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Sun sat in the daycare, staring down at his hands, the faded and chipping paint glaringly obvious in the stark lights of the daycare. He knew what day it was. He knew it was well past closing. And he knew Moon was silent for good reason today.
The lights went out right on time, and Sun didn’t move, didn’t fight, as Moon emerged, accompanied by the faint clicking and whispering of fans. Moon also stayed right where he was, staring numbly at their hands, blue fingertips almost black in the almost non-existent light. He should go. He should do a patrol. Should do… something…
He didn’t move.
‘Sunny,’ he started to say, their headspace echoing with his brother’s silence. Moon’s head hung low as he continued to stare at his hands.
Sunspot had left.
That wasn’t strictly true.
Sunspot had been taken away, screaming at them as he’d sat frozen in place, his visual sensors glitching so badly that he couldn’t make out their face, only the tears, the arch of your eyebrow…
The sound of their screams as they shouted for their newborns.
Sunspot had told them once as they watched some crime serial, that supposedly some plastics held onto bodily fluids, no matter how much they were cleaned or washed, and they didn’t know if that was true, but considering how porous some of those things were, it wouldn’t surprise them. That night, with the blood and viscera still on his hands, the evidence all around him, he tried to wash it off, wash it away, but he could still see it, still see the flecks of dark blood and smears across the lenses of his eyes, the spatter across his clothes, and he couldn’t feel clean again, knowing what heh had unwittingly done.
After that, they never saw their Sunspot again. A member of security had come by and collected all of Sunspot’s things, the baby toys and clothes and the empty crib and all of their personal effects that had been scattered around the room. Sunspot never returned, and the two tiny bundles…
Moon could never forget what happened to them. It was his own fault, after all.
“Sunny,” Moon tried out loud, speaking into the hauntingly empty daycare. “… I’m sorry,” he finally whispered.
‘It’s your fault,’ Sun said in response. ‘They left because of what you did.’
“… I know…”
‘How could you?’ Sun sounded like he was on the verge of tears, Moon closing his eyes tightly as he forced himself to take it. If his brother would talk to him, even to shout, even to scold and blame and hurt him… anything was preferable to the silence… ‘How could you?? They trusted us! They loved us! We loved them! How could you hurt them like that???’
“I didn’t want to…” Moon rasped, sitting alone in the dark as the guilt weighed them so heavily. “Please, believe me, Sun…”
‘Why should I?!’ Sun screamed in reply, Moon’s fingers clutching at his faceplate as he trembled in the darkness. ‘Sunspot trusted us! The babies trusted us! They were literal infants! They trusted you to keep them safe! How can I ever trust you again?!’ Sun wailed in their headspace, and Moon’s shoulders shook with strangled sobs. ‘How could you hurt them???’
“I’m sorry,” Moon whispered, his shoulders rattling with the force of his shaking. “I’m so… so sorry…”
‘I will never forgive you for what you’ve done!’ Sun shouted. ‘You can never be trusted with the children! Never trusted with anyone! You will never be trusted again! Ever!’
‘… I know…’ Moon whispered as the lights came back on.
Sun got to his feet and wasted no time at all. He would make sure no child ever had to come face to face with moon again. Not at naptime. Not during storms when the lights would go out. Not at all.
“Never again,” Sun said, securing the last generator. That night, he sat in their room, staring up at the framed pictures he had kept. He had hidden it when they came to get their Sunspot’s things. There were only four of them, one of Sunspot holding his hand, belly swollen in their overalls and flower crown one of the children had brought you that morning. The picture had been taken just as one of the little ones had kicked, his look of surprise and their laugh captured forever in the moment. It was his favorite picture to stare at.
Another was of their sweetly sleeping face, nestled into Moon’s arms, his hat pulled over their head.
Sun had carefully made sure to cut Moon out of that picture when your name had been removed from the employment roster, the record sealed so tightly that even Moon couldn’t get into it.
Moon had torn apart all the blankets on the bed when he saw it.
The third one was their Sunspot, their Starlight, sitting up in that hospital bed, holding the tiniest bundles to their chest and looking about ready to drop, Dennis and Millie sitting at their side and beaming like the proud grandparents they are.
Were, Sun reminded himself, staring at the picture and longingly touching those tiny scrunched faces.
The last one was of Eclipse, holding the twins and rocking them to sleep in their four arms, expertly holding two bottles as they fed the babies at the same time. “That’s cheating!” Sunspot had said, laughing as they took the picture before leaning their face up for a gentle kiss.
“They wanted to be fed!” Eclipse had said, heart full of love as he held his family close.
Now, Sun sat alone and quiet in their large, empty room, his sunbeams drooping sadly as he said, “Happy Fathers’ Day, Sunspot… We’re sorry…”
Sun vowed he would never accept another Father’s Day card, even when the daycare opened again, sans naptime attendant. He didn’t deserve it. He would never deserve it again.