"I just don't get what's wrong with him."
"Shut it Boost."
"I'm serious!"
"I know."
"He has more potential in his ad damned pinky finger than the rest of us combined!"
"I know Boost."
"And the doctor had nothing to say?"
"Nothing new…"
Spam stared at the ventilation grate by the foot of his headboard… It was nearly midnight… And Boost had just gotten home from a birthday party for a friend of his.
Click had stayed up to wait for Boost, and clearly, Boost came home slightly less than sober…
Boost was a good brother, he was kind and funny and he always knew what to say to cheer Spam up whenever he was down. Boost was the fun brother, always willing to take an evening off to take Spam somewhere or to just chill and talk, maybe play a few card games just to take Spam's mind off whatever was bothering him…
But Boost also had the shortest fuse between the five of them. Now, a full blown fit was rare for Boost, but rub him the wrong way and he could get vicious with his words… Especially when he was tipsy…
"We should take him to a specialist."
"We are not taking Spam to a specialist Boost."
"Why not?"
"Because the doctor says he's fine."
"He's five years old and white as snow, Click! That's- that's not fine."
"The doctor says there is absolutely nothing wrong with Spam."
"Then why hasn't his colour come in yet?"
"I don't know!"
Spam jolted beneath his blankets when Click raised his voice… Click, never raised his voice…
"I don't know why Spam's colour hasn't come in yet… But you need to stop treating this like a problem, Boost." Click hissed, Spam had to hang his head over the side of his bed to hear the rest of the conversation.
"Spam is our brother, he's been our brother since we took him in, and him not having a fucking colour won't change that."
A tap was run in the kitchen.
"If you start on this again we're going to have problems, do you understand me Boost?"
A cold silence.
The sound of glass shattering.
"That wasn't a fucking answer Boost."
Some bitter words were spat out before someone very loudly and purposefully stormed out the front door, slamming it hard enough to shake the rest of the house…
Spam couldn't bring himself to look out his bedroom window… A crushing weight of guilt kept him pinned beneath his blankets…
The house fell silent for a while, Spam could imagine Click cleaning the mess of broken glass in the kitchen, probably blaming himself or Boost's friends for the fight, or just… Replaying the argument over and over as he cleaned. Pinpointing where he went wrong…
Eventually, the stairs leading to the second floor began to creak, and just as the last step sang its wonky melody to the night, Spam was overcome with two confronting urges.
He wanted to be alone.
He wanted company.
He wanted to apologise to Boost for something he had no control over.
He wanted Boost to apologise for blaming him.
He never wanted to see Boost again.
He really wanted a hug…
The footsteps paused just outside of his room before a gentle fist rapped against his door.
"Spam."
The youngest brother rose and sat on his bed, the creaking of his mattress enough to let Click know he was awake. Click opened the door without a word, taking a seat at the end of Spam's bed silently.
"Boost is going to be staying with a friend of his for a while." Click informed him quietly.
"I'll let Popup and Survey know in the morning… He can come inside to grab some clothes and whatever else he'll need, but he's out until he apologises to you."
"Why?" Spam asked quietly, Click groaned in response pressing the heel of his palms against his eyes.
"Apparently… Some of his new work colleagues caught wind of the fact that one of Boost's siblings is still white and they're giving him a lot of grief at work."
Spam curled in on himself at that, but a warm hand quickly settled at his shoulder.
"Boost has been defending you at every turn Spam… He just let them get to him tonight… That doesn't excuse what he said but…" Click's voice trailed off helplessly…
"He loves you Spam, we all do… He'll come around, just give him time…"
"He's right though… You know." Spam mumbled quietly as he pulled his knees to his chest.
"He is not." Click snapped sharply.
"This isn't a problem Spam, not having a colour isn't a problem… You're not sick, there is nothing wrong with you, it's just… It's just something that makes you, you."
Click sighed and looked up to the ceiling with a wry grimace.
"I really suck at the whole comfort thing, Spam." He admitted gracefully, which was enough to get the youngest brother to smile.
"Look… What I'm trying to say is that you're family no matter what, colour, no colour, your family… You know?"
Click scootched himself across the bed to pull his youngest brother into a hug, which Spam returned wholeheartedly.
"I'll sic Popup and Survey on you tomorrow for some proper gross family comfort times… But till then, do you think you'll be good to sleep alone?"
"I'm almost five Click, I'm not a baby."
"Oh, then Mr. Brave-not-a -baby-man is alright if I go to bed then?"
"I never said that dummy."