Click clack. Click clack. Snap click.
The pieces fall into place easily. The shapes and colors have their own energy, aura whatever you want to call it, but it just makes sense. Long pieces get layered with shorter pieces the odd angles need to fit into an odd angle. When they snap, they fit and when they fit, they grow. Pieces slowly become more solid, more stable, bigger, stronger than before. It makes sense matching the pieces together. It just is an easy process and fun. He’s having fun building with the new blocks. Guardian hums in approval.
Bruce smiles and looks down at the worn yellow alien like doll. Guardian doesn’t speak much. He’s not sure if he can or just doesn’t want to but maybe he understands. Speaking too loudly causes trouble and he doesn’t want Guardian to get in trouble nor does he want to get in trouble. He feels the warm hum intensify as he finishes building the building out of blocks. Guardian is humming in amusement and sounds happy? It’s strange to decipher it all. He’s still learning about Guardian to be honest. One day he just appeared but he was more like wind no real image in his head, or sound just soft blowing behind his ears. It was comforting.
“What the fuck are you making,” slurs his father from the doorway. Bruce shivers as if a snowball had just been shoved down his back. He stares up at the man words not able to form. Grunts and snorts are heard from Guardian and his father repeats the question again. It’s difficult to take both voices apart and listen trying to figure out who is talking. The noise is too much, and he shakes in place unable to speak up at the man.
His mother intervenes and now her voice is mixed into the noise growing louder and louder. His father is yelling towering over his mother walking into her space, domineering. She flinches giving the man an opening as he grabs her by the wrist and pulls her close to him so he can yell in her face.
Guardian can’t stand it. Bruce screams loudly running to attack his father but instead is swatted away like a bug into his own creation. He winces feeling the plastic blocks dig into his back. He feels Guardian back away and hide further in his space. Anger still leaking his father pulls Bruce up by the shirt.
“No boy can do this…nothing but a monster,” he says throwing him down at his mother. She grabs Bruce and holds him in her lap glaring up at her husband.
“How dare you-”
“Oh, shut up,” he says waving his hand in the air. “You,” he says pointing at her, “you knew he was a monster you saw when you gave birth to that freak. It’s not normal not my son-” His voice rises in volume as his mother tightens her grip around him shielding him from his father.
The words are too much and begin to merge together. He can’t hear his own thoughts but his father’s voice rings through the cacophony. Stronger, not louder stronger. Guardian despises it.