after the frightening events of halloween, the town was left looking a sorry state. when news spread that the town were looking for volunteers to help clean up the mess left behind, belle added her name onto the growing list of volunteers.
she hummed away to herself while she swept up some debris of small broken branches, leaves and chips from broken wooden fences. she know she wouldn't be much help with any heavy lifting but she was happy to assist where she could.
"do you have any more bags that i can sweep this pile into?"
It seemed that people kept turning to him today, one after another, as if he had somehow become visible in a way he wasnโt used to. First there had been a woman offering him food, her simple kindness unsettling him more than hunger ever could. Now someone else stood before him, asking if he had a bag to spare.
โIโm sorry, no,โ he said softly, carefully, as though politeness alone might make up for what he lacked. โBut I can look for one if you really need me to.โ
The words felt thin, insufficient. He wished he could help moreโwished he had something real to give back to this town and its warm-hearted people. They had fed him without question, without knowing who he was or where he came from, and that generosity weighed on his chest. He clung to the fragile hope that soon they might offer him shelter as well, and that one day he might finally repay the kindness that had kept him standing. That by offering them a listening ear without judgement.
the least babette could do after the storm was help out with the clean up team. she wasn't going to get her nails ruined or anything but she helped by offering hot drinks and snacks thanks to victor and her both being in agreement for the enchanted rose cafรฉ to be present in the town clean up efforts.
babette was making her rounds around the crowd with a tray of drinks and sandwiches. "hi, would you like something from the tray?"
Arthur stood at the edge of the square, watching the townspeople move back and forth through the wreckage the storm had left behind. Broken shutters, splintered beams, and soaked bundles of belongings were piled haphazardly along the street, and the air still smelled of wet earth and rain. No one spoke much; they simply worked, faces drawn with exhaustion, hands raw from lifting and sorting what little could be saved.
He was so absorbed in the scene that he almost didnโt notice the woman approaching him. She was unfamiliar to him, her cloak damp and muddied at the hem, but she carried a basket filled with simple food and moved with quiet purpose as she offered it to anyone who passed.ย
โDo you mind if I take two?โ Arthur asked, his voice hesitant and low, as if embarrassed by the request. He swallowed, then added, โI havenโt eaten in nearly three daysโฆโThe words felt heavier than he expected as they left his mouth, hanging between them while the sounds of labor and distant voices continued around them.
While Tina and James had ultimately decided not to attend any Halloween events, it was only a blessing in that they were safe at home, not stuck inside some uncomfortable, overcrowded place. That did not mean that Tina was safe from the inner workings of her own brain, of course, but that wasn't a conversation she was going to open with anyone just yet.
In the days following the storm, the town had organised a clean-up project, which, strangely, Tina signed up to help with. There was an unexplainable urge to fix things (metaphorically? that wasn't working, but physically she could do). She was taking no questions, and anyone who made a point to note how weird it was that Tina was helping were met with heavy glares and a stuck up nose.
At present, she was helping mend a fence that had been ravaged by a tree branch. "If you want to be helpful, instead of just watching, pass me that screwdriver."
"Uh, yeahโsure..." Arthur said quickly, handing her the screwdriver. His fingers were stiff from the cold, and he fumbled it once before she caught it with surprising reflexes. He hadnโt exactly signed up for the fix-things projectโwhatever this sudden maintenance emergency wasโbut heโd seen this woman walk toward the hotel a few times before. Heโd connected the dots: she probably worked there. And if she worked there, maybe, just maybe, she could help him with the dilemma heโd been dragging behind him like a heavy suitcaseโhousing. Or, more accurately, the lack of it.
Sleeping on the streets hadnโt been fun. In fact, it had been miserable. The alleys had teeth, the wind chewed through every layer of clothing he owned, and the other โtemporary sheltersโ heโd tried felt more like places you survived, not stayed in. Every night was another gamble, another whispered promise to himself that things had to get better soon.
"Uhm..." he began carefully, his voice small, testing the air like someone dipping a toe into cold water. He didnโt know how sheโd react. He hoped she wouldnโt snap at himโhe already felt brittle enough. Hunger gnawed at his stomach like a restless animal, and the cold had burrowed deep into his bones. The last thing he needed was to get kicked where it hurt, verbally or otherwise.
He shifted his weight, eyes flicking toward the hotelโs warm glow, then back to her. โI wasโฆ wondering if maybe you could help me with something,โ he said, swallowing hard. His throat felt raw. โItโsโnothing big. I justโฆโ He bit down on the rest, second-guessing himself, unsure how much to reveal.
