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The shaky plucking of guitar strings is what gives away Sunny’s position.
Charlie and Tubbo have been weaving in and out of all the armored vans the moment she disappeared, calling out her name as the others fucked around in the background. He’d forgotten what it was like to slip up, to say the wrong thing to such a fragile little creature. The amount of times he’s had to cover Flippa’s ears before he got her earmuffs so she’d have a fighting chance at not only knowing swear words by her next birthday… Too many, way too many times for a kid only a few days old.
(But that never mattered because Flippa never got that birthday.)
As the notes continue to screech and croon crookedly, Charlie peaks his head around the door of a van and sees Sunny sitting on the ground, dirt on the knees of her little orange jumpsuit. Hair in twin, afro puffs and dark sunglasses obscuring her eyes.
He sees Flippa on the floor of her room, twin brains framing her glasses and a piece of paper in her hands that reads “Sorry papa, I only want love”.
Charlie sees himself in a cage with seven others, desperately wanting to hum a tune to a song he shouldn’t have heard, wasn't allowed to know. No glasses in sight because why would he, of all of his siblings, need them? That’s just a waste.
E
D
—
He sees himself lying in his bed with Sunny by his side after their lullaby jam, snoring up a storm as Charlie just stares in awe at this little creature that, even after meeting him, still asks to call him Pop. Despite it all, they again and again seek him out, dance around, and laugh because he’s there.
Charlie sees a chance to do better. Be better. A chance to try again. And Charlie would really like to try again.
“You’re close, the third note is C. Same as the first but this one is lower on the scale.”
The sound of little claws against strings is horrific, causing a screech so loud and jarring he’d be surprised if Tubbo didn’t find them in the next few minutes. Also, Charlie’s ears might be bleeding, yowch.
“Nice shredding, but let’s maybe not actually shred the strings, I don’t have anymore. Save that for when we’re out of prison, then you can give us a show, yeah?” He talks around the ringing in his ears, wincing.
Sunny looks sheepish as they clutch the neck of the guitar, biting their lip between little fangs and it’s so out of character from their usual loud and proud self that Charlie feels equally off balance. It’s weird and upsetting knowing it’s Charlie’s fault because it’s been a hot minute since he worried about an egg liking him. Maybe it was Tallulah, or Richas and Pomme. An egg who hadn’t been around for his rampage and didn’t automatically shy away from him. The same goes for this new clutch of eggs, Sunny in particular.
He really cares what this egg thinks of him and yet, here he is unable to even remember what he did to upset them in the first place. Probably anything and everything under the sun knowing him. Ha, sun.
Charlie is a terrible father.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to spook yah. Can I come in?” Charlie asks, standing just outside of the door to… oh, Bagi’s van, meaning Sunny shouldn’t actually be in here either seeing as it’s neither of theirs but hey, he doubts she’ll mind that they have a little heart-to-heart in here. She may actually be proud and isn’t that a nice thought, another friend being happy for him. What weird times these are. “I can uh- teach you, better than whatever I was screaming at you earlier. Only if you’d like…”
The egg looks at him again, and Charlie is so used to seeing big, green eyes under clear frames that the sunglasses are throwing him off. He can’t get a good read on what the egg is thinking, so it’s a relief when she nods.
“Thanks! They’re shooting people out there and I’ve eaten enough lead today. Guess it was fate that led me to you! And also, your beautiful playing."
Charlie winks for good measure before he ducks inside and heads toward Sunny, sitting across from her on the ground. In the silence of the van with no floor, he tilts his head at the egg, considering his next move or words carefully. He’s not expecting her to tilt her head back and the laugh he lets out in response has Sunny grinning too. Before the silence can come back and make things awkward, Charlie startles rambling like that will fix anything.
“Here, put your hands back on the frets, I’ll help you know where to position them, and together, we can make Tubbo regret ever letting me meet you. That’s an easy thing to accomplish, trust me.”
Sunny laughs brightly at that before complying, little hands holding up the heavy neck of the guitar and she rests the body in her lap. Once she’s sure her hands are in the right place, she looks back at Charlie and grins, wide and toothy. It’s kind of scary how quick he is to think of all the things he’d do to keep that smile on their face. He’s done worse before.
(Maybe he doesn’t have to do worse, though, maybe he can just do this.)
