As he practically fell off the train, he swore under his breath and tried to steady himself. Hundreds of people shuffled past him as he gained his balance, standing in the middle of the narrow platform and staring at the countless information boards. He didn't even know where to start.
Biting his lip nervously, he grabbed the strap of his satchel and pulled the bag closer towards him, and began to walk towards what appeared to be the nearest exit. A heavy sense of anger and annoyance hung in the air, and he knew that he had to get away and think.
When he finally escaped the enclosed station he took a deep breath as he stood on the pavement. Surprisingly there were very few people out here, and he took the opportunity to take a cigarette out from his back pocket and light it without the risk of choking hundreds of people. Just as he was about to raise it to his lips, a face caught his eye, and he stopped.
The man - if you could even go as far as to say he was a man rather than a boy - was staring in his direction. No, in fact, he was sure that the man was staring right at him.
Throwing the cigarette to the ground, he stuffed his hands back in his front pockets, and slowly walked towards the stranger.
"Excuse me," he called as he came closer, but the man didn't move an inch, "Excuse me, is there something I could help you with?"
The stranger smiled and finally moved to make eye contact with him, his face lighting up instantly, "You already have, Arthur,"
"What is that meant to mean?" He asked, caught off guard by the stranger's use of his name.
"Why did you come here?" The slightly cryptic tone to the man's voice made Arthur step back, narrowing his eyes with suspicion.
"What?"
"You know, why are you here, in this place? It's not exactly the most thrilling town in the world," he opened his mouth to reply, and that was when he realised that he didn't know the answer to that question himself. The stranger was right; there was nothing here to drag a twenty-one year old that far across the country and rent a worn down apartment.
"I guess I just needed some space," he murmured quickly, trying to push the thoughts of his father out of his head. The stranger turned his gaze away from Arthur's face and towards the pavement, as if he could read his thoughts, "But how do you know my name, anyway?"
"Oh, erm," the man stammered, looking up and pushing his overgrown black hair out of his face, "It's a long story. Maybe I'll tell you one day,"
As he spoke, the stranger began to turn around and walk away.
"Wait! What's your name?" Arthur immediately demanded, determined not to let the man slip through his hands.
"You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you," the man chuckled, and Arthur grinned,
"Try me,"
"My name is Myrddin Emrys. Though I guess you could just call me Merlin," Arthur smirked, realising that the stranger was obviously lying. Shaking his head, he began to laugh at the man, who began to walk away.
"Nutter," he muttered under his breath when the man was out of sight, and then he turned to face the lake to his left.
For a moment he stood there, allowing his eyes to take in the scene in front of him. It was one of the first things that had drawn him towards this town when he had arrived here a few months ago by accident when he took the wrong train. The ruins, huge, towering, almost made him want to cry.
Dismissing the thought from his head, he finally looked away, and began to walk down the street.