Summer camp day 4: A Whole New World

[jazzchyk.livejournal.com]

Title: Twisted (part 2)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort/SemiRomance/AU/Seriously I don't know what to call this.
Word Count: 2192
Rating/Warnings: T (Arthur has a potty mouth, and  missing children)
Summary:
Alfred couldn't remember ever being sick, though Mother reminded him that he was, and needed to stay indoors at all cost. Arthur's middle name was trouble-- but this time he just might get caught.
A twist on Tangled.

 It was, Arthur mused, as he followed the sidewalk just behind Alfred, just as though he'd brought the sheltered boy into a whole new world. If Arthur hadn't seen how quickly Alfred was able to dismantle the lock on the door (Who made a door unlock with only a key anyway? What if there'd been a fire or something?), he would've mistaken the slack-jawed amazement with which the taller youth was staring at everything around him for utter stupidity.

But then, Alfred had probably never thought to break out of the apartment before-- and where would someone who'd never met anyone else /go/? It wasn't as though he was bustling with people skills-- although the few people who'd been friendly enough to say 'hello' hadn't frightened him nearly as much as Arthur had expected.

“Arthur, Arthur, Look at this!” The excited call came from half a block away-- for someone who had been cooped up for much of his life, Alfred was fast. “Look at the colours!”

A little shop with various ethnic clothing and antiques-- normally Arthur wouldn't give it a second glance-- he had little money, and less use for brightly coloured shirts and scarves, but Alfred... Alfred was attracted to these things with his magpie sense of fashion.

“Wait out here, Tony.” Arthur said to thin air, ignoring the odd looks of a few passers-by. The scrambling-rustling from one of the trees lining the side walk changed to a chitter. “They don't like squirrels in here-- they might throw something at you.”

Inside, the perfume of an eastern culture permeated the air-- cherry blossom, Arthur decided with a sniff. Japanese, maybe?

“Welcome.” A dark haired shopkeeper behind a register gave them a once-over, and set down the portable game he had been playing “As much as my culture would prefer that you remove your shoes, this is not a home, and it is dangerous to be here without footwear.”

“Oh, I--” Arthur looked at Alfred's feet, just now realising that the younger boy had lost his flimsy slippers somewhere. “Alfred, where did your shoes go?”

“My socks got wet, and there was a giant hole in the bottom, so I left them in the plants next to my building.” Alfred had obviously missed half of what the shopkeeper had said.

“I apologise, sir.” Arthur told the man behind the counter. A name tag told him the name was 'Kiku' “It's his first time out in public-- and neither of us have any money. We'll leave.”

“Hai, hai.” The dark-eyed man waved his hand, “It is all right this time.”

“You have a clockwork doll!” Alfred exclaimed from the other end of the counter. “What does it do?”

“Ah, my clockwork samurai. He is very old, and no longer works. I believe he used to walk a few steps, then raise his sword in salute.” Kiku shook his head sadly, “I have found no reason why he no longer moves, and no one wishes to purchase him.”

“Could I...” Alfred trailed off, and Arthur could see that he'd suddenly become shy.

“Maybe my friend here could look at him,” Arthur said, memory of all those plans and toys in Alfred's rooms coming to mind. “He does some mechanical work.”

The grateful look that Alfred shot back at him told Arthur that that was precisely what he'd wanted to ask, but wasn't sure how.

Kiku gave them both a long appraising look, then nodded, moving to unlock the cabinet and put the toy on the glass in front of Alfred, who touched the surface carefully and gently before reaching into his pocket for the tools that Arthur knew were there.

“If he can fix it, where no one else could...” Kiku murmured, and gave a small smile to Arthur. “Truly, that would be a miracle. He has the joy of a child, and the mind of a man. If he can fix it, I have shoes that may fit him, and protect his feet form the dangers of the city streets.”

Arthur glanced over at Alfred, who had found a way to open the back of the Samurai doll, and was currently absorbed in his task.

“I think...” Arthur started, but was stopped by a flash of a brilliant smile, and Alfred pushing the hidden panel closed again. “Did you find something?”

“Yup. Just have to press his horns down, and...” The action was taken, and the figure took three mechanical steps forward before lifting his sword. A beat, and the sword was lowered, and the figure stood in his original pose once again.

Kiku's eyes lit up with delight.

* * *

After a half an hour of enthusiastic talking about mechanics and things that made Arthur's head spin, the pair departed the shop with shoes on Alfred's feet, and a bit of money besides. Alfred hadn't known what to make of the money-- had tried to refuse it, but Arthur had merely thanked the shop owner.

“Arthur?” From his side once again. “I'm hungry.”

It was only logical, as it was late afternoon, and they'd left the apartment without breakfast in the excitement of getting outside.

“Hm.” Arthur could last for a while longer-- he was used to going without, but Alfred... “I suppose we could get something to eat-- Kiku's money will come in handy.”

“Oh...”

A familiar fast food sign loomed close, and though Arthur would've preferred something different-- This would do. It was cheap, and he might have money left over for later.

“What is it, Arthur?”

“Here. We can get food here,” grabbing hold of the golden arched handle, he opened it, and gestured for Alfred to enter. “It's not the best, but it will do.”

They got into the line, Alfred looking around at everything, and chattering excitedly about the tables, the chairs, the machines-- Arthur attempted to answer what questions he could, ignoring the looks from some of the other people waiting.

