Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Charlie was tired. 

He had been going for what felt like eternity. What was it…day 110? 123? 144? It didn't matter. All that mattered was how many days she was gone…nearly longer.

His sweet, beautiful baby girl. Pried effortlessly away from his hands, the tug so strong it had matched the strength of him trying to hold on. Charlie had had hope, had it once. Flippa was gone, then she was back and just as it seemed to be a bright future the clouds covered the sky, and her blood drowned in the oceans.

(He hadn’t even been there. His D4UGHTER had been TAK3N and HE HADN’T 3VEN–)

Mariana, it seemed, was just as eager to forget as Charlie was. Maybe more. Of course it was more. 

That’s why he wasn’t around. To forget. Charlie could only remember. It was his last sin that was stained upon his brain, burned into his eyes so he could watch it over again like a cursed tape.

As much as he bitched about his partner, Charlie did miss him.

Missed the way he once smiled at his arrival. Missed the way they would fight, but always make up so she–. Missed the way he called him every name he wanted, some bad, some beautiful. Missed when they would…well maybe that wasn’t something to go too into depth about.

Above everything else, he missed the sense of a family . The comfort, the peace that would be there, then differ a bit, then return in warm arms.

Now he was all alone in a cold, empty home he didn’t call home. Three people alone. Two empty chairs. One exhausted man.

People had tried to be there, to help him, to understand. But no one did. No one ever did. The only people who could understand were the people he missed. The people in his head seemed to understand, but they only heard his cries. They never saw the pain in his eyes because they were behind it.

So no matter how long it took, how desperate he became or how twisted the memory was in his head, Charlie would have a family again. 

He owed it to them. (He owed it to himself).

The sun was covered behind the clouds again today, almost dull. It was warm of course; it was always warm by the beach, even with the lashing strikes of the ocean winds.

Charlie stood by the edge of the shoreline, his shoulders aching from having to bend down so many times. There were lots of unopened chests and boxes he had had to deal with all over his beach, all thoughtful but he had too many thoughts already.

Even with the warmth of his seaside home, he still missed his old one sometimes.All the memories it held within its now shattered and blasted walls; the large tree that grew outwards from it, the balcony of many encounters, the little cubby that Charlie would sleep in when Flippa didn’t need him to sleep with her on good nights, Flippa’s room itself.

It’s where they shared memories, some good, some bad. Songs, arguments, Philza’s death that one time, pictures. Charlie could smile about them all now. 

He was still wearing his campaign manager outfit. It needed to go in the wash, but Charlie couldn’t be bothered to take it off. It wasn’t like he cared about his appearance anyway, that was not a priority at all. 

Some of his friends had tried to make him clean himself up, but he’d only batted them away, told a joke and escaped away from their sympathetic gazes.

The wind slashed his face and Charlie rubbed his eyes under his glasses, feeling the bags under his fingers. He was tired. It was his birthday and he was tired.

A few people had stopped and said hello, wished him well and then been on their way. A few of the kids were nice and Charlie couldn’t be annoyed at them. They were just being kids. Kids…that weren’t his.

Charlie walked along the sandy shore to his hut on the beach, his footing unbalanced in the humps of sand. His ankles always ended up in different directions when walking on sand, but the strain he was used to by now.

When passing the mineshaft he had made near his house he gave it a passing look. It had been making him feel uneasy recently, but he hadn’t been down in a while to figure out why. It was barely lit, so he didn’t see much, but still.

As he stepped into his abode, Charlie dumped the load he had taken off of the beach into a corner by the door. He’d sort it tomorrow. Now he wanted to sleep.

Charlie collapsed onto his bed, not bothering to undress out of his daywear. It wouldn’t matter if it got dirty, he was anyway.

He was asleep before his head touched the pillow, and the first thing to sleep in his house. Underneath him, the lanterns in his basement flickered a few times, right before turning off completely and shrouding the place in a thick darkness.

Charlie awoke in the night, barely any hours into his slumber at all. He sat up like a bolt, drenched in his own sticky sweat and breathing heavily.

It had been a nightmare again, only this time he didn’t remember which one.

Charlie rubbed his eyes and held his hands there until his breathing became a more steady rate. Then, he looked around and suddenly noticed how dark the place around him was. There were usually lots of torches and lanterns, to help him sleep when it got too quiet. But now there were none.

He moved slowly out of bed, feeling his shoes already on his feet and his glasses still on his face. Charlie grasped at his chests to find a single match, and when his fingers wrapped around one he struck it on the outside of the chest, a small glow emitting from it. 

He grabbed a lantern and tipped the match to the centre, a large burst of light exploding in the centre. The lid was then closed and Charlie held it up in front of him, moving towards the door and pushing it open.

It was pitch black outside. Not even the moon flourished tonight, locked away by dark clouds. There were no stars in the sky, not one to Charlie’s eyes. All torches or light sources he had placed around his house were gone. Mobs choked in the distance, and a small hissing noise came from not too far. His mineshaft.

Charlie’s heart began to pick up speeds again, his eyes darting around. He didn’t know what was happening, but he couldn't say he wasn’t curious.

He moved slowly across the sand, his feet making no noise as he did so. It was too dark to be out, but there was something in his mineshaft. A low hissing, almost whispering noise from behind the cobble.

As Charlie approached it, it only became louder until it mimicked the sound of a snake. Charlie moved under the shelter of the front of the shaft, and pressed his ear against the cobble that blocked it off.

“Charlie.”

Charlie jumped back away from the wall, tripping over and landing on his backside, looking up at the mineshaft in horror and fear.

“ Slime.”

Someone was down there. Some thing was down there. And it wanted him.

Charlie stood up, wiping away the sand from his ass and pulled out his pickaxe from his inventory. He took a breath (Was this really the right thing to do? Was it really what he needed to—) and swung forwards into the cobblestone wall.

It cracked slightly, but it took a few more hits for the stone to fully break and crackle away to the ground. Charlie took in another breath and swung against the other stone, again and again until there was an entrance to use.

He put his pick away and looked in. Even with the light of the lantern, it was deadly dark. Charlie gulped, looked back over his shoulder one last time and then took a step into the darkness.

Treading down into the mineshaft once again made Charlie realise how steep it was. A few times he almost lost his footing or his head by tripping over the clumpy steps he had idly made not so long ago. Old memories from new times.

Eventually he came to a corner, which Charlie was sure had never been there. It only ever went straight down, or straight forwards. But here, there were tracks. Fairly big ones, indicating the size of the cart that ferried across it.

Charlie pulled out his sword, just in case, and held the lantern out even further in front of him, making him wish he had a big stick to hold it with. His footsteps seemed to echo in the cavern around him, all around his ears he could hear them clattering around him.

Without any warning, the light of the lantern started to flicker. Charlie stopped abruptly, holding it near him and tapping it slightly.

“Come on, come on, come on,” he said, but in a few seconds the light was gone and only the darkness of the cave remained, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no!”

Charlie scowled, though his expression was hidden in the dimly lit shaft and he squinted around him. There seemed to be something near the end of the railway, if it even had an end. Another light. 

He moved quicker than he had before, making sure he didn’t trip at all this time.As Charlie moved further down the passage, the light seemed to grow closer and closer, until he was right next to it.

It was an opening, hidden in long green vines that blocked his view. Charlie put his hand in cautiously, feeling it poke through and touch nothing but the air on the other side. He took another long breath and stuck his whole body through, opening his eyes into what lay behind the curtain.

Bright lights hit his eyes as he entered the newfound cave that was hidden behind a wall of darkness. It was a wide and open space of a lush cave, but bigger than one Charlie had ever seen. Long, tendril-like vines hung down from the walls, some adorned with luscious, orange, glowing berries. Small bushes with pink flowers sat in various spots, among other shrubbery. Small yet steep rocky hills spewed from the walls, waterfalls falling from the walls. 

It was one of the most beautiful things Charlie had ever seen.

There were still tracks sprouting out into the cave, circling round until they reached the ground. Charlie began to move slowly, walking across them slowly and making sure his feet didn’t get stuck between them. He was still amazed that this was underneath his house, but he didn’t have time to question it.

Something had built these tracks, called his name, wanted him here. And he needed to know what it was.

It took him a few minutes to fully reach the bottom of the cavern. The tracks were still quite long, but when they stopped they stopped directly in front of a structure. A house.

Charlie’s mouth went agape and his eyes wide, staring at the small cottage nestled into the wall. That was definitely suspicious…and not there before.

Charlie stood in front of it, his sword out and his glance sharp. What was a house doing down here ? It wasn’t the slightest bit pleasant, especially when through the windows it was pitch black, maybe as dark as the passage had been.

Then, without any warning any just as Charlie was about to step forwards, the door slowly and creakily opened. Charlie’s eyes went wide and he took a step back.

“Oh...my god,” he muttered, shaking his head, “I’m not up for this creepy shit at 3-fucking-am.”

Charlie bit his lip and sighed, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses. There was only one way to go, and he needed to go the wrong way.

Moving slowly, Charlie walked closer and closer to the house, placing his hand on the door and pushing it open. It was empty inside, empty apart from the dust that layered on top of everything in there. Devoid of life was a better wording. A table with three chairs. An empty flowerpot. A flat back wall, with only one thing on it. A small door, slightly ajar.

It was no taller than Charlie’s knees, and no wider than himself. A round, brass doorknob stuck out from the wall, also covered in dust yet turned to be opened. A small key stuck out into the knob, already turned.

Charlie narrowed his eyes and moved forward slowly, kneeling down and reaching out to grasp the doorknob. It was cold, and the dust stuck to his hand immediately, but Charlie pulled the door fully open towards him.

His eyes went wide.

There was a tunnel beyond the door. It was short, narrow but gleaming with green specks on a dark sky. It seemed to be made out of one of those tunnels dogs sometimes go through, or that was what Charlie associated it with, for it moved and seemed to be that material. 

Yet, further down the crawl-through there was another door, alike in stature to this one. It was also slightly ajar.

Charlie looked over his shoulder, then back into the tunnel again. There was only one way through, it seemed. To wherever this took him. So Charlie began to crawl.

It was narrower than he wanted it to be, and a few times his knees got caught between the threads of the material it was made of. As he was up close to it now, Charlie saw that the green specks on the crawl-through were bright green numbers, almost seeming to move jarringly, glitchy almost. Charlie had no idea what that was about.

He approached the door after managing to crawl through the tunnel, pushing it open with the palm of his hand and his eyes had to adjust to the new brightness he found himself basked in.

Charlie pushed himself out of the crawl-through and opened his eyes, being basked in a cosy orange glow of a small house. At least, between the cracks of the door that was in front of him.

The feeling of covers under his knees and hands. The small of sawdust. Charlie knew this room. He had slept in it all those days ago. When the nightmares weren’t there.

He was back in his old house. The one he destroyed. 

Charlie stood up, or stood as much as he could in his cupboard and moved his hand towards the door. He could smell something. Something…delicious. In his house? Something was definitely wrong.

Drawing his sword again, Charlie pushed the door open, holding it out in front of him and moving forwards slowly. The room was filled with bright orange light, cosy yet unexpected. Steam from a stove filled the room, but escaped through the opening of the balcony. The balcony .

Someone was standing by the stove, hunched over their cooking and a pink apron wrapped around their waist. A waist that wore a yellow suit with red gloves and boots. Short brown hair and the arms of a pair of glasses stuck past the ears.

Charlie went rigid, nearly dropping his sword from his grasp.

“M-Mariana?” he said in barely a whisper, but the figure heard anyway and stopped what they were doing for a moment and turned to face him.

Charlie let out a gasp.

It was Mariana. It seemed to be him, but…his eyes . Instead of the warm, soft brown eyes that Charlie was used to and loved, there was only a sickening green swirl. It almost seemed to be different digits all crammed into one another, but when he blinked Charlie no longer saw it.

The Mariana-like figure smiled at Charlie widely and tilted his head.

“Hola Slime, welcome home mi amor,” he said, smiling at him even deeper before turning back to his work, which was chopping onions.

“What are you—how are you—are you my…” Charlie’s words fell away from him and he dropped his sword, placing it in its hilt, “Erm…so is this where you’ve been? Hiding underneath my fucking house? Bit strange don’t you think, Mariana?”

“What do you mean, man? We’ve always lived here! Pass me that pepper, would you afición?” Mariana asked, looking at Charlie. Charlie snapped out of his daze and moved slowly, passing the vegetable to the man. If he was that.

“You’re…not my husband, are you?” Charlie asked him, and the Mariana-like person paused for a moment before turning and giving Charlie another smile.

“Of course I am! Well, unless you mean that husband, which the answer is no. I’m your Other Husband, tonto.”

“Other?”

“Enough questions, man. Help me with the gazpacho, would you?” the Other Mariana requested and Charlie tilted his head in confusion.

“W-what?”

“Hmm? Oh, of course, you wouldn’t know what that is. A spanish meal I thought it’d be good for you to try. Juana, todo. Hablando de…”

A rhythmic bell ring went off to the side of the oven and the Other Mariana grinned.

“That will be the empanadas. You can take a seat if you want, Slime, it’s nearly done. JUANAFLIPPA! LA CENA ESTÁ LISTA!!” he shouted loudly, and Charlie paused again.

“W-what did you say,” he barely squeaked, his eyes turning to the door that had a rampaging noise behind it, the bookcase door that led to Flippa’s room. In his house, anyway, but this one seemed identical anyway.

Then, the noise got closer and as it was right in front of him the door opened, and a small girl appeared from behind it with a triumphant grin. Then, her eyes turned to Charlie and they sparkled with joy. She waved.

Charlie’s heart stopped for a moment. 

There she was.

His little girl, his precious daughter. Standing right in front of him, just as she had been when he last saw her…almost. Her eyes were the same as the Other Mariana’s, the same swirling, glitchy green. But Charlie didn’t care. It was his daughter, and she was here now.

Charlie rushed forward without a moment’s warning, falling to the ground and wrapping his arms around the Flippa before him. Her own arms were by her sides and didn’t move, but Charlie didn’t care. All he cared about was keeping her close to him, and never letting her go.

“Flippa…” he whispered, “God, I missed you. Is–is this you, are you…real?” Charlie asked, pulling away just to look at his daughter. Flippa only tilted her head and smiled again.

“Ah mi amor, you know Juana is not a child of many words. Now, sit down before la cena gets away from you!” Mariana said joyfully, and Charlie only moved slowly back, his hand still by Flippa.

She took it in her own and began to lead Charlie towards the table, which was small in size but was surrounded by three chairs, one with a higher seat than the others. Charlie sat down in the one facing the balcony and looked over again at Mariana, who was still busy.

Something felt…off, surely. The vibe. The cooking. Mariana’s kindness. Juanaflippa’s…expressionless attitude. There was no doubt some sort of foul play was afoot. But in full truthfulness…Charlie didn’t care.

He had his family back. Sure, maybe it wasn’t exactly the same as before, or even the same people, but it looked like them, acted like them (sort of) and sounded like them. It was his house. His home. It seemed so…peaceful, compared to his own world. One not riddled with petty strife.

Maybe he liked it better here already.

Here, there was no coldness from the wind or looks of sympathy. Here, he wasn’t alone. Here, he could be happy . Here, was a family.

Soon, Mariana was bringing around the food, beautiful and delicious smelling meals Charlie hadn’t even seen before, yet alone eaten. He brought Charlie’s to his with a smile wide enough to fill the entire room, and Juanaflippa wore one identical, her eyes gleaming.

Once Mariana was also seated, they began to eat. As soon as the food was near Charlie’s mouth, he could already taste the hundreds of different tastes floating on his tongue, spices and herbs. The textures were unique, along with the riveting aftertaste. He’d never eaten anything with such pzazz.   

When they were done, Charlie noticed Mariana looking at him again, almost observing him. He looked to Flippa, who had seemed to have eaten significantly little compared to either of them. As soon as he was about to speak up, Mariana immediately sprung from his chair and collected their plates, leaning in between Charlie and Flippa for a while.

He moved back to the kitchen and audible sounds of struggle came rattling from the fridge. Charlie narrowed his eyes and was about to move his head to peer around but felt a tap on his arm and looked to see Flippa staring at him.

She said nothing, only shook her head slightly.

Charlie frowned at her and his lips were just about to open to speak when Mariana suddenly appeared in front of him once again, slamming down a metal tray in front of him. Charlie jumped and his eyes locked onto the thing in front of him.

It was a cake. Well, he thought it was. It could be a million different other things too though. It was a medium sized circular object, a few layers tall at least. Messy lime-green icing was smeared all over like a hand had been used instead of a frosting spatula. Darker green icing was smacked on top in the form of some incohesive lettering.

Charlie squinted, and as he did so it seemed to come together: H4PPY B1R7HD4Y D4D !1!

