Unwritten Fate [BL]
Chapter 145: The Night Before Bravery

Chapter 145: The Night Before Bravery

The sun filtered in through the curtains, thin gold lines stretching across the pale floor. The soft beep of the monitor was steady—the only sign that time was still moving.

Billy stood beside the bed—not fully upright, but not slouched either.

One arm hung low, the IV tube gently tugging with each small movement. The other was lifted, fingers resting lightly over the bandage on the left side of his chest.

Where the skin still ached from fresh ink.

He wasn’t looking at anything.

His gaze drifted—toward the closed window, toward the silence.

But his hand stayed there.

Pressed over the drawing he’d once made in that quiet room back in the city—the lake, the tree, Artur.

Beneath the cotton and gauze, it was there now.

Permanent.

He let out a quiet breath, one he hadn’t realized he was holding. His eyes shimmered slightly, but no tears came. Not today.

Not yet.

His thumb moved slowly—not to remove anything, but almost to feel closer.

To remind himself it was real.

That he was real.

You’re here, he whispered, barely audible.

And for a brief second—in that stillness, in that pale light—he could almost hear the lake’s breeze again. Almost feel Artur’s arms around him from behind.

Almost.

The moment passed.

Billy stepped slowly back toward the bed. The movement tugged faintly at the IV. He didn’t flinch. He lowered himself gently, still touching his chest like he might forget if he let go.

Outside, the hospital stirred with soft voices and nurses walking past.

But inside, he was still.

Holding onto something no one else could see.

The door opened with a quiet click.

Billy didn’t look up right away—just blinked toward the movement, hand still resting loosely on his chest.

Camila stepped inside, a small insulated bag in one hand, her overnight tote slung over her shoulder.

She smiled when she saw him sitting up, her voice soft and easy.

"I brought dinner. Mom cooked. Said no hospital food tonight, not when it’s your last meal before surgery."

Billy’s lips lifted faintly. Quiet gratitude, no words yet.

Camila walked over, set the bag on the rolling table, then placed her tote down by the couch. She glanced at the untouched tray from earlier.

"Didn’t eat much, huh?"

He shook his head once. "Wasn’t hungry."

She gave a small hum, beginning to unpack containers. The warm smell of rice, vegetables, and grilled chicken filled the air—familiar, comforting.

"Well, you don’t have to eat much. Just a little. Enough so tomorrow doesn’t feel so... hollow."

Billy finally looked at her—really looked. "You’re staying?"

Camila nodded, unscrewing a bottle of water.

"Of course. I told the nurses already. I’m not going anywhere tonight."

She glanced back at him and softened her voice.

"Tomorrow’s big. You shouldn’t be alone."

Billy blinked once—too slow, like his body was still catching up to everything.

"Thanks," he murmured.

She sat beside the bed, pulling the little table closer.

"I didn’t do anything."

"You did," he said quietly. "You are."

Camila smiled more gently now, her eyes shimmering slightly.

"Well... I brought Mom’s stew. That’s basically a miracle cure, right?"

A soft laugh escaped him—not much, but real.

She opened the lid and let the smell settle between them.

"I’m proud of you, Leon. You’ve come this far. And after tomorrow..."

She paused, choosing her words.

"No matter what happens... we’re all here for you."

Billy’s eyes dropped to the blanket. He nodded, then picked up the spoon.

"Let’s eat," he whispered. "Before I change my mind."

Camila chuckled and passed him the bowl.

"Deal. And after that, you’re stuck with me snoring on that couch."

Billy glanced at her. "You snore?"

"Only when I dream of punching annoying brothers in their sleep."

And just like that, the room softened—not bright, not loud, but just enough to feel like home, even within white hospital walls.

And for tonight, that was enough.

The lights were dim now—not completely off, but low enough to soften the sterile white. The IV monitor blinked quietly beside Billy’s bed, steady and slow.

Camila had claimed the small couch by the window, curled sideways with her legs tucked under her, a fluffy blanket around her shoulders—one of those patterned ones only moms ever seemed to find.

Billy sat half-reclined, the tray table pushed aside, the empty bowl now covered with a napkin. His face looked a little more at ease—not relaxed exactly, but not tense either.

Camila had been talking for a while. Billy hadn’t said much—just small nods, the occasional chuckle—but he listened.

"—and then she said, ’That’s not your boyfriend, that’s my cousin!’" Camila continued, grinning.

Billy blinked, trying to keep up. "Wait, who?"

"Lina. You remember Lina, right?"

He hesitated. "Not really."

"Right," she caught herself. "She was the girl with, like, twelve crushes at once. Used to show up at every family barbecue like it was a runway."

Billy gave a small smile. "Sounds... chaotic."