Once they got their food, and were seated, Alfred was silent. For a moment, Arthur thought he saw the glistening of tears-- was it really that horrible?

“Alfred? Is it all right?” Arthur wondered just how angry Alfred's mother would be when she found out that he'd been not only taken out of his little bubble, and fed something horrible...

“It's....” Alfred's mouth was full, but Arthur could understand. “It's wonderful. I've never had anything like this before--”

“You...” Arthur bit into his own food, and found it normal. “It's... just food.”

“It's great--” Alfred devoured all the food that was in in front of him. “Can we get some of those french fry things for Tony?”

Arthur gave him one of the remaining bills, and sent him to the counter, hoping that, despite his awkwardness, Alfred could manage to do this task.

A glance out the window told Arthur that they had at least another hour before the sun went down, but the park itself would be a good fifteen minute hike through traffic. A few hours there, then take Alfred back to his home, and go find out if his own flat was still intact, or if his flatmates had given him up for incarcerated.

Somehow the idea of Alfred being locked up again just didn't settle well with him-- but where would he go? Arthur could barely take care of himself, (and his flatmates would eat the poor lad alive) let alone take care of a naïve, bubbly, bright young man who … was walking away from the counter with another one of those smiles, and a big bag with the company logo on it.

Surely he hadn't given him enough money for that.

“People are sure friendly here, Artie. I told her I was feeding my squirrel, and she gave me extra for him! They might be old, but Tony's gonna flip!”

And die from the sodium content, most likely. The squirrel seemed rather intelligent however, if hostile towards Arthur.

“Wait. What did you call me?” Arthur had missed something in the babble.

“Artie. Rae said it's a sign that you like someone when you use a nickname.” And the smile faltered. “You can call me Al. Or Alfie. Or--”

“I would prefer--” oh dear. That look again. “All right then, Alfie. Shall we head towards the park?”

“Yeah!” Alfred-- or Alfie-- swung the bag. “Rae will be there later. She told me what the lights were-- it's a vigil. I want to see what a vigil looks like.”

Arthur nearly tripped over his own feet as he exited behind Alfred.

“A candlelight vigil that's been going on for years?” Arthur hated funerals, and was pretty certain that this would fall into that category of things that were somber, sober and utterly depressing as fuck. “For what?”

“It's for someone's son-- I didn't hear the name because I was too excited about the fries, and saw Tony waiting outside the little window in the back.” Alfred was skipping towards a tree, and sure enough, the gray squirrel came scampering down, leaped on Alfred's shoulder, and began munching on some of the offered food. “Maybe we can get a candle when we get there. Have you ever been to a vigil? Do they have cake, and sing, or something?”

“Idiot.” Arthur sighed, and refrained from cuffing his friend (now there was an interesting development. Know the boy for a day, and already friends?) “It's usually for a person or persons who are either missing or dead. They might sing, but I don't know.”

“But it's been going on for fourteen years. Wouldn't they stop it by now?” Alfred paced him, stepping one foot in front of the other, but glancing towards Arthur out of the corner of his eye.

“It's likely to be a missing person. It just means they haven't given up hope of finding them alive yet.”

“There are people losing hope then, because it's getting smaller. When the light is gone, then what, Artie?”

“Then they mourn, and try to move on.”

“That's... sad.” Alfred commented.

“You still want to go?”

Alfred nodded, but remained silent for the rest of the walk.

As they grew closer, it grew more and more obvious. There were people gathering here and there, candles in hand-- softly talking among themselves. Children and adults-- and the signs and posters with the picture of a very cute five year old that Arthur could almost recognize. It was probably from the newspapers-- they did tend to run stories of human interest on subjects like this.

A glance at his taller companion showed that Alfred was still curious, but for some reason... uncomfortable. Almost scared. It was probably how close everyone was. This was just like a funeral, except outdoors and with no body.

Suddenly Alfred's hand slipped into his.

“They're all waiting for someone to come home. I hope he does.” Alfred said to him quietly.

Arthur nodded, and took a pair of candles that someone handed to him, and moved on towards the center of the gathering.

“Thank you all for coming.” A woman's voice rose over the whispers-- which quieted down. “We appreciate your support tonight, as we have for the last fourteen years. We still believe that our son is out there, alive-- and going to come home to us.”

Arthur found the speaker on a raised flowerbed, two men standing behind her also holding candles. All three were blond, tall-- the woman was beautiful in a sort of motherly way. Just from the sound of her voice, Arthur wished she was his mother. The older of the two men stepped forward to light the first candle. A buzz of familiarity grew in the way he looked out over their surrounding audience. Alfred's hand was tightening in his own.

“I know a lot of people have given up, and lost hope,” the man said, “But we won't.”

When the second male stepped into the dim light of the candles, Arthur couldn't hide the sharp intake of breath, and the quick looks to his side, and to Alfred.

The boy looked … well. Not exactly like Alfred, but so close-- except the other boy wore glasses, and his hair was a little longer, but still.

“Someone out there knows something, and I hope they don't keep it a secret,” The boy who looked like Alfred said. “Because I want my brother home. It's been a long time, but I still remember him--”

Alfred's grip on Arthur's hand slackened.

Arthur looked quickly over at Alfred, only to see confusion and fear at war on his face as he let go.

“Mattie?” Arthur heard the name breathed, just before Alfred shoved his way through the crowd and ran.

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