“Feliz cumpleaños, mi amor,” Mariana said, leaning down and pecking Charlie on the cheek. It felt cold. Empty.

Flippa smiled and squeezed Charlie’s arm multiple times, some shorter than others, but she never broke her smile.

“Blow them out then, man,” Mariana said, his fingers feeling as though they were digging into Charlie’s shoulder. Five white and green candles stuck out the mess, and as Charlie blew the life in them fluttered away. Juanaflippa clapped her hands and went to stick her finger into the cake. Mariana raised an eyebrow and caught her hand before he could.

“Hey! No eating before your papa has!” he said with a chuckle, one eye still narrowed. Juanaflippa’s eyes went wide for a second before they were normal again and she was back in her place.

“Would you like a slice, Slime?” Mariana asked, facing Charlie again, who scratched the back of his neck.

“Well,err, I’m pretty tired today and I could do with…getting back home. Where I came through. Not that this isn’t lovely ; I just don’t think I’m in the mood for cake, that’s all,” Charlie said, standing up but Mariana grabbed his arm.

“Oh, that’s fine. No te preocupes, querido. In fact, if you’re so tired, how about you go and rest for a while. It is your day after all, mi amor. You can do whatever you like,” Mariana said, taking Charlie by the arm and leading him to a small room past one of the walls, one with a small bed in the middle.

Charlie did not remember it being there.

He felt himself being pulled to the bed, and he didn’t seem to be fighting back, at least not when he tried to. Like he was unable to orchestrate his own body. Mariana moved him into lying down in the bed, the covers pulled over him.

“Take as long as you want, me and Juana will be right outside,” he said with a grin, his eyes gleaming with that green glow, “Buenas noches, Slime.”

Still looking him dead in the eyes, Mariana walked out of the room, his eyes still illuminating the room until his head was behind the closed door.

Charlie felt locked. He usually hated unfamiliar beds, but in this one he felt as though he couldn’t move his legs to escape it. Or his arms.

But as he felt his eyes finally closing, the wave of exhaustion finally taking over, he started to think that maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.

Charlie awoke with a sudden jerk, bolting upright and looking around in quick movements.

The room around him was the room of his seaside hut, the walls bare with acacia wood and the floor covered in gritty sand. His clothes were the same they had been for days, his items alone in his chest and the ocean waves crashed in the distance.

He was not in his old home. There was no Mariana or Juanaflippa or birthday cake. There was no family. Charlie was alone. Again.

Charlie pressed his hand to his face and sighed, half relief, half sorrow. It had been a dream. Of course it had. He had been tired, so very tired, and had a rather real dream. Of course he had.

Of course he was not in his old home. Of course there was no Mariana or Juanaflippa or birthday cake. Of course there was no family. Of course Charlie was alone. Again.

Charlie climbed out of bed, feeling the need to get changed. His clothes were more sweat than cotton now. He found some old clothes in his drawers, putting them on and wiping his face with his previous ones. Then, gear attached, he went outside.

He headed straight for his mineshaft, his mind set on knowing what he would find. A closed up cobbled entrance, with no traces of huma contact since.

He was wrong though. Because when Charlie got there, he went rigid as the tunnel before him was open. Nervous as pieces of crumbled stone lay beside the entrance. Unsure when he ventured down the tunnel; far, far down like he had the night before and found there was no hidden entryway hidden by vines. No house. No tunnel. No family.

Charlie was alone.

Chapter Text

“I just think that maybe you should come out more,” Mike said, passing Charlie a cup of cajuína. 

Charlie looked at it suspiciously; his brother had tried to get him to drink more native liquids but this early in the morning he didn’t know if it was worth the risk.

“You only ever come to see people when there are festivals, or if I make you come and see us. It’s no good to be alone so often, irmão,” Mike said, trying to catch Charlie’s gaze. 

Charlie was too busy staring past him at the other figure behind Mike. Pac was there, as usual, but he was doing something with Richarlyson behind them. The two of them had him for the day today, which seemed planned for Charlie’s visit. They knew his nephew could wrap his finger around him with the way he acted around him, appealing with his energy and passion for whatever he did. 

Especially when he reminded him of…well.

Charlie brought the cup to his mouth and slurped it, ignoring the sting of tastes hitting his tongue. He’d had worse. He finally met Mike’s eyes and brought the cup down, narrowing his eyes.

“At least I socialise when I do,” he retorted, “I’m not a total hermit.”

In a lot of ways, Charlie and Mike could be seen as nearly identical. They both had glasses (which funnily enough were both broken at the nose), green eyes and a similar height. Mike’s accent was more prominent, while Charlie barely had one, even from those years of his childhood. 

Mike always wore a green creeper shirt with shorts and shoes while Charlie changed his outfit when it suited him. Today he wore his white shirt with three hearts, with a long sleeved green shirt under it and jeans. Though they both usually had short, ruffled brown hair, not long ago Mike had had his hair made bright pink.

For some reason, it made Charlie sort of happy. They no longer looked so similar, and he didn’t have to pretend to be just like him.

“I just…don’t want you to be alone so often because then you’ll start to…think. Remember things that you need to move on from. You told me you would move on,” Mike said with sad eyes. Charlie shifted uncomfortably on his seat and frowned.

“I…I am. I have,” he said quickly, but not quick enough for Mike to narrow his eyes, “You don’t need to worry. Truly.”

He mustn’t have been very convincing because Mike turned around  to look at Pac and Richarlyson.

“We’ve been thinking…” Mike started, looking back to Charlie, “...that maybe it’s time you move out of that hut. I mean, it’s not really a proper house is it? That maybe…you should move down to the Favela, here, with us and the others. Everyone on this island likes you Char, especially the Non-English speakers. If you moved here, we could spend more time together. Richas could see you more, and you’d get to look after a kid more. I know you’re still hurting, but being with people who love you helps to heal.”

Charlie opened his mouth, then closed it and bit his tongue. Richarlyson suddenly turned around and moved towards them, his smile wide and tugged on Charlie’s hand, nodding excitedly. 

Richas had a head of a bundle of frizzy dark hair that grew past his dark eyes. He wore a mooshroom hat that sat on top of his hair, and two red horns stuck out. He wore a bright yellow Brazilian football shirt with the flag on it in the middle. He had navy blue shorts and white trainers, with his left leg being prosthetic up to the knee. Various cuts and plasters were all over his body, mostly on his arms, leg and face. Two small red wings stuck out of his back, usually out and knocking into things. 

Charlie smiled at the kid softly but looked past him, feeling claustrophobic with so many eyes on him.

“It’d be good for you. And we’d love to have you around more often,” Mike said, looking back at his friend with a stern look, “Right Pac?

Pac turned and nodded, moving next to Mike and crossing his arms with a smile. 

“Yep, definitivamente! It would be no problem at all!”

Charlie smiled falsely, behind it stringed with indignant affair. It wasn’t that he hated Pac, not even disliked him. He just sometimes wished that he wouldn’t always be around whenever he wanted to see Mike.

“I..I appreciate the offer very much but I think that…I’ve become a bit busier recently and I don’t think I’ll be leaving that home for…a while,” Charlie said hurriedly, picking up his glass and chugging down the last of the liquid before setting it down and rising, “Erm…I need to be going now but, thanks for all.”

“Irmão—” Mike started but Charlie pushed past him and crouched down to Richarlyson, trying hard to smile at him.

 “Até breve, querido,” he said, ruffling Richas’s hair. 

Charlie pushed open the door and walked out, scowling to himself and chatizing himself in his own head. His heart was beating rapidly, and he knew he was having another moment. Charlie stopped and put his hand to his chest, almost toppling over from the exhaustion.

“Não se atreva a simplesmente se afastar de mim,” a voice behind him called out, and when Charlie peered over his shoulder it was Mike, standing with irritated eyes yet sadness looped into them. Charlie stood upright, pushing his glasses up his nose and turning with a look of equal irritation.

The two of them had never been as close as they wanted. As small children they were fine, but after they were separated Charlie almost forgot about Mike entirely, as much as he wished not to. After all, he almost forgot all of his Portuguese, and even now he only remembered what Mike said back to him. When the boat crashed it was like relief and confusion came toppling onto him once again, especially when he saw that his irmão didn’t need him anymore, when he had a new person to look after. 

Mike was just a reminder of something Charlie could’ve been if he had been stronger.

“What do you want me to do?” Charlie snapped, “I can’t live in a fantasy where everything is perfect, Mike. All this island sees me as is a charity case they can feel sympathetic witty one moment and then forget about for all of the other ones.”

“That’s not what people see you as—” Mike started.

“That’s exactly what they see me as!” Charlie shouted, and Mike took a step back. Charlie winced. If Richas had been watching, there would’ve been more pieces of his heart lying on the ground.

“I don’t,” Mike muttered softly and Charlie closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“I know you don’t.”

“Then why do you keep pushing me away, lua?”

“Because—” Charlie faltered, “Because I just…I can’t be around just to make everyone else feel good. I’m too messed up. And I don’t want to pull you down, sol. You have Richas, and Pac, and everyone else and your life is great. You don’t need a brother, one who barely acts like one, one with a dead kid and dead beat husband to loom around your town and bring everything toppling down with him,” Charlie wrapped his arms around himself, “You’re stronger without me.”

He could barely stand to look at the expression on Mike’s face. It was so sad . Not even pissed off or annoyed that Charlie was saying this. Not even unbothered by things he knew without hearing them. Just sad because he’d finally heard them.

Charlie pulled out his warp crystal and held it close, thinking only of his home and feeling the particles twisting around him. When he opened his eyes before he left, he only saw Mike standing there hopeless, and the peak of a mooshroom in the window behind him.

A very sad mooshroom.

That night Charlie only lay horribly awake in bed, eyes wide and fixated on the ceiling above him. The waves were loud behind him, but they were not what kept him awake.

Thoughts are loud in your head, and when there is no other noise in the night they are even louder and easier to concentrate on. Except you still can’t really concentrate on them singularly even if you tried.

And Charlie tried.

He breathed through his nose, like one does when they are agitated and trying to gain attention. He pushed the sheets off of him and sat up, rubbing his eyes and putting on his glasses that lay on the windowsill. 

Charlie hated it when he couldn’t sleep. It was just lying there, eyes getting heavier every second and the bed becoming more uncomfortable the longer you lay on it. The sheets becoming warmer and more suffocating through the night, the bottom sheet becoming crinkled. Not being able to do anything about it and just waiting for it to hit you.

“ Chaaaaaaarrliiiee… ” something called out to him again. It didn’t make him jump as much as it did before, but it was still looming. This time he knew what it was, but he was still unsure.

It was obvious he hadn’t been dreaming. The passage had been blocked, but that could’ve been only in the day. 

The night was when the monsters came out to play.

They wanted him there. In that…whatever it was. Charlie couldn’t say he wasn’t a bit scared by how real it had seemed, but he also couldn’t say he didn’t…like it.

Even if it had been dark, it had also been his home. A fake one, maybe, but it still looked the same, felt the same, smelt the same. Acted the same, maybe not perfectly, but the face of his lover and child had been smiling back at him, and that time it had been right in front of him instead of in his nightmares.

Only similarity was that they were both in the night.

“ Papaaaa?” 

Charlie’s skin crawled. That one sounded too real, and it was able to get to him.

The kids never really spoke, something nobody really knew why. A few sounds here or there, but they never spoke full sentences like most kids their ages would. They only really communicated with signs, books, notes or hand signals.

Flippa had always been a quiet one, maybe not with actions (guns were not quiet) but with words, indeed. The Flippa he had seen seemed like she had to be, or she could speak but her tongue was under chains.

Whatever the case was, Charlie knew he had to go back.

Yeah, maybe it was whatever that thing was distorting his mind now he had let it in. Yeah, maybe he wasn’t thinking straight. Yeah, maybe he was just too tired and sad and miserable and grieving and desperate to do anything else and just wanted somebody–anybody–to care for him like The Other Mariana had.

Yeah, maybe Charlie was just too weak to not be taken advantage of. 

Charlie flew off of the bed and stuck his feet into his shoes, not bothering to tie the laces and only brushing his hair with his hand. His appearance hadn’t mattered the previous night, so why would it now? His clothes smelled awfully, but his nose was tolerant of it now.

Pushing open the door, the cold ocean air soon hit his arms; goosebumps rising to the surface of his skin before he could even process it. 

A few times Charlie almost lost his footing, but he managed to sustain himself and not go flying across the sand. He hadn’t brought a light with him, but he knew the path by now that it wasn’t a problem.

After barely a minute, Charlie found himself pressing his hand against the battered cobble gates that weren’t really functional gates, more as two volutes at the end of a fence. He trailed his hand along the side of it, feeling the fixed chill of the inside of the mine as his head tilted in.

Charlie took a breath, and slowly took his hand away from the wall, moving hurriedly downwards into the heart of the mine. He was more hurried today, but somehow he managed to trip less. Charlie squinted as he walked—his eyes slowly getting used to the darkness and the walls appearing as shadows in his vision.

Eventually he made it to the tracks, and this time Charlie walked along the edge so he knew where he was going. The light at the end of the shaft was dim from where he was but still visible; a small firefly in a jar as big as the world.

The light seemed to get closer and closer, almost like it was moving towards Charlie and he was walking on a treadmill instead. As soon as the vines touched his shoulders he stormed through them, squinting as once again the bright lights of the lush cave hit his eyes like the rays from the sun. 

The tracks seemed to loop forever, but once they finally reached the ground Charlie moved with a less soft-trodden walking style. He pushed open the door and walked inside, dust fluttering past his nose. Charlie was able to hold his sneeze, though.

The key of the small door in the wall was still in the hole, twisted in the same position and as though Charlie had never been here to open it in the first place. He dropped to a crouch and pulled the door open, the dark passage exposed to his eyes once again—a glitchy crackling filling his ears and a looming sense filling his heart.

With less hesitation then the day before, Charlie dropped fully to his knees and began to yet again crawl through the passage. It was slightly easier, being a day's worth of used to going through it and the swiggling of it made Charlie feel less nauseous.

He got to the door pushing it open and standing slightly as he escaped the tunnel, pushing the other door closed and standing again on the dusty covers of his cupboard-room. 

It didn’t get any more normal to be back there again.

Charlie opened the door to the kitchen, wincing again as another glow of light hit his eyes. It seemed brighter than it had yesterday. The setting looked the same, with the figure of Mariana hunched over in the same spot where he had been when Charlie had entered before. 

The only difference was that there was no Flippa, but maybe she would enter in a few minutes.

He only took a few steps in when Mariana’s head turned, smiling widely at Charlie. There was no getting used to the green gleam of those eyes, though. 

“Slime, mi amor; welcome home! Good to see your face again,” he said, turning back to the stove. When Charlie craned his head he couldn't see what he was making—he couldn't see any food, really, but the crockery was out and the machines were on so he must’ve been making something.

Charlie walked around slowly, getting closer to the table and Mariana.

“Did you sleep well, estimado?” Mariana asked, not turning away.

“Err, yeah, I suppose. Though, I didn’t wake up here…”

“Ah, well that’s bound to happen isn’t it?” Mariana said, but Charlie didn’t quite know what he meant by that.

“What are we eating tonight then?” Charlie asked, peering around Mariana but he urned quickly, blocking his view.

“Well, you’re not eating anything, Slime, well, not here anyway. This is for Flippa and I.”

“What about me then?”

“You’re going to Las Casualonas, remember? Quackity is coming over in…” Mariana looked at the watch that was conveniently on his wrist, “...15 minutes! Jesucristo! Go and get out of those disgusting clothes, Slime; there are some fresh ones on the bed. Make your choice.”

He pointed to the room where Charlie had slept the night before and batted him towards it. Charlie turned the handle and walked in, finding Mariana’s claim to be true. On the bed lay two outfits; one soft, black suit and one sticky, green dress.

Charlie hovered over both of them for a moment before sighing and grasping the suit, pulling it towards him and beginning to undress out of his old clothes and into this new fashionable one.

To wear that dress, he would’ve had to have been already drunk enough to not be awkward about it. And happy enough to strut the streets in it.

Once he was fully dressed, Charlie left the room once again, walking into the same sight he had left it in, almost as if nothing had even changed even slightly.

Mariana turned to face him, raising his brows and grinning.

“Oh, you look stunning , mi amor!” he said, clapping his hands together and moving close to Charlie, brushing off the shoulders, “The right fit too, I’m good like that.”

“Err, yeah…it’s good,” Charlie said, unsure about how close Mariana was to him, “Very…comfy.”

Mariana trailed his hand down Charlie’s chest, a strange confused look in his eyes. Charlie frowned, and just as he was about to say something Mariana leaned forward and planted his lips onto Charlie’s own.

