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You thought this would be more fun. Your will, your determination that birthed the fountain that maintained this world— a not small amount of it came from that desire. To have fun with Susie, even in spite of your plans.
It stopped being fun a long time ago, you have to admit to yourself. The SOUL keeps you a blank slate on the outside, like a statue or motionless prop. You prefer it that way. On the inside, it can’t see you or your thoughts. It knows so much, but sees so little— and that’s just the way you like it. You want it as far away from those you love and your life as possible.
You can feel its alarm and curiosity as Tenna’s breakdown progresses. As your TV gets more and more manic. Susie has long since gotten sick of banging on the plastic, and Ralsei has settled for staring forlornly out the ball.
He’s too focused on you. He’d been more than happy to banter and indulge Susie before, keeping a sensible distance from you, until the SOUL led you to talk to him all alone on that empty stage. He’s too focused on your past, your memories, your feelings. A part of you almost feels bad for him.
“Turn off?!” Tenna screeches before you can give the command, already seeing the intent behind your actions. “There’s no turning off this show!” He whips around to face the darkner next to him, a fanged smile spreading across his screen. “You’re fired!”
The darkner is unceremoniously sent away, thrown to the side like a disobedient toy. No expression appears on your face, cold as stone. Your friends don’t seem very interested in what’s going on either. They’re frustrated. Tired. Done with him.
You watch with dull eyes as he calls on yet another physical challenge— sending you right back to the cooking gameshow.
“Why…” He rasps, his voice full of static. It mimics the sound of someone on the verge of tears. “Why won’t you look at me, Kris?”
I am looking at you. You want to say, but don’t. Oh, sure, you could wrestle control from the SOUL to say as much. You’ve done as much before. But instead, as you tend to do, you let its control subsume any emotion or thought you have to show on the matter. You know what he means— his words dredge up memories of sitting alone on the carpet in front of the TV, turning up the volume to ignore the sounds of your parents fighting. You feel contempt, staring at his misery-racked form.
“You need me!” He shouts, voice shooting to a screech. He slams his hands on the brown bar counter, his claws digging into the set wood. The light from his screen bathes you in a dull white hue, reminding you of those times you’d press yourself up to the glass, letting the TV’s warm light wash over you. “Who do you think taught you happiness?! Taught you joy?!” Tenna’s arms shake, his tone wobbling. “Just admit you NEED me already, Kris! Why…”
He balls his hands up into fists and slams them down, breaking through the wooden bar like cardboard. You are left unharmed, as his hands are far enough away from you to leave your section of the bar standing.
“Why won’t you look at me…” Tenna’s screen goes black, his voice now a raspy echo. “If you could just laugh… or smile…”
Silence. You can feel him looking at you— even amidst his despair, he looks towards you with hope. Maybe expecting your lips to twitch upwards or a soft laugh to escape your throat. But you remain still, expression unmoved like stone, every muscle in your body limp. The SOUL within you radiates pity, its urge to hug or comfort Tenna clear.
Just as you cannot control everything, neither can it. The two of you are stuck together.
“…Fine,” He scoffs when you refuse to give him anything. “Fine! I get it, y’know? Sometimes we forget things, and all we need is just… a little reminder!” He laughs. It’s pitifully forced. He reaches over, plucking Susie and Ralsei from their capsules with expert ease. “If I can’t get you to laugh… Then I’ll just remind you how to cry.”
He takes Ralsei and Susie into his palm, and squeezes. You straighten as they cry out in pain. Panic and indignation rushes through your body like rarely before— you remember King, how he’d threatened Susie, how every last fiber in you said no, no, no. In that instance and this, you can’t care less about the SOUL or its feelings.
“Kris,” Tenna calls, his showman grin and tone back on like a switch. “Look at me… please. Just look at me…” His screen goes black again. A hoarse chuckle leaves his screen, his grip on your friends temporarily faltering. Dark goo begins to drip down and onto the floor, hitting the ground around you with distinct squelching sounds.
“I love you like my own wires and circuits,” You can’t tell if he’s on the verge of sobbing or screaming. “Just admit that you need me already… please…”
“Don’t listen to him, Kris!” Ralsei insists, shuddering as Tenna tightens his grip. “W—we’ll be fine, okay? So don’t worry about us!”
You look up at the looming dark screen above you. Like a puppet temporarily removing its strings, you forego the SOUL and raise up your hand.
“Wait.” You say.
Tenna freezes. His screen tilts down, ever so slightly, to get a better look at you. You look up, allowing the hair on your face to fall back and reveal one red eye.
