"Emil, what do you think you're doing?" Henrik scooped the little toddler in his arms. His younger brother, surprised, dropped the brush that was tipped with yellow paint. He frowned, staring at the brush, and trying to reach out for it.
"Emil," he repeated, tone much firmer.
"Ja, bror?" Emil said flatly, still not paying attention. Henrik had to shift him a bit so the young boy would face him.
"What were you doing with that?"
"Painting."
"You were holding it to your hair."
"I was painting my hair."
"That's silly, lillebror. Why would you do that?"
"The kids are making fun of me." Henrik froze. He didn't say a thing, continuing to stare blankly at Emil, while a range of emotions raged in his chest. It was taking all of his willpower to not demand to know who was saying those things to his little brother, and smack them. Emil stared back him for a while, before continuing. "They call me a freak 'cause of my hair and my eyes. So I was going to paint them so they wouldn't say that anymore."
"Painting your eyes will make you blind," Henrik informed absent-mindedly. He set the boy down, and knelt in front of him. He took a small, but deep breath. "Do you know why they're making fun of you?"
"Ja, because I'm different."
"Exactly. You're different. And you're special." The young boy was looking at him with confusion, so he went on. "So what if you're different? It isn't a bad thing. It just means you have something that no one else has. You should be proud of that, not trying to paint over it."
A small smile was now on Emil's features. Henrik almost smiled as well. "I'm special?"
"You always have been, lillebror."
"But what if they call me a freak again…?"
"If they do it again, tell me, or your teacher. We'll stop them from saying that to you. Okay?"
"Okay." Emil had to get onto his toes to hug Henrik's neck. The elder blinked, and hugged him back, stroking the younger's snowy white hair. "Thank you, bror."
"No problem. Now you can go off and play with Mr Puffin."
"Okay, bror." He swiftly kissed Henrik on the cheek, before running away to find his pet.
When he was gone, Henrik smiled, and then began packing away the paints.