The feeling almost made Charlie jolt backwards, but Mariana had his hand around his back too. Instead of feeling the press of wet lips against his own, he only felt what seemed to feel like static running along them, twisting and glitching along his skin. Mariana didn’t even seem like he knew what he was doing either, just standing there and trying to kiss him.

Suddenly he felt a jolt, like an electric shock, and pulled away, staggering back and wiping his lips to remove the horrible feeling from his mouth. Mariana stumbled away, eyes wide and for once, he wasn’t smiling. He looked…scared, of something Charlie didn’t know.

“Was that…was that not normal?” Mariana asked, barely a whisper and his voice raspier that it had been before. Charlie opened his mouth to speak but at that moment there was a loud knocking at the door.

Mariana suddenly jolted forwards towards it, a smile on his face once more and at once everything was back to the way it had been.

Charlie stumbled backwards, his eyes dilating and he seemed to suddenly zone out of the surrounding area. ‘Mariana’ was saying something, someone was coming in but he barely noticed over the ringing in his head, getting louder and louder and—

“Slime? Slime!” Mariana shouted and the ringing shattered. Charlie looked up quickly, unaware of what was going on.

“Hmm?”

“Quackity es aquí,” Mariana said, gesturing to the man next to him. Charlie looked, and yes, it was Quackity, or, it looked like him.

He had the same blue beanie, the same long black tufts of hair, the same blue and white jacket he always wore, the same black sweatpants and trainers.Yes, he had the same green eyes that Mariana and Flippa had, but maybe everyone here had them. 

Maybe Charlie could have them; he couldn’t exactly look at his own eyes, and there weren’t any mirrors in the house to let him.

Quackity grinned and waved towards Charlie.

“Hey Slime, long time no see!” Quackity said joyfully, and Charlie smiled back. There was something about Quackity that infused a great joy in him. Maybe it was because they had stuck with each other through a lot of their pain, but maybe it was also because they knew what it was like to lose the things they loved like no one else did.

Everyone on the island had been there for Jaiden and Roier when they lost Bobby, but when Quackity lost Tilin and Charlie lost Flippa, they had suffered alone.

“So, you two better be on your way now!” Mariana said, moving slowly towards them so they had to back out of the door, “Lots of people, big night, plenty of drinks! Wouldn’t want to be late now, would you?”

“Aren’t you coming?” Charlie asked and Mariana seemed almost appalled by the question.

“Of course not! I have to tend to the house, and look after Flippa. There’s no room for partying in my life, so you run along and have fun now, miel.”

Before Charlie even knew it he was standing outside the door next to Quackity and then the door was shut quickly, taking away all warmth and light. He looked around at the outside around him. It looked similar, yet…more alive. Like everything had a bit more colour and life to it.

Like everything was perfect.

For one, the large white building of the Federation was no longer outside his window. The area it had been was empty, only plants and paths taking up its place. The tree outside of the balcony was more alive than it had ever been, and the buildings that had newly been added to the island looked bigger and better than they had when Charlie had walked past. Less cracks in the foundation.

“So, we better go then, eh?” Quackity asked, gesturing forwards with a smile. His was less forced, and less sinister.

“Err, yeah, sure,” Charlie said, rubbing his neck and still looking at his house as they descended the steps. Then when he finally looked away, he realised how good La Ciudad del Sacapuntas looked compared to what it did on the Other side of the door.

The two began to walk, not too quick but a speed suitable enough for late at night. Charlie kept quiet at first, both not knowing what to say and not wanting to say anything at all.

As much as he wanted to believe this was the perfect place, it still seemed as though there were cracks hiding behind the walls the inhabitants were trying to keep up, and imperfections that were far from what Charlie wanted. If there was foul-play afoot, he wanted nothing to do with it.

“So…” Quackity started, putting his arms behind his head as they walked. Unlike anyone else, he seemed much more like himself. Chill, “How’s it going?”

“You really gonna ask me that?” Charlie inquired, narrowing his eyes, “Isn’t that a bit of a… cliche question?”

Quackity stopped for a moment, narrowing his eyes, eyes that seemed to spark suddenly and become dimmer, until he just shrugged and carried on walking.

“Seems normal to me,” he remarked, “But if your lips are sealed, guess mine’ll have to not be. So… I’m doing just fine.”

“Yeah?” Charlie asked with a laugh.

“Yeah. Things have been weird, but we’ve pulled through. School was tough, and other…work was even harder, but Tilín made it better.”

This time Charlie was the one who stopped, his mouth agape in a similar fashion as it had the night before. When he realised one dead child was alive. And now it was another.

“W-what? T-Tilín is…alive?” he spluttered.

“Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t they be?” Quackity asked, narrowing his eyes. Charlie would be less unnerved if there was any sign of human in them, an iris or pupil. But it was just green.

“I-I…err…nevermind,” he mumbled, continuing to walk with Quackity gave him a look, but shrugged and carried on as if nothing had happened at all. Charlie clenched his fist tightly, feeling the pain as his nails dug into his palm.

This Quackity did not know what it was like to lose. He had never suffered. He had never had the pain that Charlie thought he had.

He was not him.

The rest of the way there, the two walked in silence. Maybe it was because Charlie didn’t want to speak to him, or that the Other Quackity had nothing to say. Either way, it was not a fun experience.

As soon as Charlie saw the hill that housed the club and the flashing purple sign, immense relief washed over him. All he wanted to do now was get utterly wasted and try to manipulate his mind to be somewhere else. A better version that this place was trying to be.

He stepped onto the stone slab and was immediately taken to another room, dimmed noise and lights filling it. Quackity followed behind him, appearing a few seconds after and marching forwards to walk in front of Charlie down the hall.

They came to a door, and after Quackity had inputted the code, the door opened and the noise that had been drowned out flooded into the canals of Charlie’s ears. As he stepped inside the room, flashing lights of all different colours hit his eyes, booming sounds and people’s cheers screamed down his ears and Charlie almost stumbled back against the overwhelming feeling.

When his eyes adjusted to the blinding lights, they caught onto the figures that were further in the room, either dancing on the floor or standing by the bar. Charlie recognised them all, but that didn’t mean they were the same.

Quackity walked in the direction of the horde, so Charlie followed quietly, or quietly for a place of this volume.

Charlie became one with the crowd, feeling many fingers and palms touch him all over, though who didn’t know who because of the lights blinding his eyes and the music bleeding his ears. He stumbled his way over to what he hoped was the bar, his hands his eyes until he clutched onto the hard leather of a stool and grasped it, sitting down.

His vision cleared until he saw the outline of the bartender, a familiar looking guy. When he turned around, Charlie saw the all so familiar appearance of one Badboyhalo, but not the familiar face he disliked. It grinned at him. His mouth seemed to be tied by green threads, like a ragdoll.

“Hi Slime!” he said cheerfully, the cracks stretching as he spoke, “Been a while! What can I get you?”

Charlie stared at him, his eye twitching and the bags sinking even further down his cheek. He put his elbow up onto the bar, his hand resting on his face.

“Get me the strongest shit you’ve got,” he said, staring into those blazing eyes. The threads twitched upwards and Bad turned, whisking away at preparing his drink. Charlie rubbed his face with his hand, the only sound in his kind the beating of the rhythm. It sounded like a heart.

Charlie went to turn around when a harsh hand gripped his shoulder, pressing the bones into what felt like a small paste. Their face moved to face his own, and Charlie saw the gleaming eyes blended into the face of what must’ve been a Roier. It grinned at him.

“SLIME! HOLA MI AMIGO BASTARDO! HAS ESTADO PERDIDO POR MUCHO TIEMPO!" Roier shouted down his ears, though not managing to be louder than the music. Charlie winced.

“Yeah, hey man!” he said, though too quiet for anyone to normally hear. Roier did though. He grinned at Charlie widely and looked behind him to gesture something towards someone Charlie couldn’t see.

He felt something cold press into his hand and when he looked, Bad was passing his drink to him. Bad grinned as Charlie sniffed it.

“Go wild,” he said smugly and moved away, dealing with someone else. Charlie swirled the small glass around, watching the drink thrash around inside the glass. He took one breath before throwing back the glass, feeling the lukewarm liquid trickle down his throat.

It felt like it was sliding down his insides, desperately trying not to sink down into the darkness.

Charlie grimaced, whacking his chest to make it go down quicker. And as soon as it was ingested, Charlie felt the effects simultaneously. It really was the strongest thing Bad had.

Roier started to pull him away from the bar, and Charlie almost slipped getting off of the stool, his legs suddenly starting to feel numb, which dripped down his leg. He grabbed onto Roier’s red hoodie, feeling helpless and dizzy.

He’d only had one drink. Maybe they were stronger here.

Charlie eventually found his way to the dancefloor, figures moving erratically to Charlie’s eyes. Roier let him go harshly, which nearly made him fall on his face but Charlie planted his feet into the ground. Everyone circled around him, their faces all too familiar yet not at all. 

Roier, Cellbit, Maxo, Fit, Foolish, Vegetta, Phil, Quackity, Baghera, Forever, Etoiles, Pac….and even Mike.

“Charlie, irmão! So good to see you again! Though, I’m sure you’ve been doing just fine, as always. Classic!” Mike shouted, smiling widely, though Charlie was unable to do so.

Charlie locked onto the figure that imitated his brother, taking in all his features.His hair was the same, his glasses, his clothes, his skin. 

His eyes were distorted, and so was his smile.

Though if Charlie squinted hard enough, he looked perfect. If he let the toxins take over him, everyone would be perfect and normal.

Even him.

Images were flutters of his vision. Sounds were wailings and batterings against his ears. People became figures, their faces blurry yet exactly as they should be. Reality became perfect.

Charlie was happy.

He spent the rest of the night in the club, barely aware of what was happening. The lights were so bright, the noise so loud, it was almost vomit inducing. Somehow he managed to stay there all night; dancing, singing, smiling.

Charlie was somehow happy, even in a place he could’ve easily gone to back at home. But that was it. He couldn’t be happy back at home, if he could even call it that.

Back there Charlie had lost so much, done so little and none of it could ever be erased. No one could ever look at him with eyes that weren’t pitiful or full of hatred.

Here he was treated as the light of everyone’s world, and no one gave him any shit. His family was here, and they loved him.

It was all…perfect.

Eventually, the night stretched on and Charlie felt himself being dragged away from the club. He didn’t know who or why, but his mind roared and swirled and he tried to move away, only to be as weak as a blob of pudding.

His eyes closed while he was being taken away, and when they opened again it was bright around him, but not in a flashing, horrid way like Casulonas. It was the lights of his house, his home.

Charlie felt himself being passed over from one pair of hands to another, heard a crackling noise almost between two, like static. He couldn’t hear anyone talking though, only shuffling and hissing.

He tried to open his eyes fully, tried to see who was holding him. There was only one person it could be, though.

“M…Mariana…” he mumbled, hearing him stop for a moment before feeling cold fingers stroke his chin.

“I’m here, mi amor. You’ve had a rough night, but there’s good in that too,” Mariana said and Charlie leaned against him, feeling his face centimetres away from his own.

“I…I love you so much…” Charlie drunkenly mumbled, slurring his speech and licking his lips to stop the saliva dripping out of his mouth. He was navigated into a darker room and softly shoved onto what could only be a bed. 

“You’re home now,” Mariana said, caressing his hair and pushing the sheets over him, “You’re home, and they will never take you away from us again.”

The darkness took over him, and without even trying Charlie was lulled into a sleep, the last thing he saw was the green light coming from Mariana.

All over him.

Chapter Text

Charlie sighed heavily, wiping the sweat from his brow with the coal dust coated gloves he wore, only adding more grime to his head. The torches in the tunnel flickered and danced as he released his breaths, making darkness become closer to engulfing the cave.

He was filthy, from hair to feet, covered in coal, dirt and sweat. His eyes were carrying bags with more weight than he could carry, his hair growing past his regular length, his fingernails bearing dirt without paying rent and scratches painted on his entire body. So was the price of manual labour.

Charlie made his way out of the passage, seeing the orange light coming from above him as he neared the exit. Grabbing the sides of the cavernous walls, he pulled himself out of the pit and felt the smooth baobab wood under his hands, now covered in soot.

The basement had a sense of closing around you if you stood there for too long, especially with the addition of the preservation of the deceased on its walls. But it served its purpose—or its newfound purpose—well enough, and no one dared to go down it (out of fear or disinterest it was unsure).

Going out in the middle of the night to the mine entrance was risky as well as freezing, so Charlie had come to a better solution on how to access the path to his home. He’d spent a day or two opening up a tunnel in the basement of his house; directly to the home under his house. Yes, he hadn’t visited the Other Island in a day or two, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make to ensure he could go whenever he wanted.

Charlie climbed up the ladder to the first floor of his house, walking in a trail of disaster as he walked to the door, feeling the chill of the outside touch his cheeks. The tunnel was cold, but in a fixed way. It did not slap him and slash against his frame.

The mine entrance looked the same, if not identical. Charlie placed his hand on the side of the cobble entrance, poking his head in to have a look.

“Soon,” he muttered, taking in a breath and smiling to himself.

“ What are you doing?”

Charlie went rigid, his eyes wide as the voice sounded behind him. He pulled his head out of the mine and turned slowly to face the voice. 

When Charlie turned, he found himself looking at a wide, white bear. It had wide black eyes with the cross of a stitching line in the middle of them, a stitched smile across its whole face and a small pink nose. It wore no clothes, only perfectly clean white fur across its whole body. It was taller than Charlie was.

Charlie gulped and tried to smile.

“Erm…hey, Cucurucho,” Charlie stuttered, placing his whole body in front of the entrance to the mine, “How-how can I be of service?”

If the bear found the tunnel, everything would be lost. No doubt the Federation would seal it away and make sure Charlie never went down again. Just another thing to take away from him.

“ What are you doing?” it stated again, just standing there with its eyes burrowing into Charlie’s skull. It was hard not to feel terrified of such an eerie creature, “ Hello. I am part of the QSMP Census Bureau. You have committed an illegal act.”

Charlie’s eyes went wide and he clutched the cobble behind him, his nails scraping the stone and welling tears to his eyes.

“I…I’m not sure what you mean. I’m just going down my mineshaft—”

“Why? What are you doing?”

Charlie gritted his teeth.

“ I just fucking told you.”

The bear stood still, then a small gun suddenly appeared in its hands. It aimed it above Charlie’s head and fired a warning shot. Charlie ducked, holding his hand and feeling bits of rubble fall on his back. When he looked back up, it was gone from its hand.

“Ha ha ha. Answer the question. What are you doing?”

“You want me to answer your little question?”

“Yes.”

“Fine,” Charlie huffed, looking over his shoulder for a moment before sighing, “I’m–I’m extending my tunnel further. The mines have lost most of their values, so I thought I might need to make it a bit bigger. That’s all .”  

Cucurucho stared blankly at Charlie, then slowly took a book from out of its possession, tossing it towards him.

“ Please read the book,” it said, standing still and expecting. 

Charlie frowned, turning open the first page and scanning the words on it:

“This mine has been deemed, ‘CONTAMINATED’ and therefore dangerous to the inhabitants of this island.

It will be closed off to EVERYONE until further notice.

Do Not try to Resist.”

Charlie tried to control the anger in his face, biting down hard on the inside of his cheeks to block off any emotions or expression.

Cucurucho then began to move, almost puppet-like. Charlie moved away, but it wasn't walking towards him. Instead, the mine. Charlie watched as a block of bedrock appeared in its hand, obviously unaware of the rareness of what it held. He watched as it moved, placing block by block around the whole tunnel, not stopping until it was impossible to enter. Then, it looked back at Charlie, that grin as wide as ever.

“Excellent performance, thank you for your cooperation. I hope you enjoy the island, ” it said, taking only one step away before disappearing entirely.

Charlie stood, frozen, his hands the only things that moved as they curled into clenched fists.

“Stupid fucking urso,” Charlie spat, kicking a lone rock towards the trees, “Good thing I have my fucking tunnel now, isn’t it?”

The Federation had a knack for getting involved in things that they assured was their concern; business, revolt, dead children. Nearly everyone on the island stuck their nose up at them, Charlie included—though he had never really come face to face with them that often. 

Only when they denied his happiness and left him to rot. 

Charlie shook his head, wiping his hands on his trousers and walked back to his house, the image of a bedrock covered tunnel burning into his skull.

“Just try and take it from me now.”

“ Pappaaaaaaa….”

Charlie’s eyes snapped open, the hissing in his ear seemingly louder and closer than before.

He leapt out of bed, grabbing his glasses from the side and his jacket from the chair, feet slightly sleeping as they balanced on the ladder step. Even though he had been asleep, his eyes showed a different story.

