As the snow started to melt, grass grew, and blossoms bloomed.

The sun started replacing the moon, making the days longer as kids took off their jackets and jumped into the lake. Before they knew it, the leaves started turning brown, the ground covered in a carpet of earthy colors — and the first snowfall came, burying the town in white.

Abel loved running around on the grass, in snow, at break times, after school. He wasn't the biggest child, but he could run infinitely — and no one could beat him in sprints.

When he was offered to deliver newspapers, he was ecstatic. It didn't change much of his running routines, except that now he got the chance of yeeting objects without getting shouted at — and received a few cents.

He counted it every day.

And one day, he ran home, calling for Cain.

"Do you want to get a tattoo with me?"

"A tattoo?"

"Yes — I want one covering my neck and chest!"

"But where can we get the money?"

Abel grinned, pulling out his money.

Cain laughed.

Days passed. Weeks passed. Months passed. Years passed.

And so did the day when old age and illness finally caught up with Father Sebastian.

Not that anyone knew how old he exactly was. He'd look a little older than a middle-aged man when he smiled — which he almost always did — but when he rested, he'd look decades older.

It was raining hard that day — but no one really cared.

The kids stood still in silence, their black clothes drenched.

Perhaps it was the best for Abel — the kid who, on record, never cried. Rain drizzled down his face.

He grinned.

"It's a little ironic. Age gives us both hope and anxiousness."

Cain stared at the tombstone.

"Yeah."

At first, it seemed like a blessing in disguise. Donations flowed in, and for a while, their orphanage was filled with visitors.

Some just came to talk and help around — others came looking for an adoptee.

There was Rayna, the bright girl who played violin. Jack, who was sickly but never missed a game of tag. Faisal, who'd read encyclopedias with Cain. Dominic, who'd win any cooking competition with any ingredient. And many others.

Every time a kid left, they'd hold a short farewell, waving their hands until they disappeared behind the hills. The following dinner would be slightly more silent — everyone slightly missing the kid's absence, yet wishing them the best.

"Missing them?"

Abel nodded.

"Think we'll have someone to call Mom and Dad someday?"

"You could have, you know. The couple yesterday found you charming — but you insisted on being with me."

"They could have!"

"Nuh-uh. They could only afford one child — or maybe two, if both are adorable gremlins good at running."

"Well," Abel winked, "an adorable gremlin would come best with a pretty princess, don't you think?"

"Oh, the pretty princess would be cursed to have a gremlin by her side for the rest of her life."

"Then you are!"

Cain almost slapped him if he didn't duck. He laughed.

"But seriously — do you think you'll be able to call someone Mom and Dad?"

If you're enjoying this, a like, sub, or comment helps more than you know. Thanks for reading 💀