𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖭 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖯 𝗉𝗍. 11
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖮𝖥𝖠𝖡𝖴𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲)
Chip sniffles. "But what if he gets
mad at me again?" he whispers.
"He might," Karen admits. "But
it's important to remember
it's not about you, or what you
do wrong." She pauses, her
thumb tracing gentle circles
on his back. "It's about his
brain trying to understand
a world that's changed for him."
"But how do I know what's
too much?" Chip asks, his
voice small. "How can I tell
what will make him upset?"
Karen's eyes searched his. "It's like
learning a new dance," she
explained. "At first, you'll step
on each other's toes, but with
time and patience, you'll find the
right rhythm." She took a deep
breath. "We'll figure it out
together. You can ask him, or
me, and we'll learn his cues. Like
when he needs space, or when
he's ok with a gentle touch."
Chip nodded, his eyes
still brimming with tears. "Ok,"
he said, his voice shaky. "But I
want to hug him again."
Karen clenched at
his words. "I know," she said.
"And when the time is right, you
may. But for now, let's find
other ways to show him love,
without overwhelming his
sensitive brain." She stood up, her
hand reaching for the doorknob.
"Why don't we go back to the living
room and check on him?"
They walked back to the
living room, where Plankton
was still sitting in the armchair,
his antennae twitching slightly.
He looked up as they entered,
his eye filled with a mix of
shame and defensiveness. Karen
could see the turmoil playing
across his features, the battle
between his love for Chip and
his fear of rejection.
"Dad?" Chip's voice was tentative,
his hand outstretched. "Could I...
could we...?"
Plankton's eye flickered to
his son's outstretched hand, his
stomach clenching at the thought
of contact. He knew he should
want this, should crave the
comfort of his son's embrace. But
his brain was a cacophony of
fear and confusion, his skin a
livewire of sensitivity. He
swallowed hard, the word sticking
in his throat like a bone. "No,"
he forced out, his voice tight.
Chip's hand fell to his side, his
shoulders slumping. "But Dad,"
he whispered, his voice
desolate. "I just wan—"
"NO!" Plankton's voice was a
roar, his antennae quivering with
the force of his rejection. The
look of hurt on Chip's screen was
like a dagger to his heart, but
he couldn't stop the words from
coming. "I don't want you right
now," he spat, the anger a
shield for his fear. "I don't like
anyone touching me!"
Chip's eyes filled with tears,
his chin trembling. "But Dad," he
whispered, his voice barely
above the sound of his own
breath. "I just want to make you
feel better."
Plankton's heart twisted, but
his fear was too great. "I said
NO!" he bellowed, his body
shaking with the force of his
words.
Chip's lower lip quivered as
he took a step back, his eyes
wide with shock. He had
never seen his father this
angry, this scared. "But I'm your
son," he managed, his voice
tiny. "I won't hurt yo-"
"I don't care!" Plankton's
voice was a snarl. "I just want
to be left alone!" His antennae
thrashed wildly, a silent
testament to his inner chaos.
"I don't need you or your
stupid games!" The words
were like a slap, leaving Chip's
face burning.
Chip's eyes filled with
hurt, his voice shaky. "But
you liked playing with me befo—"
"I SAID NO!" Plankton's
voice was a thunderclap, his
eye flashing with a rage that
wasn't entirely his own. "I don't
want your games, your laughter,
your touch!" The words hung in
the air. Chip felt
his chest tighten, his breath
hitch in his throat. He looked
at his mother, his screen
pleading for help.
Karen stepped forward, her
heart breaking with each word.
"Chip, let's give Dad some
space," she said, her voice
barely above a whisper. She knew
his intentions were pure, but
his father's brain was a minefield
right now, and any misstep could
trigger another seizure.
But Chip was stubborn, his
desire to connect with his dad
overriding his fear. "But Mom,
he's just mad," he protested.
"He co-" "Chip," Karen was firm,
but her eyes were filled with
sorrow. "It's more than that."
She took his hand. "We have
to be patient, ok?"
They sat on the couch, the
distance between them and
Plankton palpable. Chip's
thoughts raced, trying to
understand. Plankton sat in the
armchair, his antennae still,
his gaze anywhere but on
his son. So Chip decided to
get one of the fidget toys.
"Here," he said, holding it out.
"It's ok," he whispered. "It's just
a toy." Plankton's eye flickered to
the fidget toy, his breathing
shallow. He knew he should be
grateful, should be happy that
his son was trying. But the anger
was like a storm, and he couldn't
find the calm within. "Get that
hand away from me," he snarled, his
voice low and menacing.
Chip's eyes filled with hurt,
his hand dropping to his side.
