Unwritten Fate [BL] Chapter 11: "Where the Stars Keep Secrets"

The first golden rays of dawn stretched across the sky, slipping through the wooden shutters, casting faint patterns on the walls. The house was unusually quiet, the usual sounds of clanking tools and early morning footsteps absent.

For once, there was no work waiting for them.

Billy stirred beneath the woven blanket, his eyes fluttering open. The soft creak of wood settled around him, the distant call of seabirds drifting in from beyond the hills. A peaceful morning, the kind that felt rare in this place.

He turned slightly, noticing the faint rustle from the other room. Artur's door remained closed—an unusual sight. He was always up before Billy, always moving, always doing sothing.

Curious, Billy sat up, stretched, and padded toward the door. He pushed it open to find Artur sprawled on his bed, one arm draped over his face. The usual tension in his posture was gone, replaced by sothing softer.

Billy grinned. So, even Artur has lazy mornings.

Not wanting to wake him, Billy stepped outside instead. The village was already coming to life, but without the pressure of work, everything felt slower, easier.

Pushing himself up, Billy stretched, ruffling his already ssy hair before stepping out into the cool morning air. The village was just beginning to stir—fishern preparing their nets, children chasing each other barefoot across the damp earth.

Billy wandered down to the riverbank, crouching beside the water's edge. The surface was smooth, mirroring the sky. He ran his fingers through the cool water, watching ripples spread outward.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Billy glanced up, spotting Artur standing a few feet away, arms crossed, his hair slightly tousled from sleep.

Billy smirked. "Yeah. You should try it soti."

Artur scoffed, stepping closer. "Wasting ti?"

Billy flicked water at him. Artur dodged but didn't move away.

They spent the morning in rare leisure—watching villagers barter over fresh fish, sitting on the docks with their legs dangling over the edge, letting the sun warm their skin.

For once, there was no rush, no responsibilities. Just monts stretched between them like an unspoken understanding.

Midday arrived with the scent of grilled fish wafting through the air, the distant hum of village life filling the space around them.

Mr. Dand approached, his usual calm deanor carrying a hint of urgency.

"Boys," he called, adjusting the cloth on his shoulder. "I need a favor."

Artur straightened. "What is it?"

"My order arrived at the dock. So supplies I need for the house. The boatn are busy, so I need you two to take a boat and bring it back."

Billy brightened. "A boat ride? Sounds fun."

Mr. Dand gave him a knowing look. "Not for fun, boy. Just bring the crates back safely."

Artur gave a small nod. "We'll handle it."

Billy grinned, nudging Artur's side. "Co on, don't act like this isn't the most exciting thing to happen today."

Artur rolled his eyes but said nothing as they made their way to the dock.

A small wooden boat bobbed gently in the water, tied to the post. The scent of salt lingered in the air, the sound of waves lapping against the hull rhythmic and calming.

Artur stepped in first, steadying himself before holding out a hand. "Don't fall in."

Billy took his hand, smirking. "Wouldn't be the worst way to get your attention."

Artur released his grip a little too quickly, turning his gaze toward the oar instead.

Billy laughed under his breath as he settled into the boat.

The Gentle Ride Across the Water

The boat moved slowly, gliding across the surface. Artur rowed with practiced ease, his movents strong and steady. The water stretched endlessly around them, a vast expanse of deep blue eting the horizon.

Billy leaned back slightly, letting the gentle sway of the boat relax him. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of the sea. Sunlight glistened on the surface, creating a dazzling display of gold and silver.

"You do this often?" Billy asked, watching the way Artur's arms flexed with each stroke.

Artur didn't glance up. "Used to. My father would take out early in the mornings before I could even hold an oar properly."

Billy smiled, resting his chin on his palm. "Sounds nice."

Artur paused briefly, his gaze drifting to the sky. "It was."

Sothing about the way he said it made Billy's chest tighten.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The boat rocked gently, the silence between them no longer awkward, but comfortable.

Billy stretched his legs out, his foot accidentally brushing against Artur's.

Artur stiffened.

Billy noticed but didn't move away. Instead, he nudged him again—this ti intentionally.

"You're doing all the work," Billy mused. "Want to row?"

Artur scoffed. "You'd tip us over."

Billy smirked. "Maybe."

Artur rolled his eyes, but there was the faintest curve at the corner of his lips.

