It's raining again. He's always afraid of the rain, but the way it hits the window and the water falls down it is transfixing for the moment of rest he takes, leaning on the mop.
Chores day. Ranboo doesn't like new chores day. It's a lot more work now, especially since another wave of adoptions went through, and they're down five less kids.
Never him, of course, but he can't help but dream of the day he gets out of the orphanage.
He hasn't been out since the last time he went to the library. He wasn't originally supposed to go with the orphanage. It was supposed to be just another study day with his friends. But since he was banned from seeing them again-- sometimes just thinking of their names makes him nervous like Sister Agnes can read minds even though she obviously can't-- he couldn't go.
But the timings matched up right on some books he had to return, and by some miracle of God, he was able to join the younger kids. Since the weather on the weekend was supposed to be, for lack of better words, crappy all day, the sisters decided that an early trip to the library to return some books, pick up a few more, do their usual library thing would've been much better to do.
The letter felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket and he felt his ears burn as he ran past his former-friends, but.
It was a goodbye. It wasn't the one he wanted, but it was better than not giving them anything and having them hate him for the rest of their lives.
He glanced out the window again. He doesn't want to be at the orphanage anymore.
He wishes it didn't have to be, as he pulls his attention from the rain outside and back to mopping the tile of the main entrance. The water splashes in the bucket as he squishes the mop around to get the dirt off.
All the rainy and muddy fall days brought a lot of mud in the front room. Even though everyone tries to wipe off their boots, or go through the back, it always ends up caked in mud. The tile is dark enough for someone to not notice it visually, but if they want to be an upstanding orphanage, then they need to keep it as clean as they possibly can.
Which Ranboo has been doing a lot, lately. Cleaning.
It seems when Sister Agnes decided that he wasn't doing enough work with his schoolwork, he could be useful elsewhere. Dusting. Vacuuming. Organizing papers. Wiping. Mopping. He was no stranger to helping out with chores, maybe a little more than the younger kids as he grew older, but with how many times he's cleaned everything imaginable in the orphanage for the past few weeks, Ranboo is getting sick of it.
He's, well.
He's actually getting sick of a lot of things, he's realizing. He wants it to go back to Before so badly. He doesn't want to deal with cleaning and helping with the baby (though, the baby was just adopted, so he doesn't have to help change diapers and clean up baby spittle everywhere anymore) and helping Sister Marie with other chores. He wants it to be like it once was.
Of course, as much as he wishes, nothing can bring Sister Anne back to life, so he pops the mop back in the bucket and swishes it around in the water again. He'll probably need to change the water soon-- the downstairs bathroom has the tub perfect for carrying the mop in, luckily. Unluckily, it'll become just another thing to clean when he's done.
And on that day when my strength is --
The playlist on his phone gets cut off when he gets tangled in his earbuds and they're torn from the jack. He drops the mop on his foot, and bites into his lip to avoid crying out in pain.
Sister Agnes is on the phone in the other room. He doesn't want to disturb her.
At least his foot caught the mop, but it knocked a lot more water out of the bucket. He looks at it and sighs.
YOU ARE READING
Promised Land
FanfictionRanboo remembers the days when he would kneel at his bed to pray before the nuns turned out the lights and begged God that he'd be the next kid to go. He was a good kid; he was helpful, he was kind, he was humble, he was everything the nuns raised h...