You lower your hand, allowing the stony expression to wash off your face. It feels like termites are crawling on your skin, like you’ve suddenly shed all your armor in the middle of a fight. But still, you continue.
“Let them go,” You ask— beg. It feels like you’re a kid again, praying like your mom taught you to, begging for your parents to stop fighting. “Please.”
Tenna lowers his fist an inch, but his screen stays black. It’s almost as if he’s in disbelief, unable to come up with a quippy line to retort with.
“If you do…” You swallow, the words like bile in your mouth. You hate him. You despise him. He disgusts you— he reminds you of everything you never want to think about ever again. He was supposed to be fun. (He was supposed to provide the same comfort he used to. To make you feel as though you’re not a part of this world any longer— but something else. TV Time, you can’t help but think with petulance, wasn’t meant to be this bad.) “We could watch TV. Like we used to.”
(You think of distant nights. You pressed against the screen of the family TV as if you’ll float off to another world, away from the fighting. You think of two nights ago, desperately chasing that same feeling while you scarf down your mom’s pie.)
(You think of that time you were ten, your hand pressed to the screen of the TV in a gesture of pure, childish love. Your eyes hidden behind your bangs, red plastic horns worn proudly on your head as you poured all the love your little body had into that one gesture.)
You hold up a hand. Gently, with reverence, Tenna returns the gesture with his own. It’s comical— his ginormous hand dwarfs yours by about seven sizes. But it’s gentle. He’s gentle, like you’re still a little kid. You’ve grown up, yet he still towers over you.
“Kris…” Tenna starts, his screen beginning to dry. “Oh, Kris!” In an instant, Susie and Ralsei are dropped to the floor without fanfare, and you are scooped up into his arms, brought into a spine-crushing hug.
“Oh, I knew you still loved TV!” Tenna cheers, grin threatening to split his face. He shifts you so that you’re being held in the crook of one of his arms, your blank expression returned. He hardly seems to mind— if anything, he’s too caught up in his joy to even notice. “We’ve still got all your favorite movies and shows! We’ll do reruns, re-reruns, the whole nine yards! Nothing less for my very first viewer!”
“Hey!” Tenna’s attention is drawn from you to Susie, axe out and teeth bared. “You can’t seriously just act like none of that stuff just happened. What about me and Ralsei?”
“Susie! Sweetie!” Tenna pauses, thinking for a moment. His free hand fics with his nervousness, scrambling for a plan. Then, with a grin, he takes out a card from his suit jacket with a grand flourish. “Well, according to my contract, you guys are my actors! And besides— what’s a game show without some contestants?” He laughs. “Looks like we’ll be getting that bonus round after all, folks!”
“You—!”
“Haha! Sorry, Susie!” Tenna says, almost sounding sincere for a moment. “But you know what they say— the show must go on!” With a snap of his fingers, a bunch of Pippins and Shadow Guys emerge from the curtain, nervously darting their eyes between Tenna and the rest of the Fun Gang.
Upon noticing their hesitation, Tenna stiffens. His grip on you tightens with possessive intent, holding you close to his chest as if to prevent anyone stealing you away. “Everyone! Please direct our contestants back to the Green Room!” A threatening pause. “Do you want me to deduct your points?”
That gets them going. The crowd of employees practically swarm the two, lifting them up into the crowd and carrying them off.
“Hey—! Dammit, watch the hair!”
“U-um, don’t worry about us, Kris! We’ll be okay, I promise!”
You watch them go. A lump forms in your throat, your lips downturning with every second. Tenna’s smile could rival the sun.
“Don’t worry about them, kiddo! They can have fun all they want in the Green Room!” Tenna shifts his grip on you so that he’s holding you in the palm of his hands, cupping them like you’re a baby bird. Unsteadily, you rise to your feet, nearly tripping before you grab one of his thumbs for balance. “In the meanwhile… why don’t we marathon some of your old favorites? We still have that cooking show you and Asriel adored back in the day!”
The mention of your brother makes you flinch, however minute. Tenna notices your stint expression’s return, and his grin wavers. His hands twitch. “Kris?”
You force yourself to look up at him. “Okay.”
Once again, Tenna lights up with the light of a million suns. With a gentleness that belies his size, he tucks you back into the crook of his arm, like how your dad used to when you were little.
“Then let’s not waste any time! Nothing but the best will be accepted for my favorite viewer!”
He hardly seems to care about your flat tone or unenthused look. You’re looking at him.
You’re beginning to realize that’s all he’s ever wanted.