Billy watched him for a mont, his gaze lingering on the way the sunlight hit Artur's face, tracing the sharp angles of his jaw, the way his lashes cast faint shadows against his cheek.

Sothing warm unfurled in his chest.

The boat swayed gently, the world around them quiet, just the two of them drifting in the vastness of the sea.

Billy exhaled, tilting his head back, closing his eyes. "This is nice."

Artur glanced at him, his grip on the oar tightening slightly.

But before he could say anything—

The air shifted.

A sudden gust of wind swept across the water.

Billy's eyes snapped open. The sunlight looked... different. Warr.

The water rippled strangely beneath them.

Then—

A flash.

A different boat. A larger one.

Laughter.

The sound of people talking, a voice calling a na.

The sky was golden, the sun climbing higher.

Billy's fingers curled over the boat's edge, his breath suddenly uneven. The warmth of the sun on his skin twisted into sothing else—sothing colder. The waves lapped gently against the wood, but for a split second, he felt sothing different.

A sudden crash of water. The sharp sting of salt in his eyes. Wind screaming in his ears.

The boat beneath him tilted—not the small wooden one he sat in now, but another. Bigger. He could almost hear voices. Laughter? No—panic.

His chest tightened. His vision swam.

Then—

A storm.

The mory slamd into him like a wave, knocking the air from his lungs.

"Hey!"

Artur caught his arm, steadying him. His brows knit together, concern flickering across his face. "What's wrong?"

Billy's chest heaved. His vision flickered between the present and the past—between the gentle sway of their small boat and the chaotic mory pressing against his mind.

"I..." Billy swallowed hard, gripping the wood beneath his fingers. "I think... I just rembered sothing."

Artur's hold on his arm didn't loosen. "What did you see?"

Billy's gaze remained locked on the water, his heart pounding. "A boat... A storm... The sounds.

The sea stretched around them, vast and endless, but for the first ti, Billy felt like he wasn't completely lost.

And Artur—he was still holding onto him.

Billy sat stiffly in the boat, his gaze locked on the water as they drifted back toward shore. The rippling waves no longer felt calming. Instead, they carried a heaviness that settled deep in his chest, pressing against his ribs like a weight he couldn't shake off.

His heart was still racing. The flashes of mory lingered, flickering in and out of reach—too fast to grasp, yet too vivid to ignore. The golden sky, the laughter, the sudden storm. The way the boat tilted. The mont everything changed.

Who had been there with him? What had happened after?

Billy's fingers curled into his palms. The wind brushed against his face, but it did nothing to cool the heat rising beneath his skin. The teasing remark that usually sat at the tip of his tongue never ca.

Artur gripped the oar tighter, his strokes becoming sharper. He kept glancing at Billy, but the teasing remark he expected never ca.

No smirk. No eye roll. Just silence.

Billy sat stiffly, his gaze locked on the water, as if afraid to look up. His fingers flexed over his knee, gripping and releasing as if trying to hold onto sothing slipping through his hands.

Artur exhaled through his nose. Damn it. He hated this version of Billy—the one who wasn't loud, wasn't insufferable, wasn't... Billy.

Artur kept glancing at him between strokes of the oar, his concern growing.

"Billy." His voice was steady but laced with quiet worry. "What did you rember?"

Billy didn't answer. His lips parted slightly, but no words ca out. He just shook his head, his face unreadable.

Artur's grip on the oar tightened. He wasn't used to seeing Billy like this—so still, so quiet. It unsettled him in a way he didn't know how to handle.

The rest of the ride was silent.

As the boat reached the dock, Billy barely waited for it to settle before stepping out. His movents were sluggish, nothing like his usual energetic self. His feet touched solid ground, but he still felt adrift, lost in the remnants of sothing he couldn't fully rember.

Artur followed closely behind, watching the way Billy carried himself—his shoulders slightly hunched, his steps lacking their usual bounce.

They entered the village, the scent of fresh bread and salt lingering in the air. But Billy didn't react.

No nods to passing villagers. No offhanded jokes. No snide remarks to Artur.

Nothing.

He was completely withdrawn.

Artur's chest tightened.

The mont they reached the house, Mr. Dand greeted them with a curious glance, his hands still dusted with flour from whatever he'd been preparing. "You're back earlier than I expected. Everything go smoothly?"

Billy didn't respond.

He walked past Dand without so much as a glance, heading straight to his room.

Dand's brows furrowed. "Billy?"

