Unwritten Fate [BL]-Chapter 29: “A Door Between Hearts”

The Morning After

The house was quiet, wrapped in the golden hush of early morning. Outside, birds trilled softly, their calls blending with the distant rustling of trees. The air held the crisp coolness of dawn, seeping through the open window. But inside Billy's room, warmth lingered—not just from the blankets tangled around him, but from something far more dangerous.

Last night.

Billy sat motionless on the edge of his bed, hands fisting the fabric beneath him as if grounding himself. His heart still hadn't settled—not since the confession, not since the kiss. His kiss. His choice.

He had wanted it. Had said it out loud. Had stopped running.

And Artur...

Billy swallowed hard, his pulse kicking up again. Artur had kissed him back.

A shaky breath escaped him, his chest rising and falling too quickly. He should get up. He should go out like nothing had changed.

But everything had shifted—their silence no longer safe, the air between them charged with unspoken truth.

Billy's gaze flickered toward the door. His muscles tensed, but his feet didn't move. Should he go first? Should he wait for Artur? Would Mr. Dand notice—would Artur—

Billy groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. No. Stop thinking. Just... act normal.

Except, when he finally stood, his legs hesitated. Instead of reaching for the door, he just stared at it.

As if the answer would be on the other side.

Artur had woken up too early.

Not because he wasn't tired. Not because he had anywhere to be. But because the second he opened his eyes, last night replayed in vivid, merciless detail.

Billy's voice, his expression, the way he had looked at him.

I want you, Artur.

Artur let out a quiet, strangled sound and flopped back onto the bed, pressing the heels of his palms against his burning face.

There was no confusion this time. No second-guessing. Billy had chosen him.

And now—

Artur sat up abruptly, raking a hand through his already-messy hair. His stomach twisted—not in anxiety, but in an unbearable anticipation.

How was he supposed to talk to Billy now? Should he act normal? Should he tease him? A lazy "So, how does it feel finally admitting you like me?"—No. Bad idea. Billy would combust.

He stood, pacing. Maybe something casual. A simple "Morning." No, too short. "Did you sleep well?" Too formal.

Artur exhaled sharply, casting a glance toward the door. He should just go out. Act natural.

Instead, he found himself frozen, standing there like an idiot, mentally rehearsing how to say good morning.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Mr. Dand stirred a simmering pot, the rich aroma of herbs and broth filling the air. The morning routine should have felt normal.

But it didn't.

By now, one of them—Billy or Artur—would have already emerged. Maybe to help with breakfast, maybe just to start the day. But today?

Silence.

Mr. Dand glanced toward the hallway, his brows furrowing. It wasn't like either of them to sleep in. Maybe they were just exhausted from the work.

Or...

A knowing glint flickered in his eyes.

Had they finally talked?

Humming under his breath, he went back to his cooking. He wouldn't disturb them—not yet.

Billy cracked open his door, peeking out cautiously.

The hallway was empty.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

His movements were deliberate, each step slow as he padded toward the kitchen, his ears straining for any sound from Artur's room. Had he already left? Was he still inside?

Billy's thoughts scattered when Mr. Dand's sharp gaze met his the second he stepped in.

For a moment, neither spoke. Then—

"What are you looking for?" Mr. Dand asked, too casually.

A jolt zipped down Billy's spine.

"...Nothing." His voice came out too fast. Too forced.

Mr. Dand's brows lifted slightly, but he didn't comment. Instead, he motioned toward the counter. "Come help, then."

Billy nodded quickly, relief washing over him. He busied himself, chopping vegetables—his hands moving on autopilot, but his mind elsewhere.

His gaze kept flicking toward the hallway.

Was Artur coming?

Mr. Dand noticed.

Minutes passed before he finally spoke again, voice light but laced with amusement. "Go wake him up."

Billy's knife faltered. "Huh?"

"Artur. He's still in bed." Mr. Dand tapped the spoon against the pot. "Unusual, isn't it?"

Billy's stomach dropped.

"He... didn't wake up yet?"

"No." Mr. Dand gave him a long, considering look. "Neither did you."

Billy's grip tightened. "I—I just woke up late."

"Both of you?" Mr. Dand mused. "What a coincidence."

