In the following days Elliott continued to visit the park to light candles and incense with the teen, and in doing so, came to understand his personality a little better. The boy had a quick and irreverent sense of humor, but during their frequent lulls in conversation, the quiet, watchful demeanor that Elliott had first observed seemed to return.

Elliott tried to be sensitive to the fact that he was talking to a child, and didn’t press for personal information, but even so, found that what questions they did ask tended to be met with evasion. It seemed that Puck would prefer to stick to any subject but himself.

“What grade are you in?” they’d asked at one point, trying to suss out the kid’s age in a roundabout way. 

“I’m not in school,” Puck had told them, then changed the subject to music. “Do you like jazz?” This had led the conversation in a direction in which Elliott felt completely out of their element, knowing almost nothing about jazz save for a few standards which their mother had introduced them to as a child. It was only later, once they were home, that they remembered to wonder why a kid Puck’s age (whatever age that might be) wasn’t in school. 

These concerns came to a head one night when Elliott was visiting with the boy. They were in the middle of a conversation when Puck suddenly went quiet and lowered his head. 

“You feeling okay?” they asked.

Without looking up, Puck shuddered in lieu of an answer. A moment later thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. To be fair, thunder almost never rumbles reassuringly, but something about this particular peal gave Elliott a bad feeling. Then it began to pour.

Puck looked up, evidently not having noticed the rain or the cold wind which had begun to blow, and finally responded to Elliott’s question. 

“I’m fine,” he said brightly. 

“Oh, well… good!” Elliott, who as usual had dressed lightly, hugged themself for warmth. This had not been in the weather report for the day. “Well, I suppose I’d better get going,” they added.

Puck nodded. “Alright. See you.” 

Elliott turned to go, then stopped. They turned back to face the boy, who showed no signs of moving. “Are you staying here?”

“Oh… yes?” Puck responded, seemingly trying out the answer to see how it would go over.

“But there’s a thunderstorm,” Elliott pointed out, and another peal of thunder helpfully illustrated their point a moment later. 

The kid shrugged.

“Look… I don’t want to tell you what to do, but I think it would be a good idea for you to go home.”

Puck averted his eyes and scratched the back of his head in the universal gesture of “well, this is awkward”. Elliott had already been somewhat worried, but now they began to worry in earnest, and Elliott was a champion-level worrier once they really got down to business. 

“Does your family live around here?” they asked. 

“I’m not really sure where most of them are… they’re kind of spread out,” Puck answered, still not making eye contact. 

At this point Elliott had to wonder if Puck was a runaway, or else in a similarly dire position. Normally they never would have dreamt of inviting some kid over to their apartment, but given the circumstances they didn’t know what else to do. 

“If you don’t have anywhere to go,” they ventured, “you could come wait out the storm at my place.”

Puck looked like he was about to refuse, and then to Elliott’s surprise (and perhaps his own) he said, “Okay… if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all! Come on,” they said, and began to lead the way down the hill. 

They made it to the edge of the park before it began to hail. At first the trees provided them with some amount of protection, but soon the hailstones grew big enough to punch their way through the canopy above. They stung Elliott’s exposed limbs as they led Puck on a mad dash across the street to a nearby bus shelter.

“I guess we’re stuck here for the moment…" they observed. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Puck, and to his credit, he appeared to be entirely unphased. Unlike Elliott, he didn’t even shiver, despite his soaked hoodie. When the hail died back down a few minutes later they continued on their way to the apartment. They were almost halfway there when Puck’s pace abruptly slowed. 

“What’s up?” Elliott asked, turning to see the boy standing in the middle of the sidewalk, his face downturned. 

“Just a minute…” he answered with a slight grimace. As before in the park, he gave a convulsive shudder, immediately after which he seemed to perk up. 

“You’re not coming down with something, are you?” Elliott asked, their concern reignited. 

“No, I feel fine. Let’s go,” the boy urged him on. 

They began walking again but made it less than a block before Elliott stopped dead in their tracks. “No way…” they muttered as they stooped to get a better look at something in the gutter. It was a fifty dollar bill. 

“Nice,” said Puck, though he didn’t seem particularly impressed. The kid knew how to play it cool. 

“You should take it,” said Elliott, attempting to hand it to him. 

“What? No way, you found it,” Puck objected. He sounded almost affronted by the idea. 

“So? I don’t need it.”

“And I do?” the kid asked haughtily. Elliott had to stifle a laugh, not wanting to do anything that would result in Puck rejecting their offer of shelter. “Anyway, you’re already doing me a favor. Consider this karma or whatever.”

“Fine,” Elliott begrudgingly agreed, but with the full intention of somehow getting it into the kid’s possession. 

They made it the rest of the way to the apartment building without further incident, and it was only once they were in the hall outside their studio that Elliott suddenly remembered that they hadn’t been expecting company when they’d left.

“Uh… do you mind waiting here for a second?” they asked. 

“Huh? Yeah, sure,” Puck agreed, and Elliott slipped inside to do a quick survey of the area.

It was just a simple studio apartment, and Elliott had very few things to become cluttered, but they made a point of checking that they hadn’t managed to overlook some sort of unhygienic situation in the bathroom, and that the kitchen was free of dirty dishes or cumby surfaces. 

With the inspection complete, Elliott grabbed a towel and returned to the door, letting Puck in. “Here you go,” they said, and handed him the towel.

“Thanks. Everything okay in here?” he asked with a glint of amusement in his eye.

“Yep… just wanted to be sure things were presentable. You want something to drink?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” 

“Your options are water or tea, smartass.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Elliott, who was badly chilled, went ahead and put water on for tea anyway. “I’m gonna change clothes,” they announced as they passed through the main room to retrieve the aforementioned change of clothes. “You want something to change into?”

“I’m fine,” said Puck, and Elliott had to admit that he did look perfectly comfortable.

“Alright, well at least take this,” Elliott told him, tossing him a blanket before retreating to the bathroom to change. Once they were all dried and changed, with tea in hand, Elliott settled in on the sofa with a blanket of their own. “You want to watch something?” they asked.

“Sure,” said Puck, shrugging. 

Elliott couldn’t tell if he was for or against the idea, but they were feeling self-conscious, so they put on a movie to spare themself the awkwardness of trying to make conversation. Fifteen minutes later they were asleep. 

When they woke up with a stiff neck around 2 AM, Puck was gone.