shifted.

This—

This was what he'd been fighting.

What he'd been denying.

Enough.

Billy blinked, his exhaustion making everything feel slightly distant, slightly unreal.

Artur was just standing there.

Still. Tense.

And then—

A sharp inhale.

Like he was about to say something.

Like he needed to.

Like if he didn't say it now, he never would.

Billy didn't move, didn't breathe. He could feel it—something hanging in the air between them, heavy, unspoken.

Then—

"...I couldn't sleep."

Artur's voice was low, rough. His fingers curled slightly at his sides, like he was gripping onto something invisible.

"Billy frowned slightly, still groggy. '...And?'

Artur's lips parted as if he wanted to say something—but nothing came out. His hand raked through his hair, frustration creeping into his every move. Finally, he exhaled sharply."

His frustration was palpable—frustration at himself, at everything.

"At first, I told myself it was just annoyance," he muttered. "Jay dragging you around, you letting him—laughing with him, looking at him like—" He stopped, jaw tightening. A sharp exhale. "I didn't want to care. I didn't want to—but I do."

Billy frowned. "Let him what?"

Artur let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. "I don't know—be close to you. Laugh with you. Touch you like it was nothing."

This chapter is updated by freēwēbnovel.com.

Billy blinked, mind clearing fast.

His heart stuttered in his chest.

"...Artur?"

Artur clenched his jaw, eyes dark with something unreadable—something raw, something frayed.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Artur admitted, his voice a rough whisper, raw as an open wound. "But when I see you with Jay, it's like—I can't breathe. Like someone's reached inside me and twisted, and I can't—" His exhale was sharp, shaking. "I don't know how to stop it."

Billy's breath caught.

Artur swallowed, shoulders stiff, gaze fixed on him like he was terrified to look away.

"I tried to ignore it," he admitted, voice rough. "Tried to tell myself it didn't matter, that it wasn't my place. That I didn't—"

He stopped, fingers twitching.

Then, finally—

"...But it does matter."

The words left him like an exhale—like something he had been holding back for far too long.

Billy stared at him, lips parted slightly.

The weight of those words pressed into his chest, into his ribs, into the space between them.

Neither of them spoke.

Neither of them moved.

And then—

Billy's fingers tightened around the doorframe.

"...Artur."

Artur's breath hitched.

Billy licked his lips, hesitating. He had to say something. He had to—

But the way Artur was looking at him—

Like he had just laid everything bare.

Like he had just given Billy something fragile, something that could shatter if he wasn't careful.

Billy's pulse pounded in his ears.

And for the first time, he didn't know what to say.

"Billy's breath hitched. The pull between them was undeniable, something electric sparking in the space where words failed. His heart pounded, the silence stretching, waiting. But then—a sharp gust of wind rattled the loose shutters.

A reminder. This was still Mr. Dand's home. The fragile, borrowed life he'd been given. Reality crashed in like cold water."

And Artur—Artur, who had always been difficult, unreadable. What if this ruined everything?

His throat tightened. He had to be careful. Had to think.

So instead of answering, instead of stepping forward, instead of risking anything—

Billy looked away.

Swallowed hard.

And said the safest thing he could.

"I don't know what to say."

A pause.

The air between them grew thick, suffocating.

Artur didn't move.

But Billy felt it—how his presence changed, how something inside him bristled, pulled back.

A muscle in Artur's jaw twitched.

His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles paling. Anger, disappointment—but beneath it all, something deeper. Something raw.

Did Billy not feel the same?

Or was he just too afraid to say it?

Billy forced himself to breathe.

And then—

Artur exhaled sharply.

Stepped back.

His voice was quieter this time, rougher.

"Fine." Artur's voice was quieter now, brittle at the edges. "I guess I was wrong about you, "I thought you felt it too."

The words cut like an unfinished wound—one he hadn't meant to leave open, but couldn't stop himself from walking away from.

Artur turned, his footsteps slow but firm, each step echoing down the dimly lit hallway.