The door creaked open—then shut.

A heavy silence hung in the air.

Dand turned to Artur, concern deepening the lines on his face. "What's wrong with him?"

Artur exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. His gaze flickered toward Billy's closed door before settling on.

"He rembered sothing."

Dand straightened slightly. "His past?"

Artur nodded.

Dand's expression shifted—understanding, but also caution. "That explains it. He looked like a ghost just now."

Artur glanced at the door again. His fingers twitched at his sides, the urge to check on Billy gnawing at him.

He'd gotten used to Billy's presence—the way he filled every space with noise, teasing, laughter, or just plain stubbornness. Seeing him like this, locked inside his own head, unsettled Artur in a way he wasn't sure how to deal with.

Dand sighed, wiping his hands on his apron. "Give him so ti. He needs to sort through whatever's going on in his head."

Artur remained quiet.

Ti.

That was all well and good. But Artur didn't like this version of Billy—so silent, so lost in sothing Artur couldn't see.

And for the first ti, Artur realized just how much he cared.

The Silence Between Them

The night stretched on in quiet unease. The usual sounds of the house—Billy's occasional off-tune humming, the light creak of the floorboards as he paced, the way he always found so excuse to annoy Artur—were absent. Instead, only the faint crackle of the oil lamp and the distant chirping of crickets filled the space.

Artur sat by the small wooden table, his hands loosely clasped as he stared at Billy's door. He had half a mind to knock, to demand that Billy snap out of whatever was eating at him. But he didn't.

Billy needed space.

Artur hated that.

Artur gently walk out, stood outside, arms crossed, staring at the stars but not really seeing them. The cool air bit at his skin, but it did nothing to settle the unease twisting in his gut.

He hated feeling like this—useless.

His gaze flickered back toward Billy's door. His fingers twitched. He could knock, force the idiot to talk, drag him out of whatever dark corner of his mind he was drowning in.

But he didn't.

Instead, he stayed there, jaw tight, listening to the silence that shouldn't be there.

Artur had spent the entire boat ride trying to ignore the way Billy's presence affected him—the way his pulse had quickened when Billy leaned a little too close, the way he'd felt sothing inexplicable stir in his chest when Billy's fingers brushed his. He'd dismissed it, shoved it into the farthest corner of his mind.

But now, with Billy shut away, silent and distant, Artur couldn't ignore the restlessness creeping into his bones.

His gaze drifted back to Billy's door.

And then, to his surprise, it creaked open.

Billy stepped out, his movents slow, as if weighed down by sothing unseen. His eyes were shadowed, his usual spark dimd. He didn't say anything, just stood there for a mont, staring at the ground.

Artur straightened. "Can't sleep?"

Billy looked up, his expression unreadable. "No."

A pause.

Then, without another word, Billy walked past him and sat on the steps, his arms resting on his knees.

Artur hesitated before following. He sat beside him, leaving just enough space between them, though part of him was tempted to close it.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Billy's fingers curled against his knee, a faint tremor running through them. "It was... familiar," he finally murmured. "The boat. The air. The way the water felt beneath . I've been there before."

Artur didn't press him. He simply listened.

Billy hesitated before finally lifting his gaze. His eyes t Artur's—uncertain, shadowed. "The sea. The boat. The storm." His voice wavered. "I think... that's where I lost myself."

Artur frowned. Lost himself?

"You'll figure it out," he said, quieter this ti. "When it's ti."

Billy exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. His laugh was hollow. "And what if I don't want to?"

The words sat between them, heavy, unspoken truths clinging to the night air.

Artur frowned. "Why wouldn't you?"

Billy's jaw tightened, but he didn't answer right away. He stared at his hands, at the faint callouses forming on his palms from days of work he wasn't used to.

"Because," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, "what if I rember and I have to leave?"

Artur felt sothing in his chest tighten.

The thought had never fully settled in his mind before. That one day, Billy would rember who he was. That he'd have a life beyond this place. That he might not stay.

He should have been prepared for that. Should have known better than to get used to him.

And yet...

The idea of Billy leaving twisted sothing deep inside him.

Artur kept his face neutral, his fingers curling slightly against his knee. "Then we deal with it when it happens."

Billy turned to him, studying him for a long mont. Artur wasn't sure what he saw in his expression, but sothing in Billy's own softened.

For the first ti that night, a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. Billy's lips curled into sothing faintly resembling a smile. Small, hesitant.

