Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Your task: Find a TV. An old one. CRT, ideally. The bigger, the bulkier, the better. Doesn’t need to work, just needs to be big.

Big enough to explode dramatically when hit with a sledgehammer.

You can’t say you fully understand the vision of your friend Jodie’s music video, but she’s paying you to edit it…which means you have a vested interest in helping her film it, which means an interest in helping her get ready to film it… even if she’s not directly paying you for that part of the process. If a day of running around checking thrift stores and pawn shops means your payday might come a bit sooner, then so be it. You’re technically not strapped for cash just yet, but contract work isn’t exactly steady--one slow month could have you running up a balance on your card that’ll take the rest of the year to pay off.

At least Jodie’s paying for your gas and will pay you back for the TV, so all you’re losing is time…though you hope Jodie will still stick to the agreement when she sees just how many stores you had to hit up.

You can’t remember if this is the fifth stop on your “tour” or the sixth, but you must look tired, for the cashier, a middle-aged woman with her greying hair in a messy bun, winces visibly when you ask about a CRT TV.

“Sorry, hun. Nobody’s donated a working CRT in…probably a decade.”

Yet you perk up, catching something in her wording. “Working? It doesn’t have to work. Just has to be a big, boxy old TV.”

She hums sympathetically. “Well we don’t tend to keep--” She stops suddenly, her face lighting up as she snaps her fingers. “Oh! You know what, I think there is one out back! Or at least there was last night…I assume it’s still there?”

“Can I take a look?”

She nods. “Yeah, I’ll show you,” she says. She grabs her keys from beside the register, walking you through the store and out the back employee entrance to a small alleyway.

The dumpster behind the store is overflowing with donations that had been deemed in too poor of shape to sell, all in various combinations of torn, stained, dirty, and broken. You see a sofa that’s so torn to shreds that most people couldn’t be paid to take it…and yet someone had donated it expecting it to be sold.

“Someone came by with a truckload yesterday. Emptying out an abandoned storage unit, I think,” she says. “Some of it was sellable, this wasn’t,” she explains, nudging the TV with her boot. “Is it about what you’re lookin’ for?”

“Oh yeah, this looks great!” you say, crouching down to look at the TV. It’s pretty dirty--covered in so much dust some of it has actually become caked on. The antennae are folded in, at least mostly--one antenna has a bit of tape on it that prevents it from being fully tucked in. The power cord is so frayed that you think plugging it in might be a fire hazard. But the TV can be cleaned up and made to at least look like it’s in good shape even if it doesn’t actually work.

“Exactly what I need,” you add, picking at a clump of dirt with your nail. You rest a hand atop the TV, leaning on it briefly as you pull yourself to your feet. “How much?”

She laughs. “It’s not sellable. So I can’t ‘sell’ it. But if you wanna bring your car around you can load it up.”

“Free? Really?” you say, surprised.

She shrugs, waving a hand. “The paperwork isn’t worth what I’d end up charging for it.”

“Heh…well, thanks!” you say. Maybe if you tell Jodie the TV ended up being free, she won’t balk at the gas bill so much.

One cordial handshake later, the TV is officially yours. You bring your car around and load up the TV into the trunk and finally head home. When you arrive in your apartment’s parking lot, the sky is tinged yellow from the pending sunset and the shadows stretch long across the pavement.

Getting the clunky CRT into your apartment is a hell of a task. Park close to the door, carry the TV to the elevator, then push it down the long hall to your apartment. It’s too heavy to lift for more than a few seconds at the time, and even the brief walk to the elevator has you setting it down a couple times to rest for a couple seconds before continuing.

But, you’re able to get it up to your third floor apartment at last, and you shove it into a corner of your mostly empty room.

The apartment itself is a two bedroom, though really you probably should have just gone for the one bedroom. You use the second bedroom as an office, and the living room had, at one point, been intended as a place to host guests, but you’ve ended up doing far less of that than you’d anticipated. You’ve even moved your flatscreen into the office, leaving behind an empty TV stand and a living room even less equipped to hosting anyone.

Once the TV’s in place--next to an empty TV stand that definitely isn’t strong enough to hold an old CRT--you glance down at yourself, wincing at the dust and dirt from the TV that’s now all over your T-shirt.

You debate with yourself a moment before deciding to just clean up the old thing a bit. Moving it is difficult enough without also getting streaks of dirt all over your clothes every time you lift it. Besides, Jodie will probably want it somewhat clean for the shot she’s planning.

You grab the kit you usually use for cleaning up your computer--some compressed air, alcohol wipes, and a handful of Q-tips. Probably a bit more thorough than you need for an old TV that doesn’t even work and is going to be destroyed soon anyway….but you figure if you’re going to do it, you may as well do it right.