Billy stared aggressively at the cutting board. Abort mission. Evacuate immediately.

"Nothing!" Billy blurted. Damn it.

Mr. Dand blinked. Then, very, very slowly, his lips quirked.

Billy wanted to die.

"Fine," Mr. Dand drawled. "Then go wake him up."

Billy stiffened. "Me?"

"Who else?"

Billy turned toward Artur's door loomed ahead—closed, ominous, unbearably quiet. Like it knew what had changed between them.

What if Artur was also panicking in there? What if—

"...Can't I not?" Billy tried weakly.

Mr. Dand gave him a look. "Go."

Billy swallowed.

Each step toward the door felt painfully slow, his pulse a thunderous roar in his ears.

Finally, he raised his hand—and knocked.

The door swung open instantly.

Billy froze.

Artur stood there—barefoot, hair a disaster, eyes still hazy from sleep. His shirt hung loosely off one shoulder, and his gaze took a moment to focus.

Then, the second he registered Billy, a slow, almost lazy smile curved his lips.

Billy forgot how to breathe.

Artur's amusement deepened. "Morning," he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

He couldn't tear his gaze away.

His brain screamed at him to say something, anything—but his mouth refused to work.

Artur noticed.

Billy felt the heat climb his neck, panic kicking in—

And then, Mr. Dand's voice rang from the kitchen.

"Well? Is he awake?"

Billy jerked, blinking rapidly. "Uh—y-yeah! He's—he's awake!"

Artur chuckled, stepping back. "Come in, or are you just going to stand there all day?"

Billy's brain shut down.

Every single cell in his body screamed at him to retreat. To run. To lie.

But Artur was watching him, head tilted, waiting.

He licked his dry lips, his pulse quickening.

And—forcing his feet to move—he stepped inside.

The door clicked shut behind them.

Inside Artur's Room

The moment the door clicked shut, Billy realized his mistake.

Standing in Artur's space—alone—felt completely different from standing in the hallway. The air felt too still, the distance between them too close.

Artur leaned casually against the edge of his bed, arms crossed over his chest, watching him with an unreadable expression. His smile from earlier had softened, but there was something behind his gaze—something knowing.

Billy, on the other hand, was not prepared.

His hands twitched at his sides, unsure what to do. His feet felt glued to the wooden floor, but his mind screamed at him to move, say something, anything.

"You—um." His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "Mr. Dand said to wake you up."

Artur raised a brow. "Oh? And you decided to... step inside?"

Billy blinked, realizing it a second too late. "I—I didn't—" He turned to grab the door handle, but Artur moved fast.

Before Billy could touch it, Artur's hand pressed against the door, holding it closed.

Billy's breath hitched.

His entire body stiffened as Artur's warmth hovered just behind him, too close, too intentional.

Billy could feel his heartbeat in his throat.

Artur didn't say anything for a long moment. Then, his voice dropped to something quieter—more teasing.

"You're acting weird."

Billy swallowed.

"No, I'm not," he muttered, but it came out too quick, too defensive.

Artur chuckled, the sound brushing against Billy's ear.

Oh, he was enjoying this.

Billy turned sharply, intending to push past him—but that only made things worse.

Because now, they were face-to-face.

Too close.

Billy's back pressed against the door as Artur stood just inches away, his gaze unwavering, sharp, searching. The amusement in his eyes flickered with something deeper—something that made Billy's breath catch.

Artur studied him for a second longer before finally, finally stepping back.

Billy exhaled—he hadn't even realized he was holding his breath.

"Relax," Artur said, smirking slightly. "You're looking at me like I'm going to devour you. Not yet, at least."

Billy scowled, trying to ignore the heat in his face. "Just—just hurry up and get dressed." He turned to the door again, but this time, Artur didn't stop him.

But before Billy could leave, Artur called after him.

"Billy."

Billy paused, his hand on the doorknob.

Artur's voice had lost its teasing edge. It was quieter now—more careful.

Billy turned slightly, meeting his gaze.

"...Are you okay?" Artur asked.

Billy gripped the knob like it might anchor him.

There was no judgment in Artur's expression, no pressure—just quiet concern. A patience that made Billy's chest tighten.

