CHAPTER 157: SOMETHING REAL

Artur didn’t move when Billy leaned into him. He just let him rest there, one hand settling lightly over Billy’s, like anchoring something fragile back into place.

A beat passed. Then Billy murmured, voice low and a little playful, "You know... my mom brought food earlier."

Artur glanced down at him. "Did she?"

Billy smiled faintly. "She left it somewhere over there. Said I’d need real food when I wake up, not whatever the hospital tries to call soup."

Artur’s lips twitched. "She’s not wrong."

Billy shifted slightly, not pulling away, just nudging closer. "Want to eat with me?"

"You sure?" Artur asked. "Shouldn’t you rest a little more?"

Billy tilted his head just enough to look up at him. "I’ve been resting for days. If I rest any longer, I’ll start growing roots."

That pulled a soft laugh from Artur, and he finally stood, stretching out his limbs with a quiet groan. "Alright. But if the food’s cold, I’m blaming you."

Billy grinned as Artur moved toward the small side table, pulling open the bag his mother had left.

The scent hit them immediately — warm, comforting. Rice, spicy stew, sea soup, and fried chicken wrapped in foil.

"God," Artur muttered, lifting a container. "She brought your favorites."

Billy leaned back against the pillows, watching him with something between fondness and disbelief. "She always remembers. Even when I forget myself."

Artur brought the tray over and set it on the bed between them, unfolding napkins and opening lids with careful hands.

They didn’t speak for a moment, just passed food between them — familiar gestures, quiet warmth. It felt like something they’d done a hundred times before.

"Are you really okay?" Artur asked eventually, eyes steady on him.

Billy met his gaze, holding it. "I think so. I mean... it’s a lot. But if you’re still here tomorrow, and the day after... then yeah. I’ll be okay."

Artur didn’t say anything right away. He just reached for Billy’s hand again, this time without hesitation.

"I’m not going anywhere," he said softly.

Billy’s smile returned, tired but true. "Good. Because next time, you’re cooking."

Artur rolled his eyes, but his lips curved with affection. "We’ll see about that."

They ate quietly, side by side, as the sky outside shifted toward dusk — not quite night yet, but the kind of in-between that makes space for healing.

Artur picked at a piece of fried chicken and handed it to Billy without a word. Billy accepted it, took a bite, and hummed in approval.

"You used to steal mine," he said between chews, eyes squinting at Artur. "Back in the village. Every single time."

Artur raised an eyebrow, not denying it. "Dad always give you more."

"That’s because I deserved more."

"You say that like it’s a fact."

"It is a fact," Billy declared, then paused thoughtfully. "Though... I might’ve given you some on purpose."

Artur smiled at that, eyes softening. "Might’ve?"

Billy gave him a light nudge. "Don’t make me regret being generous."

Their laughter faded into a calm quiet again. No rush. No need to fill every moment.

Outside, a distant rumble of thunder rolled gently across the sky.

The rain had settled into a steady hush, tapping against the windows like it was trying not to disturb them.

Billy reached for a bottle of water, took a sip, and set it back down. "Feels weird... being here, awake, and still remembering both lives."

Artur watched him closely. "Too much?"

Billy shook his head. "Just enough to remind me who I was. And who I want to keep being."

Artur didn’t respond right away. He just sat beside him again, their shoulders brushing.

Then Billy looked at him. "You were always there. Even when I didn’t know myself."

Artur looked down at his hands, his voice lower. "I was scared, Billy."

"I know."

"I didn’t want to lose you. Not even when you didn’t remember who you were. I didn’t care who you were... as long as you were here."

Billy’s hand found his. "And I’m still here."

They stayed like that, hand in hand, while the hospital hummed around them.

Somewhere outside their little circle, the world kept turning.

But inside this moment, Time slowed, like it was making space for them to finally breathe.

Billy leaned his head against Artur’s shoulder again, his voice barely a whisper now.

"Don’t let go."

"I won’t," Artur murmured back. "Not ever."

Billy let out a small sigh, the kind that came after a long, hard fight finally ended. His fingers still curled around Artur’s, their hands resting on the blanket between them.