But desperation had a way of pushing the truth to the surface, even when he tried to hold it back. His shoulders slumped. โI just need somewhere to stay. Even for a night.โ His breath fogged in the cold air, fading quickly. โThings have beenโฆ rough.โ
He braced himself for the rejection heโd grown used toโyet still feared every time.
Tina was already completing her good deed of the year. To be asked to do a second, while she was still in the middle of the first, caught her slightly off guard and took an awful lot of rewiring not to instantly say no.
She took the screwdriver, initially thinking very little of it. Then she went about tightening the screw, expecting the young man to either move on or at the very least make himself useful.ย
His uncertain voice made her pause for a moment, waiting for something she couldn't predict. And just as she was about to call him out for lurking, he asked the question.
Tina blinked at Arthur, a frown set on her face. One might have mistaken her for being angry, but really, she was wracking her brain for something to say that didn't sound utterly horrid.
"Are you a runaway or something?" Tina asked quietly, looking him up and down. He looked young enough, it could have been likely. She'd seen enough sorry foster kids to recognise a desperate look. In factโฆ she almost saw Peter, though with significantly less confidence.ย
"Uhmโฆ noโฆ itโs a little more complicated than that," Arthur said, a wry, almost apologetic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He shifted his weight, as if the words themselves were something heavy he had to drag out. "My adoptive parentโwell, he stopped getting money to care for me once I turned eighteen. And I guess that was all he ever really wanted, because the moment the payments ended, so did his interest in keeping me around."
He let out a thin, unsteady sigh, his eyes flicking down toward the ground."I was given a bag with some bread that was already close to molding and a bottle of water. The clothes Iโm wearing nowโฆ Iโve had them since I was sixteen." He swallowed, his voice tightening. "And, uhโฆ they took all of my money beforeโ" he paused, collecting himself,"โbefore kicking me out."
The confession left him visibly drained. He hated sounding like thisโfragile, helpless, exposedโbut that was exactly what he was right now. Someone without a home, without resources, without options. Someone who needed help. He drew in a slow breath and lifted his gaze, hopingโmaybe foolishly, maybe desperatelyโthat the stranger before him might be willing to offer even the smallest bit of support.
Tina blinked. And blinked some more. She was mid-twisting the screwdriver when she stopped all together, sighed, and sat it on her lap. Tina wasn't exactly a fan of flaunting her conscience so out in the open like this. It was pretty obvious this poor boy hadn't heard about her reputation of beingโฆ well, mean and self-centred (even if she thought otherwise).
With no one else around that she could push him off to either, Tina had to concede.
"Have you tried the hostel?" she asked. She had to guess otherwise. "There's a youth hostel downtown. I'm not sure how much they cost but they might be able to help you out."
Though her heartstrings were tugged, she had been burned enough by Peter that suggesting to James, asking even, that he do the same for this stranger as he had done for Peter, was out of the question. She didn't doubt that he would agree, but she also didn't want to put that burden on him again.
Arthur shook his head slowly, a tired little motion that made his dark hair fall into his eyes. โIโm actually new in town,โ he admitted, his voice polite but strained, โso if you could offer some directionsโฆโ The phrase the end of town had been tossed at him so casually earlier that it was almost laughable. Vague, unhelpful, and entirely untrue in practice. While the place wasnโt anywhere near the size of New York, it was still more than enough to leave a newcomer wandering in circles, second-guessing every turn and street corner.
He hesitated before continuing, pride clearly wrestling with necessity. โI donโt have any money,โ he said at last, a little quieter now. โNot even a cent. But Iโm willing to work hardโreally hard.โ Anything would do, honestly. Anything that might quiet the dull, persistent ache twisting in his stomach.
Right on cue, his stomach let out an unmistakable grumble. Arthur winced, heat creeping up his ears as they reddened in embarrassment. He cleared his throat quickly. โMy apologies,โ he added, forcing an awkward smile. โIt seems Iโm still hungry, even after being offered a granola bar, some popcorn, and an appleโฆโ Apparently, good intentions didnโt count for much when it came to an empty belly.
It seemed that Arthur couldnโt have chosen a worse night to arrive in town than that Halloween evening. The streets were slick with rain, the air thick with fog that rolled in from the nearby marshes, and the few lamps that still burned flickered like tired eyes in the darkness. He had no place to stay, no friends to call on, and as the storm gathered its strength, thunder cracking like the laughter of unseen spirits, he realized how truly alone he was.
