Unwritten Fate [BL]-Chapter 63: Where My Heart Rests

The soft golden light of morning filtered gently through the windows, stretching long shadows across the floorboards. The house stood still, wrapped in the hush only early mornings understood. On the couch, tangled in the warmth of a shared blanket, Billy stirred first.

His lashes fluttered open slowly, a sleepy haze still clouding his eyes. The first thing he felt wasn't the light, or the stiffness in his legs — it was Artur, his head nestled against Billy's chest, arms loosely wrapped around his waist, breathing slow and even.

Billy didn't move.

A slow smile curled on his lips, the kind that came without thought, just feeling. He tilted his head, letting his chin rest atop Artur's hair. The blanket slipped a little, revealing the edge of Artur's collarbone, the way his hair flopped messily over his forehead. It was peaceful — impossibly peaceful — the kind of moment he never thought he'd get to live.

Billy exhaled quietly, content. He didn't dare shift, didn't want to wake him. His fingers brushed through Artur's tousled hair, slow and soft, more like a silent thank-you than a gesture.

A few more minutes passed like that.

Then, without warning, Artur shifted — maybe reaching for the edge of the couch in his sleep, or maybe just stretching — but his weight tilted too far.

Billy blinked.

"Wait—"

Thud.

Artur hit the floor with a dull thump, tangled in the edge of the blanket.

Silence. Then:

"Ow."—!" Artur groaned, blinking up at the ceiling from the wooden floorboards, the world suddenly upside down.

Billy peeked over the edge... "Morning, sunshine."

Artur squinted. "Did the Earth just betray me?"

Billy snorted. "Nope, that was gravity."

Still on the floor, Artur reached up dramatically, palm open. "Save me."

Billy grabbed his hand, tugging him up with a teasing grin. "You were so comfortable down there."

"I was dreaming about riding a cloud," Artur muttered as he plopped down beside Billy again, rubbing his back.

Billy leaned into him with a mischievous smirk. "Maybe next time I'll just anchor you to the couch."

"Next time, we're getting a bigger couch."

Billy chuckled, nestling into his side once more, letting the morning stretch around them. "Or just never leave the bed."

Artur hummed in agreement, arms lazily circling him again. "Tempting."

And so, with the sun rising and laughter still warm between them, they let the morning continue — no plans, no rush, just soft moments and quiet comfort.

"Morning draped itself over them in quiet layers, sunlight spilling lazily across the room. They stayed close, untouched by the day's demands." Billy, content, lazily traced invisible patterns on Artur's arm as they exchanged quiet smiles, too comfortable to move, too wrapped in each other to bother with anything else. The house felt calm without the hum of daily activity, a quiet refuge.

After a while, Artur let out a deep breath and stretched, his body curling in a slow, lazy arch before he sat up. His fingers pushed through his hair, mussing it even more. He looked over at Billy, the smile on his face soft and affectionate. "I think I should at least attempt to wash up," he mumbled, more to himself than Billy.

Billy's head tilted, his eyes soft, yet playful. "You don't have to," he teased, reaching out to pull him back down. "I mean, we're in no rush."

Artur chuckled, pulling away gently, though not without a glance back, a little smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "I'll just be a minute," he promised, his voice low and warm, a reassurance as he stretched once more before heading toward the small bathroom.

"Billy lingered for a moment, then rose quietly, drawn outside by the hush of the morning dew.

"The garden sprawled ahead, drenched in dew and birdsong, the scent of damp soil rising with the morning sun." It was peaceful here, the kind of stillness that allowed you to think but didn't demand anything of you. He took a deep breath, feeling the fresh air fill his lungs. A few light jogs around the house would be enough, just enough to stretch his legs, enjoy the space, and ease into the day.

As he circled the house, his legs growing warmer with each stride, he heard the familiar creak of the door behind him. Artur was stepping out, freshly showered, with his sleeves rolled up and a towel draped around his neck. Artur's eyes caught him, a small smile creeping up at the sight of Billy jogging in place, cheeks flushed from the exercise.

"You're not running away, are you?" Artur teased, walking toward him.

"Billy grinned, wiping his brow. 'Not a chance. Just stretching my legs.'"

