A Beach House Morning

Nero woke up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore. The soft orange glow of the sunrise peeked through the windows, casting light across an unfamiliar ceiling. For a moment, he forgot where he was. Then it hit him—Charlie's beach house.

He turned over, staring at the ocean through the window. It was so different from home. At his dad's place, the air always felt thick with sadness, like a constant reminder of everything missing. Here, the crashing waves and the faint smell of salt made it feel lighter. Less... suffocating.

Dragging himself out of bed, Nero wandered into the kitchen. Charlie was already there, lounging at the counter in his usual "morning after" attire—an old bowling shirt and bedhead that would've made any hairbrush quit on the spot. A bowl of cereal sat in front of him, and he greeted Nero with a smirk.

"Morning, kid. You here for the cereal or the view? Both come with free sarcasm," Charlie muttered through a mouthful.

Nero grabbed a bowl, shaking his head. "Probably both."

They ate in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds being the waves outside and the faint rustle of the newspaper Charlie had lazily tossed aside. The quiet felt strange—almost peaceful.

Then Charlie perked up, his smirk widening. "So, you ever thought about writing jingles?"

Nero blinked. "Jingles? Like... toothpaste ads?"

"Exactly!" Charlie clapped his hands, eyes lighting up. "I'm working on one for toothpaste right now. People want 'sophisticated' toothpaste jingles these days. Like, really? It's toothpaste. What's next, violins for deodorant?"

Nero raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, definitely. Throw in a harp for dramatic effect."

Charlie pointed at him with his spoon. "See, that's what I'm talking about! Harp it up, kid. You and me—we're jingle-writing geniuses. We'll start with toothpaste, move on to broccoli. The sky's the limit!"

Nero couldn't help but smirk. Charlie was ridiculous, but at least he wasn't trying to force some fake pep talk on him.

Charlie leaned back, stretching like a lazy cat. "Alright, I've got serious work to do. Got to nail this jingle. If I don't, next thing you know I'll be writing songs for—" He paused dramatically. "Cat food."

Nero snorted. "You're already halfway there."

Charlie grinned wide. "Ah, the kid's got humor. Careful or you'll end up working with me. And trust me, once you start jingles, there's no turning back."

As they continued to banter, Nero thought about how different this place felt. At home, breakfast was a silent affair, his dad already long gone to work. It was always just him and the empty house. Here, though, it wasn't perfect, but it was... alive.

"Hey, keep playing that moody piano stuff if you want, but life doesn't have to be all sad songs," Charlie said casually, leaning against the counter. "Try mixing it up. Throw in a happy jingle next time. I mean, if I can sell toothpaste with jazz hands, anything's possible."

Nero shook his head, chuckling softly. "Yeah, I'll work on that."

The morning continued in this lighthearted rhythm, with Nero cleaning up after breakfast while Charlie scribbled nonsense on a napkin—probably more jingle ideas. As much as Charlie joked, Nero could see the way he was trying to ease him into a new routine, something lighter, less haunted by the heavy shadows that used to follow Nero around everywhere.

Charlie glanced over at Nero, giving him a once-over. "You know, I was thinking, maybe today we hit the beach. Get some sun, check out the scenery. And by scenery, I mean—"

Nero cut him off, rolling his eyes. "I know exactly what you mean, Charlie."

Charlie grinned, leaning back. "Hey, I'm just saying, sometimes a little fresh air does wonders for the soul. Plus, you're way too serious for your age. We gotta fix that."

Nero smiled, feeling some of the usual weight in his chest lift. He knew things weren't perfect, but somehow, Charlie's chaotic energy made everything feel... okay, even when it wasn't. Maybe it wasn't the normal life he was used to, but in its own weird way, it was starting to feel like home.

Later that evening, after dinner, Nero sat outside on the beach, watching the sun dip below the horizon. It was quiet, just the waves and the soft hum of Charlie's guitar drifting through the window. For the first time in a long time, Nero felt calm.

He looked down at his hands, thinking about the music earlier. It had felt weird, but in a good way. It didn't make the sadness disappear, but maybe it didn't need to. Maybe, like Charlie said, there was room for the ridiculous too.

Charlie wandered outside, strumming his guitar lazily. "You ready for tomorrow?"

Nero raised an eyebrow. "What's tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow is when I teach you how to write your first jingle," Charlie grinned. "Gotta start somewhere, right? Today it's toothpaste, tomorrow… the world."

Nero laughed, a real, unrestrained laugh that felt good. Maybe things weren't perfect, but they were definitely better.