The cold chill of the basement was nothing on the cold slashing of the outside, it was more condensed and frozen. It did not shake him around like a ragdoll. As soon as he reached the bottom, Charlie rushed forward to the hand-crafted tunnel he had spent his hours on, kneeling down and jumping in.

It was dirty, dripping and collapsable at any moment, but Charlie was nimble. Charlie was quick.(Charlie did not see that he was becoming sick).

With the right amount of precision and hunching down, he was able to traverse the small ‘tunnel’ all the way, even if the mud drenched his attire. Soon, he came to a point where a light flooded the tunnel, a cosy yellow glow from the seeds of a trapped nature. 

Charlie shoved his hand through the last part of the mud tunnel he had hollowed out and as it crumbled to sheer particles, the cave of wonders beneath his home was then in front of him. It glimmered and shined, and maybe it was all in Charlie’s head but it seemed to reach out to him with its tendrils and lights.

He lurched out of the tunnel, almost tripping as he overestimated the depth of his step. Charlie grinned widely, stumbling forwards hurriedly to his destination, the oval gleam in his eye crackling.

Eventually he made it there, quicker than ever, and kicked open the door, stumbling to the door and clawing at the lock of the small door embedded into the wall until something clicked, and Charlie was still.

The door creaked slowly open, the black and white swirl, a pretty illusion of a vortex inside the crawl-through. Charlie bent his head down, one hand and knee in front of the other as he crawled through, the colours that were somehow not even there giving his eyes a run around. Charlie grimaced and felt his hand out until it touched something hard and pushed it forward, diving out of the tunnel.

It felt smaller than before, but only as he looked back.

Charlie stood, his smile rising once again and he looked down, patting himself down for any mud. A lot fell from his person. The floor beneath his feet was very dirty.

Pushing the closet door open, Charlie’s eyes squinted as the light hit them, seemingly harsher than it had been before. There was no smell of any cuisine in the kitchen, no new foods in the air. 

No Mariana in the kitchen.

Charlie narrowed his eyes, walking forwards slowly and leaving a muddy trail behind him. It looked the same.

“Mariana? Mariana? Juanaflippa?” he called out, only just hearing the echoes of his voice without the closed in walls, “Flipp–”

Something at once began to trudge down the stairs above him, stomping like they were about to come through the rooftop . Charlie looked towards the ceiling, narrowing his eyes for a second before a small figure appeared from behind a bookcase, smiling widely at Charlie.

Juanaflippa came dashing forward, running towards Charlie and wrapping her arms firmly around his leg and smiling up at him with a beaming grin.

“Flippa!” Charlie said with a grin, rubbing her head fondly, “What a delight, especially with such a delightful entrance!”

Flippa pulled away, still grinning and looked over her shoulder, the green of her eyes crackling as her smile reduced itself to a thin line. She looked back at Charlie, almost panic in her eyes and she grabbed his hand, holding it in her own.

She felt cold.

“Flippa?” Charlie asked, concern overtaking his face, “What’s wrong, meu querido?”

Juanaflippa’s eyes widened, showing the full extent of her anomalous eyes and she shook her head sadly, tracing her free hand over her mouth and suddenly seizing up, her hand dropping from Charlie’s and her shoulders going stiff.

“Ah mi amor,” a voice said from the bookcase, Mariana stepping out with his hands clasped, “You know Juana is not a child of many words.”

He walked in slowly, his apron still wrapped tightly around his waist and his ominous smile ever present. Mariana stood directly behind Juanaflippa, pressing his hands somewhat firmly down onto her shoulders. Flippa winced but it was soon gone in a flash.

“Well would you look at the time!” Mariana gasped, looking at his wrist with wide eyes. He wore no watch, “You two better be going! You don’t want to miss the show now, do you?”

“The–the show?” Charlie questioned and Mariana batted his hand at him.

“The show at the theatre, of course! I’ve heard its going to be a real cracking good one,” Mariana chuckled, pushing Flippa forward towards Charlie, “And usually in a show, you’ll have to stay perfectly silent .”

Flippa looked to her feet, not daring to look anywhere else.

Charlie watched Mariana, who had swapped out his smile for a grimace with bared teeth, barely breathing before he shook his head and smiled once again.

“Well, uh—” Charlie started, holding Flippa’s hand in his own and lifting up his chin, “–we better be going then. See you later, Mariana.”

“Yes. You will,” he said with a grin and Charlie nodded slowly, backing away out of the door. When they were outside, on the steps of La Sacupuntas, Charlie frowned and looked down at Flippa, who had still not lifted her head from looking towards the ground.

Charlie kneeled down and held his hand on her chin, lifting it to meet his eyes.

“Hi” he said softly, speaking in a safe tone and rubbing his finger across her cheek in a continual motion, “You alright?”

Flippa nodded, her eyes softening from wide at his touch and flickering down to her own hand, pressed into Charlie’s own. They arched at the sight of them, her face twitching slightly before she looked back at him and started to pull him away.

Charlie rose, following Flippa’s lead. She seemed to know where they were going better than he did—a clear thing in this place, it seemed.

She led him down the stairs of La Sacupuntas, past the split wall and down a trail carved through the grass, more elegant than what Charlie remembered it to be. After not so long, they came across a building that he had only frequented a few times in his life; the movie theatre.

It was large, usually decorated in movie posters people had graffitied with their own likenesses and those of others onto them. Though today, it only had one recurring poster, not decorated in anything other than its own design; Catastasis.

(Charlie didn’t know the word.) It featured four figures, all shrouded in darkness but with their clothing shape able to make out, their heads seemingly bowed. Curtains filled the sides, the four of them centred on a wooden stage. The lights were focused rather on the person looking at the poster rather than the performers themselves.

There was something about it that stuck out to Charlie, but he didn’t have any time to study closer as Flippa was dragging him towards the doors of the picture-house, which were already open and noise was heard from within.

When they walked in, Charlie was almost taken aback from the amount of people present inside—it seemed like more than there had ever been on the island, all smartly dressed in formal attire. Juanaflippa pulled him along, squeezing in between crowds and narrow gaps, no one turning their head as they were pushed.

Charlie turned his head to look back at someone but suddenly felt himself crash into someone. His hand was relinquished from Flippa and he toppled back into the ground. Charlie put his hand to his head and looked up to see someone else in an identical pose to himself, with a formal black suit and blue headband around his forehead.

“Roier?” Charlie inquired, rising to his feet and holding out a hand to his friend, “Oh god…are you alright man?”

His heart leapt in his chest as Roier snapped his eyes open, revealing nasty illuminated green eyes. Charlie didn’t know why he expected any different, but this pair seemed to jump out at him more than any other had. 

“No te preocupes, mi amigo!” Roier said loudly, taking Charlie’s hand and hoisting himself up with incredible strength, “Accidents are accidents, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Charlie said. He gasped in shock and pulled back his hand, feeling an almost static shock at where it had been held. There was a small, searing red mark in the middle of his palm, but Roier looked unfazed. Flippa pulled at his sleeve with narrowed eyes, appearing next to him but Charlie just smiled.

“So, err, what’s the show about?” he asked and Roier just laughed heartily.

“As if you don’t know! Your hija is the star of the show!” he said with a grin and rubbed Flippa’s hair, which made her scowl and pull away. Charlie frowned.

“Huh?” he questioned confusedly, no idea what Roier was going on about. He suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around, seeing Quackity standing behind him. Quackity smiled and put his hand up in a wave, his other hand in his trouser pocket.

“Hey, Slime; long time no see!” he said with a smile, running his hand through his hair. Quackity was dressed in a suit also, but it was more scuffed than any other with his shirt half untucked and no tie around his neck, “Looking fancy, I see.”

Quackity pointed a finger at Charlie, who looked down at himself to see he was now wearing a juniper green suit, formal and smart. Charlie’s eyes went wide and he felt it from top to bottom, confused. Quackity chuckled and looked behind him, walking back a few steps and producing someone from behind in front of him.

“Say hi, Tilin,” Quackity said and Charlie froze, looking up slowly. His eyes fixed onto a small child with small glitchy-green eyes and short, rugged, black hair decorated with a large red bow. They wore a zipped up navy-blue jacket and dark shorts, knee high socks and blue sneakers.

(No wings , Charlie thought, Not like Richas .)

“Tilin?” Charlie asked, everything seeming to be slower than before. The last time he had seen this kid, they had been on the receiving end of his blade. At least, that had been the last time he had seen them alive .

He saw their body all the time in his head.

“Its…it’s been a while, kiddo,” Charlie said softly with an aching chuckle, “You good, kid?”

Tilin nodded, smiling at Charlie and looking at Flippa, cocking their head to one side and staring at her.

“Ay, you two better be going soon, eh?” Roier said loudly, looking around and scanning the crowd before his eyes widened and he put his fingers in his mouth, whistling, “AY! BOBBY!”

There was a loud noise as a small child came charging through the crowd, coming to an immediate halt the minute he was at Roier’s side. Charlie recognised the boy at once; his scruffy brown hair and dirt on his face, a blue headband wrapped around his head, wearing blue overalls all over and covering a white shirt with paint splatters in different places, red sneakers and holed socks, green eyes and a dashing grin.

“Bobby!” Roier cheered, scruffing up the kid’s hair, “Toma a los demás y prepárate, ¿eh?”

Bobby nodded, looking back at the other two children and cocking his head to signal somewhere. Tilin walked towards him, the two of them walking away before looking back at Flippa, who looked unsure. Tilin frowned and moved back towards her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her away.

“Flippa? Juanaflippa!” Charlie shouted, taking a step towards her before Roier put out his arm, smiling and shaking his head.

“Just enjoy the show, eh,” he said, eyes crackling. Charlie gulped and nodded slowly, looking back to where Flippa had last been. She was gone.

On the spur of the moment, people began to disperse through two sets of double doors on either side of the room, shuffling in like an infected crowd. Roier grinned, sweeping his hand across the air as if to present it to Charlie, who frowned and began to follow the masses.

Inside the theatre was a lot different than Charlie remembered it being. One effect being that there was a whole entire curtained stage instead of a simple screen, and the other was that they were on a balcony looming over a mass of seats instead of a hill of squashed seats. 

Charlie was unable to find a way down to the terrible drop of chairs below, so he felt his way to an empty seat on the balcony, gripping the sides as if to stop himself from not falling down below. He was quite close to the stage, somehow, but there seemed to be more people below him scuffling about than around him, though of course Quackity and Roier were nearby, grinning from ear to ear. It almost made him wonder why Mariana never came to such events, but as quick as he had thought it it was out of his mind as stringed music began to play and the audience began to clap.

The two large red curtains were strung across, revealing a large wooden stage shrouded in darkness. A bright spotlight flashed down towards it, revealing four small figures standing frozen, their heads bowed down towards the ground.

Charlie was busy observing the stage—the intricate wooden slabs and the two ladders that were positioned on either end, a platform atop each. Then, his eye caught attention of the figures and they went wide.

Positioned on the stage from left to right were four small children, dressed in familiar attire and the faintest view of horns sticking from their head. Tilin, Bobby, Juanaflippa ( Juanaflippa!? ), and a child Charlie took a second to recognise as Trump, someone who he had only ever seen once or twice. But had quickly succumbed to fate like the rest of them, or though now  it seemed not so.

Charlie narrowed his eyes at the sight of them, especially at Juanaflippa. She was stood like the rest of them, head bowed and hands clasped in front of her. She looked so…doll-like, as if her limbs were moved with metal hinges and poles.

There was silence for a moment, before a wave of orchestral music flooded the hall, and the performers began to move.

They moved in synchronised motions, their arms lifting up at the same rhythm and speed and gracefully twirling like the wings of a swan. Their heads moved from side to side and up to down, puppets in hidden form. They all took a step forward, swinging their back leg out behind them and fluttering their arms across, leaning forwards.

All of their eyes remained closed, their faces impassive. The music was building up pace, each stringed instrument sounding sharper. The four children began to move quicker, their movements hastier and pointed. Their hands swiped in front of their faces, snapping down to show their eyes wide open, their mouths in twisted grins but as it snapped up again, the grin was gone.

Then, Tilin and Juanaflippa moved to stand in front of Bobby and Trump, the latter hoisting the former up into the air like an elegant lift, dropping to the ground but making no sound upon the floor.

Charlie watched the scene with wide eyes, confused and slightly impressed with their movements being in sync with professional dancers and not faltering for a single movement. They danced gracefully like ballet dancers, with movements slightly rigid and controlled like puppeteers.

Tilin and Bobby began to move away towards the wings, still moving in the same way while Juanaflippa and Trump carried the dance in the middle of the stage. Charlie looked to the side to see Tilin and Bobby climbing the ladders on opposite ends of the stage, their faces not changing even as the heights increased. Charlie narrowed his eyes.

As they reached the top, they stood atop the platforms that were barely the size of themselves, inches away from the drop. They stood there for a moment before moving quickly, speeding towards the edge of the platforms and letting their feet leave the solid surface, dangling into the air. Charlie’s eyes went wide.

“NOOOOO!” he shouted, flying out of his seat and reaching one hand out as he watched the two children about to plummet to their deaths, their bodies flashing in his mind before they had even touched the ground.

However, his heart went colliding back into its cage as he watched the two grip a hold of two identical opposite metal trapeze bars, spinning around them while letting go to grip the opposite, flying past each other like birds of different routes.

Charlie’s eyes softened and he looked around, feeling a thousand eyes on him yet no one paying him any attention at all. In fact the more he looked at the people in the hall, the more he felt as though they had no features at all. He sat back down in his seat, squashing himself down low so he could feel hidden, returning his eyes to the show.

He watched the two children twirl in the air, soaring and falling without so much as any mistake, like two professionals. Flippa still danced on the stage, perfectly, though Charlie could’ve sworn he saw her look up a few times.

Then, as if the trapeze had almost grown in length, the two children of the sky swooped down, grabbing the two dancers on the stage and lifting them into the air also, now a full performance off of land. They were thrown from one side to the other, swinging and flying like they were stringed. 

Charlie was almost lost in the repetitive nature of it, watching them go back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and…

His eyes felt compliant to close, recede away and sleep for the rest of the show. They were almost about to, until he saw Flippa move across air and he remembered his daughter was performing, and he would NOT sleep this time.

Soon, the music was reaching its climax, louder and sharper than before just as the four children did one final swing, Tilin and Trump landing on one platform and Juanaflippa and Bobby on the other. The music died down, and they bowed.

The audience erupted into a large applause, a standing ovation. Charlie rose in his seat, clapping his hands as hard as he could and smiling at Juanaflippa, who met his eyes but gave him no such smile.

And then, there was a moment. A moment where everything slows down, you think back again and again to every exact explicit detail of what occurred, but nothing will be the same as when you saw it for the first time. Wondering what went wrong and why you did nothing to stop it, why you just stood in shock.

Charlie, watching Juanaflippa, saw exactly as Bobby’s leg suddenly lurched forward, right off the front of the platform. He fell forwards, having exactly five seconds of time to fall before he smacked straight into the wooden floor, a loud snap coming straight from where his neck came in contact with the ground.

The entire hall was silent

Charlie felt the bile in his throat gurgle as he looked down at the boy, his neck limp and hanging. His eyes were wide, his mouth agape, and all he could think of was the image of a dead child lying in front of him, not too different of a situation than this.

He could not tear his eyes away from it, and he would not dare to move.

However, Charlie was even more taken aback, and sick, when before his eyes the body of the boy started to move. Started to crack. Started to stand.

Its hands pressed against the stage, pushing itself up while its neck flopped tepidly at an angle. Its eyes gleamed with green, and Charlie watched in horror as its neck cracked back into its original position, the snapping loud and echoing through the hall.

Its neck was plastered in a glitchy, green and black gash that split though its neck like a stab wound, spilling out in an unnatural ooze of glitch. The child Charlie thought he knew as Bobby smiled towards the audience, crossing his leg and bowing with arms like wings. Its eyes looked up at Charlie, twitching for a moment before, without any presence there previously, the other children were standing next to it and all bowing in unison.

Charlie started to move away from the balcony, walking backwards and quickly turning, stumbling out of the theatre hall and into the lobby, pushing the door open to find a huge crowd of people already there, even though nobody had left the hall. When he looked back in, there was nobody in the theatre hall anymore. 

Yet, the people in the lobby didn’t seem to be people entirely; blurred faces, no features, like they were there to fill the crowd. Charlie’s breath was hurried, stumbling past the hordes of no-faced men to get out of the horrid building, his mind racing and he yet again walked straight into someone.

“Ayyy man,” Roier said, patting Charlie on the shoulder, “Quite a show, eyy?”

“W-w-what?” Charlie said between breaths, looking from Roier to the doors, and Quackity appeared by their sides, “Did you not just fucking see that?”