"That’s one word for it. Anyway, she’s now engaged to this guy who works in aviation or something. But then at her engagement party, turns out her real boyfriend was hiding in the back garden because he thought she was going to break up with the fiancé before the ceremony."

Billy raised his brows. "That sounds... exhausting."

Camila laughed. "Exactly. I told her, ’Babe, love triangles are cute in books, not in real life.’ She said, ’It’s not a triangle, it’s a trapezium.’"

Billy blinked. "Isn’t that a shape?"

"Exactly!" Camila cackled, tossing a pillow at his feet. "She got so mad when I said that."

Billy chuckled under his breath. It came easily now—without thinking too much.

Camila leaned her head back against the couch arm and sighed, her smile softening.

"It’s weird, isn’t it? Being here with you like this."

Billy looked over. "Yeah. But... not bad."

She nodded slowly. "Not bad at all."

A quiet pause stretched between them.

"Thanks," he said after a beat.

"For what?"

"For... this. Talking like this. Just... making it feel normal."

Camila looked at him, voice soft.

"You are normal, Leon. And I’m your sister. This—right here—this is our normal. Even if it doesn’t always feel familiar."

He didn’t respond right away. But his gaze lingered—quiet gratitude in the way his shoulders dropped a little more.

She yawned and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

"Alright. I’ve exhausted my gossip bank for tonight. I’m going to sleep before I embarrass myself with stories about you in diapers."

"Please don’t."

"Too late," she smirked. "But I’ll spare you for now."

Billy smiled faintly and turned toward the window, watching the moonlight stretch across the tiled floor.

"Goodnight, Camila."

"Goodnight, Leo."

The room fell into silence again—but this time, it was the good kind.

Comfortable.

Safe.

And slowly, the night carried them forward—not with answers, but with the warmth of something unspoken:

Love.

Bravery.

And the quiet promise that tomorrow, whatever it brings, wouldn’t be faced alone.

The sky outside had just begun to stir—soft streaks of blue and pale rose slipping between the curtains.

Inside the room, all was still.

Billy lay awake, eyes open. He hadn’t really slept—not deeply. But somehow, he wasn’t anxious.

Just present.

Aware.

Camila stirred from the couch near the window, blankets half slipping off her shoulder as she sat up, rubbing her eyes.

"Morning," she said, voice husky.

Billy looked over. "Morning."

A beat passed. Then Camila stood, stretching a little before walking toward his bed.

"Nervous?"

Billy thought about it, then nodded once. "A little."

"That’s okay," she said gently. "Being brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared. It just means you’re still doing it anyway."

She reached for the remote and adjusted the head of his bed so he could sit up more comfortably.

"Want help getting ready?"

"Yeah... please."

She helped him sit up fully, careful of the IV, then opened the drawer beside the bed and handed him the hospital gown and a fresh towel.

"Let’s start with brushing your teeth, superstar," she teased with a smile. "Even heroes need minty breath."

Billy chuckled softly and nodded. "Alright."

She helped him up—slow, patient—and walked with him toward the small bathroom connected to the room.

Billy was back in bed, dressed in his surgical gown, his hair brushed neatly to the side. The nurses had already been in once to check vitals and go over the prep sheet.

There was a knock at the door.

Camila turned. "That’s probably—"

The door opened softly, and their mother stepped in.

Mrs. Sandoval looked calm, composed—but her eyes were glassy the moment they landed on her son. She wore a soft beige suit, her hair pinned back, fingers wrapped around a thermos.

"Good morning," she said quietly, walking over.

Billy offered a small smile. "Hi, Mom."

She leaned down and kissed his forehead, then cupped his cheek.

"I thought I’d stop by before they take you in. I didn’t want you to go without seeing your mother’s face."

Billy exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you."

She sat beside the bed, still holding his hand.

"You don’t have to say anything," she told him. "Just know... I’m proud of you. For facing this. For choosing to try. And I’ll be right here when you wake up."

Camila stood by the foot of the bed, watching with a soft expression. "I told him I’ll punch the doctor if they mess up."

Mrs. Sandoval shot her a look. "That is not helpful, Camila."

Billy let out a tired laugh. "It kind of is."

Camila grinned. "See?"

The moment settled gently between them.

No panic.

Just presence.

Then a nurse knocked on the door.

"It’s time."

Mrs. Sandoval squeezed Billy’s hand once more. "We’ll be right here. You’re not alone."

Camila stepped closer, grabbing his other hand.

"We’ll see you in a bit, alright?"

Billy nodded. Slowly. Firmly.

"Yeah."

And with that, they helped him onto the mobile bed. The nurse wheeled him out slowly, down the quiet hallway lined with soft lighting and muffled morning sounds.

Camila and their mom stood side by side, watching him go.

"He’ll be okay," Camila whispered.

Mrs. Sandoval reached out and took her hand. "Yes. He will."