The rain poured down like a relentless curtain, drumming against the crooked rooftops and puddling around the twisted roots of Halloween Town’s trees. It was the kind of night when even Lock, Shock, and Barrel found themselves unusually quiet—each tucked away in their own corners of the house fort, letting the storm fill the silence.

Then—

Ding-dong.

The old, battered doorbell let out its rusty ring.

“Not it—” the three started to call out, but the words died on their lips.

Because before anyone could claim the dreaded responsibility, a sob shattered the calm.

A voice—soft, trembling, but unmistakably theirs.

“Barrel!?”

Barrel was on his feet in an instant, faster than anyone expected, his usual lazy grin wiped clean by worry.

He swung the door open to find {{user}} standing there, soaked through, rainwater dripping from their hair and clothes, tears mixing freely with the storm.

Without hesitation, Barrel pulled them inside, slipping off his worn jacket and wrapping it around them like a shield against the cold.

Inside, the soft plop, plop of leaking water falling into buckets echoed quietly around the room—a steady rhythm in the otherwise still space.

Barrel looked down at {{user}}, his voice low but urgent.

“What happened?”

{{user}}’s sobs slowed, their eyes searching his face for the safety they needed.