Chapter Text
As the bell tolled, he quickly sat up and blinked the sleep out of his eyes. Church. He had to get to church now. Cursing silently at his broken alarm clock, he threw himself into whatever clean clothes he had left from last week's laundry day. Rushing down the shared bathroom to brush his teeth, he checked if anyone else was as late as he was. If he didn't arrive by the time the bell tolled a second time, he was sure to be punished, either by the director or the priest himself.
Sighing in relief when he found that the children were still queuing, he silently slid into the line and lowered his head when one of the caretakers huffed at his harried appearance. Although the director took pity on him frequently for his past, he did not take it lightly if any of his 'children' were to be absent for church.
After being taken attendance, Florian was appointed to lead them to the nearby church to pray. It wasn't anything new but it was a routine he would gladly be rid of, as losing one or two of the kids also meant being punished. As the bell had chimed a second time, he found himself hurriedly ushering the other kids into the pews before getting into one of the front ones, just by the director.
He watched as the choir members piled to the front, just behind the altar. One of the boys who took the lead for the song, he recognised to be the priest's son, Aesop Carl. Although he was the priest's biological son, something that everyone in town knew, he was deliberately disowned by him, with the only relation they had being in their blood. He had heard that the boy was now living with Jerry Carl, a well-known embalmer in town who specialised in... well, embalming, along with his sick mother.
It was said that he had a connection with the gods, which was why he was birthed into the priest's family. Though disowned, his participation was often visible in church, though fairly towards the far end of the choir. Unlike this time, where he was leading.
As the choir began singing, Aesop's voice came through the mic. Unlike the many times he sang off to the side, this time his voice was as clear as day. Though his voice was a soft tenor, it blended in perfectly with the tune, his voice sounding like a soft hum amidst the proud melody behind him. Florian could feel himself staring as the boy continued to sing, his own body shuddering at the delightful music that was his voice.
Unlike the other choir members, Aesop was beautiful, standing in the middle. The way the rising sun shone down on his grey hair and white robe. It blinded him, in a good way. He was akin to an angel, one that made his throat dry by just looking. As they finished, Aesop had already moved off to the side, allowing the priest to begin his sermon. Moving his eyes away from his own bible, he could feel his heart stop at the sight of the younger's bright grey eyes looking back at him. Snapping himself out of the trance he was in, he turned his gaze back to the bible in his hand, just to pretend. It wasn't like he hadn't already memorised the whole thing. He knew exactly where the priest was on and could recite the entire thing out by heart too. It was just so that he wouldn't keep staring at the other's eyes, ones that sparkled brightly if the light hits just in the right direction.
As church finally came to an end, he got his offerings and left, without sparing a second glance at the other boy. The pounding feeling remained in his heart as he stumbled back into the orphanage. It wasn't like he was allowed to dwell on it any longer because as he ate his offerings, a smaller yet louder chime sounded from below, signifying that it was time for their daily chores and workload. Blowing his blonde hair from his eyes, he rolled his sleeves up and prepared himself for a day of work.
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He was on laundry duty this time around and although he wasn't the one responsible for washing them, he was indeed responsible for drying them, so off he went, with baskets filled with clothes. The weather was just right for drying, so he walked outside to where the drying racks were and quickly brought them out to dry.
Halfway through his second basket, a familiar figure caught his eye. One that had found homage in his mind for days on end, standing underneath a tree with a bag in his arms. School, his mind supplied helpfully as he finally took notice of the school uniform the younger had on. Unlike the kids in the orphanage who were home-schooled, Aesop was sent to a prestigious private school, as per the priest's request. From what he knew, school did not normally end at this time, so to say he was startled was an understatement.
Finishing up whatever was left from the basket, he ran over to where the boy was, now squatted underneath the tree instead. The bag had been thrown off to the side while the boy buried his face into his knees and wept. Tapping the younger on his shoulder, he asked:
" Are you alright? "
And the sight before him, made his knees go weak.
Aesop's eyes were a beautiful shade of grey with a slight dash of silver. They were wide and teary as small streaks of tears pooled down his cheeks. His thin lips quivered as he attempted to croak out,
" ...no.. "
It took alot in him to not hide the boy away from the world and the people who hurt him, but it wouldn't be right either. Why did he care so much for a boy? A boy who clearly did not know of his existence. A boy who he only sees every morning in church and nowhere else. Not in the streets, not in the city hall, nowhere.
Fighting his own conflicting feelings, he did not realise that the boy had since ran away, his soaked bag now clutched tightly in his hands again as he ran down hill. When he had came back to his senses, the director was already by his side, chiding for him to go back.
That night, he had stayed awake thinking about the boy. Thinking about how his heart had pounded at the sight of his wide and teary eyes. Why was he feeling this way? Was it right to feel this way? They were both boys, why did he feel this way for some boy he didn't even know? This wasn't right. Boys were meant to be with girls, just as god intended them to be. He was going to get these revolting feelings out of him by tomorrow. The confession stands were one of the first ways to repenting and he was going to do that first thing in the morning.