Sitting in a room he didn't quite know. Strangers, no. They were people he knew. Well, once knew. They were smart. One was normal. He talked to himself though. He was pail skinned and he always complained. He was no fun. There was the other man. He glowed in a tank. He could never touch the man. But it fascinated him that he glowed the way he did. Then there was the darker skinned man. For one reason or another he felt funny next to. His memories blurred from being alive so long. But that was something he couldn't change. This man was called Caesar. Caesar Salazar. He never did care for the man. Too pushy. No time for play. Just work, work, work.
He said it was for the best. That it would be worth not playing. But I don't want to work. I was invited to play a game. A game I want to play. A boy asked me to play. I want to find that boy. He smiled at me. Me. He smiled at who I was when everyone else frowned. He talked about a game. The game I remember had a ball. The ball was black and white. The rules said we didn't use our hands but we moved the ball. We moved it with our feet. It was fun!
He asked if we could play again sometime. I don't think we ever did play again. I just want to play with that boy again. He called me friend.
"Van Kleiss focus!" yelled Caesar. He pouted at the man. Why did he remind him of playing games? Playing games of kicking balls. Black and white balls. A childish smile. He had a lazy smile come across his face as he fixed the program that had begun to go wrong. But outside the grey and gloomy walls he could hear the laughter of the child ringing in his ears clear as a bell.
"No puede cogerme!" the child laughed.
"Sí puedo," he said picking up the small child.
"Póngame sobre la tierra!" he cried helplessly but still laughing.
"Ningún camino," he said tickling the boy.
"Me gustó que el cabrito," he said to himself. Caesar stared at him.
"¿Qué?" he asked. He looked at Caesar. And for a flickering moment saw the small child behind him. But instead of laughing, he was crying. Behind Caesar he was crying. He was smeared in red. Blood?
He was also older.
"¿Quién eres?" the child seemed to say with his eyes. He looked at the man in front of him. They were not the same person. But he kept them apart. His eyes narrowed at Caesar. He was like the mean person in his memories that always took the fun kid away. No time for fun. Work, work, work.
He missed the kid.
"Yo soy Rex Salazar. Tu eres Van Kleiss. Nosotros amigos tambien?" said the same innocent voice.
Rex. Rex. The name of a lost pet. Of a lost child. Salazar. Salazar. Caesar and Rex Salazar.
"Caesar?"
"Yes Van Kleiss?" he asked still looking at his screen.
"Where's Rex?"
Caesar looked at him baffled. As did the other two.
"He's not here," he said darkly.
"He promised. We'll play later then," he said somewhat disappointed, "Do you know when he'll be back?"
"No. Get back to work," he growled.
Caesar never did like him. But the fact that his parents didn't get along with him was only the beginning. He never did really want a brother. Rex was just there. He wasn't smart. He was accident prone. He had his own way of doing things. He didn't care for science despite how good he was in math. He liked to read books. Not research books and biographies, but things considered literature. There were no picture books lying around so he read at a higher level. He seemed drawn to emotional books. He and Rex never bonded.
But Rex and Van Kleiss did. He remembered taking notes to his parents when he saw Rex playing soccer with Van Kleiss. Of all people, the one their parents didn't get along with was the one he was playing with. Granted he never played with Rex but it hurt for some reason. Rex always asked him to play. And now he was playing with a scientist like a little kid? Granted he was young but he was supposed to be more mature. He was eight for crying out loud. He began working with his parents by then.
His feet seemed to have a mind of their own when he walked out onto the soccer field with Rex being picked up by Van Kleiss. His little brother laughing in that man's arms.
"Rex. Inside. Now," he said sternly. Van Kleiss put him down and Rex looked back at him with endearing eyes.
"Can we play again some other time?" he asked excitedly and louder than Caesar knew possible for Rex. He had confidence in English. More so than Spanish. He was often quieter when talking to mom or dad in Spanish.
"Sure Rex," Van Kleiss said calmly. Rex gave a grin that seemed to fuel something in Caesar. As Rex ran inside Caesar glowered at Van Kleiss.
"Stay away from mijo," he growled. The older man looked down at him.
"He was bored and lonely. I'm not the kind of man who leaves a kid alone. Or break a promise," he said in a way that told Caesar that he would still interact with Rex. He felt something he couldn't describe. It was a horrid burning sensation that made him angry and possessive. He would look in on that later. He walked back inside to take the notes to his parents. And then he would try and figure out what it was.
He never did find out what it was. But the same feeling came when he overheard Rex talk about what Van Kleiss had said. He couldn't believe his brother actually believed what came from him.
He glared at Van Kleiss who was smiling at his work. Unaware he wasn't actually working, but drawing a picture of a small Latino boy playing soccer just outside of a lab. The grin on his face uncontainable.
I added this after seeing Kleiss go crazy. Review if you want.