Billy's fingers curled at his sides.

He wanted to call him back. Wanted to say something—anything. But if he did, if he let himself take that step... what then? If this broke, if it all fell apart—where would that leave him?

But his lips stayed sealed.

The door creaked softly as Artur disappeared into the dark.

"And Billy—Billy stood frozen in the doorway, the silence stretching between them like an open wound. His fingers twitched, reaching—then curling back. His breath was unsteady, his pulse hammering against his ribs. And yet, he said nothing. Did nothing. Just watched as Artur disappeared into the dark, taking something unspoken with him."

Billy lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"Shadows stretched across the ceiling, shifting with each flicker of the wind-blown lantern outside. The weight of the night settled over him—not just silence, but something pressing, suffocating, thick with unsaid words."

The faint glow of the moon crept through the window, casting pale lines across the wooden floor. His fingers curled into the blanket, his mind unwilling to be still.

He should sleep.

He should forget about it.

But his body wouldn't let him.

His chest was too tight. His skin was too hot. His thoughts were too loud.

" I thought you felt it too."

Billy swallowed.

Artur's voice still lingered, raw and quiet, laced with something Billy hadn't been ready to face. Hadn't been ready to answer.

Now, the weight of it was unbearable.

He rolled onto his side, exhaling sharply, frustration curling through him.

"Why does it even matter?" he muttered under his breath, but even as the words left him, they unraveled—false, fragile. It mattered. More than he wanted to admit."

Too much for him to sleep, too much for him to forget.

Billy his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

"Fine. I guess I was wrong about you."

Artur's words echoed in his mind, looping over and over, like a wound that refused to close.

Billy swallowed hard, shifting onto his side, curling his fingers into the sheets. He hadn't meant to shut Artur out like that. He hadn't meant to just—stand there. Say nothing.

But what was he supposed to say?

That he did feel something? That every time Artur looked at him like that, he felt like his whole world was tilting?

That he was scared?

Billy exhaled sharply, rolling onto his stomach, pressing his face into the pillow.

Artur had looked at him like he expected something—like he wanted something. And when Billy didn't give it...

"I guess I was wrong about you."

Billy clenched his jaw, gripping the fabric beneath his fingers.

Artur was wrong.

But Billy... Billy just didn't know how to make him see that.

And as the night stretched on, his mind refused to quiet.

And neither of them slept.

Across the house, Artur sat up in bed, legs dangling over the edge, hands pressed into his face.

His whole body was tense.

Billy's voice, Billy's hesitation—the way he looked away—it wouldn't leave him alone.

"I don't know what to say."

Artur let out a bitter, humorless laugh.

"Liar," he muttered under his breath.

Billy did know what to say. He just wouldn't.

And that—

That burned.

Artur ran a hand through his hair, the frustration sitting heavy in his chest. He'd been a fool to think Billy would just... answer. That he would stop running for once.

His fists clenched.

He'd put himself out there. Said things he never thought he could say. And for what?

For Billy to turn away?

Artur exhaled sharply and stood up, pacing to the window. The night outside was quiet, the village asleep, untouched by the storm raging in his head.

His fingers twitched at his sides.

For a brief, reckless second, he thought about going back. About knocking on Billy's door, making him say something.

But then—

He stopped himself.

What would be the point?

Billy had already made his choice.

Artur's jaw tightened.

He turned from the window, climbed back into bed, and shut his eyes.

Even though he already knew—

He wasn't going to sleep tonight.

Artur lay flat on his back, one arm over his eyes.

His heartbeat had finally slowed, but his mind still raced.

He told himself he wasn't waiting.

He wasn't listening for movement, wasn't hoping for footsteps down the hall.

But when the night remained empty, when no one came—

The ache in his chest settled deeper.

"Sleep never came. For Billy, the silence was thick with everything he hadn't said. For Artur, the darkness stretched endlessly, tangled in the weight of what he had."