Unwritten Fate [BL] Chapter 115: Who I Was and Who I Am

The road ho felt longer than usual. Each step carried the weight of his mother’s words, her presence still lingering like perfu in the back of his throat.

His thoughts echoed with every step — his mother’s voice still fresh, the weight of her request pressing on his chest.

By the ti he reached the gate, the sun had lowered, casting a warm hue over the house.

He paused for a mont, exhaling through his nose before stepping inside.

The faint clatter of a pot in the kitchen drifted from within. Mr. Dand’s soft humming accompanied it, low and tuneless.

The air was laced with the scent of simring soup and herbs.

In the small main room, Artur was standing by the window, arms crossed. He turned the mont Billy stepped in, eyes scanning his face for a sign — of anything.

Billy offered a weak smile.

"Hey," he said quietly, stepping out of his shoes.

Artur t him halfway. "You okay?"

Billy nodded, though it wasn’t convincing. He looked toward the kitchen and raised his voice just a little. "Evening, Pops."

"Billy, that you?" Mr. Dand called from the kitchen. "Co sit, dinner’s almost done."

"I’ll be right there," Billy answered, then looked at Artur. "Can we sit for a sec?"

Artur gave a nod and followed him toward the couch. Billy sank into it slowly, his fingers locking together in his lap.

"I went to see Mr. Frank," he began. "He asked to et soone."

Artur’s brows lifted slightly, curious.

Billy paused, his thumb brushing over the curve of his palm. "It was my mom."

Artur blinked. "Your mom?"

"Yeah... from the video call," Billy said softly. "She’s here. In the guest house."

Artur leaned back slightly, watching him, his expression unreadable.

"She wants to take back," Billy said, like he was trying to convince himself it wasn’t already happening. "Back to the city. Says there’s... a lot waiting for there."

The silence hung between them, just long enough to let it settle.

"Are you going?" Artur asked after a beat, his tone even — too even.

Billy looked down, then away. "I don’t know. I don’t want to just disappear. But I also... I don’t rember that life."

He didn’t ntion the fiancé. Not yet. That was a thread still tangled in his own mind.

"She said she’ll co by tomorrow," Billy added. "To talk with Pops."

Artur’s jaw tensed a little. He gave a nod, but said nothing for a while.

From the kitchen, the sound of Mr. Dand stirring the pot and setting down utensils filled the gap.

Billy leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I just wanted to tell you."

Artur finally looked at him, his voice lower now. "Thanks for not keeping it to yourself."

Billy looked back, their eyes eting for a brief second — a flicker of sothing unspoken passing between them.

"Co on," Artur said gently, standing up. "Let’s eat."

Billy followed, quieter than usual. But even in the silence, the comfort of being ho surrounded him like a familiar, warm blanket — fragile, for now... but still real.

The table was already set when Billy and Artur stepped into the kitchen.

A simple pot of vegetable stew stead gently at the center, with fresh bread resting in a cloth-lined basket nearby.

Mr. Dand, sleeves rolled up and towel slung over his shoulder, gave them both a glance as he set down the last set of cutlery.

"Just in ti," he said, half-smiling. "Soup might not wait, but I do."

Billy offered a small smile in return as he took his seat. Artur sat across from him, hands folded.

The warmth of the room wrapped around them like a shield, even as quiet tension curled underneath the surface.

Mr. Dand ladled the stew into their bowls and sat with a soft groan, stretching his legs beneath the table.

They ate for a few monts in peaceful silence, save for the occasional clink of spoon against ceramic.

"So," Mr. Dand said casually, "how’s Mr. Frank? He seed like a decent fellow when I saw him from the porch."

Billy looked up slowly, fingers tightening slightly around his spoon.

"He’s alright," he replied. "Just... family, you know?"

Mr. Dand gave a slow nod, glancing between him and Artur. "Family’s like river water—can soothe or drown you. Sotis both."

Billy didn’t answer, but sothing flickered in his eyes. He took another spoonful, letting it cool against his tongue.

"You don’t have to rush anything," Mr. Dand added gently, tapping his bowl lightly. "If there’s one thing I’ve learned about ti—it doesn’t care how fast we want answers. It takes its own damn pace."

Billy gave a quiet hum in response, gaze fixed on his stew.

Artur didn’t speak, but he was watching. He hadn’t looked away from Billy once.

There was a stillness to him, like he was holding sothing steady—like a beam supporting a house just beginning to tremble.

"So..." Mr. Dand leaned back after a while, patting his stomach. "I’ll take care of the dishes. You two go rest up. Tomorrow’s bound to be a strange one."

Artur stood up slowly, glancing at Billy, who took a few more bites in silence before nodding.

As they stepped out of the kitchen, Billy turned back for a second. "Thanks, Pops."

Mr. Dand looked up from the sink and gave him a wink. "Anyti, son."

The word son lingered longer than it needed to—but it held sothing quiet. Sothing grounding.

