Spam had seen Boost's baby pictures before, many times.
There were framed photos scattered all around the house, hanging from the walls, propped up on counter tops, there were even seasonal photos that were only ever brought up around the holidays from storage.
Click hadn't been the most diligent photographer when They had started out on their own, and that hadn't improved much when Popup had been a fletching, sure there were photos, but only of milestones; Popup's first molt, first sale, first day at school, and of course, first hint of colour.
By the time Boost came into the flock, Popup was old enough to know how to operate a camera, and They were much more keen on capturing all of life's little moments so there were a lot, like, a lot more photos of Boost, Survey and himself to be found.
So yes, Spam had seen Boost's baby pictures. Spam had seen his older brother grow from a snowy fletchling to a bright orange Addison. And Spam knew that his brother's first hint of colour, a single awkward downy feather jutting out from behind Boost's left ear, started out the exact shade of peach he was currently sprouting.
It was currently 5:30 pm on a Friday and before Boost left, the five siblings would have been making their way to the Cyber Grill for their weekly dose of unhealthy food and drink, or in Spam's case, milkshake.
But ever since Boost left, Click had sworn off eating out at the Cyber Grill, they still ordered out, but Boost made it a priority to not let the tensions between himself and his siblings prevent him from eating there.
Things became very tense at the grill the first time Boost tried to rejoin them as if nothing was wrong. He just waltzed up to their booth seat with a smile that Spam, at the time, thought meant an apology was on the way…
But all Boost asked was… Whether or not they were all done being so weird…
Click was very quick to tell Survey to take him home while he and Popup quickly changed the orders to take-out…
Spam hadn't set foot inside the Cyber grill since.
But that was where he was going that night.
Because it was 5:30 pm on a Friday and if Boost was as stubborn as he remembered, he'd be there.
Spam could hear his siblings hot on his heels, they may have all been taller, faster, but he was nimble and used to having to run to places to meet deadlines and appointments.
He was also very good at weaving through the spindly legs of thick crowds that his siblings would have to negotiate their way through.
Which was why Spam made it to the Cyber Grill three minutes before his siblings, and why none of them could stop him from running to the spot at the bar where his older brother sat.
Boost didn't look all that different from the last time Spam saw him. He was still tall, still a weird mix of lanky and strong, like a swimmer, though Spam was quite sure none of his siblings had ever gone swimming before.
Regardless. Boost looked… Well?
Healthy at least, though he was slouching horribly over the counter, Click would have cuffed him upside the head if he ever dared sit like that at home, but Spam supposed that without the constant threat of Click, Boost could afford to let himself go.
In his haste to get to the Cyber Grill however… Spam realized that… He couldn't think of a single thing to say to his brother…
There were many things he wanted to say to his brother, many mean, bitter, sour things he wanted to say, things that he kept tucked away in his chest for years…
He wanted Boost to know just how much he hurt Spam…
He wanted Boost to know just how much he made Spam and everyone else suffer…
But the second the bartender pointed Spam, who had honestly been staring quite rudely at his brother, out to Boost… Every single bitter word evaporated on Spam's tongue and all he could manage was a weak, withered whimper.
Boost stared down at him, dumbfounded and confused.
"Spam?" He said, surprisingly baffled and baffledly surprised, before he quickly looked up and around the grill.
"Where are…?" He began almost nervously; "Are Click and Popup and Survey coming?" He swallowed thickly then.
"Maybe…" Spam replied, voice weak and breathless, he had been running all the way from the house to the grill, he hadn't even noticed he was panting until he tried to speak.
"What are… What are you doing here Spam?" Boost asked next, actually turning in his seat to face his youngest brother.
And there would have been a perfect opportunity for Spam to just unload everything he had been thinking and feeling for the past years, all the hurt and sadness and misery…
But somehow the words got jumbled and rearranged and all that Spam managed to blurt out was a rushed;
"I'm fixed!"
He said, excitedly, with a big, bright smile.