Luck, however, has a strange sense of humor. As he wandered through the crooked iron gates of the town cemetery, seeking any sort of refuge, he spotted a faint light glowing from a small stone chapel at the far end. The door creaked open at his touch, and though the air inside was cold and heavy with the scent of damp earth and old flowers, it was shelter all the same.
He curled up on one of the pews, his soaked coat pulled tight around him, listening to the rain lash against the stained glass. Somewhere outside, the wind whispered through the gravestones, carrying with it the low hum of voices that might have been nothing more than the stormโor something else entirely. Exhausted, Arthur drifted off to sleep among the resting dead.
When morning came, the storm had passed. The sky was a pale, washed-out gray, and the sun peered weakly through the mist. Arthur blinked awake, stiff and sore, realizing where he was. Out of a quiet sense of respectโor perhaps guiltโhe muttered a small prayer to the souls around him before stepping back out into the waking town.
By midmorning, he found himself on the main street, the cobblestones still glistening from the nightโs rain. People moved about their dayโsome chatting quietly, others hurrying past with baskets or tools in hand. Arthur stopped the first person who met his gaze, someone bundled in a heavy coat and scarf, their face half-hidden by the lingering fog.
โExcuse me,โ he said, his voice tentative, โwould you happen to know if anyoneโs looking for a roommate? Iโm in need of a place to stay, and Iโm not sure I can afford the fancy hotel up in Redwoodโฆโ
Anna did not have such a good night. If she knew such a horrible storm was arriving, Anna would have never gone out in the first place. After the storm had settled, it was safe to leave the Lightfoot house. Anna had gone back home late in the night. Luckily, her apartment was nearby. As she laid in her bed, Anna stayed wide awake. She worked her anxiety up as she struggled to sleep.
In just a couple hours, Anna had to get ready for work. Anna wasn't one to call out sick despite how she was feeling. Besides, Anna always needed the extra cash. She threw on an oversized coat and scarf as she left her apartment. Anna wrapped the scarf around her lips, covering most of her face up. Half of it was because of the cold. The other half was because she knew how exhausted and sad she looked.
As she walked down the street in the direction of the Amphitheater, Anna came across a man she's never seen before. He said something to her. Almost instantly, her customer service mode kicked in. Anna pulled her scarf down to reveal her face; she looked at the stranger's nose to make it appear like she was making eye contact with him. "Sorry, I don't," she replied. "I haven't heard anything." Anna paused to yawn.
"I'm scared the cost of rent will go up after my lease is up," she continued, her eyes trailing down to look at the pavement. "I can hardly afford a one bedroom on my own now." Maybe the exhaustion had got to Anna. She was oversharing way too much information with a stranger she just met.
Arthur looked at the woman with a deep sense of sympathy, his heart tightening as he realized how difficult it must be for her to live on her own. Her stoic expression made it clear that she was no stranger to hardship, but there was an underlying fragility that Arthur could feel in his bones. For a moment, he wondered how long she had been carrying the weight of it allโsurviving day by day, perhaps just barely scraping by.
As his thoughts drifted, he couldn't help but reflect on his own situation. He shouldn't have bothered her with his problems in the first place. He had no right to burden her with the weight of his own failures. It was his fault, after all, for not expecting his adoptive father to kick him out on his 18th birthday. He had never thought that the day would come when he'd be thrown into the world with nothing but the clothes on his back and the remnants of a childhood that had slipped away unnoticed.
Living on the kindness of others had become a bitterly familiar routineโMerlin, for instance, would take him in if he asked. The offer was always there, like an open door that Arthur never walked through. His pride wouldn't allow it. He couldnโt bring himself to lean on his friends, even when they would have willingly supported him. And yet here he was, walking the streets, searching for a bench or some other place to crash, as if that would somehow be less humiliating than relying on Merlinโs generosity.
Was it really safer to stay with a stranger, though? He thought about it, but deep down, he knew that staying with Merlin was probably the better option. It was certainly less dangerous. The idea of staying with his friend, of letting Merlin shoulder even a fraction of his burden, was far more appealing than the cold, uncaring streets. But then there was that gnawing guilt. Merlin had already offered to pay for his education. Arthur didnโt want to take any more from him. He didnโt feel deserving of it, not when his own failures were so evident.