“Okay!” Charlie claps. “Hot Cross Buns is as simple as it gets, even your pa can learn it. We’ll skip the music theory for now and just learn notes and where your fingers go, yeah? You know the first one; I heard it earlier. Strum an E for me, Rockstar.”
Sunny does as asked and the note rings out into the space gently, bouncing off the walls of the van and back at them. For a brief moment, Charlie thinks of his first day on the island, playing music for the Spanish-speaking members. Singing with Wilbur and laughing with Spreen and Quackity. Roier. Mariana.
(But Spreen is dead and Wilbur is gone again. Roier disappeared too and Mariana is a ghost, a dream Charlie dreamt in Purgatory. A lot of people have disappeared or were left behind over the weeks and months, and yet no time for funerals. Nothing for their friends that have been lost.)
Charlie shakes himself to stop thinking about it in the space. Sunny isn’t gone, they’re right here in front of him, waiting for his next instruction while Charlie is letting the past weigh on his heart too heavily.
There’s time for reminiscing later, time for grieving another day. Right now, the weather forecast calls for clear skies, bright and Sunny above. Charlie would like to enjoy it, so he simply does.
“Étoiles would probably be a better teacher for the nitty gritty stuff; I heard he used to play. I just hit strings until something pretty happens so that’s how we’re learning. Also, I know Hot Cross Buns on like, 10 different instruments; it was a bet, don’t ask.” Charlie flaps his hand dismissively while Sunny giggles, clearly reaching for her notebook to ask just that. “Okay, after that issssssss? And gimmie the name of the note if you can.”
Sunny thinks for a moment releasing the neck of the guitar to sign the letter “D” and Charlie holds his hand out for a high five as he cheers again, “Yep, you’re killing it! Do you remember where your fingers go for D?”
Again, the egg is quick to strum an out-of-tune D. Charlie congratulates her before reaching out to adjust one of the tuning pegs. The next few minutes are filled with Charlie adjusting the pegs while he instructs Sunny to strum until the guitar is back in tune. This time Sunny laughs when they next fiddles with the strings and they play crisp and clear, no note even a hair out of tune. Even her random smattering of notes is pretty to the ear, like the musical cacophony of an orchestra practicing before their concert. There’s skill clearly heard in the chaos and Charlie takes it in with a breath.
“Okay, last note, you have to C it to believe it. And now you gotta play it, Sunglasses!”
She tries, but it’s the same note that was giving her trouble earlier so she just plays the E over again with too many fingers this time. He just smiles while they frown, poking Sunny’s shoulder gently to their attention.
“Close! Lose that cloudy frowny, it’s an easy fix. The next note is C, you got the tab right, but we need to jump from no fingers to two.” Charlie corrects her fingers and leans back once they’re in the right place, signaling for her to try again like he’s a conductor. It gets him more giggling before she’s playing the note again.
Sunny is a natural after a little help.
It makes Charlie excited for future jamming sessions when she can potentially play by ear and riff off of him. Oh man oh man oh man that’s gonna be so much fucking fun. Add Tubbo into the mix and bedtime is about to become the loudest part of their day.
Their day. Huh. Isn’t that a thought. A routine with others, a family. Weird, but not an unpleasant thought. Just a little nerve-wracking, the idea of having that again and fucking it all up.
“You got it! Play those notes, SunnySideUp. Don’t stop, don’t hiccup, 'cause I know you won’t let anyone trip you up. You got skills, soon playing for the mills-uh-Catch me moshing for the hills,” Charlie sings as Sunny joins on the guitar again, strumming more confidently and loudly now. God, it has Charlie’s heart full of something as he continues to sing and rap, swaying in place with the music they’re creating.
Finally, they both slow down when Charlie hits a wall trying to rhyme "orange" with anything other than "door hinge", so he just watches as Sunny plucks notes at random. He’s content to stay in here and keep listening, but there was a reason he sought the egg out in the first place and he should really stop avoiding it.
“Hey Sunny…” He starts and stops, unsure of how to really go about this, “I’m- I upset you earlier, right? I’m sorry. I don’t have a lot of experience with eggs and I think I was being mean, wasn’t I.”
Sunny considers him, head tiling just like it had earlier before she nods a little, reaching for her notebook again.
-It’s okay
-I think you’re good. You’re trying
-We’ll help you with it
Charlie laughs at himself, accidentally a little derisively but Sunny is scribbling in their notebook furiously before showing it to him.