You’re surprised at how much dust and dirt come away with the wipes, given how much has already come off onto your shirt, but that only solidifies your decision to give it a thorough cleaning. You at least have the sense to cover your nose and mouth with your shirt before getting to work with the compressed air, though once you see the size of the dust cloud that rises from the TV’s vents you wonder if you should have dug around in your closet to see if you still have any N95 masks left.

You use a damp Q-tip to clean around the dials and the edges of the screen. By the time you’re done, the TV looks…well, not new, but at least like it’s been kept in a house and taken care of for the past few decades.

As you’re putting away your cleaning supplies, you wince when you notice how dark it’s gotten outside. There’s still a hint of sun on the horizon, but it won’t be there much longer.

You quickly gather up the trash from your kitchen and head downstairs to the dumpster. You’ve already put off taking out the trash for about two days longer than you should have. You hate taking it out at night, especially since building maintenance has been pretty slow to replace some of the bulbs in the parking lot’s lights. But, you manage to toss the bags away just as the sun slips below the treeline.

Finally, after a day of driving from store to store, hauling a huge TV, then cleaning said TV, you can relax for the night.

Or so you think.

You lock the door behind yourself and step into the living room, where you immediately notice that something is amiss.

Something is very amiss.

Comedically amiss, even.

Where the CRT had once sat, now sits a man. An impossibly tall man with a TV--with the perplexing addition of a cartoonishly long nose--as his head. He’s too tall to even stand up in your apartment--instead he’s seated on the floor, his knees tucked against his chest.

“There you are!” he cries happily in a staticy, showman-y voice. He crawls towards you with a big grin on his face. “My new favoritest Lightner! Thank you ever so much for taking me home and fixing me up and--” He cuts himself off, canting his head. “What’s the matter?” he asks.

Your back is pressed against the wall, your eyes wide and your shoulders tense. Your hands are held up, your fingers curled like claws as your body instinctively prepares to defend itself from the massive creature shuffling towards you.

And he asks “what’s the matter?” as if you’re reacting strangely to a giant TV-headed man in your apartment!

Before you can recover your wits enough to answer, he frowns, tilting his head in the opposite direction.

“Wait…you’re not a Lightner!” he says, his antennae straightening in surprise. You notice one of them still has a bit of tape wrapped around it, just as the CRT had.

He lowers his head, leaning forward until his nose is nearly poking you in the chest. You close your eyes, covering your face with your hands. You’d probably fall to the floor in a heap if doing so wouldn’t mean colliding with his nose on the way down.

“Hmm…but you’re certainly no Darkner…” he says, his gloved hand rubbing his “chin” in thought. He shifts his gaze to your face and flinches when he sees how frightened you are.

“O-Oh! ‘Scuse me! Shouldn’t sit too close to the screen! Especially in the dark!” he laughs apologetically as he shuffles backwards, still on his hands and knees. His antennae are almost bumping against the low ceiling of your apartment as it is.

Your knees give out and you slide down the wall, your trembling hands still covering your face.

This can’t be real. It just can’t. What the hell kind of hallucinogens had you inhaled when cleaning that old TV? You’ve clearly lost your damn mind!

The TV man pulls back even further when he sees your distress. “A-Ah!” he says, nervous beads of sweat appearing in the staticy white image that makes up his “face”. “I-I suppose this is…shocking! Me being…like this…outside the Dark World!”

Don’t indulge the delusion. Wait for it to pass. Whatever you inhaled will wear off. Surely you just need to wait it out? You’ll recover or sober up or…whatever…and it’ll all go back to normal!

But you can’t help yourself.

“I-I…have no idea what you’re talking about!” you admit, cringing internally at how meek and timid your voice sounds.

“Aha, right! Proper introductions are in order!” He clears his throat, then raises one hand to his face to push in his nose, flattening his face. The screen goes dark for a half second before loud, triumphant music begins to play, accompanied by some kind of low-resolution video.

“It is now time…for our feature presentation!! (Feacher…!!) Coming straight from YOUR house…coming straight from your house!! COMING! He’s the 1!! COMING!! The KING of ONLY!! He’s groovy! And NEVER glooby! You can’t get this from an egg!! The sensation of your screen! The show that makes you SCREAM!! Say it with him folks!!

Mr. (Ant) Tenna’s T~V~TIIIIMMMMME~!!!”

Once it’s done, the screen returns to the white static that is his “face”, his nose reappearing with a cartoony “pop!”.

The whole sequence does little to ease your confusion…though the fear is at least fading. You lower your hands, adjusting your position so you’re sitting with your back against the wall rather than cowering against it.