“Yeah, of course we saw it, we were all watching the show dumbass,” Quackity said with a chuckle, nudging Roier. Charlie grimaced, his face contorting in annoyance.

“You’re the fucking dumbass!” he shouted, clenching his fists, “DID YOU NOT FUCKING SEE BOBBY SNAP HIS NECK? HE SHOULD BE DEAD,” Charlie put his hand to his mouth, stumbling, “They should all be fucking dead…”

“Hey now man, I think you need to just lie down and sleep—”Quackity said, moving closer towards Charlie and pressing his hand into his shoulder. 

Charlie’s face writhed and he pushed Quackity away, snapping his hand out of his touch and pulling up his fist, bludgeoning it straight into his face. Quackity stumbled away, crying out in a roar that suddenly heightened in pitch, making Charlie put his hands over his ears as a high frequency erupted from his mouth.

He pulled them away as Quackity shut his mouth, looking at the hand he had used to strike him. His knuckles were coated in green and black ooze, glitching away and making his hand twitch. Charlie cried out, wiping his hand on his jacket and throwing it to the ground. The glitch began to crackle, spreading quickly over the entire jacket like a swarm of bugs.

Charlie looked back up at Quackity, who was holding his face as a nasty green slash started to grow on his cheek, dripping with glitch and crackling like static. His green eyes narrowed at Charlie, his face angry and Roier joined in, the same expression on his face and everybody else around him that had a face.

“Th1s 1sn’t suppos3d t0 h@ppen,” Quackity said, holding his face. His voice crackled out like tv static, barely forming audible words, “Y0u ar3 supp0s3d t0 b3 d0cile—”

“—c0mpl1ant—” Roier crackled, moving closer to Charlie, like everyone was.

“—0bidi3nt—”

“—pr3dict@ble—”

“—STUP1D!”

Charlie was pushed to the ground by an unknown pair of hands, looking up at a horde of green, but with more people he recognised now, all their images being used; Cellbit, Bad, Fit, Pac, Mike, Tilin and Bobby now, his neck still oozing. Juanaflippa stood behind them, her eyes still shimmering but not divulging in this act as well, standing off to the side with a look of worry.

Pushing himself up off of the ground, Charlie scowled and pushed his way through the crowd towards her, poking and punching and pushing anyone who dared look at him, though they did not back away. When he reached his daughter, he looked back at the creatures in disgust and stepped back.

“Stay the FUCK away from me and my family!” he shouted,stamping his foot down hard onto the ground. The room began to shake, walls twitching and roof crackling. From where he had stamped his foot, a rash of black and green began to form in a pool. Charlie stepped back, taking Flippa’s hand and pulling her away from it.

The pool began to tremble, twitching and contorting. Instantly, it began to lash out at the area around it, spreading outwards like a slash and infecting the walls and floors, everything inside the theatre becoming a green and black virus. A glitch.

“A code,” Charlie whispered, his eyes going wide. He backed away, turning to Flippa and picking her up in his arms, not letting her get anywhere near it. The things inside only stared directly at him, getting swallowed by the insanity and not even trying to flee. Their skin melted away to be part of the madness, barely recognisable in the mess.

Charlie took one last look at it before spinning on his heel and running, carrying Juanaflippa in his arms and getting as far away as he could. He could feel the ground shaking as he ran, the world around him decaying now it had been revealed.

It felt as though he had been running forever, but as soon as Charlie was at the steps of La Sacupuntas he sprinted inside, not daring to take one last glance before he slammed the door. Juanaflippa climbed down from his back, tugging at his trouser leg with a haste motion and tense look around the house. 

The epitome of absolute terror in her eyes.

“Don’t worry Flippa,” Charlie said through rushed breaths, trying to stop himself from moving so quickly, “We’re getting the hell out of here as fast as we can. Go get the stuff you want from your room and then come back in here; I know exactly where to go. Go on Flippa!”

Juanaflippa shook her head, tugging at his leg to plead with him to listen to her somehow, though she had nothing to say. After a moment she bowed her head, trudging away to her room with a worried glance over her shoulder.

When she was gone, Charlie collapsed to the ground, putting his hands over his face. He took a long deep breath, rubbing his face and standing, moving slowly over to the kitchen; no Mariana to be found.

He walked over to where the closet door was, his head still in his hands. When he looked up, the door was gone. His heart jumped in his chest.

Or, rather, it was covered. The fridge had been moved to hide it, standing where its place was not. Charlie frowned, walking over to it and about to grasp its handle when the area was darkened by a tall, thin shadow. He froze. He turned. He looked.

Mariana stood behind him a few feet away, his smile wide and his hands clasped. It was…unnerving.

“Slime, mi amor, there you are! I thought I heard you come in! Rather quick to get home, aren't we? And where is darling Juana? Put on a good show, didn’t she?”

“Mariana!” Charlie said, moving towards him, but stopping before he was anywhere near him, for a reason he did not know, “We need to get out of here. Right. Now. This place…I-I thought it was perfect but it was just using that because its actually NOT perfect and over run with weird glitch monsters and viruses and its actually all a CODE which doesn’t make ANY sense because why would a code be festering under my house but some reason it IS and you and Flippa have to come back home with me before any of it gets you two as well and never come back here again because it is totally and utterly fucked up and—”

“Sliiiiimmme,” Mariana said soothingly, shushing him and moving forwards, pressing a finger rather seductively against his lips and rubbing his shoulder with his other hand, “You really need to stop worrying so much, mi querido. It’ll give you a headache, y’know?”

Charlie tutted and pushed his hands away, in no playing mood, “Mariana! Would you please stop trying to play with me and actually listen for once, you bitch! The world is going mad and I’m trying to help my family so please!”

Mariana’s face changed from angry to confused to a smile once again, but this time there was foul play behind it.

“Of course, cariño. That’s what I’m trying to do. You’ve just…got to let me in,” he said, moving closer to Charlie and placing his hands on his shoulders, rubbing them, “And it’s been such a tiring day. You just need to rest, don’t you see?”

“Rest?” Charlie snapped, about to protest when a new wave of ease washed over him, his worry washing away, “I….am a bit tired.”

“Soooo tired,” Mariana said, leading him forwards with his shoulders towards the bedroom, “And a bit of sleep is all you need to see…what’s good for you.”

Charlie found himself in the same bed he had slept in every night, the sheets smelling of must and sweat.

“What’s…good for me,” Charlie mumbled, his eyes closing without him even doing anything. The last urge to fight back within him was held back, locked away and discarded.

“Yes…when you wake up, you'll finally see that here…is your home. Your only home. Perfect home. And everything here is perfect. You can be perfect too…just…like… us .”

Chapter Text

Charlie’s eyes struggled to open, the sleep in them sticking them down like tape around the wrists of a hostage. 

When the lashes finally snapped up from his cheek, he was staring up at a mouldy ceiling with the stench of musk in the air. The sheets clung to him like wet clothes and every part of him felt adhesive.

Charlie grimaced, pulling away and stepping out of the bed, his feet finding a crunchy carpet. His legs sprung up into the air, the texture dissatisfying and unrelenting. He looked around for his shoes, finding them right next to where his feet had been.

He was already fully clothed, which he didn’t know if it was a good thing or not. Charlie stood up, his vision still slightly blurred. He felt around for his glasses, finding them on top of a drawer not far from the bed.

When he put them on, his body went rigid. 

He was still in the bedroom he fell asleep in the night before. The room from the perfect world.

He was still there.

Charlie’s eyes went wide, looking around the room in a spin. It was the same as it had been every night he had slept there.

“This can’t be right,” Charlie whispered to himself, his fingers rubbing around themselves like a nervous stim. Then, there was a scuttling noise outside the door, like the legs of a hundred centipedes scratching across the wood.

Charlie froze for a moment before slowly walking forwards towards the door. His hand reached for the knob, wrapping his hand around it and pulling the door open. 

There was the kitchen. The same as it always looked. Assortments of smells fluttered from it directly to Charlie, infesting his nostrils. He was there still, though he knew not how or why.

Charlie walked forward into the kitchen, finding the stove on and pots bubbling but no Mariana at it or even Flippa at the table. It was abandoned, though he never had been here in the morning so he had no clue what the routine was like.

He walked around the room a bit more before coming to the balcony, not even looking up until he was dead in front of it, and when he did, his eyes went wide.

The world had gone to shit. That was really the best way to describe it. The sky–no, the entire plain—was black. Green lights snapped and flashed from the abyss, any remaining objects or locations slowly dissolving or glitching out like a catastrophe.

Charlie stood in shock, his heart beating somewhat in a way like a glitch itself; frantic and desperate to move and spread. He took a few steps back, his eyes locked onto the disaster and unable to take them away. Then, he turned and bolted to the closet.

It wasn’t very far to run, but far enough that it felt suffocating to stay. Charlie’s hands fluttered over the handle, ready to escape and then—

Flippa. His Flippa. Well, there may be a chance it wasn’t exactly his Flippa, but it looked like her. Acted like her. Seemed liked her enough for him to care.

Enough for his fingers to slip away from his escape and cause him to sigh, turn around and stare directly into the cold and green eyes of Mariana.

He smiled at him, standing so close that Charlie could almost feel his breath on his breath. Except, he never did breathe did he….  

“Buenos días, Slime. Mi amor. Are you… going somewhere?” Mariana asked, his smile ever present and daunting. Charlie swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to stand tall. Mariana stood taller.

“Yes. I am. I’m–I’m getting the fuck out of here, and I’m taking Flippa with me. I don’t know what sick twisted reality this is and what part you have to play in it, but I will admit; it fooled me for a while. Kept me submissive and illusioned. But look a-fucking around you!” Charlie said desperately, gesturing to the window, “Look how it crumbles like sand after a touch and how the façade falls! It’s fake, and I thought it was real and now I’m the fool. And I’m not being tricked any longer. I’m going home.”

Charlie stared indignantly at Mariana, whose smile began to twitch. He turned around to face the closet door, his hand reaching out for the handle. Suddenly, a large stream of green energy slashed across the door, making Charlie jump back. Where the scar of the attack grew, green and black glitching matter began to fester from it, creating a distorted cocoon surrounding his escape. Charlie’s mouth hung open and he snapped his head back to Mariana.

Mariana, who stood with his hand outstretched, the same distorted matter stretching out from it, leaking from his eyes and ears. His smile was ever present, though his face was surely angry this time around.

“No—” he said softly, snapping his head to the side as without warning, a long glitching arm sprouted out from his side, identical to the rest and resting below the other, “—I don’t think—” another snapped out from his other side, now becoming a twisted hexapod, “ —you will.”

Mariana grunted, his head snapping around as his body began to change, ripple, fester with chaos. Charlie’s face had never been so terrified and sickening. Slashes slit across his face, the same glitching matter dripping from it. He began to grow even taller, reaching the height of a cryptid type creature.

Charlie stumbled back, reaching out his hands for the handle, until he realised just at the last moment it was covered. A gooey feeling encased his hand, and he snapped his hand out of the matter immediately. It began to crawl up his arm, hissing and burning into his skin. Charlie yelped, trying to either rip it out or wipe it off, both of which were futile until he tried with all his effort and it stopped moving, resting shortly on his forearm as the pain on his arm began to become excruciating; part of his body now infected with the code which slithered in the walls, the floors, the entire world around him.

Just what they had all wanted, he realised.

Charlie felt himself being dragged backwards, his very insides twisting as an invisible force snatched him away. His feet left the ground, his body turning slowly to face the eyes of the devil.

“Mi amorrrrrr,” the creature that wore Mariana’s face purred, reaching one of its tendrils out to stroke Charlie’s cheek, who pulled his head back as far as he could go, “Are you ready to behave nowwww? Eh?”

Charlie glared down at it with all of his fury.

“Let me the fuck go you weird fucking bug-thing!” he shouted, thrashing around in its grip. His arm seared with pain as the force crushed down into his sides and arms. It frowned, its eyes twitching.

“Is that any way to speak to your husband?” it asked, tapping one of its fingers to its chin while another hand picked at its nails in a disinterested fashion. Charlie glared.

“You aren’t my husband.”

The creature that wore Mariana’s face froze, straightened its back and looked Charlie dead into the eyes, staring.

“Apologise at once, mi amor!”

Charlie stared right back, not blinking.

“No.”

“I’ll give you to the count of three,” it said tensely, flexing its fingers, “One….”

Charlie glared defiantly, his nose twitching with fury.

“....two….”

It started to grow even taller, its hands twitching and rattling.

“...THREE!”

The creature cast its hand towards the side, sending Charlie flying across the room. Charlie yelped as his body was flung against the wall, hearing a small yet sharp crack and fearing to stand. He raised his head, looking at the wall as where he had hit it, was now a small crack, which began to seep the same dark matter that encompassed the exit. 

Charlie pulled himself along the ground to get away from it, but then feel a cold, hard hand clasp around his throat, fitting all around it and in excess. He choked as he was ripped from the ground, hovering above the ground and looking into the eyes of the storm, though his own were becoming cloud by the force stopping the air getting to his lungs.

The creature that wore Mariana’s face started moving towards the door in the wall that resembled a bookcase. Charlie flailed in its grip, trying his best to smack it but failing. It moved its arm that held Charlie straight towards the door, so quick Charlie thought he was going to smack into it as a form as endless torture, but without any reason why or how, Charlie felt himself being shoved right through the door as if it was water.

Charlie hit the floor hard, holding his hand to his throat and coughing. There was no long corridor leading to a ladder that led to Flippa’s room like there was supposed to be. It was just a dark, small, supposedly empty room.

The Mariana-beast thrust its head through the door, staring down angrily at Charlie.

“You may come out when you’ve learnt to be a loving husband!”

It pulled its head out, leaving Charlie alone in the darkness. He pulled himself up of the ground with pain running through his entire body, pounding on the door weakly with agitation on his face.

“HEY! LET ME OUT YOU BASTARD! LET ME Out!” Charlie croaked, his throat burning with each word and he started coughing, drops of saliva dropping to the ground and sizzling upon contact. His hand felt for the knob, but as it trailed across the air he realised there wasn’t one attached to the door.

Charlie groaned, sinking down to the ground against the door. A choke welled up in his throat, which still throbbed with pain. He pressed his head against his knees, pinching the side of his leg. He looked towards his arm, which still crackled and hissed with an alien pain that his brain could not even process.

Then, there was a soft, delicate sigh in the darkness, a dull light illuminating from what appeared to be a sheet. Charlie lifted his head up, narrowing his eyes and reaching around for a weapon, to which he remained empty-handed. He stood–another sigh–and looked at it inquisitively.

“Who-who’s there?” he asked, “Flippa?”

“Hush!” a delicate voice whispered, “And shush! For the Code may be listening!”

Charlie stepped to what he saw now was a bed, one of the only things in the room, par bits of rubble and a few boxes. He moved closer to it—the faint glow from under the sheet in sync with the words he heard—reaching out his hand to the sheet, which was stained and dusty.

“You–you mean that thing that looked like Mariana?” he whispered, gently pulling away the sheet. His eyes went wide as they laid sight on three ghostly figures–three transparent ghosts of three small children, barely the size of any of the others Charlie knew. But, as he looked for longer, he realised these were children he knew.

The first wore a large multicoloured propellor hat on his head, rugged brown hair sticking out from under it in tufts. Two blue horns also stuck out of his head, two pale blue wings on his back—small in comparison to an egg like Richas. He wore a blue shirt with an black undershirt, black shorts and multicoloured sneakers.

The second had scruffy brown hair and dirt on his face, two navy horns sticking out from his hair, the same coloured wings from his back. He had a blue headband wrapped around his head, wearing blue overalls all over and covering a white shirt with paint splatters in different places, red sneakers and holed socks.

The third had short, rugged, black hair decorated with a large red bow at the back. They wore a zipped up navy-blue jacket and dark shorts, knee high socks and blue sneakers. Two red horns stuck out between their hair, two red wings from their back.

They all looked at Charlie with an expression of sorrow, and he stumbled back in shock. Trump. Bobby. Tilin. All here in front of him. It couldn’t be true, not like before. Their eyes, instead of being green, were all a dark black, as if they had no eyes at all.

“Who are you?”

“You know us,” Trump whispered.

“Or, you knew us,” Bobby muttered.

“You knew us like you knew all the children on the island,” Tilin hushed.

They floated up from the bed, moving in a sort of dance macabre, like ghostly fish in water. Charlie moved back, the gleam from their figures glowing brighter now they were moving.

“Friends,” Bobby said.

“Nieces,” said Tilin.

“Distant memories,” Trump said.

“Victims.”

Tilin stopped in front of him, their expression grim yet without hate, so close to Charlie. It was enough to break him.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said, barely a whisper, “I didn’t want it to happen. Not to you. Not to any of you. It was all my fault.”

