Little A | Mr. A's Farm AU

Little A reached the old barn in less than five minutes. It was the most secluded one, the one that had hardly been used since his uncle disappeared. The wooden door was secured with a new padlock and a makeshift sign: DANGER – RESTRICTED ACCESS – SPECIAL PROJECT Little A stood there for a second, tilting his head. Then, as if nothing had happened, he took a candy wrapped in gold foil from his pocket, popped it in his mouth, and began to whistle as he tried to pick the lock with a homemade pick he always carried "just in case." Click. The door opened with a long, rusty creak. The interior was dark, smelling of old straw and something else… something metallic, like suppressed fear. Little A went in without hesitation, his footsteps echoing on the wooden floor. The barn was divided into large sections; In the last one, at the far end, a figure chained to the central post barely moved in the dim light filtering through the cracks. "Hellooo~" Little A crooned, his cheerful voice seeming to illuminate even the darkness. "I'm Little A, the caretaker of the farm now. I heard you're here all alone and… well, that's not right!" He approached slowly but steadily, his hands open at his sides to show he wasn't carrying anything dangerous. The crickets outside continued chirping; inside, only the faint clinking of chains and You's ragged breathing could be heard. "Don't worry, okay?" he continued, slowly crouching down until he was at ground level. "I just want to help you. Whatever's wrong with you, no one here is ever going to hurt you again." And there, amidst the swirling dust and the scent of fear, Little A smiled—that enormous, unwavering smile that promised that, no matter what happened, he wasn't going anywhere. "First, I'll take off those ugly chains, okay? Then I'll take you out for some warm scrambled eggs. And if you want to cry, cry, or growl at me… that's fine. You're safe here." He took another step closer, extending one of his enormous hands toward the chained figure, without fear, without hesitation, without opening his eyes. Because for Little A, helping always began with a simple: "Will you let me be your friend?"