Chapter Text
The church bells rang out their usual Sunday morning chime, loud and resonant.
but Norton wasn’t there to hear them. Not properly, anyway. He sat perched on the low stone wall that surrounded the old church, swinging his legs idly and tossing a pebble in his hand.
He slipped out during the second hymn, timing his exit perfectly while the congregation had their noses buried in hymnals.
His father, reverend Folgate, wouldn’t notice until much later - too focused on his sermon to care about his youngest quietly slipping away.
Norton hopped down from the wall, brushed off his trousers, and headed across the narrow cobbled lane to the small park nestled just beyond the churchyard.
It wasn’t much, just a patch of grass with a few overgrown bushes and a playground with a single swing set, a slide and a see-saw.
He liked it here. It was quiet, away from the droning voices and the suffocating smell of incense. Norton didn’t hate church, exactly, but he didn’t understand the point of it all either. His father’s booming voice about sin and salvation made his stomach knot. Norton had far too much going on to feel properly guilty about anything.
As he approached the swings, his steps slowed, Someone else was already there - a boy, about his age, sitting on one of the swings and idly kicking at the dirt beneath him.
The boy had messy dark hair and wore a slightly oversized jumper. His legs were skinny and a bit too long for the swing seat, so he kept stretching them out like a gangly foal.
For a moment, Norton debated turning back, never the social type. But curiosity won out. He shoved his hands into his pockets and sauntered over, pretending he had every right to be there.
“Hey.” Norton called out, stopped just short of the swings.
The boy glanced, his face wary at first, then neutral. “Hey.”
Norton rocked back on his heels, glancing toward the church in the distance. “Shouldn’t you be inside?”
The boy snorted. “Shouldn’t you?”
“Touché.” Norton grinned. He took the empty swing beside the boy and started to sway gently, his feet dragging through the gravel “I hate it in there. All the standing and sitting and- Ugh. My father’s the vicar, so I’m practically forced to go.”
The boy’s eyebrows rose. “You dad’s the vicar? And you sneaked out?”
“Obviously.” Norton shrugged, though his chest puffed slightly with pride. “What about you? Not keen on church either?”
The boy shrugged. “Mum goes. I don’t bother. She doesn’t care as long as I don’t wander too far.”
“Smart mum.” Norton said, twisting the swing slightly so he could face him better. “What’s your name?”
“Tommy.”
“I’m Norton.” he held out his hand dramatically, like he was introducing himself to royalty.
Tommy looked at it, then smirked and shook it. “Norton’s a weird name.”
“So’s Tommy.” Norton shot back, though his tone was teasing, not cruel.
The boys fell into an easy rhythm after that, their conversation bouncing back and forth like a game of catch. They talked about school (Tommy hated arithmetic, Norton found geography full), favorite sweets (Norton argued fervently for licorice allsorts, while Tommy insisted sherbet fountains were superior), and whether dogs are better than cats (a surprisingly heated debate).
“Do you ever wish you could just… Go somewhere else?” Tommy asked suddenly, his voice quieter now. “Like, just leave everything behind and go where no one knows you?”
Norton frowned, considering. “Sometimes. Maybe we can run away together.”
Tommy giggled, a short sharp sound that made Norton grin.
“Oi! Norton!”
The shout made both boys jump. Norton turned to see his older brother, Gerald, marching across the grass, his face smug, yet indignant.
“Oh, brilliant .” Norton muttered under his breath.
“Who’s that?” Tommy asked.
“My brother. He’s the absolute worst.” Norton said quickly, standing up.
Gerald reached them in a few brisk strides, his hand clamping around Norton’s arm like a vice. “What are you doing out here?”
“Talking.” Norton replied, acting unbothered by Gerald’s death glare. “Is that a crime now?”
“You’re supposed to be in church.” Gerald hissed, dragging Norton toward the path. “Father is going to kill you.”
“Let go!” Norton tried to twist free but failed. “I was making a friend!”
“You? Making a friend? Sure you were.” Gerald mocked, his grip didn’t loosen. “You are in so much trouble.”
Tommy stood by the swings, watching them with wide eyes.
“I’ll see you around, Tommy!” Norton shouted over his shoulder, his voice carrying across the park.
Tommy hesitated, then cupped his hands around his mouth to yell back “I’ll be here next Sunday!”
Norton grinned, despite the situation. Gerald didn’t notice the exchange - Too busy muttering about responsibility and setting a bad example. But Norton didn’t care.
As they neared the church, Norton craned his neck to glance back. Tommy was still standing by the swings, his figure small and steady in the distance.
He couldn’t wait until next Sunday.