Promised Land

[18] Always Remember Your Seatbelt When You're In A Car

Sunday morning comes too quickly. Ranboo feels like half of his body is running on autopilot, as it wakes up-- still in his room, thank you, God, but half-off his bed and his neck was going to be sore for the rest of the day-- and he rummages through his clothing, still half-asleep, before he realizes he isn't at the orphanage anymore.

There isn't a sound of a lock in his door, and a voice telling him to get ready for church. It's just himself, standing in front of his dresser, where he's set up a few books that he got the other day when he went to the mall with Phil, and a strange little misshaped pottery project that Tommy told him he could have after he came home from school with it the other day.

He glances down at his hands.

He doesn't have to go to church, does he? He doesn't have to get dressed, look presentable for the mass, listen to the sermon, be the best kid he was raised to be by the sisters. He could enjoy a relaxing Sunday morning, one he's--

-- well, he's never had a relaxing Sunday morning. The few times he never went to church on Sunday mornings were times when he was sick. The flu, twice. A stomach bug. None of it had been a relaxing, pleasant Sunday morning because the only reason he wasn't around other people was because he was sick.

Ranboo sighs. He sits back on his bed, glancing at his dresser. He's awake with enough time to go to church. He notices that his newest journal is open on his bed, and looking at it is enough reminder of the events of the night before.

Would it be-- would it be selfish, to ask to go to church?

This new home is warm. This new home is nice. Ranboo knows that he shouldn't be afraid to ask for anything, and Phil has been all but reasonable and kind and understandable with everything, and even though none of the family was religious-- well, if someone was awake, they would be willing to drive him, right?

He leans back into his bed. His neck's a little sore, but not too sore. He hopefully wasn't hanging off his bed for too long, then.

But also-- well, with everything that had happened the night before, it was understandable if anyone's hands were too full. He glances at the digital clock by his bed. It's only a little past six-thirty in the morning, the sun has only begun to grace the horizon, but he knows that someone has to be awake.

Probably not Phil. When Wilbur and Tommy returned last night-- or, well, was it technically earlier that morning, since midnight had long passed by that time-- it wasn't long until the older two ushered Tommy and Ranboo back to their rooms to get some sleep. It was something adults could deal with, even though Wilbur is still technically in school too, he was de facto second-in-charge when Phil was gone.

He heard a little bit of noise in the night, and Ranboo assumes it was when Phil got home. He didn't roll over and check the time, though, it was just a small noise. The door opening, probably. But it was in the very early hours of the morning-- probably not too long ago, even, if Ranboo's glance at his own clock was still right-- and he wouldn't want to be a bother.

There is the sound of life downstairs. Not a peep from Tommy's room, because Ranboo would definitely be able to hear through that wall if he was awake. If he closes his eyes and concentrates, he can hear Tommy snoring through the wall.

Not by any magic means. Tommy was just as loud in his sleep as he was awake.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to try, right?

What's the worst that could happen? Ranboo sits up on his bed.

They could say no, the reasonable voice in his head says. They could say not today, because of what happened last night.