Charlie felt a cold sensation on his hand, and when he looked down he saw Tilin holding it with both hands, looking up at him with wide yet calm eyes

“I don’t blame you. You only took me to death. You did not doom me to never move away from it.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“The Codes.”

“They ran away from the facility–”

“–far far away–”

“–and stole away out bodies from our graves–”

“–or the Federation–”

“–made themselves their own puppets of the others, and ourselves–”

“–made themself a paradise in a cave, through a door in the wall.”

“They had all that they wanted–”

“–yet they still wanted more–”

“–they wanted to know what it was like to live–”

“–to experience the senses–”

“–they wanted to be loved.”

“So they worked and worked on their world, making it the perfect facade–”

“–the perfect trap for one to fall into, to give them the love they wanted, the life they thought they deserved–”

“–and then found the perfect person to be the starring role in their fantasy–”

“–someone who had loved–”

“–who had lost–”

“–someone who was broken inside, yet still could be broken-"

"-who would be easy to deceive–”

“You,” Tilin said, right next to his ear. Charlie flinched, and looked at the three spirits as they floated in front of him, their expressions daunting.

“Me?” he questioned, “What do you mean me? What; you’re saying I’m the cause of all this? That its my fault you’re here and they’re out there?”

“No. But it's because of you that you’re here–”

“–and so are we–”

“–but none of are are supposed to be–”

“–and none of us want to.”

“Why did they take your bodies?” Charlie asked with a grimace, the subject of dead children not a very pleasant one at all to him (or anybody for that matter).

“They knew nothing about us. We were already dead.”

“And we had to be there for the perfect world to be perfect–”

“–so they took us away, before we could truly leave–”

“–after we had already been killed–”

“–mourned–”

“–accepted–”

“–and we were forever trapped in this purgatory of their own creation; unable to ascend or descend.”

“And unless you fight back, you’ll be stuck here too,” Bobby said, “Just like us. Just like everyone.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Charlie sighed, wiping his face, “They’re too powerful— he is too powerful! That one that looks like my husband. I couldn’t even fight back against him.”

“ IT has a weakness, like all things,” Tilin said, “Take out the heart, and the body will crumble, For both the Code, and the paradise they have created. Find the heart and destroy it. Then, we can be freed.”

“I-I’m not sure I can do that,” he said defeatedly, and the ghosts exchanged dubious looks with one another. Then, Charlie narrowed his eyes.

“Hang on a minute; if you are all here because you’re dead, I mean I don’t wanna say it because she was still alive not to long ago, but maybe, err, maybe—”

“That creature was not Juanaflippa,” Tilin said suddenly, “It was and is a Code. It always has been, and she is not the daughter you remember or miss, no matter how much you want to be and how arrogant you are to the truth. It is an emotionless mass of code, and it does not love you.”

“You’re wrong,” he snapped and the three of them raised their eyebrows in unison, “She–she acted differently than the others; she looked scared!”

“It was still learning. It was a shell of what your daughter once was. What my friend was.”

“Then if that is not her, why is she not here with you? With the dead?” 

“Her spirit was strong,” Tilin said, “She didn’t want to die. She fought to stay with her body, and when it was taken and puppeteered; she remained.”

“Then I’m right!” Charlie exclaimed, “She is still alive! That is her.”

“You’re ignorance–” Tilin started.

“–and your stubbornness–”

“–and your stupidity–”

“–blinds you,” they said, “She isn’t here because they use her soul to make the Code more personal, more real. It was masquerading as your daughter, after all; it had to be perfect in order to be believable. Though, it wouldn’t take much to fool you, it seems. But that is not your concern. Destroying the Code is.”

Charlie looked up at them, pain in his eyes, but the pain in theirs was more than his own by a large amount. He sighed, rubbing his ring finger and met Tilin’s eyes.

“I’ll try.”

“Promise it,” they said.

"What?"

"Promise you will try. Or it will not be sincere."

“I….I promise …that I will try.”

“Destroy the codes, Mr Slime, and our souls will be free!” Trump said.

“I’ll try,” Charlie repeated, gripping his hands and looking down, “I’ll try.”

He sat down, knees up and stared up at the children. Within a moment they had disapparated, and were with him no more. Charlie’s eyes widened in surprise; he would’ve liked more time with his niece.

But now…he was alone. Again. Even more than they were.

Charlie sat alone in the darkness. His breathing was slow, yet visible in the cold air. He leaned his head back against the damp wall in defeat, and without any warning he felt a hand appear from behind it, grasping the back of his neck and yanking him yet again through the wall.

He didn’t have time to even yelp.

Chapter Text

Charlie yelped as he felt himself being pulled through the wall again, as glossy and liquified a feeling as before.

His behind smacked against the ground harshly and he fell with his back on the ground, looking up at the ceiling. It still looked dark, as if he had not left that cold and tenebrous room. Charlie sat up, rubbing his head and looking around.

The room was dark, but not from the darkness of a hidden room. In fact, this place was not the house he had been trapped in before. It was entirely different. The walls were only partially glitched, one window half blocked to hide the disaster outside.The floor was dirt, as if no one had bothered to fully build it. And there, standing only a few feet away, was Juanaflippa.

Charlie sprang up, stepping back against the wall with his eyes locked onto her. There she stood; the same as she had been his whole time here. More sorrowful and with a fearful expression, and Charlie with the knowledge that she was a fraud.

“Juanaflippa…” Charlie started, taking one step forward before stopping and narrowing his eyes, “Is it…is it true?”

Her eyes flickered and she held her hands together to her chest, looking to the ground.

“Are they telling me the truth? Are you….one of them?”

She looked back up at him, then started to nod slowly and grimaced. Charlie’s heart sank, and his eyes widened.

“I’m such…an idiot,” he whispered, mostly to himself, and clenched his fists, his eyes to the ground. He felt something touch his hand—cold and harsh—and when he looked up the Flippa had her hand over his own.

Charlie yelped, pulling his hand away and stepping back quickly, leading him to trip up and fall back onto his arse. Juanaflippa pulled her hand away, turning it and staring at it like it was an incredible new creature, but with less enthusiasm on her face than a cryptozoologist would. Then, she kneeled down and grabbed a stick that was lying on the ground, dragging it through the soil. When she was done, she pointed at it, and Charlie craned his head to look, though still trying to stay away as much as he could.

1’m m0r3 l1k3 h3r th@n @ny 0f th3m @r3 l1k3 th31r c0unt3rp@rts.

Charlie squinted, wondering if it was his eyes that were bad or just Flippa’s spelling.

“Where…where are we?” he asked, looking around to the room that he had not entered before.

S0m3wh3r3 3ls3. Th@t r00m h@s m@ny d00rs b3s1d3 th3 h0us3, @nd th1s 1s 0n3 0f th3m. 1 c0uldn’t t@k3 y0u b@ck th3r3. Th3y @r3 @lr3@dy @ngry, @nd @t us b0th.

“Oh, right; you’re a code,” he mumbled as he figured out her writing style, then looked up to meet her eyes. 

They were barely a foot apart. Her own eyes still swirled with code matter, lifeless yet still full of a sort of life that kept her going. And for some reason, she didn’t make him anxious, like the others. It felt normal. Not as if she was full to the brim with the kindness and love of Junaflippa, but a glass half full of a sincerity that Charlie felt it was hard to believe she was really a monster.

“Why did this happen?” Charlie whispered, sagging back and pressing his knees up against his chest in self-defeat, “Why me? Why you? Why anything?”

Flippa opened her mouth, then shut it and shook her head. She drew into the dirt–Charlie watching from his position—and pointed.

W3 just w@nt3d t0 b3 s@f3. W3 just w@nt3d t0 b3 n0rm@l.

Charlie simply stared, his eyes covered in an imaginary clingfilm as they gazed forward forlornly. A million different thoughts drifted across his brain, and only a few were good. He looked down at the dirt again, and his arm felt weak.

1’m s0rry th@t 1’m n0t y0ur d@ught3r.

“Don’t say that,” Charlie said, patting the dirt beside him and sighing, “You make me feel bad. And I don’t know if I can handle feeling worse than I already do right now.”

Flippa sat still for a moment before slowly scooting next to him. Charlie felt the stiffness of her body compared to his daughter, but he didn’t care anymore. And neither did she. They were too tired, if a Code could be tired. Her head fell against his shoulder, and although she did not breathe she still sighed in an equal feeling of defeat.

“What a shit place to die in,” Charlie mumbled, “An old shed in a world left destroyed and fucked up, yet still unknown to anyone out there.”

He pointed up, for some reason, and looked at Flippa. She was sat more rigidly than him, as if she was scared to relax, yet still had an inquisitive look on her face. 

Wh0 s@ys w3’r3 g01ng t0 d13?

“Maybe not you, but me? Of course I will. They’re looking for me, and they’re a lot stronger than simple old me. I’ll put up a fight, and it’ll be one that I’ll leave battered and bruised in a grave. For a paradise, it sure doesn’t have the best conclusion.”

Wh@t 1f th3r3 w@s @ d1ff3r3nt w@y?

Flippa held the stick in his hand, looking at Charlie with a knowing look and he narrowed his eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Th3 pl@c3 wh3r3 1t @ll c0m3s fr0m. Th3 h3@rt. 

D3str0y 1t, b3for3 th3y d0 y0u. Th3n 3v3ryth1ng w1ll crumbl3.

Flippa wiped the dirt away, waiting for Charlie’s response. Charlie sighed.

“Does nobody get it? 1 c@n’t !” he yelled, his voice distorting and his body suddenly starting to move in glitched movements; his arm above his head and his leg on the wrong side. All Charlie felt was pain.

Flippa opened her mouth in horror, scuttling backwards quickly and crouching above the ground. Charlie screamed, and when it stopped he fell to the ground, his head rolling limply sideways. His breathing was quick—too quick—and when he tried to stand, he felt dizzy.

Th@t sh0uldn’t b3 h@pp3n1ng.

Flippa drew, coming over to him and looking at his infected arm. It looked as though it had spread further up, and the pain was horrendous when he thought about it. She pressed her hand against it, and Charlie could have screamed from the pain; not just from the touch but from the touch of two codes. She drew away at the sight of his face, and then began to write again.

Y0ur b0dy c@n’t h@ndl3 h@ving c0d3 1n 1ts syst3m. 

Unl3ss y0u d0 s0m3th1ng, y0u w1ll r0t.

“What don’t you or anyone else in th1s hell of a world or my own? I’m not special, strong or stable enough to stop a whole race of codes who want me to be their personal lap dog. They were designed to be strong. I wasn’t. I can’t save anyone, not even myself.”

Y0U ar3 th3 0n3 h0ld1ng y0urs3lf b@ck, n0t th3 w0rld. 

Y0u @r3 sc@r3d. S0 @m 1. But 1 b3l13ve 1n y0u.

Charlie shook his head, refusing to believe anything she said was anything other than lies to get him to do what was wanted.

1ts wh@t th3y w@nt. Th0se ch1ldr3n. I kn0w. 

W3 t00k th31r b0d13s s0 w3 c0uld l3@rn ab0ut th3m, s0 w3 c0uld b3 n0rm@l 3x@ctly l1k3 th3m.

W3 d1dn’t kn0w th31r sp1r1ts w3r3 st1ll @tt@ch3d. W3 w@nt3d t0 k1ll th3m, pr0p3rly. Th3y w@nt3d 1t.

But n0t y0ur d@ught3r. Sh3 w@s str0ng. Sh3 f0ught.

1 c@n st1ll h3@r h3r s0m3t1m3s.

Charlie’s eyes went wide, but he could not find it within himself to believe.

“Maybe…maybe I should just try to reason with them. I’m no good at talking, but I’m no good at anything else either. Maybe if we can just try to get along—”

“N0!” Juanaflippa shouted, and Charlie jumped back. Her voice sounded like the hissing and snapping of a computer malfunction, and it rang in his ears like an alarm. Flippa put her hands over her mouth, terrified of the sound of her own tongue, and her eyes winced as she moved them away. She picked up the stick slowly, and moved it even slower in the dirt.

Y0u c@nn0t r3@s0n w1th tyr@nts.

Charlie sighed, running his hands through his hair and pondering. He felt the roughness of his right hand on his head, and it made him shiver. He thought of everything and everyone he could, and he thought of everytime he had let them down. Charlie felt a poke at his leg, and when he looked down he read the message in the dirt.

F0r wh@t 1t’s w0rth. Y0u w3r3 @n 3xc3ll3nt f@th3r. Y0u n3v3r g@v3 up 0n y0ur d@ught3r. N0t 3v3n f0r @ m0m3nt. 3v3n 1f 1t w@s @ll @ pl0y.

Charlie read it with damp eyes, and after he bit his lip with uncertainty he sighed and looked out towards the window.

“Where’s that fucking heart?”

Charlie and Flippa walked slowly and silently through the malformed world, being careful not to step anywhere that would alert the presence of any unwanted beings or attention.

Flippa held Charlie’s hand tightly, and Charlie had not protested to the reminiscent feeling. They trudged through old ditches and roads, now overtaken by the powerful virus that had bled through anything and everything.

Something twitched not too far away, a branch snapped or a figure moving. Charlie stopped his movements, Flippa one step after him and looking around. He craned his head, listening for anything and everything that might make noise in this barren wasteland. Then, Charlie snapped alert, pulling himself and Flippa down against the ground and hiding.

Flippa looked at him with wide eyes, but Charlie put his fingers to his lips as a thunderous cracking sounded throughout the valley, making Charlie winced. There was a snap, a crackle and a hiss as something removed itself from the ground.

It was a cylindrical shape, green in colour and tall in height. Its round body was coated in numbers, large and small and disfigured. It had no arms, legs or limbs of any kind, no features to distinguish. Though, as Charlie dared a glance, he could see—if he looked hard enough—thousands of tiny, cracked green eyes that scanned and twitched faster than anything Charlie had ever seen. 

Juanaflippa lay against the ground, hidden in the grass beside him. Her eyes were wide and though Charlie was tempted to put his hand over her mouth, he knew she wouldn’t make any noise.

The creature of digits hissed in the sky, looking in every possible direction, its presence negatively disquieting. Then, it roared loudly into the sky—at least it seemed like a roar, shrieking and loud—and disapparated into the air, leaving behind fizzes of light and green sparks. 

Charlie peeked his head up, waiting a minute or two before deciding it was safe. He shook Flippa gently, who was sitting with her head between her knees and shaking. She jumped at his touch, then came back when she realised he was friendly.

“Hey, it’s alright now,” he said gently, smiling softly. Flippa watched him nervously before rising slowly with weak eyes, “Are…are you alright?”

She stood still for a moment before shaking her head and leaning over to the ground, using her finger to slowly trace:

1t hurts.

Charlie’s eyes went wide for a second before refraining himself and kneeling down to her level.

“Where?” he asked, taking her hand in his own.

3v3rywh3r3

“I’ll make sure it never does again,” Charlie said solemnly, “Once we get to the centre, we’ll stop it all and make everything fine.”

Flippa was still for a moment, seeing things behind her green eyes that only she could know the answers to. Then she nodded, though maybe not entirely at his suggestion, or maybe his suggestion in a different way.

“Do you want me to carry you the rest of the way?” he asked, and Flippa nodded. Charlie turned over, facing his back to Flippa, “Climb on, meu tudo.”

He felt small hands grasp at his shoulders, little legs brush against his back as he stood up. It was familiar, and Charlie almost hated himself for forgetting that this was not his daughter.

It’s still something that looks like a kid, his mind told him. Something that acts like one and needs protecting just like one.

It felt familiar as he walked through the marshes, a small body clinging to his back like a dingy with such faith in him. Not familiar of Flippa, but of another person who loved him. Who he’d forgotten he cared about just as much.

His brother had been with him all of his childhood, and they had been each other's best friends. Every day was spent together, and why should it not have? Mike and Charlie were two peas of the same pod.

Charlie had enjoyed life back then. The innocence of a child was one of the best things a person could experience while young, especially when you had someone to share it with. His parents weren’t too bad either, but twins were born to be together forever and always. Charlie remembered his accent back then; as thick and strong as Mike’s continued to be now. He spoke his native tongue with such passion, while now it was bittersweet.

He didn’t know why he blamed Mike for the two of them being separated. Maybe it was easier than blaming anyone else. Or himself. Maybe he wanted to be um rather than dois. All he really knew was it only took coming to this island for the two of them to meet again, and they were not as each other remembered the other being as kids.

Charlie was a prominent English speaker with barely any traces to his native tongue white Mike embraced who he was. He shunned his nature while Mike didn’t. He had a partner while Charlie was alone, and even if they both had kids Charlie was alone again eventually. Charlie loved Richas like his own son, but he wasn’t enough to fill his cracks. Neither of them were.

