Painted in Fate

Chapter 12: The Growing Divide

The air between Babe and Billy had changed, thickened with an unspoken tension neither of them could name, but both could feel. Babe tried to ignore the weight that pressed on his chest every time he looked at Billy. It hurt too much to let his thoughts linger, knowing that each moment they spent together was overshadowed by a truth they refused to acknowledge.

The flashes of their past—the fire, the destruction, the betrayal—had become more frequent in Babe's dreams. It felt as if the past was clawing its way into his present, pulling him deeper into memories he didn't fully understand. But what he did understand was the pain.

The way Billy had looked at him, the helplessness in his eyes during that final moment in the dream, gnawed at Babe. It didn't make sense. How could someone who had betrayed him, who had caused his family's downfall, look so devastated? So... regretful?

Babe couldn't reconcile the Billy he knew now with the fragments of the past. But even as he questioned, the memories left him feeling raw, exposed, and heartbroken. So, he did the only thing he knew how to do—he began to pull away.

Babe's steps were slower when he walked next to Billy now. His responses more clipped, less open. He found himself avoiding Billy's gaze, afraid that if he looked too long, he'd see the truth he wasn't ready to face.

Billy noticed the shift immediately.

The usual ease between them had disappeared, replaced by awkward silences and unspoken tension. It gnawed at Billy, reminding him of the secret he was keeping, the one thing that could destroy everything they had been trying to rebuild.

"Babe?" Billy's voice was soft, careful, as if he were treading on broken glass. He glanced at Babe as they walked through the city, the cool evening breeze doing nothing to ease the tension between them. "Are you... okay? You seem distant."

Babe forced a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm fine. Just tired, I guess."

It was a lie, and Billy knew it. He wanted to press, to ask what was really going on, but the fear of what might come out of that conversation kept him silent. He couldn't risk losing Babe. Not now. Not when the weight of their past was already hanging over them like a guillotine.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that if they didn't talk soon, it would be too late.

The more time Babe spent with Billy, the more conflicted he became. His mind was a warzone, torn between the love he felt for Billy in the present and the growing realization that their connection was rooted in a tragedy that couldn't be undone.

He found himself avoiding Billy's calls, making excuses to be alone more often. He told himself he needed space, that he needed to sort through the fragments of his past before he could face Billy. But deep down, he knew the real reason he was pulling away.

He was afraid.

Afraid that if he confronted Billy, if he asked the questions that gnawed at him, he wouldn't like the answers.

Babe stood in his studio, staring at yet another painting of Billy. The brushstrokes were jagged, the colors dark and brooding—reflecting the turmoil inside him. He had spent years painting Billy's face, captivated by the mysterious man in his dreams. But now, the mystery was unraveling, and what lay beneath was something he wasn't sure he could handle.

His fingers tightened around the paintbrush, his heart heavy with the weight of his thoughts.

"I don't want to lose him," Babe whispered to himself, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. "But I don't know if I can keep going like this."

The door to his studio creaked open, and Babe turned to see Nana standing in the doorway, a knowing look on his face.

"Still painting him, huh?" Nana's voice was light, but there was an underlying seriousness that Babe couldn't ignore. "You're going to drive yourself crazy, Tofu, if you keep bottling all this up."

Babe sighed, setting down his paintbrush. "I don't know what to do, Nana."

Nana walked over, placing a comforting hand on Babe's shoulder. "You talk to him. You stop running away from whatever it is that's haunting you."

Babe looked down, guilt settling in his chest. "It's not that simple."

"It never is," Nana replied, his tone soft but firm. "But keeping all this bottled up? It's going to break you."

Babe swallowed hard, his throat tight. "I'm scared, Nana."

Nana squeezed his shoulder. "I know. But you can't keep avoiding him. The more distance you put between you, the harder it's going to be to fix things."

While Babe wrestled with his emotions, Billy wasn't faring much better. Every time he looked at Babe, he saw the weight of their shared past hanging over them, even if Babe didn't fully know it yet.

The guilt gnawed at him relentlessly. He had kept the truth from Babe for too long, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they could move forward without revisiting the past. But that was a fantasy. The past wasn't something they could run from.

Billy sat in his office, staring blankly at the paperwork in front of him, his mind far away from the business deals that were piling up. His thoughts were consumed by one thing: how to tell Babe the truth without losing him.

"You're not doing anyone any favors by keeping this a secret," Billy muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "But if I tell him... what if it's too much?"

The memory of the archives, of discovering his uncle's role in the destruction of Babe's family, replayed in his mind like a broken record. Billy had been manipulated, used as a pawn in his uncle's plan, but that didn't absolve him of the guilt. He had still played a part in it, whether he had known it at the time or not.

He had to tell Babe.

But every time he thought about it, the words caught in his throat, and the fear of losing Babe kept him silent.

The distance between them was becoming unbearable, and both Babe and Billy felt it. It was only a matter of time before something snapped.

One evening, as they sat together in Billy's apartment, the silence between them thick and suffocating, Babe finally spoke up.

"Billy," Babe's voice was quiet, but there was a firmness in it that made Billy look up. "We can't keep doing this."

Billy's heart sank. He knew what was coming.

"I know," he replied softly, his eyes searching Babe's face for any sign of what he was thinking.

Babe's gaze dropped to his hands, his fingers twisting together anxiously. "I can't shake this feeling that... that there's something you're not telling me."

Billy froze. This was it. The moment he had been dreading.

"You're right," Billy admitted, his voice low. "There is something I haven't told you."

Babe's heart raced, fear and anticipation swirling inside him. He had been waiting for this—waiting for the truth that he wasn't sure he wanted to hear.

"What is it?" Babe asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Billy swallowed hard, his chest tightening. "It's about our past. About... what happened to your family."

The words hung in the air like a ticking time bomb, and Babe felt his stomach twist with dread. This was it—the truth that would either bring them closer or tear them apart.

But before Billy could say more, Babe stood up abruptly, his mind reeling.

"I... I need a moment," Babe stammered, backing away. The flood of emotions was too much, too overwhelming. He couldn't process it all at once. "I'll come back. I just need to think."

Billy watched as Babe walked out the door, his heart sinking. He had come so close to telling Babe everything, but once again, the truth had slipped away.

The divide between them had grown wider, and now, Billy wasn't sure if they could ever bridge the gap.