-You are good at a lot of things!! Like singing pop!!
-It always sounds pretty when you play too, even when you mess up
-I like the lullaby—
She pulls the notebook back quickly to write something else, leaving Charlie blinking at the open air before it’s shoved back at him to finish reading.
- Or sing! I like the lullaby you sang for me
- Would you do it again tonight?
-Please?
Oh. Why is Charlie going to cry.
“Y-yeah, Sunny, of course, I’ll sing again. Whenever you want, you just have to ask. We should come up with a signal you can shine out into the night so I know when to come, like how Batman does…” He’s quickly cut off again by the eggs.
-Can I just ask you to do it every night?
-Don’t tell pa but he isn’t a great singer…
Oh, and that’s a tear for sure. Fuck.
Sunny gasps when the tear drops off of his chin, ditching the notebook and pencil to crawl over. They pat his arms clumsily, like they aren’t too sure how to comfort him but still they’re trying because they care. Sunny wants him to read to her every night because she likes his singing. She gave him things, a little diamond. She wants to help him.
This egg wants him around because Charlie’s her pop.
There are so many sappy things he wants to say to the egg, so many things he wants to cry into the top of her head as he hugs her close but instead he just says one thing as he scrubs at the other tears trying to fall:
“Thank you.”
Sunny still looks worried but she backs up a little. Charlie isn’t done, though, so he takes a risk to pull her back and into his arms for a crushing embrace. She’s warm and wiggly, the canvas of her jumpsuit scratchy just like his own as she hugs him back, making the approximation of humming for a dragon which holy shit— that’s a purr. A quiet little rumble to the tune of Hot Cross Buns vibrates his chest where Sunny is squashed against him. When it turns into a soft trill ad Charlie joins in, it’s almost too much to handle.
There’s a lot he can say right now, a lot he can confess or cry over or laugh about but with Sunny in his arms, there’s not much he really wants to do other than stay here, holding them close. He rests his chin on top of her hair, her buns tickling his skin as he continues to hum a song he can’t remember the name. That’s when he has an idea. Charlie has no experience with hair like hers but still, he’d like to try.
“Hey, if you ever want to switch up your hairstyle, I technically know how to braid, though it’s not the exact same thing... Flippa wore her hair in looser braids, so it’s a lot different from some styles you might want, plus her hair was super thin and short for a while… but I’d like to learn if you are ever up for it. We can get Tubbo in on this too!”
That gets their attention and Sunny is bouncing out of his arms, hands clasped together like they’re begging, lip jutting out in a pout as they frantically nod their head.
“Awesome! We’ll look into cool hairstyles— for beginners- please Sunny, I have to start somewhere. Now, back to some toasty buns. Hit it again! No help this time, let’s see how good of a teacher I am.”
Charlie smiles as Sunny hits the notes with little hesitation. They really are a natural. It’s like Flippa with that gun. Maybe Sunny can kill Phil next with a sick guitar solo. That’s the goal; Tubbo will love the skills Charlie is teaching their daughter.
“Yeah see, that’s it!” Charlie cheers, holding up a hand for Sunny to high-five. They do so enthusiastically before jumping around the little space, kicking up dirt and grass as they rock about. It’s too much cuteness to handle, and the fondness is almost enough to choke on.
“You’re getting the hang of it, kiddo.”
Maybe I’m getting the hang of it too, Charlie smiles softly as he helps Sunny with the position of her fingers, but it’s still clumsy because the fretboard is too big for her little claws. He’ll have to find a guitar more her size until she has grown into this one. Maybe a ukelele, yeah Tubbo will love him. Only the best for his heuvo.
Charlie thinks of what it would be like to have Flippa here too, jamming out with them on an instrument she never got to pick up. And for that brief moment, Charlie closes his eyes and lets the grief fill his chest, his veins, his head before he just—
E
D
C
The same three notes ring out into the space and just like that, Charlie exhales.
He lets the childish music fill his heart on the next inhale and smiles at Sunny. He fiddles with the rough edges of the little diamond in his pocket and wonders if he can turn it into an earring. Maybe he can help Tubbo make something for himself too. Something for the other parents if they want. And Sunny too.
Maybe.
Maybe we’ll be alright.
E
D
C