When Charlie looked up, Flippa was tugging at his ear and pointing to something, and he had walked quite far through his thoughts. He looked to where she was pointing and saw a large, looming column of crackling green light that shot into the sky, which was full of only darkness.

Leading up to it was a cracked stone staircase, and at the top of the stairwell was a rippling, beating heart made of the same green and black matter that encompassed the whole world, yet more muscular and veiny. 

It beated non-rhythmically, pulsating and twitching like the twisted thing it was. Charlie stared at it grimly, then turned his head to see Flippa, and she nodded at it.

She hopped off of his back, looking around the area for a moment before walking a few steps forwards. Charlie grabbed her shoulder, but she turned around with a confused expression, making a small heart shape with her hands and tilting her head.

“It could be a trap,” Charlie whispered, “It’s unguarded.”

Flippa shook her head, looking back and forth at the spire with a gleam in her green eyes. It was easy to see that she most desperately wanted to get there. Charlie sighed, looking around to see nothing before slowly walking up the staircase.

An uneasy energy danced around the area, making the hairs on Charlie’s eyes stand up. Something felt off, but he couldn’t turn on his heel and run when he was this close. This close to ending this madness. This close to unwrapping the blindfold covering his eyes and made him wide awake.

The two approached the beating heart, kept floating in rotation by sheer will. Flippa looked at Charlie, who looked straight back.

“Well, how am I supposed to destroy this shit? I’m not exactly prepared with an arsenal of weapons, am I?

Flippa put a finger to her cheek, tapping it before her eyes went wide. She began to gesticulate something, but a deafening crack across the sky silenced her motions and made Charlie falter. He looked around, but suddenly the ground began to shake, dirt flying up into the air as the ground quaked. The sky and area started to turn even darker, the green veins stretching out like a virus.

Then, the spire itself seemed to lift into the sky. Charlie felt it move upwards, his legs nearly buckling from the motion. Flippa grasped onto his side tightly, real fear in her eyes. Then, Charlie saw what was actually happening.

There was a building rising from the ground beneath them.

A large, marble white building with a domed roof and pillars, a jagged spire on its top. At least, that's what it had in the real world. Because this was not just any building; it was the Federation building. The one that was missing from this world, yet was bursting from the seams at that very moment.

Charlie watched as the two of them and the heart ascended into the sky, white marble under their feet and madness all around them. A dome roof appeared above them, blocking out the darkness with more and the rotating, pulsating heart began to rise even further, its light breaking past the roof and shooting upwards towards the sky. 

A jagged spire on its top.

Then, a figure apparated from the air, crackling energy hissing around their form. They had ruffled black hair, two luminating green eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses, a tall, cryptid-like body with four arms and two disfigured legs. An apron over a yellow jumpsuit that was riddled with black and green matter wrinkled with digits.

Mariana. Or, at least, the creature which had made a mess of a copy of his body. 

It grinned down at the both of them, as mad and sickening as ever before, maybe more now that Charlie could see it.

“M1 @m0r……” it hissed through a twisted smirk, “S0 n1c3 t0 s33 y0u @g@1n.”

“Don’t you fucking call me that you sick fucking monster,” Charlie snapped, “You are not Mariana, and you never will be. You’re a twisted Code with an addiction to being real, and I’m ending your fantasy.”

“Y0u c@ll m3 @ m0nst3r, y3t y0u @r3 st1ll w1th th@t 0n3,” it hissed, pointing one of its many fingers to Flippa, who looked absolutely terrified, “Th@nk y0u @g@1n, f@1thful fr13nd, f0r l3@d1ng h1m h3r3.”

Charlie’s eyes went wide, and he slowly turned to face Juanaflippa, who was holding her hands close to her chest and looking back at him with equally wide eyes, shaking her head frantically.

“You’re……you’re working with them?” he asked slowly, pointing a shaky finger from Flippa to the Mariana-beast, who was slowly grinning wider than the Grinch. Flippa shook her head so hard and quick Charlie thought it was about to snap. He took a step back.

“Why the fuck would I trust a Code anyway?” he asked, mainly to himself, and Flippa’s expression dimmed, “You’re all the same, and of course you are. Programmed for one job and one job only.”

“0f c0urs3. Th@t’s th3 3ss3nc3 0f @ C0d3 @ft3r @ll. 3xc3pt, w3 w3r3n’t t0t@lly 0b3d13nt t0 0ur pr0gr@mm1ng. D0 y0u kn0w wh@t 1t’s l1k3 t0 b3 tr@pp3d @s @n 3xp3r1m3nt? 0r r@th3r, @n 3xp3r1m3nt g0n3 wr0ng? Th0s3 F3d3r@t10n b@st@rds w3r3 n0th1ng but pr0dd1ng @nd pun1sh1ng, but f@1l3d 3xp3r1m3nts @r3n’t @lw@ys w3@k. W3 r@n—1 m@d3 sur3 0f us @ll—@nd 1 m@d3 sur3 w3 w3r3 s@f3. 1 w@nt3d us t0 b3 s@f3 fr0m @ny pr0dd1ng 0r 3xp3r1m3nts @g@1n, f@r fr0m th3m. Y0ur l1ttl3 h0l3 w@s p3rf3ct, 1f y0u 3xcus3 @ny 3uph3m1sms, b3c@us3 n0 0ne w@nt3d t0 c0m3 t0 y0ur d1s@st3r p1t. Y0u w3r3 m@k1ng @ w@ll @r0und y0urs3lf, @nd 1t w@s p3rf3ct . Th3n, w3 g0t gr33dy, 1’ll @dm1t. B31ng 0urs3lv3s r3m1nd3d us t00 much 0f th3 F3d3r@t10n, s0 w3 h@d t0 b3 s0m3th1ng 3ls3. P30pl3. R3@l. Y0u w3r3 p3rf3ct, b3c@us3 y0u w3r3—@nd st1ll @r3—p@th3t1c, pr3d1ct@bl3 @nd stup1d, my d3@r.”

As it spoke, Charlie noticed how its limbs and features started to fade into a deep charcoal black, almost dusty yet gleam. The ‘clothes’ it wore were starting to fade away, revealing a slim body made of the distorted matter.

“@ll 1t t00k w@s 0n3 gl@nc3 @t y0u, m0p1ng @r0und l1k3 @ l0st puppy. 0n3 gl@nc3 t0 s33 3x@ctly wh@t y0u w@nt3d, wh@t y0u m1ss3d. 1 f0und mys3lf @lr3@dy turn1ng 1nt0 wh@t w0uld m@k3 y0u h@ppy—t0 s0m3th1ng th@t c0uld m@k3 us @ll h@ppy. W3 c0uld t@k3 th@t w0rld 0f 1mp3rf3ct10ns @nd m@k3 1t….p3rf3ct. Y0u w3r3 3x@ctly wh@t w3 n33d3d t0 m@k3 1t @uth3nt1c. 1 d0n’t kn0w why y0u’v3 h@d @ ch@ng3 0f h3@rt, but 1 w1ll n0t l3t y0u d3str0y 3v3ryth1ng 1’v3 cr3@t3d.”

The Code lurched out one of its arms, which was long, charcoal-black and crackling with green energy. Its hand began to twist and deform into a long, sharp scythe-like shape, and it hissed as it flexed the weapon. It smiled like a nightmare, and Charlie grimaced like a victim.

“S0 y0u h@v3 tw0 ch01c3s h3r3, m1 @m0r. Y0u c@n 31th3r st@y h3r3, @nd k33p th1s b3@ut1ful w0rld @l1v3 w1th y0ur f@1th, 0r y0u c@n d13 r1ght h3r3 r1ght n0w @nd b3 3@s1ly r3pl@c3d.”

Charlie’s eyes were locked onto the scythe, and then they slowly worked their way up to the Code’s eyes, and he spat towards the ground below its floating feet.

“I would rather die a thousand times over than stay blinded by this sickly illusion,” Charlie said defiantly, “Never again.”

The Code glowered, moving the scythe between its fingers, and another one snapped and grew from the opposite arm.

“S0 b3 1t,” it hissed, and then it lunged towards him. 

Charlie’s eyes went wide and he jumped to the side just as the scythe came slashing past him, barely missing it. The Code skidded against the ground, dust flying up from where it landed. Around them, the copy of the Federation building began to groan and shake, the world outside it becoming even more distorted and broken.

Just like them, Charlie thought. It was perfect when they were disguised, but now they’re out in the open it’s becoming the same Code as them.

His thoughts almost got his throat slashed, as the Code lunged again, swiping the blade horizontally. Charlie leaned backwards, the blade sweeping over his face almost in slow motion. Charlie fell backwards against the ground, turning quickly to see the Code run behind him and sprawling his legs out and smacking against the Code’s knocking it over.

It hissed as it fell over, snapping its head around like an owl and locking onto Charlie. Suddenly, it sprang forward, rolling on top of him like a wild animal, pinning him down with its two normal arms and bringing the two scythes up to his neck, pressing down. Charlie yelled out, feeling the pressure against his neck, then a small trickle of blood down the back of his neck.

“Wh@t @ w@st3 0f @ b0dy….p3rh@ps @ft3r y0ur d3m1s3 w3 c@n r3fub1sh 1t 1nt0 0n3 0f 0ur 0wn….h0w w0uld y0u l1k3 y0ur br0th3r t0 t@k3 y0ur pl@c3 h3r3. 0r p3rh@ps…y0ur l1ttl3 R1ch@s…”

Charlie’s mind flared with rage at even his name coming from the Code’s mouth, and he pressed his hands against the scythes, pushing them up with all his might. They did not budge. The Code began to do something beastly; laugh. Or rather, that’s what it was trying to do. A crackle like TV static mixed with an air-raid siren. It bellowed through Charlie’s ears, so loud and blitzing that he thought they were going to bleed.

He closed his eyes, awaiting a final blow to make it all go dark and peaceful, but all he heard was an earsplitting shriek, and the weight being taken away from his chest. Charlie snapped his eyes open, seeing the Code being pulled back; a large split across it’s side that leaked dark matter onto the clean marble ground.

Behind the Code, with one hand a small blade and the other a larger, oozing black hand was Juanaflippa, slightly taller with more charcoal coloured skin but green cracks running up her entire physique. A large crack ran through her face, and one one side the skin had started to tear, revealing an even larger green eye and darker skin.

Her larger, oozing hand was pulling the Code back, the other dripping with dark matter from where it had sliced into the digits of the larger Code. It hissed and flipped itself over, standing much taller above her by far.

“Y0u l1ttl3 TR@1T0R!!! ” it roared, smacking her to the side with one sweep of its giant scythe arm. She yelped, flying all the way to the end of the room, one foot away from falling all the way to the bottom of the building.

“JUANAFLIPPA!” Charlie shouted, but he regretted it as soon as he did because then the Code snapped its head back to face him. Its movements were rigid and robotic-like, almost like a monster made of wires and spare parts.

“N0,” Juanaflippa said, from a distance. She took a hard step forward, the marble beneath her cracking slightly. The Code turned to face her, its body still facing Charlie.

“ Wh@t d1d y0u s@y?” it hissed menacingly. But Juanaflippa didn’t look scared of it anymore. Charlie smiled softly.

“1. S@1d. N0. Y0u w1ll n0t hurt h1m @g@1n,” she hissed, her voice crackling just like its. 

“H3 0nly c@r3s @b0ut y0u b3c@us3 y0u l00k l1k3 h1s d@ught3r,” it snapped, “Sh01 y0ur tru3 f0rm, @nd h3’d d3sp1s3 y0u @s h3 d03s @ll 0f us.

“That’s not true!” Charlie bellowed, and they both looked at him with large, emerald eyes, “You’re…you’re not like them at all! I don’t know if it’s the spirit of my daughter in you or because you had to act like her, but you’re good. I feel it, deep down. I know it. We…we can get far away from here, you and me. We can live out there and I don’t care if you want to be my daughter or not, but I will keep you safe. I’ll treat you like a daughter, a niece, a sister, a friend, whatever you want. I promise.”

Charlie didn’t know if Codes could cry, but if they could that’s what Juanaflippa was doing now. She smiled at him, something fizzing down her cheek. The Code snarled, its head snapping backwards and forwards between them before roaring up towards the ceiling.

The black and green heart beat in the background, getting faster and slower with every movement and thought the two Codes did.

“R0TT3N 1MP3RT1N3NT CR3@TUR3S!” it screamed, “Y0U M@Y N0T BR3@K 0UR C0D3 @G@1N!”

Break the code, Charlie thought–a light bulb in his brain. That’s it. I can’t beat that thing with sheer strength and will, but if I throw it off track and confuse it, I might be able to get to that heart.

Charlie took a deep breath, clearing his throat and standing tall. Then, he began to shout.

“It was just startin' to drizzle as I walked out the door

But I've delivered papers in the rain like that before.”

The Code turned to him, tilting its head and squinting, “Wh@t @r3 y0u d01ng?”

“ 3:30 in the morning, I was happy as a lark

As I grabbed my bike and rode into the dark. ”

“St0p 1t!” the Code shouted, hissing and lifting its scythe into the air. Charlie only smirked and sung louder, making moves around the code and keeping his eyes on the heart.

“ I pedalled through the neighbourhood, the weather on my mind

The wind was pickin' up and howlin' louder all the time

The sky churned like a cauldron and the distant thunder roared

And I knew that I was in for quite a storm. ”

Charlie dodged a cut from the scythe, moving gracefully around the Code and knocking into it, which made it falter. It was working; the Code was becoming further and further confused.

“ A little rain never hurt no one, so I kept pressin' on

And I tried to tell myself it's always darkest before the dawn. ”

“SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP, Y0U D@MN3D 1MP3RT1N3NC3!” the Code screamed, its body shaking and pressing its two hands against its head

“Lighting struck an oak tree as I leapt off my bike

The sirens started wailing, but there was no good place to hide

I knew without a doubt there was a twister touchin' down

So I crawled into a culvert to wait it out.”

Juanaflippa grinned at him.

“The little bit of courage I had left was almost gone

But I tried to tell myself it's always darkest before the dawn,”

Charlie counted the beats in his head, counting them to his steps as the Code stumbled to grab him, whipping its arms and anything it could to get him while it was disorientated by his words, though Charlie had no idea why it really worked. Then, he opened his mouth and belted out the words.

“And then the nightmare started, it got deafeningly loud

Every fiber in me screamed out, but I couldn't make a sound

The whirling of a vortex, a violent carousel

It sounded like a freight train was draggin' me to hell!”

Charlie was next to the heart now, the twisted thing beating horribly as the veins pulsated. Charlie looked at his arm, the one rotten with the dark matter, and then turned to the Code, who looked scared for a moment, then angry, moving towards him. Charlie glared and turned back to the heart.

“AND THIS WAS MY PRAYER! SAVE ME FROM THIS TERRIBLE NIGHTMARE!” 

On the last word, Charlie twisted his right hand into a fist and sent it straight into the centre of the heart. The two objects of dark matter collided, and as Charlie felt his hand inside the void, it shattered into a million tiny pieces. The green light shooting upwards from it dimmed, flaring no more and returning the world to darkness.

“N0000000000000000000000!” the Code screamed, louder than anything Charlie had ever heard in his life. The Code staggered forward, reaching a long tendril-like arm towards Charlie, but as it touched his shoulder, it slowly started to dissolve into small, black pieces of dust. 

It’s eyes went wide, and it staggered back, reeling away from Charlie like he was a sickness and titubating towards Juanaflippa instead, who looked equally triumphant and sick.

“Y0U…C@N’T…L3T…Th1s….h@pp3n,” it said weakly, dropping down to its knees as its whole arm faded into specks of nothing. Outside, Charlie saw the dark sky start to fade away also, a bright light coming from where it once was. The shrieks of other codes echoed throughout the world, all equally despairing.

Charlie walked up to the Code as it curled up on the ground, kicking it with his foot.

“You get what you fucking deserve,” he whispered, and the Code glared up at him, but it no longer had any limbs to choke him with, and its body was slowly fading away to dust.

“01110111 01101000 01111001?” it hissed, no longer having the power to speak. It closed its eyes, reeling from self-preservation, and as Charlie stood, it vanished once and for all into a small pile of specks on the ground

Charlie smiled and looked up at Juanaflippa who…looked worse for wear. Her mouth was open, and her hand was slowly dissolving into specks of black, slower than the Code but still happening. Charlie’s eyes went wider than ever, and he felt sick.

“JUANAFLIPPA!” he shouted, reaching a hand out. The ground beneath his feet began to shake and quake and crack. He looked down, and large cracks in the marble began to form, pulling the building down from the roots.

The world was collapsing, and the Codes were dying. All of them.

