A Splash Of Paint (MCYT Oneshots)

📎 A Father and A Son (Phil & Fundy)

"Fundy," Phil's voice came through the call almost immediately after Fundy ended his stream. "Can I ask you about something?"

"Sure, yeah, what is it?" Fundy responded, closing off his Streamlabs now that he was no longer streaming.

There was a pause, before Phil spoke up again. "Do you know anyone by the name of Heins Langenberg? More specifically, Dr. Heins Langenberg?"

"Dr. Heins Langenberg?" Fundy repeated with a frown on his face. "Yeah, that's my father's name, what about him?"

He couldn't see what Phil was doing as they were on a camera-less call, but he heard the sounds of a pen uncapping and a paper being placed down, so Fundy assumed Phil was taking notes, for whatever reason. "Nothing bad, but what do you know about him? Like, appearance, personality, anything."

In the background of Phil's end, someone started singing. It was soft and soothing, and sounded male. It was a nice voice, whoever that was.

"What do I know about him..." Fundy murmured. His fingers tapped his desk as he remembered his memories.

He knew of his father. Vaguely, at least. He was always busy, but the rare times he was home he would always smile at him, ruffle his hair, and teach Fundy weird things. He was the one who taught him the secrets to coding, how to pick out a solider from a crowd, and how to spot who to talk to in order to rise higher.

All odd things, but Fundy took those lessons to heart, and for the most part, they paid off.

"My mother often said I took after his appearance more than I took after hers, if that helps?" he offered. "We have the same hair colour and eye shape, but his eyes were grey instead of blue. I rarely saw him around the house, but we had fun whenever he was home. My mother never minded the fact that he was rarely home either. She always said his job was important, and that she understood why he had to spend so much time away from us."

"What was his job?" Phil asked. His voice sounded odd, but Fundy dismissed it as just another minor audio glitch from Discord.

"His job was-" Fundy cut off midway. His brows furrowed, not responding even as Phil called name multiple times.

'What... was his job?'

His father always talked about his job when he came back home, even if it was just for a while. Stories would be told over sleepovers, at the dinner table, in the living room... whenever they had free time to kill, basically. But no matter how hard Fundy tried for the love of him, he couldn't remember exactly what those stories were about.

Somewhere at the back of his mind, a memory replayed.

"And one day, you'll be able to do as much good as I do at the facility, and claim as much victory as your mother does," his father finished loudly, his mother nodding and clapping her hands. Little, six year old Fundy, who was too young to understand anything else, nodded and clapped along, giggling all the while.

"Remember darling," his mother turned to him and crooned. "What do we do when something like that happens?"

Fundy grinned up at his mother, bright and innocent as a child was. "We tear their emotions and dreams apart!" he crowed out.

His father laughed and picked him up to spin him around, Fundy laughing all the while. "That's my boy! Our little champion right here, sweetheart!"

"Our future little champion," his mother agreed, kissing him on the cheek. "And what a fine champion he'll grow up to be."

"-dy! Fundy, is your microphone working?!"

Fundy snapped out of his thoughts. "Wait, what? Sorry, I think my headphones glitched out or something, I couldn't hear you at all. Either that, or it's your microphone."

"Nah, it's fine mate, things like this happen all the time," Phil replied easily, although his tone didn't sound all that convinced. "I asked what was your father's job."

"Oh, uh," Fundy wracked his mind, but nothing came up. "I don't remember. I think it was something related to do with science? He was always pretty vague about it in his stories, if I remember correctly."

"Alright," there was the sound of writing. "I think that's all I need for now. Thanks, Fundy!"

"No problem, Phil," Fundy replied easily.

And in the corner of his streaming room, the dreamcatcher he hung on the wall shone brightly.