"That's not a very reassuring answer, you know."

Artur scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Did you want to lie to you?"

Billy chuckled under his breath. "Maybe."

Silence settled between them again, but this ti, it wasn't as heavy.

Billy shifted slightly, closing the space between them just enough for their shoulders to brush. Artur didn't move away.

For the first ti that night, Billy didn't feel completely lost.

Billy sighed, tilting his head back to look at the night sky. "Guess that'll have to do."

Artur didn't say anything, but as the night stretched on, Billy didn't move away, and Artur didn't either.

For now, that was enough.

The morning light seeped through the thin curtains, painting the wooden floor in soft gold. Normally, Billy would be the first one awake, stretching with a dramatic groan before strolling into the kitchen to steal food before breakfast was ready. But today, the house was quiet.

Artur noticed it the mont he stepped out of his room. No teasing remarks. No muffled laughter from the other side of the house. Just silence.

His brows furrowed as he walked toward Billy's door. It was slightly ajar, but inside, Billy sat on the edge of his bed, his back hunched, staring at the floor as if lost in thought. His usual energy was nowhere to be seen.

Artur leaned against the doorfra, crossing his arms. "You planning to stay in there all day?"

Billy blinked, his gaze sluggish as he turned to look at him. His usual quick-witted response didn't co. Instead, he just sighed and rubbed his face.

Artur frowned. He hated this—hated the way Billy looked so... unlike himself.

"Co on," Artur said, pushing off the doorfra. "We're not working today. Dand's orders."

Billy let out a breath. "A day off, huh?" His voice was hoarse, as if sleep hadn't found him.

Artur nodded. "Yeah. So get your ass up. We're doing sothing, whether you like it or not."

Billy smirked faintly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Bossy."

Artur scoffed, turning away. "If you don't hurry, I'm leaving without you."

For a mont, Billy didn't move. But then, after a sigh, he pushed himself up. "Alright, alright."

It wasn't much, but at least it was sothing.

The morning air was crisp as they walked toward the orchard. It wasn't part of their usual routine, but that was the point. Artur figured if Billy wasn't going to talk about whatever was eating at him, he could at least distract him.

Billy walked beside him, quiet but not completely withdrawn. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his gaze drifting toward the horizon, lost in thought.

"So," Billy finally said, breaking the silence. "What's the plan?"

Artur shrugged. "No plan."

Billy snorted. "Wow. Amazing leadership skills."

Artur shot him a look. "You're the one moping. Thought I'd let you take the lead."

Billy humd, his eyes scanning the trees ahead. His pace slowed slightly, and without really thinking, he murmured, "I used to climb trees a lot."

The words hung in the air.

Artur stopped mid-step. "What?"

Billy blinked, as if only now realizing what he'd said. He turned to Artur, his brows slightly furrowed. "I—I think I used to climb trees." His voice was quieter, like he was trying to process it himself.

Artur stared at him. "How do you know that?"

Billy rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know. I just... do." His fingers curled slightly as he looked at the nearest tree. "I rember the feeling. Sitting on a high branch, looking down, feeling like I was on top of the world." His expression flickered with sothing unreadable—nostalgia mixed with uncertainty. "It's weird. It just ca out of nowhere."

Artur studied him carefully. "That's... the first ti you've rembered sothing about yourself."

Billy let out a slow breath. "Yeah."

Artur's grip tightened around his arms, sothing unreadable flashing in his eyes. "Do you rember where? When?"

Billy shook his head. "No, just the feeling. Just—" He exhaled sharply. "Damn, this is frustrating."

Artur hesitated before saying, "Do you want to try?"

Billy looked at him. "Try what?"

Artur gestured toward the nearest tree. "Climbing."

Billy scoffed. "What, to trigger more mories?"

Artur shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe it'll help."

Billy hesitated, staring at the tree. His fingers twitched again, as if the muscle mory was itching to be used. He bit his lip, then exhaled.

"Fine," he muttered. "But if I fall, you better catch ."

Artur smirked, stepping back to watch. "No promises."

Billy rolled his eyes before stepping toward the tree, his fingers curling around the lowest branch. The mont he pulled himself up, sothing flickered in his expression—not a full mory, but a familiarity, a sense of belonging in the movent.

Artur watched, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Billy was rembering. Bit by bit.

And Artur wasn't sure how he felt about that.