Billy hesitated, He wanted to lie. Wanted to joke it off. But his voice betrayed him.

"I don't know."

It was barely above a whisper, but Artur heard it.

Billy didn't wait for a response. He opened the door and slipped out before Artur could say anything else.

Billy's hands were shaking when he picked up the knife again.

He focused on the vegetables in front of him, slicing them with too much precision, too much force.

Mr. Dand, who had been tending to the stove, turned an eye toward him.

Billy didn't look up, but he could feel the scrutiny.

"...So?" Mr. Dand finally said.

His fingers curled slightly at his sides, restless. "So?"

Mr. Dand's lips twitched. "Is he awake?"

Billy dropped a slice of carrot, his grip faltering. He didn't look up.

"He's coming."

Mr. Dand hummed, unconvinced. "You sure? You look like you just fought a battle in there."

Billy glared at the carrots, refusing to answer.

Before Mr. Dand could press further, footsteps echoed from the hallway.

Billy braced himself.

Artur entered, stretching lazily as he walked in. His hair was slightly damp—he must have washed his face—but he looked way too relaxed.

"Morning," Artur greeted, voice smooth.

Billy ignored him.

Mr. Dand, however, gave them both a slow, knowing glance before turning back to the stove. "Took you long enough."

Artur smirked, throwing Billy a sideways glance. "I got distracted."

Billy nearly dropped the knife.

Mr. Dand definitely noticed.

But instead of saying anything, he just turned back to his cooking with an amused huff.

Billy, meanwhile, wanted to die.

Artur tilted his head, watching Billy chop like his life depended on it.

"Knife's gonna break if you keep doing that," he murmured.

Billy refused to look at Artur.

Even as they moved around the kitchen, setting the table, grabbing utensils—he kept his focus entirely on the food, on Mr. Dand's instructions, on anything that wasn't the man beside him.

Artur, on the other hand? Not helping.

Billy could feel his eyes on him. Not in an obvious way—not enough for Mr. Dand to catch—but in that deliberate, teasing way that made Billy's skin itch with awareness.

The worst part?

Artur wasn't even doing anything.

Just standing close. Just moving a second too late when Billy reached for something. Just brushing past him barely enough to make contact.

Billy was going to lose his mind.

But he couldn't react. Not here.

So he gritted his teeth and did his best to act normal.

Mr. Dand, of course, was no fool.

At one point, while handing Billy a bowl, he muttered, "You're acting strange."

Billy almost dropped it. "What? No, I'm not."

Mr. Dand's expression was unimpressed. "If you say so."

Billy quickly turned away, missing the small, amused glance Mr. Dand shot toward Artur.

Artur? He just smirked, completely shameless.

The table was set, and the three of them finally sat down. The scent of warm broth and fresh bread filled the air, the steam curling gently from their bowls.

Billy exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax. This is fine. Just eat. Just act normal.

Mr. Dand ate quietly, occasionally glancing at the two of them, but saying nothing. Billy took it as a blessing.

Then—

Something brushed against his leg.

Billy froze.

His spoon hovered mid-air. His breath caught.

It was light—barely even a touch. But Billy knew exactly what it was.

Artur's leg.

Under the table.

Billy didn't move at first, hoping it was an accident. But then it happened again—a slow, deliberate press, warm and firm against his own.

Billy's grip tightened around his spoon.

Is he serious?

Carefully—very carefully—Billy flicked his eyes to Artur.

Artur, the absolute menace, was eating like nothing was happening. Like he wasn't actively testing Billy's sanity under the table.

Billy arched a brow.

A silent warning.

Not here.

Artur's lips twitched.

Oh, he understood.

He just didn't care.

The pressure of his leg did not move.

Billy inhaled sharply, subtly shifting away. Artur? He followed, pressing even closer.

Billy clenched his jaw. His knee bumped the table, making the utensils rattle slightly.

Mr. Dand paused, looking between them.

Billy panicked.

He quickly picked up his cup, pretending to take a casual sip. "Soup's good."

Mr. Dand squinted. "...Right."

Billy glared at Artur over the rim of his cup.

Artur just smirked and took another bite of his bread.

His leg still didn't move.

