Chapter 165: Chapter 165

The morning light crept in gently, brushing across the pale curtains and casting soft gold across the room.

It wasn’t harsh or sudden — just enough to stir the edges of sleep, to remind the world it was time to begin again.

Billy stirred, eyes fluttering open.

For a moment, he stayed still, watching the dust dance lazily in the sunbeam.

There was something grounding about it — quiet, ordinary, but full of peace.

Beside him, Artur was still asleep, half-turned toward Billy, one arm resting loosely near his side.

His breathing was steady, lips parted slightly, hair tousled from the pillow. Vulnerable in a way Billy rarely got to see.

Billy didn’t move. Not yet.

He took in the calm expression on Artur’s face — the softness around his eyes, the way the light hit the curve of his cheek.

A small part of him still marveled at how easily this man had slipped into his life, not forcing his way in, just... arriving and staying.

Billy shifted slightly, just enough to get comfortable without waking him.

His body still ached a little — a dull stiffness he’d grown used to — but this morning, it didn’t weigh on him the same way.

Maybe it was because of last night.

Maybe it was the way Artur had stayed close without asking for more than Billy could give... or maybe it was just the quiet comfort of waking up with someone beside him who actually wanted to be there.

He let his gaze drop to their hands — not touching this time, but close. Close enough that one small reach would bridge the distance.

Just a gentle brush of fingers, nothing bold. And yet, it felt like everything.

Artur stirred then, brows twitching as he blinked his eyes open slowly.

It took a moment for him to focus, but when he did, his gaze found Billy — and the sleep-soft expression shifted into something tender.

"Hey," Artur murmured, his voice rough from sleep.

Billy smiled. "Morning."

A pause. Then Artur’s hand moved, fingers curling around Billy’s without hesitation. No words. Just warmth.

Billy let out a small breath, one he hadn’t realized he was holding.

"You slept okay?" Artur asked, thumb gently rubbing across the side of Billy’s hand.

"Better than I expected," Billy said quietly. "You?"

Artur nodded, his eyes still on him. "Yeah. It felt right."

Billy swallowed, his chest tight in that way that wasn’t painful — just full.

"Thank you," he said.

Artur gave a sleepy smile. "For what?"

"For staying. For coming with me. For not making it feel like I had to do this alone."

Artur leaned in slightly, pressing a small kiss to the side of Billy’s head. "Always."

They lay there for a few more minutes, neither in a hurry to break the moment.

But eventually, the sound of birds outside and the distant clatter of breakfast preparation nudged them toward the day.

Billy sighed, sitting up slowly. "Guess we should get ready."

Artur sat up with him, stretching his arms above his head with a soft grunt. "You sure you’re feeling okay for the checkup?"

Billy nodded. "Yeah. I want to go."

Artur studied him for a beat longer, then gave a small smile. "Alright. I’ll be with you the whole time."

Billy met his eyes and nodded, firm this time. "I know."

Billy stood in front of the small mirror, towel slung over his shoulder, fingers running through his damp hair.

The morning had settled in softly around them, no rush, no tension — just the quiet hum of a house slowly waking up.

Behind him, Artur moved around the room, folding the bed linen with lazy precision.

His shirt was half-buttoned, hair still a bit ruffled from sleep.

He glanced up occasionally, watching Billy with that calm look of his — like he was taking mental snapshots of every little motion.

Billy caught his gaze in the mirror and smirked. "You’re staring again."

Artur didn’t deny it. "Just making sure you’re real."

Billy chuckled, shaking his head, but he didn’t hide the faint blush that bloomed at the base of his neck.

"I’m real," he murmured, reaching for the lotion on the side. "Unfortunately, so is this face without makeup."

Artur walked over, leaned casually against the doorframe. "Still the same face I saw the first time. Still makes me stare."

Billy looked at him, eyebrow raised. "You’re getting good at that sweet talk."

Billy didn’t argue. He just handed Artur the towel wordlessly, and Artur took it with a small smile, rubbing it gently over the back of Billy’s head to catch the moisture that hadn’t dried yet.

They stood like that for a moment — no words, just the shared quiet, the steady hand in his hair, the occasional flick of the towel across his neck. It was domestic in the softest way.

"You nervous about today?" Artur asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Billy shook his head, then paused. "A little. Not about the checkup—it’s just... every time I go in, I remember who I used to be. And I’m not that person anymore. But I still get scared they’ll see him instead."

Artur didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. Instead, he rested the towel over Billy’s shoulder and gently turned him by the wrist to face him.

"Whatever comes after this... we’ll take it one step at a time."

Billy nodded, his throat tight.

"Even if your dad says something Agay?"

Billy huffed a short laugh. "Especially then."

Artur tilted his head, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Then you better eat well. You’ll need the strength."

They moved into the kitchen together, where the smell of warm bread had already begun to drift in.

Billy set the table while Artur poured water into the kettle.

Their movements were fluid now — like they’d done this a hundred times, like they knew where the spoons were kept and which mug the other preferred without needing to ask.

