Fear
He learned of fear very early on in life.
He knew that other children feared at that age, but for them it was a fear of unknown things, of shadows and monsters that did not exist. They feared, but they did not understand.
Their ignorance shielded them from the true horror of fear. No, he feared and he was completely cognizant of it it. He understood his fear, and realized its power and his own powerlessness in front of it. He had already eaten the forbidden fruit when the other children were barely capable of comprehending their own pain or the fear that accompanied it.
He might have wept, if he had been able to.
There were many things that he feared, he found.
He was small, and physically weak. How easily he could be crushed, overpowered and rendered broken and bloody by those larger than him. The Walrus taught him this first fear.
With fear, came hate. It was mutual, he supposed. Both the hate and the fear. Like with Horse though, Walrus’ fear was hard to understand. It preceded his presence in their lives, and was rooted too deeply to be truly directed at him. But the anger was easily understood. It was a product of that curious fear, a desperate animal lashing out at imagined monsters in the shadows. J hated Walrus because he could understand him, and feared the pain and powerlessness that he could inflict upon him.
His second fear was taught to him by the Swine, who despite being older than him, was also but an ignorant child at the time. He had thought that he could form some sort of camaraderie with this other person, who was also comparatively small and thus vulnerable to the larger, more powerful creatures. Then, their interactions were but mere glances. Walrus and Horse had tried to keep them separate. He rarely saw the other child, and he knew that their rooms were even on completely different floors. He didn’t even know if the other child was even aware that he also lived there. He had thought, or perhaps hoped, in his silly young mind, that this was done as some sort of plot to divide their forces. Separate them and keep them weak, perhaps. So he had waited for a time when he might safely approach the other, whom had not yet been dubbed Swine. At that time, he was the Other, someone who might be like him.
Walrus was gone. Most likely at work, and Horse had stepped outside to tend the garden, the care of which he was not yet trusted with. He had been locked in the cupboard again for some imagined infraction. He had figured out how to open it rather quickly, considering that they had not yet invested in an actual padlock. The Other had been in front of the box Horse called the telly, watching with slightly glazed eyes as brightly colored forms danced across the screen. He had quietly opened the cupboard, glanced towards the back door to check that Horse was still occupied, and slowly approached the Other.
He was often like this, the Other was, eyes glazed and staring after being placed in front of it by Horse. It seemed like a horrible thing to be done to you, and at the time he had pitied the Other for it, and was glad that he had not been the one subjected to it. He had often thought about talking to Other, but now, with the older boy in front of him he is unsure how to proceed. He realized at that moment, that he had never actually had an actual conversation with someone before. That he could remember anyway. There was a disturbing blank in his mind during the time before Horse and Walrus and his dark little cupboard.
So he reaches out and taps the boy’s shoulder.