Artur chuckled and shook his head, his hand brushing over Billy's arm. "Could've warned me," Artur replied, smirking.

"I wasn't going to make you work so hard." Billy nudged him playfully. "You already got me up and moving, after all."

Artur rolled his eyes fondly. "Lazy."

"Strategically relaxed," Billy corrected.

They ran side by side for a few moments, the soft rhythm of their steps in sync, before they both stopped by the stone fence near the garden.

Artur wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and gave Billy a sidelong glance. "You're not as slow as I thought," he joked, breathing a little harder than usual, but his eyes glinted with playful challenge.

Billy grinned, his hands on his hips. "Oh, I'm just getting warmed up," he teased back, glancing around at the peaceful surroundings. He glanced over his shoulder to see the windows of Tomas and his wife's house, the friendly, welcoming house that stood a little further along the road.

And there she was — Tomas' wife, leaning out of the window, waving energetically with both hands. "Come in and have breakfast with us!" she called, her voice warm and inviting. "Tomas insists he made something special this morning!"

Billy laughed, shaking his head. "Tell Tomas, I'm sure it's amazing, but we'll pass for today."

Artur, too, waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, we're good," he called back, but before they could turn to continue their jog, Tomas himself appeared at the door. His broad smile was unmistakable as he jogged over to them, his presence as forceful as his enthusiasm.

"No way you're getting out of this," Tomas said, grinning. "You're both coming inside. I insist. My wife's cooking—best you'll ever taste. And I'll never hear the end of it if you don't at least give it a try."

Billy raised an eyebrow, glancing at Artur with a smirk. "I think we're doomed," he said, shaking his head in amusement.

"Come on," Tomas urged with a hearty laugh, reaching out to grab Billy's arm and pull him toward the door. "If you don't, my wife will make me regret it. I'm not risking that."

"Artur sighed, but his smile stayed. "Fine, we'll come in for a little bit," he agreed, letting Tomas pull him along, but not without shooting Billy a mock-glare that said, This is your fault.

They stepped into the warmth of the house, the scent of fresh bread and coffee wrapping around them like a familiar hug. Tomas' wife stood by the table, her smile just as warm as the smells filling the air.

"I was hoping you two would join us," she said with a knowing smile, gesturing toward the table laden with food — fresh eggs, homemade bread, and a steaming pot of coffee. "I made extra for you both."

Billy exchanged a look with Artur, the playful teasing still lingering in the air between them, but it was soft now. Comfortable. There was no rush here, no need to hurry. They could take their time. They were welcome, and that was all that mattered.

Sitting down at the table, they allowed the comfort of the moment to settle in, Tomas proudly bragging about his wife's cooking while she simply smiled and rolled her eyes, as if this was a normal day. It felt real — warm, like they had been here a thousand times, even though it was only the first.

Billy took a bite of the eggs, savoring the rich flavor, and gave Tomas' wife an approving nod. "This is really good," he said, his voice soft with appreciation.

Artur took a sip of coffee, his eyes glinting with quiet amusement as he met Billy's gaze. "You were right," he murmured. "We definitely weren't getting out of this."

They both laughed, content in the moment. The morning was still young, the world outside still waiting for them, but for now, this was perfect. Just the simple pleasure of being together, of sharing a meal and a quiet laugh.

The house felt like home.

Artur chewed thoughtfully, the corner of his lips curling as he glanced across the table. Tomas was talking, animated as ever, while his wife served warm flatbreads, soft cheese, and honey in small clay bowls that smelled like home.

"Billy sat beside him, quietly nodding to Tomas's stories, but his gaze lingered on Artur — the way sunlight softened his profile, how the tension had finally left his shoulders." Maybe it was the food. Or maybe it was the way Tomas and his wife welcomed them without question, without noise.

"You've got honey on your lip," Billy whispered, nudging Artur lightly with his elbow.

Artur looked up, blinked. "Where?"

Billy leaned in and brushed it away with his thumb, lingering just enough to feel Artur's breath hitch. "Got it."

Tomas's wife laughed from across the table. "You two remind me of us when we were younger," she said, glancing fondly at her husband. "Except he never looked that handsome with honey on his face."