Billy glanced over, watching Artur quietly for a second.

"You know," he said softly, "it doesn’t scare me anymore. The idea of being seen with you. Being with you."

Artur looked up, surprised by the sudden honesty — but he didn’t interrupt.

Billy placed the last plate down. "I used to think if I let people in... I’d lose control of who I was. But you... you don’t make me feel exposed. You make me feel seen."

Artur stepped closer, reached out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Billy’s ear. "Good. Because I don’t want to love someone who’s hiding."

Billy smiled — a real one this time — and leaned forward until their foreheads touched.

"I’m not hiding," he whispered. "Not anymore."

The scent of toasted bread, scrambled eggs, and sweet, brewed tea curled softly through the air as Billy and Artur stepped into the dining area.

His mom was already at the table, placing down a bowl of fresh fruit like it was any other morning — like nothing had changed, even though everything had.

"Morning, boys," she said, without looking up. "Sit. Food’s still warm."

Billy smiled gently, walking over to kiss her on the cheek. "Thanks, mom."

Artur followed with a quiet, respectful nod, settling beside Billy, their knees brushing lightly beneath the table.

Camila arrived moments later, her voice lifting through the air before her footsteps did.

"Well, well," she called from the hallway. "What did I miss? It smell good ."

Billy laughed under his breath. "Good morning to you too."

She stepped into the room, already in jeans and a cropped sweater, hair in a messy two braids.

She glanced between Billy and Artur with a crooked smirk. "You two look suspiciously well-rested. Should I be concerned?"

Billy raised an eyebrow. "You’re always concerned."

"And I’m always right," she shot back, then dropped into the seat across from them, snatching a slice of toast before it hit the plate.

Their mom rolled her eyes fondly. "Camila, let people eat before you start interrogating them."

Camila grinned and bit into the toast. "Too late."

They all laughed softly, the kind of laughter that came easily now — less forced, less careful. It felt good.

Artur glanced around the table, a small smile on his face as he reached for the teapot.

He poured for Billy first without a word, then for himself. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed.

Their mom looked up, watching the way they moved together — quiet exchanges, shared glances, the gentle bump of shoulders. She smiled, softly this time, almost to herself.

Camila noticed too. She leaned in with her toast still in hand. "You guys are getting domestic. Should we expect a joint bank account soon?"

Billy made a face. "Can we eat first before you start talking about bills?"

Outside the window, the morning sun poured into the kitchen, stretching across the wooden table like a warm invitation to breathe, to relax, to just be.

From the living room archway, Carlos stood with his arms folded, watching them — not angrily, not with judgment. Just... observing. Listening.

He didn’t speak, not yet. But his eyes softened when he saw the way Billy leaned into Artur’s shoulder for a quick second to whisper something, and how Artur listened like it mattered.

Carlos turned away quietly, but not before his gaze lingered on the space between them—two boys in love, building something that looked a lot like home.

He didn’t say anything, but for the first time, he didn’t look away in discomfort. He looked... thoughtful.

And that, for now, was enough.

At the doorway, Billy bent to tie his laces while Artur leaned nearby, arms folded in quiet patience.

The morning light spilled through the half-drawn curtain, catching the soft curve of Artur’s cheek as he watched Billy with quiet fondness.

"You ready?" Billy asked without looking up.

Artur gave a slow nod. "Yeah. You?"

Billy straightened, brushing invisible creases from his shirt. "As I’ll ever be."

Behind them, Camila poked her head into the hallway. "You two leaving already? You better not argue too much with the doctor."

Billy gave her a half-smile. "No promises."

His mom appeared next, drying her hands with a dish towel. She stepped up and gently fixed the collar of Billy’s shirt, her fingers lingering longer than they needed to. "Call if anything comes up, alright?"

She nodded, then turned to Artur. " Take care of each other."

"We will," Artur said softly.

Her gaze lingered for a second, then she smiled. "Good."

Billy opened the door, letting the morning breeze in — warm, crisp, full of birdsong and the smell of earth.

He glanced back once, just as Camila leaned into their mom, whispering something that made her laugh quietly.

It was peaceful. Not perfect. Not fully healed. But peaceful.

Outside, the car sat parked by the edge of the gravel. Artur stepped down the porch first, letting the door close gently behind them.

Billy caught up beside him, their shoulders brushing.

They didn’t speak much as they walked to the car. They didn’t have to.

Billy unlocked it and slid into the driver’s seat while Artur climbed in beside him.

Before starting the engine, Billy rested his hands on the steering wheel and exhaled.

Artur glanced at him. "You okay?"

Billy looked over, lips curving faintly. "Yeah. Just... hoping today goes well."

Artur reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Billy’s temple with his fingers. "It will. You’re not alone this time."

Billy blinked once—then nodded. "Thanks."

With that, the engine hummed to life, and they pulled out of the driveway, leaving behind the small house filled with laughter, gentle words, and the first traces of healing.