"Uh... Iโm sorry," Arthur said suddenly, his voice catching as he broke the silence, feeling embarrassingly exposed. His stomach rumbled loudly, as if on cue, and he flushed. How long had it been since he had eaten? Two days? Three? He had lost count somewhere in the middle, too preoccupied with trying not to think about the emptiness in his stomach. The hunger was something he had grown used to, an uncomfortable companion he could almost ignore if he tried hard enough. But now, in this quiet moment, the reality of it came crashing down on him..
โI hope it works out for you in the end,โ he added quickly, his voice tinged with something he couldn't quite place. Maybe it was shame. Maybe it was helplessness. Whatever it was, it made the words feel heavy in his mouth, like he was saying them not just to the woman, but to himself as well.
Anna blinked. 'Oh right, introductions,' she thought. With her hands still clasped together, she waited patiently for him to introduce himself. "Hi Arthur Rasa," Anna replied. "I'm Anna Arendelle." She stiffly held her arm out to offer to shake the man's hand. "I know what you're thinking," Anna said as she put her arm down and put her hands in her coat pockets. "Yes, it's just like the Amphitheater. My parents used to own it..."
She trailed off, choking up at the thought of her parents. Anna missed them dearly. With her panic attack and crying from the previous night, Anna may have been all out of tears. At least Anna wasn't able to embarrass herself in front of yet another person.
"My sister owns the Amphitheater now," she continued. "I have been employed for eight years, ever since I was old enough to get a job. I love working there." Anna smiled softly as Arthur agreed to her offer of food. "Come follow me," she told him. "It's time to get some buttery popcorn and sugary drinks." Anna began to walk down the sidewalk, and looked in the direction of Arthur beside her.
As they walked, Anna looked around and noticed the damage left behind from the storm. She spotted an uprooted tree. "I heard there was a community clean up crew for this mess from the storm," Anna said to Arthur. "I really want to help right away but after last night..." She trailed off again. 'Don't overshare again!' Anna thought. "I have to say it was not a great night for me," she continued on. "I'm exhausted so I think I will take a really long nap after work. Maybe I will feel better tomorrow." 'Or after my next therapy session.'
โThereโs an amphitheatre in this town?โ Arthur asked, curiosity lighting up his face. He found himself genuinely enjoying Annaโs companyโplatonically, but sincerely. There was something bright about her, an easy intelligence in the way she spoke and carried herself, yet it felt like there was more beneath the surface, layers shaped by experiences she didnโt wear openly. Arthur had always liked people like that. People with stories. The kind that werenโt purely happy or sad, but a messy, human mix of both.
โItโs really nice meeting you, Anna,โ he added, giving her a courteous bow that was just a little old-fashioned, but clearly heartfelt.
โLead the way!โ he said next, breaking into a huge grin. It lingered for a moment before faltering slightly, his expression shifting as a thought caught up with him.โYeahโฆ I slept in the cemetery when the storm hit. Luckily, the building there was sturdy enough to hold up.โ He nodded to himself, as if reassuring both of them that it really had been fine.
After a brief pause, he glanced back at her, his tone softening. โOhโand if you donโt mind me askingโฆ what happened?โ He lifted a hand quickly, almost apologetically. โItโs completely alright if you donโt want to share. No pressure at all. Iโve been told Iโm a decent listener, actually.โ A small, sheepish smile followed. โThatโs part of why Iโm planning to get my degree in psychology. Figured I should put that skill to good use.โ
It seemed that Arthur couldnโt have chosen a worse night to arrive in town than that Halloween evening. The streets were slick with rain, the air thick with fog that rolled in from the nearby marshes, and the few lamps that still burned flickered like tired eyes in the darkness. He had no place to stay, no friends to call on, and as the storm gathered its strength, thunder cracking like the laughter of unseen spirits, he realized how truly alone he was.
Luck, however, has a strange sense of humor. As he wandered through the crooked iron gates of the town cemetery, seeking any sort of refuge, he spotted a faint light glowing from a small stone chapel at the far end. The door creaked open at his touch, and though the air inside was cold and heavy with the scent of damp earth and old flowers, it was shelter all the same.
He curled up on one of the pews, his soaked coat pulled tight around him, listening to the rain lash against the stained glass. Somewhere outside, the wind whispered through the gravestones, carrying with it the low hum of voices that might have been nothing more than the stormโor something else entirely. Exhausted, Arthur drifted off to sleep among the resting dead.
When morning came, the storm had passed. The sky was a pale, washed-out gray, and the sun peered weakly through the mist. Arthur blinked awake, stiff and sore, realizing where he was. Out of a quiet sense of respectโor perhaps guiltโhe muttered a small prayer to the souls around him before stepping back out into the waking town.