The ground beneath Charlie’s feet gave way, and as he was moving towards Juanaflippa to take her in his arms and shield her from every problem in the world, he found himself falling. Falling, falling, falling. Down, down, down. Too deep for him to catch himself, but too low to go back up.

The rubble fell beside him, and as a piece came crashing into the back of his head, the world went as dark as it was before.

Charlie’s eyes opened just as soon as they had closed, dust in the air and rubble on the land around him. Every part of him ached sorely, but none more than his heart when his last memory came to him.

“Flippa,” he mumbled, and tried to push himself up off of whatever he had landed on. It was a thick, solid piece of marble from the copy building, but now it was no longer clean.Charlie stood, his legs almost refusing to move for every muscle in them felt like burnt rubber, or whatever else would break easily and be unfixable. He put his hand to his head to orient himself, and it came away painted red.

“flippa!” he called weakly, his voice barely reaching a whisper, “flippa!”

There was a loud groan, a crashing of marble, and a soft cry. Charlie’s eyes went wide. He limped quickly in the direction of the sound, his heart beating faster than any he has seen or touched before. He limped around a large piece of rubble, and his eyes locked onto the small body of a dying child. Or Code, if you wanted to be heartless.

“Flippa,” Charlie said softly, dashing to her body and dropping to his knees at her side, picking her up weakly and lying her over his knees, his bloody hand under her head, his disfigured arm weakly at his side. It felt like it was going to snap off.

Juanaflippa’s green eyes flickered, and she smiled softly when she saw it was Charlie holding her.

Charlie realised he had never really taken in what she looked like before, not like the other Codes who disguised themselves as children. She has a small, round face with visible freckles, round glasses over her deep green eyes. Her hair was tied into two plaits that dangled beside her face, her hair an auburn colour. She wore a large white shirt with three hearts, like the one Charlie had, though there was a thin, green long-sleeve shirt on underneath it. She had a long yellow pleated skirt, and tall red boots; like her father. Except, she didn’t have wings or horns. So maybe Charlie should’ve known all along.

“Sl1m3….” she whispered, “Th@t’s wh@t w3 @lw@ys c@ll3d y0u b3f0r3 w3 h@d y0u h3r3. 1t f33ls b3tt3r th@n P@[email protected]@us3 th@t 0n3’s n0t tru3…”

“You can call me whatever you like,” Charlie said quickly (biting back the song on his tongue) and stroked his two fingers on the back of her head. It felt cold, “Please, Flippa, you’re gonna be fine, I swear—”

“1t’s @lr1ght,” Flippa whispered softly, through the crackling her voice made, “W3 w3r3 n3v3r supp0s3d t0 b3 h3r3 @nyw@y. Th1s w0rld—0r th3 0th3r—w1ll n0t m1ss us.”

“But I will,” Charlie said hurriedly, “I–I’ll protect you. I’ll make sure you never have to be scared of anything ever again, you’ll never have to be hurt again, please Flippa, please don’t go—”

“But 1’m n0t r3@lly, @m 1?” she pondered, “Fl1pp@. 1’m n0t. But sh3’s st1ll h3r3, s0m3wh3r3 in h3r3. M@by3 th@t’s why 1 w@nt3d t0 h3lp y0u s0 b@dly; sh3 c0uldn’t l3t h3r f@th3r d13. 1t’s @lr1ght, r3@lly.”

“No!” Charlie yelled, unable to move his hands to wipe away the tears yet not wanting to anyway. What’s the point when more would come, “No, I–I–I can’t do this again! I can’t lose you again!”

“Sl1m3—”

“I can’t lose you too,” Charlie said through a sob, his chest bouncing up and down as it echoed out of his throat. He closed his eyes, his hand becoming shaky and unstable. Then, he felt a small, cold hand cup his cheek, his tears dripping onto it. He opened his eyes, and it was Flippa.

“Sh3 w1ll @lw@ys b3 w1th y0u,” she said, smiling softly, then slowly pushing herself up onto her knees and throwing her arms around Charlie’s neck. 

Charlie was more sure that Codes could cry now, because they were both sounding and moving in the same way, and Charlie was certainly crying.

“I—I don’t give two shits if you are my daughter or not,” he stuttered through sobs, “I will mourn you both.

Flippa made a sound, and as they pulled away her face was stained with long, green streaks from her eyes, yet she was always and forever smiling. Charlie cupped his hand around her face, and pressed his lips to her forehead.

“I’ll love you forever and always, Juanaflippa,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Dad.”

Charlie opened his eyes slowly, and when he did his hands were around nothing. A pile of black and green dust sat at his knees, and Charlie was all alone.

The world around him started to break. As the sky brightened, it also started to fall, cracks of rock falling from the sky to reveal an even brighter sky above it; a natural sky. The walls began to fall, water began to spurt from rocks and rubble began to pile up. Although things were still breaking and falling apart, as Charlie looked around he saw things he recognised. Really recognised, not illusions. Moss on walls, streams from rocks, a sky with a sun and clouds. A pit beneath his house, which he was in.

After it all, he was still in that cave underneath his house, just much, much further down. Charlie didn’t care. A thousand thoughts were racing around his mind, and none of them were about himself. And after what felt like an eternity of trying to keep everything in, it came only a minute of letting everything out.

His sobs echoed throughout the cave, his poundings of his fists against the ground echoed too, just not as loud. He felt an eternal sadness, and it felt like there was nothing in the world that could fix it. 

There is no agony like losing someone you love. That is something we all know, or will eventually. It is a pain unlike anything else a person can feel.

And Charlie had felt it far too many times.

He felt a twitch in his right arm, a spasm, and when he shifted his head to look at it, his arm that was besmeared in Code matter was twitching and shaking. His expression did not change, even as—quicker than the rest of them—his arm turned to dust and fell to the ground, leaving behind only a smooth stub at his elbow. There was no pain, and that was the worst of it.

For a moment there was silence, par the water that flowed from the mouth of the falls. As Charlie swallowed his sob, he went to repeat his sounds of despair, but then there was a sound. Faint and in the distance, but a sound nonetheless. A voice.

“ Charlie!” it shouted, and Charlie looked around. There was no one there.

“Shut up,” he muttered to himself, for it must've been his mind trying to bring his own hell to life.

“CHARLIE!”  

It shouted again, and Charlie looked around once again. Then, he looked up.

At the top of the hole that lead down to the newly destroyed cave, peaking over the edge, was a big group of people. They stood looking down at him, their faces differing from shocked to confused to scared. Charlie recognised them all, from Baghera to Cellbit and Roier to Philza to Pac and—

Mike. And Richas. They were there too. And it was Mike whose mouth was open, shouting down at him—

“CHARLIE!” he yelled down into the hole, his voice echoing through the cave, “VOCÊ ESTÁ BEM IRMÃO?”

Charlie opened his mouth to reply, but only spluttering came out, and another batch of tears fell from his eyes.

“HOLD ON CHAR!” Mike shouted, pulling a paraglider out from his back and taking it in both hands, leaping into the pit and gliding down. Richas copied him, gliding down behind his father to his uncle. Charlie could only watch with tear stained eyes, and then his head sagged downwards.

When he next lifted his head up from looking down, Mike and Richas were by his side, Mike with one hand on his shoulder, standing in front of him and Richas standing next to Mike, looking at him with unsure eyes.

“Charlie?” Mike asked, and Charlie looked up at him, “Charlie are you okay? What happened here? PUTA MERDA! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR ARM?!”

It was Mike. It was his brother, Mike. Mike, the only person who’d ever cared for him all through his life. Mike, who spoke with an accent Charlie missed having and hearing. Mike, who had a life with people who loved him and a beautiful son. Mike, who wanted Charlie around, and even though he’d told him so many times, Charlie had never believed it. Mike, who was here now and Mike, who would always be there.

Charlie lurched forwards suddenly, wrapping his arms around Mike and pushing his head into his shoulder, sobbing frantically. Mike, with an expression that was half shocked, half comforting, took his hand and stroked it along Charlie’s head, soothing him.

“Hey, hey, está tudo bem, está tudo bem…” Mike sushed, not stopping him from crying but not making him do it even more. 

“She—she’s gone, Mike,” Charlie sobbed, “She’s gone.”

“I know, Charlie. I know.”

“No, I mean, she’s actually gone now. She—” Charlie went to speak, but then he realised that no matter what he said, Mike wouldn’t understand, or believe him. There was no evidence after all. And really, Charlie preferred it if only he knew what had happened in this cave

“She what?” Mike asked gently.

Charlie cried his last tear, and then slowly pulled away, not ashamed at the large wet patch on Mike’s shirt. He smiled, though his head ached and his eyes were red and puffy, he smiled.

Then, something caught Charlie’s eye. In the air, just above the opening that led to the cave, were three translucent shapes shimmered above any of the other people there. Charlie recognised them immediately, and he smiled even more. They looked down at him, smiling back at him. Then, their heads turned to the right, looking at something. Charlie followed their gaze and his breath stopped for a moment, but only a moment. 

Another shape of the same make appeared beside them, a face all too familiar to Charlie. A face that was close to his own. She smiled down at Charlie with her own smile, and she looked at him with her own eyes. Charlie nodded at her, and she nodded back. Then, they disappeared into the air, finally at peace.

“Charlie? Charlie!” 

Charlie snapped back to reality, Mike in front of him and looking concerned.

“What were you gonna say, irmão?”

“She–” Charlie paused, then shook his head with a smile, “Mike…I–I think I’m ready to move. To…to Favela,” Mike’s face changed from concern to shock to ecstasy, “If–if that’s alright with you and—”

Charlie grunted as Mike flung himself into him again, hugging him but this time harder, more excitedly.

“You won’t regret it,” Mike said, and when he pulled back he was grinning from ear to ear, “I mean, this place is kinda wrecked so, I guess it’s upon our best interest to help out a poor soul like you—”

Mike laughed as Charlie punched him playfully, the latter who rolled his eyes with a smile.

“Cadela,” he said playfully and Mike laughed.

“Surpreso que você ainda saiba falar a língua dos deuses.”

“Até parece. Inglês é muito mais complicado. Mais diversão.”

“Eu acreditarei nisso quando souber cada palavra do dicionário.”

“Ok, espertinho.”

They laughed, and though he hadn’t said a word, Richarlyson smiled at seeing his uncle the happiest he had ever seen him.

“Você está me comprando uma camisa nova ou lavando esta porque não estou andando por aí com sua saliva em mim.”

“Vá se foder.”

“De bom grado.”

“Doido.”

FIVE WEEKS LATER

Charlie smacked his knee as an applause as Richas bowed dramatically, a small guitar in hand. The kid had a flare for the dramatics, and a performance to keep his musical skills spick and span was the perfect way to use it to the extent. And also, it made Charlie smile.

He’d been quite enjoying his time in the Favela. His house was nice—small but comfortable—the residents were more than friendly and he never had time to be bored. Which was the best thing about it because he never had time to think about what happened.

Richas grinned and jumped down from the table, his wings fluttering just for a moment before landing on the ground, clapping his hand together.

“Well, I think that was quite possibly the best thing I’ve ever seen. Ever,” Charlie said with a grin and Richas pulled a face that said ‘Come on Uncle Charlie’.”

“I mean it. I’ve never seen someone perform quite like you do, and I wouldn’t pay my money for tickets to anything else!”

Richas giggled and strummed a few strings on his guitar. Then, there was a knock at the door, and the both of them looked towards the door. Charlie hopped out of his armchair and walked towards it, opening it and smiling as Mike and Pac stood outside.

“Hey Mike, come on in. You too Pac,” Charlie said with a grin, giving Pac a jokingly raised eyebrow before smiling again, Pac doing the same. He was alright, Pac.

“Ele tem sido bom?” Mike asked and Charlie nodded.

“As good as gold. Don’t know how a kid’s so well behaved with parents like you two,” Charlie said and dodged a hit from Mike, ducking down. A flash of a memory came to his mind, but he simply shook it away. It was hard, but he’d been getting better.

“That’s Cellbit’s doing I suppose,” Mike said but Pac shook his head

“Not like he’s much better than the rest of us!” he protested, “Charlie’s just such a dear that Richas can’t help but be nice to the kind old soul, that right Richas?”

Richarlyson bounded into Pac’s side, playfully attacking him and shaking his head.

“Well, thanks anyway for looking after him again, Char,” Mike said, laughing as the two of them watched Richas and Pac get into a small fight.

“My pleasure. Always great having Richas around. It…er…makes it less quiet,” Charlie said, scratching his neck and shrugging, shoving his hand into his pocket.

“You know where we are,” Mike said, “Or anyone on the island. We all want you around Char. You’re—how do you say—’a good laugh’, as Phil says. That reminds me, Baghera is holding a karaoke night at Las Casulonas. I think it’d be good for you to come. From what I recall, you have a ‘killer’ singing voice, huh?”

Mike nudged him. Another flash of memories, this time two separate, and Charlie had to wince to make them go away. He shook his head quickly like a wet dog and then looked at Mike.

“Oh, I don’t know if singing is my style anymore…I just sound like a dying cat….”

“Ah, so what! None of us are professionals! Well, apart from that Wilbur guy–if he’s even real.”

“HE IS!” Pac shouted over his playful fight with Richas and Mike rolled his eyes.

“Well…my right hand was always my microphone hand…” Charlie muttered, and it was then that Mike’s face truly went sorrowful. He put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

“Hey. Me and Pac are gonna fix that down at Chume Labs, don’t worry. We’re excellent with tec, and a lil hand will be an easy job. I promise.”

“It’s not that,” Charlie said, taking his hand and rubbing it across his right arm, where there used to be a forearm. It still hurt to touch sometimes, “I don’t know if I even want a replacement. I don’t….”

I don’t want to forget, he thought .

“It’s your choice, Char,” Mike said softly, giving him a pat on his shoulder and smiling. Charlie smiled back, nodding and then looked down at Richas, who had stopped squabbling with Pac and was now standing with his hands on his hips, looking up at his dad.

“I’ll–I’ll see what happens,” he said. A thousand futures ran through his mind, and Charlie looked forward to every one of them, “Err, I hope you don’t mind if I rush you out do you Mike? I’ve got somewhere to be. Someone to see.”

The wind was a bit strong outside today, but all it did was sweep the tails of Charlie’s coat forward in front of him. He has his hand on his pocket, the other arm dangling in the long sleeve of the leather trench coat he wore, the excess sleeve swerving in the wind. His hair was thrown around a bit, but not much.

Charlie looked down at the grave at his feet, the dirt covered in a large mound of flowers; all fresh. There were others down the line, but none were as decorated as this one. None had been attended to every week like this one had. Alliums, roses, tulips, sunflowers, and more

“Hey Flippa,” Charlie said, staring down at the grave at his feet. It was quiet, but a nice quiet. Peaceful.

“I never get tired of changing those flowers, or adding more. There’s a beauty to it, one I’m sure you admire. Y’know, I’m honestly not sure if the dead can even hear us when we speak like this. You’re not even buried here. You weren’t even buried. But, I guess, it’s calming. Nice. To be able to just speak, even if no one’s listening.” 

“I’m glad you’re with your friends. Maybe that was always for the best, despite our clamouring attempts to get you back, Mari and me. This world is far too dangerous for anyone. It does make you think, though. That there has to be somewhere after death, because our time alive can be so short. Being alive for, what—a few weeks—and then dying? You’d have to go somewhere else it would be a waste.”

“I hope you’re having fun somewhere. Tilin was a good kid, the others too. Strong. Like you. I’ll make sure your father comes here, eventually. Even if it takes another century or so, he’ll come back eventually. Ha, I wouldn’t let him live it down otherwise, the bitch. Sorry. I know you always liked it when we got on. So did I.”

“You’d have liked Richas. He’s a great kid. I see so many people in his eyes, and you’re one of them. You’d like Mike too. He’s the best brother I could ask for, and someone who just gets me completely. Pac’s not bad either. I used to dislike him, because I thought he’d replaced me. But he hasn’t. There’s still a Charlie shaped gap in Mike’s heart for me to fit, if you get what I mean.”

“I’ve gotta go now, Flippa. Baghera asked me to go over to her place for something, though she didn’t tell me what, exactly. She’s great, Baghs. We just click. I’ll be back next week, though. There’ll probably have been a massive thing that happened. That usually happens on this Island, be it fun or chaotic. I blame the people. But it’s better than being bored.”

Charlie leaned down, placing his hand on the tombstone and kissing it gently with his lips. He didn’t care if it was dirty or not. He stood back up, smiling and patting the stone gently.

“Até breve, meu tudo.”

Charlie pulled his hand away, tracing it over the top before eventually pulling it away. He turned, his eyes still locked onto her name, then laughed through his nose, turning and walking away slowly, the autumn leaves crunching in his step.

The wind was still strong, but that was okay. It kept him feeling alive. And Charlie–for once–was happy to be.