The Lost Boy and the Writer
Fog rolled through the night-shadowed streets. Dim beams from streetlamps turned fresh rain puddles a glowing red. Warnings personified, but a young man ignored them. He sauntered through the trash-scented alley with determination. It was late and the love of his life was awaiting his arrival.
Dark hair, heavy with rain, hung into his eyes as he kept his head bowed low. Hands stuffed in the pockets of his Salvation Army leather jacket, he fiddled with the lint and stale mints that had made themselves home. The movement was supposed to keep them warm, but it did not work on a night light this.
While he was exhausted from the day and chilled from the weather, he felt more alive than he ever had. His heart swelled with happiness and excitement for the future. This was the first time this Lost Boy did not feel homeless or alone. Neal Cassidy soon would be moving North along with his True Love, Emma Swan. They would start fresh. They would find a home and start a family. At least that was the plan.
From behind a broken chain link fence, a stranger snatched Neal Cassidy from his path. He pinned the startled dark-haired man to a rusted cab and held him there for a moment. Of course, Neal Cassidy tries to fight him off all the while protecting the watches Emma Swan snagged earlier that day.
He’s scared, but puts on a brave face. He rambled on and on about not jaywalking or being the wrong guy. Neal Cassidy panted as he struggled against his captor.
The other man rolled his eyes. He let go of Neal Cassidy’s jacket and backed up. This was going to be an interesting evening. But, he would make sure it ended the right way.
“What?” Neal whispered. His brow furrowed. He clutched the bag of watches closer to him. This guy, taller and skinner than Neal Cassidy, is obviously an unnerving arrival.
August Booth is his name and he’s got as much of history as this Neal Cassidy fellow, but none of that matters for this tale. This is not August Booth’s story at all. His will come with all due course, though.
“Get up,” August Booth said with a sigh and a smile on his face as he does. He was bemused by this man’s reactions. August Booth loved the power play. At this moment, he was in charge.
Neal Cassidy then demanded how he knew Emma. The slip of the name had sent Neal Cassidy into panic mode (more power). He didn’t move. He just glowered at August Booth.
The man in charge figured it was time to dole out a little information. He explained his name was August Booth and that he had a long story. As he spoke, he feigned reluctance. He planted his hands on his hips as he waited for Neal Cassidy to get up.
Neal Cassidy spat his name. He looked like he could spew fire from his mouth or shoot lasers with his eyes. Oh, this man was mad. That was good – very good. But, he needed answers.
This reaction made a full fledge grin spread over his face. “Think of me as Emma’s guardian angel,” he replied with thoughtfulness. He shrugged as if it was no big deal, even though he knew it was a very big deal.
Anger replaced fear. He charged August Booth, ready to fight the other man. “Guardian angel? I’d say you’ve been doing a pretty crap job,” he spat as he stopped just short of August Booth. He raised himself onto tiptoes so that they were eye-to-eye.
Time for more information, August Booth mused. Out loud he embellished. Out loud he gave Neal Cassidy self-doubt and a seed of uncertainty.
This does not help the situation. However, it was pretty clear that August Booth wasn’t about to help anything or anyone. Neal Cassidy launched towards the other man again. He grabbed hold of the faded denim jacket.
He demanded to know where August Booth had been most of her life. He wanted to know why he’d only been looking for two years. That was nothing in Neal Cassidy’s book. Of course he didn’t expect answers; they were rhetorical. “Let me tell you something. I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to her,” Neal Cassidy ventured.
August Booth shrugged him off. He spewed half-truths (just enough to keep his nose from possibly growing). This world was full of indulgences and temptations. August Booth was not one to deny any luxury that came his way. He wasn’t built that way.
Neal Cassidy demanded to know who August was and chose to ignore the off-kilter statements. He did, however, pull the bag of watches closer. It seemed Neal Cassidy thought that August Booth was playing him and planned on rubbing him blind.
August Booth explained how they’d shared foster homes and promises he’d made back then. However, he left out some information. Telling Neal Cassidy he was Pinocchio would not help the situation at all.
“Well, we promised to take care of each other,” Neal Cassidy pointed out, feeling smug. Taking care of each other was a far better thing in his book. It was not one-sided. What August Booth said almost seemed self-serving.
August Booth laughed. He looked giddy and almost clapped. “You love her. Good. That means you have to do right by her,” he encouraged. This was the perfect situation.
Neal Cassidy rasped a proclamation of devotion. His head cocked. This conversation obviously made him uncomfortable. August Booth made him uncomfortable and very, very angry. He wanted to leave. Emma Swan was waiting for him anyway and he didn’t want to make her wait for much longer.
“Then leave her,” August Booth bargained. A dangerous glint filled his eyes. He stepped forward and towered over Neal Cassidy. This other man would do what August Booth asked – no matter what.
Neal Cassidy shook his head. “Never,” he spat. The word came with venom. Oh yes, Neal Cassidy was mad and he was determined. It was going to be harder than August Booth thought.
August Booth was only mildly annoyed though. He still had the power. He had information. He hoped that Neal Cassidy would believe his words. If not, then he would take matters into his own hands. Hopefully, this other man still believed in magic. He asked him as such. It was an odd question, but a needed one.
Neal Cassidy muttered some sort of non-reply. August Booth didn’t really expect an answer. This other man wasn’t forthcoming with responses, but August Booth knew the truth. It did not further his annoyance.
August Booth spewed vague reasons for why Neal Cassidy would believe in magic even though it was not really necessary. He knew the other man believed in magic and had witnessed magic himself firsthand. However, Neal Cassidy did not need to know that quite yet. In a moment that would be revealed.
Neal Cassidy obviously did not believe him. He scoffed and rolled his eyes even as August Booth pulled open his proof. When Neal Cassidy glances at the paper, he just backs away from the type-written paper. It couldn’t be. August Booth knew who he was.
“There’s a curse. Emma needs to break it. You need to let her go so she can,” August Booth explained. “If you don’t, I will your tell your father and all will be revealed. How does that sound?”
Neal shook his head. “I don’t care. I’m not going to abandon Emma. You’re right, I do love her and I’m going to spend the rest of my life with her,” he confessed, turning away from August Booth and his paper.
“I knew you would say that,” he whispered. “I’m sorry Baelfire.” He leaned over the typewriter and began to type out several pages. He was changing the story, but it had to be done. Once finished, August Booth followed Neal Cassidy. He watched as the glazed-eyed man called the cops at a pay phone before getting into the yellow bug.
August Booth knew it wasn’t safe for the man to drive. He headed to the car. “Hey, buddy! You look like you’ve drank too much. Let me drive,” he said in a perky voice. He gets in and drives and drives and drives until they reached Storybrooke, Maine.
There he drops the man off. With the watches and the yellow bug in possession, he drives out of the town (but not before watching Neal Cassidy lose control as well as lose the enchantment). “It’s for the greater good,” he whispered.