Billy was going to kill him.

Billy thought he had won.

After what felt like an eternity of silent suffering, Artur finally pulled his leg back, retreating as if he had mercy.

Billy almost sighed in relief.

Almost.

Because the moment his muscles relaxed, Artur—still wearing that infuriating smirk—casually reached across the table, pretending to grab the salt.

His fingers just barely brushed against Billy's wrist.

Billy snatched his hand back so fast, nearly knocking over his cup.

Mr. Dand narrowed his eyes.

"...What is wrong with you two today?"

Billy froze. "N-nothing."

Artur, the absolute menace, just hummed thoughtfully, not even trying to hide his amusement.

Billy kicked him under the table.

Artur bit back a chuckle.

Mr. Dand, still unimpressed, finally sighed. "If you two are going to act strange all morning, at least do it outside and not at my table."

Billy immediately stood up. "We'll go!"

Mr. Dand blinked. "I didn't mean right—"

But Billy was already grabbing Artur's wrist, yanking him up from his seat like it was a matter of life and death. "Come on. Let's go. Work to do."

Artur barely had time to grab his jacket before Billy dragged him out the door.

Mr. Dand watched them leave, shaking his head.

"...Idiots."

Outside – Just the Two of Them

The moment the door closed behind them, Billy finally released Artur, stepping a good distance away.

Artur, of course, noticed immediately.

Billy was different now.

Gone was the awkward, flustered mess from inside. Now, he had his arms crossed, posture stiff, expression blank—like he had just switched into some kind of casual, totally normal mode.

Artur's grin was instant.

"Oh?" he drawled, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he very obviously looked Billy up and down. "This is your strategy?"

Billy glanced away. "What strategy?"

Artur chuckled. "Oh, you know." He took a step closer, tilting his head. "That thing you're doing. Pretending nothing happened."

Billy kept his eyes straight ahead. "Nothing is happening."

Artur smirked. "Right. So, you're just naturally stiff as a board?"

Billy's jaw clenched. "I'm acting normal."

Artur leaned in slightly, voice low. "Billy, you are so obvious right now."

Billy tensed even more.

Which just proved Artur's point.

Artur's smirk widened. "See? You weren't even this weird before last night."

Billy huffed, finally looking at him. "I'm not weird. I'm just—"

Artur raised a brow, waiting. "Just...?"

Billy's mouth opened—then closed. Then opened again—

Artur grinned.

Billy groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. "I hate you."

Artur laughed. "No, you don't."

Billy sighed so deeply it could have been mistaken for an exorcism.

Artur just watched him with pure, delighted amusement.

Honestly? This was adorable.

Billy really thought acting serious would somehow make things less obvious. But this? This awkward, flustered, totally obvious attempt at nonchalance?

It was making it ten times worse.

Artur chuckled again, stepping even closer.

Billy immediately stepped back.

Artur tilted his head. "Are you gonna do that every time I get close?"

Billy stiffened. "No."

Artur took another step.

Billy stepped back again.

Artur's grin widened. "You are."

Billy groaned. "Can you not?"

"Not what?" Artur asked innocently, stepping forward again.

Billy glared, taking another step back—only to realize he was now cornered against the wooden fence.

Artur lit up.

Billy realized too late.

"...Don't."

Artur smirked.

And before Billy could escape, Artur planted both hands on either side of him, caging him in.

Billy froze.

Artur leaned in just enough to lower his voice.

"I think you're making it worse for yourself," he murmured.

Billy's breath hitched.

Artur's smirk softened, just slightly. "You don't have to be so nervous, you know."

Billy swallowed hard. "I'm not nervous."

Artur hummed. "Then why won't you look at me?"

Billy stared at the ground so hard, it was like he was trying to burn a hole through it.

Artur just chuckled, leaning a little closer.

Billy finally looked up—eyes locking onto Artur's.

The moment stretched.

And then, in the softest, smallest voice—Billy muttered:

"...I still hate you."

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Artur grinned. "No, you still don't."

Billy sighed again.

But this time... there was a small, helpless smile hiding behind it.

Artur saw it.

And he felt it, too.

The first, quiet beginnings of something neither of them wanted to run from anymore.