"You smell like rain," he said softly, nose scrunching in faint amusement.

Artur chuckled under his breath. "You think I went out to get dramatic or something?"

"I think you’ve always been dramatic," Billy teased. "Just... the quiet kind."

Artur leaned his head back against the wall, smiling faintly. The light caught the edge of his expression—part humor, part wonder.

"You’ve changed."

Billy looked at him, heart slowing. The words held weight, more than either of them admitted.

"So have you."

Silence followed — not awkward, just full. The kind of silence that said everything else didn’t need to be said right now.

The rain had softened outside. The wind, too. Like the world was finally done being cruel for today.

Billy slowly laid down again, shifting under the blanket. His voice came sleepier now. "Stay there. Just until I fall asleep."

Artur didn’t move. "I’m not going anywhere."

Billy’s eyes began to drift shut. "Good."

A long pause. Then, just before he slipped under again, he murmured:

"It wasn’t the fall that scared me... it was the idea of waking up and not finding you."

Artur reached over and gently brushed a bit of hair from Billy’s forehead. His voice was almost a breath.

"You’ll never have to worry about that again."

Billy didn’t answer — his breathing had already deepened.

Outside, the rain whispered against the windows. Inside, Artur sat there quietly, eyes never leaving him.

And in the hush of that hospital night, two hearts — after so much searching — finally rested.

Sometime during the quiet night, Artur had drifted to sleep too.

Now, morning light spilled gently through the curtain a quiet gold brushing over the white walls and soft linens.

Outside, the sounds of the hospital stirred to life — distant footsteps, the low hum of voices, the occasional beep from down the corridor.

But inside the room, time moved slower.

Billy blinked awake, his eyes adjusting to the soft glow. For a moment, he didn’t move — just lay there, letting the calm settle over him.

Then he turned his head, and there he was.

Artur.

Still fast asleep, one arm folded near his chest, the other barely brushing Billy’s side.

His breathing was steady, lashes resting gently against his cheeks, his hair slightly tousled.

Billy didn’t speak at first. He just watched.

Then, almost as if he felt the gaze on him, Artur’s brow twitched. His eyes fluttered open slowly, hazy with sleep, and focused on the familiar face beside him.

"...Good morning," he whispered, voice still rough.

Billy smiled softly. "I missed waking up beside you."

Artur gave a lazy little smile, blinking once more as he stretched his fingers slightly. "You’re not making this easy, you know."

Billy reached out and tugged gently at his shirt, pulling him closer. "I wasn’t trying to."

"Billy..." Artur whispered, glancing toward the door. "We’re still in a hospital. Someone might come in."

"Then they’ll know I’m loved," Billy said, almost cheekily, his voice still low, eyes playful but honest. "Let them see."

Artur sighed through a quiet chuckle, but didn’t pull away.

He shifted just enough so their foreheads touched, the space between them smaller than a breath.

"You’re impossible," he murmured.

"And you stayed," Billy whispered back. "So what does that make you?"

Artur only smiled, his thumb gently brushing against Billy’s hand.

In the quiet that followed, the world outside carried on — but for now, inside that small hospital room, it didn’t matter.

They had each other.

And that was enough.

They stayed like that for a while — foreheads touching, breaths syncing.

No words passed between them, but none were needed. It was the kind of silence that spoke in volumes — of worry survived, of nights endured, of something real finally settling between them.

Billy’s fingers curled against Artur’s. Artur responded with a light squeeze, his thumb brushing over the knuckle.

"I could get used to this," Billy murmured, eyes half-closed.

"You better," Artur replied, lips twitching.

But just as Billy leaned in closer, his breath mingling with Artur’s in the narrowing space between them, a soft knock echoed from the front door.

They froze.

It wasn’t fear—just that fragile, unspoken awareness of the world beyond their shared moment. A quiet understanding passed between them as they slowly pulled apart, eyes lingering longer than necessary.

Their hands brushed as if reluctant to let go, fingers holding onto warmth for a second too long.

The knock came again—firmer this time—reminding them where they were, who they still were... and that the world hadn’t stopped for them.