Arnold couldn't wait.
He loved every minute with his parents (well, most minutes) but God how he'd missed hotdogs, Dinoland, the stupid cheese fair. Gerald, his grandparents. Helga.
And now he got to have all of it together. No longer did living with his parents mean that he had to be separated from everything else. He pressed his face against the cold window. His city was just coming into view in the distance, framed by ice crystals on the glass. He tried to make out some of the landmarks, though he knew he'd be seeing them all up close again soon enough.
"Excited, Arnold?" asked his mom gently, from her seat beside him.
He gave her a quick smile before turning back to the window. "Definitely."
It wasn't that he hadn't enjoyed his years in the jungle. He had made some good friends there, had some great experiences. And some tougher ones. If he was honest, he considered it his second home. But...
Every time he'd returned to visit, the pull to come back for good had gotten stronger. Every time he'd hung out with his friends, seen his grandparents getting older with each trip. Every time he'd seen her.
He couldn't kid himself. He knew that at least half the butterflies in his stomach wore pink ribbons. He always tried to be honest with himself, and his honesty only had one thing to tell him: You want to make it real between you and Helga. You want to know if she still feels the same. You want to kiss her...and stuff...and bring her on lame dates to movies and French restaurants. It wouldn't be lame with Helga.
They had left things...unresolved. They had told each other their feelings, had what passed for a Big Damn Kiss when you were eleven, dated for eight months, and then...
Then his parents told him they had to go back to San Lorenzo. That the Green Eyes were fighting for their rights with the government and logging companies, and they needed advocates. Arnold had made the toughest decision of his life, and decided to go with them. He had only just found them; he couldn't lose them again.
He had told Helga. There were tears, but she had done her best not to hold it against him. She told him he deserved to be with his parents. He had promised he would return. One day.
Since then, they had swapped the occasional letter, though she seemed oddly hesitant to write sometimes. They had been friendly when he'd visited, but he hoped he hadn't imagined the tension between them; the wistful, almost sad look in her eyes.
They were fifteen, now. She couldn't wait around forever; she would eventually start dating other guys. Heck, he was lucky she didn't have a boyfriend as it was. Just a day or two more, and he could make his move. Ask her out, properly this time. Make things the way they were meant to be.
His body almost buzzed in excitement, even as his stomach turned at the fear that she mightn't feel the same. But, call him an optimist... He was hopeful.
Their taxi pulled up to the old boarding house, and Arnold couldn't wait to throw himself into bed after the extremely long trip. His bed; his room had been kept the same over the years. He felt dirty and fatigued in every inch of him, with the usual inexplicable post-journey nausea, but he almost ran up the steps with his bag and threw the door open. "Grandma, Grandpa, we're here!"
His grandmother hurried out of the kitchen towards him. "Nice to see yeh, Tex! And you've brought the troops," she said, smiling towards Arnold's parents, who were struggling with their bags on the kerb.
Arnold took a step forward and hugged her. "It's good to be home."
She smiled at him warmly as he pulled back. "And it's good to have yeh."
His grandfather was making his way from his office, slower than Arnold liked to see, leaning on his cane. He had fallen in the ice last winter and broken his hip, which was a large part of the reason why Arnold's parents had decided to return. The upkeep of the place was getting too much for him, and none of them wanted to be away from Phil and Gertie as they aged. It saddened Arnold to the point of tears to think about it, but he had finally accepted that they wouldn't be around forever. "Arnold! Nice of you to drop by. How you been?"
He ran forward to hug his grandfather, too. "Good, Grandpa. How are you?" he asked, unable to stop himself glancing towards his hip.
Phil waved his hand. "Fit as a fiddle. Why I could-" He lifted his cane and started to kick his feet out in a dance, before doubling over with a pained, "Ooo! Okay, maybe not."
"Dad!" Arnold's father reprimanded from the door. "You're meant to be taking it easy!"
And so the afternoon passed, and Arnold could hardly have been happier. Arnold's grandma insisted on cooking them lunch (radish stew) and all the boarders who were home stopped by the kitchen to welcome them back, sitting around laughing and slurping the strange concoction with them.
But before long, Arnold had to excuse himself to go take a nap. He hadn't slept in 24 hours, and after all, he had all the time in the world to catch up with everyone. He was home for good. Feeling blissfully happy, if a bit nervous about his reintroduction to Hillwood (and Helga), he collapsed into his wonderful bed. With thoughts of going to see her tomorrow, he fell asleep and dreamed of possibilities.
"Arnold? Arnold, wake up." He awoke to gentle shaking of his shoulder, and a familiar voice unfamiliar in its tone.
He opened his eyes. It was dark out, but someone had turned his lamp on. The voice belonged to Gerald, who was leaning over him.
"Gerald!" Arnold blinked. He sat up, feeling extremely groggy still. "Hey, man," he croaked.
"Hey," Gerald replied, saying nothing else.
Arnold wondered why he was here. He had called him from the airport in San Lorenzo, and they had arranged to meet tomorrow. Not that he wasn't glad to see his best friend ahead of schedule. "Great to see you," he said truthfully.
"You too, man, you too." Something was off about Gerald; his tone, his face.
"So...what's up?"
Arnold had never seen Gerald wear this expression before, and watched as his friend gulped in...anxiety? He sat down on the edge of Arnold's bed.
"What is it?" he repeated.
Gerald looked purely heartbroken for a moment, and shook his head. "It's bad, man. It's bad."
He was scared now. "What is?"
"Helga," Gerald choked, and Arnold's stomach clenched painfully. "Helga's dead."
AN: Welcome to a Very Arnold Halloween. Or, er, October. I used to love the creepy episodes of Hey Arnold, and this is part tribute to those episodes, part pulpy paranormal romance. And, hopefully, part realistic portrayal of the characters. I hope to post the last chapter on Halloween. This story will probably be a little dark at times, cos that's my tendency even when I'm not writing something purposely macabre...