Tomas made a face. "Hey, I'm still handsome."

Everyone laughed. Even Artur.

The morning sun filtered in through the open windows, catching the light steam rising from their mugs. There was no rush. No chores yet. Just warmth and food and quiet affection.

"Under the table, Artur's hand found Billy's knee — a quiet, grounding touch. No words followed. None were needed."

"It felt like family — not the one you're born into, but the one you quietly grow into, morning by morning."

They thanked Tomas and his wife before leaving, bellies full and hearts even fuller. As they walked home, side by side, Billy's hand brushed against Artur's — not quite holding, just touching. The path was familiar now, worn in by quiet footsteps and memories already made.

Back at the house, Billy tugged his shirt over his head and grabbed a clean one. Artur changed quickly too, moving around the room in that casual, familiar way that only came from comfort — from being known. He slung his bag over his shoulder and tossed a glance toward Billy.

"You sure my dad going to forgive you for almost wrecking his bike?"

Billy appeared at the door, adjusting his collar. "I didn't wreck it," he defended. "It just... made a very dramatic noise and stopped."

"That's what wrecked means."

"Anyway," Billy waved a hand, "I'm going to check on it. Just needs a little fix. Maybe some oil. A new wheel. Possibly divine intervention."

Artur chuckled and grabbed his wallet from the side shelf. "Let's go, then. Before you talk it into catching fire."

"Ready?"

Billy nodded, fixing his collar. "Let's go fix the damage I caused."

Artur smirked. "You mean the damage my dad will haunt you for."

Billy groaned. "He's going to make me polish it with my tears."

"Good. He's proud of that bike," Artur teased, leading the way out.

The small market stalls were setting up, colors and smells filling the air—fresh herbs, roasted corn, baskets of fruit.

But first, they headed to the small repair shed where Mr. Dand usually took his tools. The old bike leaned awkwardly near the door, tire still flat, chain slack and sulking.

Billy sighed. "Okay, maybe I owe it an apology."

Artur crossed his arms, a half-smile on his lips. "Or we just beg the old repairman to save it before My Dad returns and sends you back to the city."

Billy leaned closer to him. "If he does, you're coming with me."

Artur didn't respond, just let the silence stretch between them like a promise.

The market buzzed as they arrived — the smell of spices, roasted nuts, and sun-warmed wood in the air. They weaved through the lanes, greeting familiar faces. Billy paused by the repair stall, where an older man bent over Mr. Dand's beloved bicycle, frowning at the frame.

"That's it," Artur said with a grin. "The infamous countryside bike you broke."

Billy sighed dramatically. "Please don't say that too loudly. It might get offended and fall apart again."

The repairman looked up. "You're lucky it's just the chain and a few spokes. Should be fixed by tomorrow."

Billy clasped his hands in prayer. "Bless you."

Artur laughed, nudging him with his elbow. "You owe him coffee for that."

"I owe him a new bike," Billy said, half under his breath, but smiled anyway.

They stepped back, standing together in the shade, just watching the market move.

"You know," Artur murmured, "you don't really need to fix everything all at once."

Billy glanced at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Artur's gaze lingered on the people around them—villagers chatting, kids darting between stalls, the old vendor calling out the price of peaches in a singsong tone. Then his eyes returned to Billy, a little softer now.

"I mean... you try so hard. To fit in. To fix things. Like you're afraid of messing up i see it. It's okay to just be, sometimes..

Billy opened his mouth, then closed it. The hum of the market seemed to fade a little around them.

"I just don't want to be a burden," Billy said quietly, looking down at his shoes.

Artur shifted closer, the distance between them narrowing. "You never were," he said simply. "Not to me. Not to Dad. He might scowl, but he likes having you around."

Billy looked up, his eyes meeting Artur's. There was something unspoken there—something tender and real, cutting through the noise of everything else.

"I guess I just want to deserve it," Billy whispered.

"You already do," Artur replied, and for a moment, the rest of the world didn't exist.

They stood like that for a breath longer, surrounded by market scents and the sound of distant laughter, until the spell was broken by the cheerful clanging of a nearby bell.b