By midmorning, he found himself on the main street, the cobblestones still glistening from the nightโs rain. People moved about their dayโsome chatting quietly, others hurrying past with baskets or tools in hand. Arthur stopped the first person who met his gaze, someone bundled in a heavy coat and scarf, their face half-hidden by the lingering fog.
โExcuse me,โ he said, his voice tentative, โwould you happen to know if anyoneโs looking for a roommate? Iโm in need of a place to stay, and Iโm not sure I can afford the fancy hotel up in Redwoodโฆโ
"Huh?" Kit said, her hand gripping the piece of paper she now had in her pocket. "Oh, uh... No, I don't." She didn't necessarily mean to be rude, but then again, she felt it was a rather strange question to ask someone that early, in the middle of the street.
Kit pulled her scarf a little lower, so her voice wouldn't be muffled. She decided she would try a little harder to help this guy, who seemed to be perfectly lost. "No place to stay? Been there," she said, though it would be hard to say whether that was out of sympathy. "Hey, if you mean the Neverland Hotel --that big one downtown --they actually got some really affordable prices for the smaller rooms. I've been staying there for a month or so, by now. Never had any problems." A month already? Jesus. How time flies when you're having fun...
Arthur knew he wasnโt being the most polite, but desperation had a way of eroding manners. His throat felt tight, scraped raw from cold nights and unsaid words, and every breath carried that faint bitter taste of humiliation. With his familyโs door slammed behind himโquite literallyโhe doubted heโd be welcome back anytime this lifetime. The loaf of bread they had shoved into his hands on his way out, he hadnโt eaten out of sheer, stupid pride. Some last attempt at dignity, he supposed. Now that it had grown soft with mold and his stomach gnawed at itself, he regretted not taking their first and last sign of kindness
โYeahโฆ the thing is, thereโs a difference between little money and no money, I fearโโ Arthur managed, trying for levity, but it came out thin, like a cracked piece of glass pretending to be whole. He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting everywhere but the person in front of him.โI wasnโtโฆ really given any money when my adoptive parent kicked me outโโ
He winced, shoulders curling inward. โAhโsorry. Iโm not trying to gain your sympathy. I know itโs my fault.โ His voice dropped to a threadbare whisper, words wobbling on their way out. He looked downward, posture folding in on itself like a kicked golden retriever that still wanted to believe someone might be kind. His fingers twisted nervously in the hem of his worn jacket.
โIโm sorryโฆโ He added again, softer this time, as though apologizing for the space he occupied, for the sound of his own breathing, for daring to need anything at all.
It seemed that Arthur couldnโt have chosen a worse night to arrive in town than that Halloween evening. The streets were slick with rain, the air thick with fog that rolled in from the nearby marshes, and the few lamps that still burned flickered like tired eyes in the darkness. He had no place to stay, no friends to call on, and as the storm gathered its strength, thunder cracking like the laughter of unseen spirits, he realized how truly alone he was.
Luck, however, has a strange sense of humor. As he wandered through the crooked iron gates of the town cemetery, seeking any sort of refuge, he spotted a faint light glowing from a small stone chapel at the far end. The door creaked open at his touch, and though the air inside was cold and heavy with the scent of damp earth and old flowers, it was shelter all the same.
He curled up on one of the pews, his soaked coat pulled tight around him, listening to the rain lash against the stained glass. Somewhere outside, the wind whispered through the gravestones, carrying with it the low hum of voices that might have been nothing more than the stormโor something else entirely. Exhausted, Arthur drifted off to sleep among the resting dead.
When morning came, the storm had passed. The sky was a pale, washed-out gray, and the sun peered weakly through the mist. Arthur blinked awake, stiff and sore, realizing where he was. Out of a quiet sense of respectโor perhaps guiltโhe muttered a small prayer to the souls around him before stepping back out into the waking town.
By midmorning, he found himself on the main street, the cobblestones still glistening from the nightโs rain. People moved about their dayโsome chatting quietly, others hurrying past with baskets or tools in hand. Arthur stopped the first person who met his gaze, someone bundled in a heavy coat and scarf, their face half-hidden by the lingering fog.
โExcuse me,โ he said, his voice tentative, โwould you happen to know if anyoneโs looking for a roommate? Iโm in need of a place to stay, and Iโm not sure I can afford the fancy hotel up in Redwoodโฆโ