His eyes began burning.
"I-I better now, there's- there's nothing wrong with me any more." Spam breathed, speaking miles upon miles in moments, just beaming up at his brother who stared down at him in mounting…
Spam prayed that the expression his brother wore was pride and not devastation.
He had done everything right, hadn't he?
Hadn't he?
"H-here! Look!" Spam choked as he turned around, parting his hair just like Popup had.
"I'm- I'm- I got my colour!" He whimpered as he let his hair fall.
His cheeks were warm and wet and-
Why was he crying?
Why wasn't Boost smiling?
"I-I'm going to be orange!" He sobbed with a smile, this was a happy moment, he was happy, he was happy, he was supposed to be happy and Boost was supposed to be happy and-
Why wasn't he happy?
"I-I'm going to be just like you!" Spam warbled as he reached out to grab at his brother's pant leg.
Boost didn't move, didn't move, didn't look away, didn't move, only stared.
"This is… This is good, right Boost?" Spam pleaded.
"I'm finally- I finally got my colour- I'm finally normal- right?" He asked, desperate for an answer.
Any answer.
Why wasn't Boost happy?
Spam choked on a sob as he looked up at his brother who stared down at him with such overwhelming devastation that Spam wanted to die then and there.
What had he done?
He got his colour…
What else did Boost…
"I'm sorry!" Spam cried.
"I'm sorry it took so long! I didn't mean to take so long!"
The door to the grill chimed, and the sound of people shouting out on the sidewalk came rushing into the grill.
"Oh damn, it's the little freak." Someone muttered before a hand gripped Spam by the arm wrenching him off of Boost's pant leg and sending him to the floor.
"You let that thing touch you Boost?" The other orange Addison grumbled as he slipped into the seat on Boost's other side, leaning around Boost to glower down at Spam who couldn't bring himself to get back onto his feet.
Boost only continued to stare down at Spam, but only that… Stare.
The doors opened again as a large group of Addisons flooded the grill, all cawing and cackling about the three Addison's outside, orange spilled across Spam's vision, no one taking notice of him down on the floor, except for Boost who did nothing but stare.
Someone stepped on Spam's hand, and he yipped like a wounded animal and that was when finally, finally someone else took notice of him…
"Oh shit! Who invited the kid?" She crouched low to the ground, flustered and nervous as she began examining Spam's hand.
"Are you alright honey? Why were you on the floor? I'm so sorry, I didn't see you down there. Your hand looks really bad, do you want to go to the emergency room?"
But Spam's voice got caught in his throat and he couldn't get the words out so someone spoke for him.
"Leave the freak be Tempt." Spam had a vague memory of the Addison staring down at him, who stood right beside Boost, his hand resting on his brother's shoulder like they were old friends…
"Seven year old snowflake can take care of himself. He can't possibly be that useless."
Any sweetness the orange Addison beside Spam had evaporated and she dropped his trampled hand like it was diseased, like he was diseased.
The next thing Spam knew, the Addison who was standing by Boost was hoisting him up by his shirt collar, casually carrying him through the grill and to the door where he was nonchalantly shoved out to the sidewalk before he was even given the chance to gather his footing.
But he never hit the pavement.
"Spam!"
Survey was a blubbering mess, down on her knees in the middle of the walkway, cradling Spam to her chest as tight as she could, probably too tightly in fact, but Spam couldn't bring himself to care.
"What were you thinking?" Survey sobbed as she hoisted Spam up to run her thumbs across his cheeks.
"What were you thinking!" Survey cried as she pulled Spam into another hug as she rose to her feet on trembling legs.
"Running off like that? You-you had us worried sick you…" Survey sniffled loudly.
"Never do that again Spam, please… We can't… We can't do that again…"
Spam only buried his face into Survey's shoulder and sobbed as they began to make their way home.
"Survey…" Spam whispered hoarsely once he finally found his voice.
"Survey… I don't want to be orange…"