Chapter Text
Chip was quiet. He came quietly and he left quietly and he was quiet all the while he was there. It happened time and time again.
During his stay at Miss F’s Home for Unparented Children , the only times that a smile had graced his face was in the company of a loud, confident girl and two friends with blurry faces he couldn’t quite remember.
The orphanage hadn’t been bad in the way you would imagine: it was clean, it was safe, the staff were kind. But, in any orphanage, no matter how highly praised or welcoming, there’s an underlying sort of melancholy that worms its way into the building.
Maybe it was just the principle— a place full of abandoned children could never be too cheery. But nonetheless, Miss F’s was good. If you ended up there it was considered lucky compared to the horror stories of less… inviting orphanages that were whispered through dorm rooms late at night.
The children of Miss F’s were a lively bunch, and there weren't few of them either. It was easy to slip under the radar as someone as small and quiet as Chip.When he had first gotten there, at just 5 years old, head full of stories of cruel matrons and nasty kids, it had been his plan to draw the least attention to himself as possible.
Despite this, Elizabeth Lafayette (or Lizzie as she insisted everyone call her) had picked him out right away. A lively 10 year old took one look at the new kids and immediately decided that she wanted that one .
She had insisted that she was just ‘making sure he didn’t die’ because he was weak and small and whatever, but Chip thought that secretly, she just liked having someone to mother. He didn’t mind it though; having Lizzie in your corner meant that you weren’t messed with, not that the children of Miss F’s were particularly confrontational anyway, but still, for the first time in his life, he felt safe.
Lizzie was tall for her age. Her dark curls were often scraped back from her face in an unruly bun that almost never lasted the day. She was noisy and boisterous, announcing her presence with her loud voice and signature burgundy red cardigan you could spot from a mile off.
One day, after she’d been rummaging through some boxes of old clothes she wasn’t supposed to be in, she had found a similar red coloured shirt and gifted it to Chip so they could match. He had always thought the red looked better against her dark skin, almost matching the various scrapes that constantly seemed to adorn her body, but he wore it anyway, taking pride in the fact that he could match with the girl he looked up to so much.
Lizzie had always been getting into trouble: going into rooms she wasn’t supposed to be in; snatching extra portions of dinner; or staying up later than they were allowed, keeping the other kids up with ghost stories. Despite all this, she hardly ever got punished— she had a knack for charming her way out of it. This earned her quite the bit of respect among the children of Miss F’s . Chip had always thought himself quite lucky to be the one to spend so much time around her.
He had always envied her confidence but, as anyone would after spending so much time around Lizzie, he too learned how to come out of his shell. Eventually, he began to join in with the mischief and they became a dangerous duo. Chip learnt everything from her, and soon earned himself his own small portion of fame, revelling in the attention. It was the first time he had gained himself any kind of recognition and boy did he savour it.
Among the increasing number of kids who wanted to be his friend, there had been two children in particular who had stood out: Jay and Gillion.
He remembers the gentle blond boy and the girl whose personality was just as fiery as her orange hair. He remembers staying up late with Gillion, whispering and giggling through the night. He remembers waiting at the gate for Jay to get there. He remembers sitting in church on Sundays, pulling faces at Jay across the room. She would always sit on the other side, with her parents and sister and Miss F herself. In his boredom, he made it his mission to make her laugh, often earning himself a glare from her dad.
Chip smiles, staring at the blank ceiling of his prison cell. He remembers being happy .
He shuts his eyes before he can remember the next part.