"But Dad," he choked out, his
throat tight with unshed tears. "I'm
just trying to-"
But Plankton's anger was a
tidal wave that couldn't be
stopped. "You don't get it!"
he shouted, his antennae quivering.
"You can't just barge in here
and expect things to be the same!"
He threw one of the toys across
the room, the plastic smacking
against the wall. "You don't get
to decide how I feel!"
Chip's eyes filled with tears, his
heart racing. "But Dad, I just
want to help," he whispered.
"I don't understand." He retrieved
the toy.
Plankton's eye darted to the
fidget toy, his antennae quivering.
"Don't," he murmured, his voice
sharp. "I don't want it." The
word was like a slap to Chip,
his hand dropping to his side.
He looked at his mother, his
eyes pleading for guidance.
"Let me," she said,
her voice a gentle whisper. She
approached Plankton slowly, her
movements deliberate. "Here,"
she said, her voice soothing.
"This might help calm you down."
Plankton's eye darted to the
fidget toy, his antennae
twitching. For a moment, he
was torn between anger and
desire, his hand reaching out to
grab it before his brain could
change its mind. His grip was
firm, his breath hitching as
his thumb traced the smooth
patterns.
Chip watched, his heart racing.
"Is it ok now?" he asked,
his voice tentative. "Can I sit
with you?"
Plankton's antennae stilled, his
breaths coming in measured
paces as he worked the fidget
toy. He didn't look up, his eye
still on the floor.
"Dad?" Chip's voice was tentative,
his question hanging in the
air like a delicate thread.
"Can we talk now?"
Plankton's eye remained fixed
on the fidget toy, his thumb
still tracing the patterns
compulsively. His jaw was tight,
his antennae slightly less erratic.
"What's to talk about," he murmured,
his voice still thick with the anger
that hadn't completely dissipated.
Chip took a deep breath, his
heart pounding in his chest. "I
don't know," he said, his voice
honest. "I just want to kno—"
"You want to know what?" Plankton's
voice was cold, his eye flicking
up to meet Chip's. "What happened
to me? What's wrong with me?"
The words were a challenge, a
sharp-edged question that hung in
the air. Chip's gaze dropped to the
carpet, his throat tight. "I just
want to understand," he
whispered. "Why you're so mentally
di-"
He didn't get to finish the
sentence. Plankton's antennae
snapped up, his voice a whip.
"Don't," he said, the word
sharp as a knife. "Don't say
another word." Chip felt his
stomach churn, his palms
sweaty.
"Dad, I didn't mean to upset
you," Chip tried again, his voice
shaking. "I just know at my
school, how my classmates would
whispered to me," he said, his voice
barely above a whisper. "And I don't
wan-"
"I said don't!" Plankton's voice
was a whip. His antennae were
still, his body coiled tightly
in the chair. "Don't you dare
make me into some kind of
charity case!" His eye blazed with
a fierce protectiveness that took
even Karen by surprise.
Chip flinched, his own
eyes filling with tears. "But
Dad," he said, his voice barely
above a whisper. "You weren't a
burden bef-" "ENOUGH!"
The room was silent, save
for the sound of Plankton's
rapid breathing. His antennae
twitched as he clutched the
fidget toy like a lifeline.
"I NEVER want to be a burden!"
he shouted, his voice echoing
around the room. The anger
was a storm raging within him,
his fear of being seen as
weak or less than overwhelming.
Karen stepped forward, her eyes
filled with a mix of pity and
determination. "Chip," she
whispered. "Let's give him some
space." But Chip's resolve
was unshakable, his eyes
locked on his father. "But what if
'the burden' never gets..."
Plankton's antennae shot up. "What
did you call me?" His voice was
a hiss, his body taut with tension.
Chip took a step back, his
throat tight. "I didn't mean it
like that," he stuttered. "It's
just what they say at school."
But Plankton was lost in a
whirlwind of emotion. "Get out!"
he roared, his antennae flailing.
"Get out of my face!"
Chip's eyes filled with tears
as he took a step back, the
rejection a heavy weight on his
shoulders. He didn't understand
why his father was so
angry with him, so he turned
to his mother, his voice
shaking. "Mom, I didn't mean to-"
But Karen knew Plankton's anger
was a defense mechanism, a way
for his brain to cope with the
fear and confusion of his new
reality. She stepped closer to him,
her voice soft and calm. "It's ok,
Plankton," she soothed. "We're
here for you. Chip didn't mea-"
"DON'T!" Plankton's voice was a
bark, his antennae snapping in
agitation. "Don't you dare defend
him." His eye was wild, his
body trembling.
Karen's eyes never left his,
her voice a gentle stream of
reassurance. "You're not a
burden, Plankton," she said, her
words a soft whisper. "We love
you, just as you are." She took
another step, closing the gap
between them. "We're in this
together."