Billy turned, and followed Artur down the hall, the flickering light from the kitchen stretching their shadows behind them.

The crickets outside chirped lazily as the stars stretched over Solre like scattered diamonds.

Mark stood by the window of his room, his phone in hand, the screen dimd but glowing.

A quiet sigh escaped him before he finally unlocked it.

A ssage waited.

Jay:

Still busy? Or should I assu you’re avoiding again?

Mark huffed, a soft breath of amusent escaping his lips. He sank onto the bed, replying without thinking too hard.

Mark:

You’re exhausting, you know that?

A mont later, the typing bubbles danced.

Jay:

Admit it—you missed a little today.

Mark:

Delusional.

Jay replied with a photo. A blurry shot of Mark earlier that afternoon, caught mid-eye roll as Jay teased him.

Jay:

Caught in the act of pretending you don’t like .

Mark stared at the photo. His fingers hovered above the screen, hesitant, then curled inward—like he didn’t trust the smile tugging at his lips.

Mark:

You really don’t get tired, do you?

Jay:

Not when it cos to you.

That gave him pause. The screen lit his face, but it was the words that made sothing stir—subtle, but impossible to ignore.

Mark laid back, head resting against the pillow. He typed slowly this ti.

Mark:

Why are you like this with ? You flirt like it’s a reflex.

Jay took longer to respond this ti. Then:

Jay:

Because with you... it doesn’t feel like flirting. It just feels real.

Mark swallowed hard, staring at that ssage longer than he ant to.

Jay (again):

But if I’m making you uncomfortable, I’ll stop.

Mark hesitated. His thumbs hovered.

Mark:

No. It’s not that. It’s just... new.

Jay:

New isn’t always bad.

Mark:

No. It isn’t.

There was silence again—just digital and real space shared between them.

Jay:

So... sa ti tomorrow? I’ll walk slower if it ans I get a few more minutes beside you.

Mark’s face tilted to the side, fighting back a smile he didn’t want to admit was there.

Mark:

We’ll see.

Jay:

Take that as a yes.

Mark set the phone down gently on his chest. He stared at the ceiling, heart not racing—but certainly no longer still. Sothing had begun. Quietly. Naturally. And he wasn’t quite ready to stop it.

Not yet.

Mark didn’t sleep right away. He kept the lights dim, phone screen lighting up every few minutes with nothing but silence in return. Yet his mind lingered on Jay’s last ssage.

He got up, walked to the open window. The breeze brushed past his face like a whisper, carrying the scent of distant soil and burnt firewood.

Then—buzz.

Another ssage.

Jay:

Still awake?

Mark:

I figured you’d be asleep by now.

Jay:

I don’t sleep well when sothing’s unfinished.

Mark smirked faintly, thumbs moving slower now.

Mark:

And what’s unfinished exactly?

Jay:

You. And . Whatever this is.

Mark leaned his shoulder against the window fra, exhaling a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Mark:

You’re not going to let ignore it, are you?

Jay:

Not a chance. But I’ll wait. However long you need. Just don’t shut out.

There was a quiet vulnerability in that ssage. The kind that lingered under skin and stayed behind the eyes.

Mark stared out at the soft night, the houses dim, the world resting. His thumb hovered, then:

Mark:

Okay.

A pause.

Jay:

Okay?

Mark:

I won’t shut you out.

And that was it. Nothing grand. Nothing overly romantic. Just a quiet promise. The kind that matters more than a thousand confessions.

anwhile — Billy & Artur’s Room

The silence between them wasn’t heavy. It was warm. It was full.

Artur sat on the edge of the bed, towel-drying his hair from a quick rinse after dinner.

Billy stood by the small window, fingers brushing the sill. He hadn’t said much since they returned, but his expression had softened.

"You’ve been quiet," Artur said gently, folding the towel. "Was it too much seeing her?"

Billy turned around slowly. His eyes weren’t red, but they shimred faintly with sothing unspoken.

"I didn’t expect to feel anything," he said. "But when she hugged , it... it felt like sothing I’d forgotten but still missed."

Artur nodded. He patted the spot beside him.

Billy walked over and sat down, shoulders brushing lightly.

"She wants to go back," Billy added. "There’s a lot waiting in the city. People, places I don’t rember... and a life I never got to finish living."

Artur didn’t speak right away. He let the words breathe.

"And do you want to go?" he finally asked, voice calm, even.

Billy shook his head, slow. "I don’t know. "I’m scared if I go back, I’ll wake up as soone else—and forget the version of who found peace here... with you."

Artur reached out, slipping his fingers into Billy’s, interlacing them tightly. "You’re not going to lose .

Even if you go, even if you rember everything... what we shared doesn’t vanish. Not for ."

Billy stared down at their hands, thumb brushing Artur’s knuckle.

"Promise?" he asked.

Artur leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Billy’s.

"Promise."

And for a while, they stayed like that—breathing in sync, heartbeats slow, the night wrapping around them like a quiet vow neither of them dared to break.