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“I’m… [[Why not take a nice walk outside?]].”
That was the last thing Spamton said, or blared out rather, before he pushed the big studio doors open and walked out. He didn't hear anything anyone in the room said as he did. He just left.
For all his big talk about becoming a bigshot back then, the stage lights really seemed to put him in a daze for the past few days. He had been ignoring the feeling to just keep doing the job he had so badly wanted and needed, but… well, after missed cue upon missed cue, he couldn't really keep up his act, in more ways than one. He couldn't let anything else slip while he was… being like this, so he left.
He didn't want to make another mistake in front of another person. He didn't want to step over the fine lines of his contract… either one. He didn't want the one on the phone line to be upset. He didn't want Tenna to realise he wasn't cut out for the role. He couldn't afford to mess up again. Everything depended on it.
Spamton slowed as he reached the bridge in his absent-minded walk. The bridge connecting TV world and Cyber world. His new home and his old home…
Even the thought of going back created a pit in his stomach. Yet, he approached the bridge anyway. He didn't really know why himself. He just stood at the edge of it, resting his arms on the cable like hand rails, resting his head on his arms as he gazed at the view.
He had to admit, he did miss his old home a bit. He missed parts of his routine. He missed that colourful bartender he saw so often. He missed hearing Queen’s annoying laugh all the damn time… okay, maybe there were some parts he didn't particularly miss.
Despite all that, he wouldn't dare to go back, even though he so very easily could. He couldn't go back, he just couldn't. He had to stay here.
…
The salesman’s head was starting to hurt. He turned his face into his arm for a moment, blocking his vision.
He wasn't sure when things changed, but… everything felt like a dream now. Fleeting and temporary. He couldn't ever completely shake the feeling. Some days it took a backseat, and some days it was like an error message that couldn't close no matter how many times you clicked.
Suffice to say, today was probably one of those days.
Spamton breathed out a heavy sigh, tilting his head and looking at the always dark sky of Cyber world.
It was a beautiful sight, that was something he'd never deny.
He reached one hand out towards the neon lights lining all those buildings in the distance.
If it all really was a dream, then… what was stopping him from just… jumping off? Then, he'd grow big wings, like the [Angel]s he's heard about, and just look at it all from above.
He'd be free.
…
Spamton let his arm fall, lazily dangling over the cable. It was in a position likely to lessen the circulation in his arm, but he didn't care. Just like his arm, he let his eyes fall to the darkness below the bridge.
…What if he didn't fly? What if he just… fell? By just looking, he couldn't quite tell if there would be any ground to crash into. Would he just endlessly fall?
…
…If it all really was a dream, the falling sensation should get him to wake up to whatever his reality was, right?
And, if it wasn't a dream…
…Would it really be a bad decision?
“Well, what's one of my lovely stars doing out here?”
It seemed as though Spamton wouldn't have the opportunity to sink further into his thoughts as he nearly jumped out of his feathers, the said feathers in his neck puffing out as he stood up straight and turned to face his boss.
“I hope you aren't having second thoughts already, haha!”
Tenna.
Spamton exhaled with a forced grin, almost perfectly mimicking his usual showstopper smile, as he smoothed his hair back with his hand. He hoped Tenna didn't notice the scrunch in his nose as he felt the pins and needles consequences of his not caring about circulation actions. Yeowch.
“Don’t mistake my [well-deserved smoke break] with [[having second thoughts?]], pal!” Spamton laughed as he leaned his back on the cable rails.
“Smoke break, huh? The lack of cigarettes or otherwise give away your act, my friend.” Tenna joked, though not without a twinge of worry in his tone. Spamton bit the inside of his cheek and kept his expression in place.
“...I just [[Forgot your things at home?]], that's all. I’m just takin’ in the view now.” Spamton excused with a dismissive wave of his hand, turning his gaze back to Cyber world. His head felt heavy.
“You… look tired, Spamton…” The Cathode lost his smile, letting his concern show as he stood next to the shorter man, leaning back onto the cables gently as to not startle the other. He followed Spamton's gaze, looking at the other world that was connected to Tenna's own.
“You missin’ home? You can always go back there, I-I’m not sto–!” “No.”
Spamton furrowed his brows with a sigh, pushing himself back onto his feet.
“Let’s just go back to the studio, eh? It's gettin’ quite cold out here– hm?”
The little mailman had started walking back, but was stopped by a hand holding his arm. He looked back at the television, only now noticing how… normal sized the said TV was. He waited for the still taller darkner to say something, watching as they opened their mouth to say something but decided not to, averting their non-existent eyes from him. So he decided to speak instead.
“Ya gonna keep holdin’ my arm, orrrr…?” He trailed off, waiting for the CRT to say or do anything. The CRT jumped slightly, quickly letting go of Spamton's arm as his screen gained a pink discolouration for just a moment. He held up his hands defensively, apologizing repeatedly. Spamton couldn't help but actually smile at the reaction, even if for a few seconds.
His chest felt a bit funny, in a good way – before it started feeling funny in a bad way. Still, he maintained his smile.
“Say, you're lookin’ way smaller than usual. What's the occasion?” the mailman teased, interrupting whatever apologetic ramble Tenna was going on.
“Huh? Oh, that? Well of course I'm smaller! Everything looks bigger on the big screen, don't you know?” Tenna recited, as if he'd said the same line before. He didn't say it in his usual booming voice, however, just settling for a mildly performative voice. Spamton couldn't really detect any farce in that performance, though. He just shrugged to himself, slightly turning his head back to the path ahead of him.
“Whelp. I'm going back, ya comin with or not?” he bluntly asked his superior, who hesitated to give an answer for a while. The way the top of Tenna’s screen scrunched, mimicking knotted eyebrows, gave him away.
Before the bigshot could turn and continue walking, the TV managed to swallow down his anxiety and finally get some words out.
“Uh–! Actually, I was. Going to stay here. For a bit…” Tenna blurted out in phrases, standing stiff as a board. He then reached into his front pockets, pulling out a box of cigarettes and a lighter in both his hands while a sheepish grin displayed on his face. “...Care to have a proper smoke break?”
Spamton looked between Tenna and the cigarettes he was holding, taking his sweet time to consider the offer. Then, without warning, he snatched the box from the taller darkner, taking a cigarette out. He returned to his previous position, leaning back onto the cables as he put the cigarette in his mouth, holding out another for the cathode.
“Sure, why the [?@#!] not?”