“Um…”

“And who do we have the honor of speaking with tonight?” he asks, a microphone appearing in his hand, which he holds out to you.

“E-Erm…” you squeak awkwardly.

“Hmmmm?” he hums in an almost playful tone as he holds the mic just a bit closer. The cartoony smile on his screen is huge but…there’s also a gentleness there. As if he’s trying to coax you out of your shell.

Finally, you manage to speak your name, albeit a bit haltingly.

His grin widens. “I shoulda guessed! A perfect name for a perfect sorta-Lightner!” he crows.

You laugh weakly, your cheeks warming at the bit of flattery despite the situation. “A-And…you said you’re…um, Mr. Ant Tenna?”

He nods. “Tenna to my friends, my friend!” The slight head tilt and the cartoony “pling!” noise that accompanies it suggest he would be winking if he had eyes.

Again it’s hard not to smile at the quip…and the fact that, intentional or not, he’d answered your question before you’d even had a chance to ask it. “A-Alright…Tenna…” you say, slowly starting to relax. You’re not entirely convinced this is real, but…it seems to be at least…not dangerous? “M-Mind…explaining…what’s going on?” you ask tentatively.

Tenna laughs. “Well, it’s quite simple!” he says, holding up one finger and waving it slightly, poised like a man about to explain a complicated topic in three or less easily digestible sentences. “You see--” He freezes suddenly, his mouth fixed in his usual big grin.

Your brows drift slightly upwards.

“...I simply don’t know!” he says, his grin turning mildly apologetic as a laugh track echoes around you.

Your shoulders slump. Maybe this is just a dream…one you’re not creative enough to fill in fully. Still… “Wh-What were you saying before? Something about…Lightners? Darkners? And…a-a…Dark World?”

“Ah! Right!” he says. “I can get you up to speed on that, no problem! Y’see, there’s the Dark World and the Light World, Darkners and Lightners.” He places a hand on his chest. “I’m a Darkner, and you…well, seem to be mostly a Lightner.”

You shake your head. “Um, I’m a human, actually…” you say hesitantly.

Tenna nods patiently, unsurprised by your comment. “Which is a type of Lightner!” he says. It’s almost as if he’d anticipated such a response.

“I…see…” you say uncertainly. “But I’ve never…heard of that. Or Darkners, or the Dark World…”

Another nod. “Most Lightners haven’t! And, since they don’t know about the Dark World or Darkners, they have no reason to think of their world as the Light World nor themselves as Lightners! To them, it’s just the world! And they’re just--” He pauses, his smile looking a bit more like a wince before his bright grin returns. “--NERS!” he declares proudly.

You give a weak laugh, sensing that last bit was a joke. “Right…So then…what’s a Darkner?”

“Residents of the Dark World! The place where light doesn’t reach. Darker than dark, where imagination takes hold and is made real!”

“Imagination…?”

“Imagination made REAL!” he says pointedly, emphasizing the last word. Blue flashing text appears on his screen spelling out the word “REAL!” in bold letters.

“And…I’m now imagining a TV as…a giant TV-headed man?” you ask skeptically.

Tenna’s expression falters and his antennae seem to drop. “...A-A TV?” You can barely process the remark before his bright grin reappears. “I-I mean! Yes! Er, no! Not…you’re not imagining anything! This is how I am in the Dark World! I’m quite real!”

You frown, glancing around despite knowing full well you’re in your apartment. “But we’re not in the Dark World…are we?”

He mimics your thoughtful frown, finally adjusting himself to sit crosslegged, propping his elbow on his knee and resting the bottom of his TV-head on his palm. He has to hunch over to an almost comedic degree to keep his antennae from hitting the ceiling. “No, definitely not! But I’m not so sure it’s the Light World, either…”

“Why not?” you ask.

“Well, aside from all this,” he says, gesturing at himself with both hands, “It just…doesn’t feel like the Light World…” The showmanship fades from his tone, his voice becoming quiet, almost somber.

“How so?” you ask curiously.

Tenna laughs awkwardly. “I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you! It’s just a feeling.”

“What’s the Light World like?” you ask, getting to your feet and taking a step towards him.

“Almost exactly like this one,” he says thoughtfully. “In fact…I’m…not even sure how long I’ve been in this world…I was thrown away at some point,” he says with a frown, his shoulders tensing. “Then I…” His frown deepens. “I…I don’t know what happened next. I don’t…even remember how I ended up in that storage unit…” His tone makes it sound like it’s just as much a revelation to him as it is to you. His frown grows more melancholy and his antennae droop.

You open your mouth to speak, then close it again. What could you possibly say? What do you say to a living TV that seems to be lamenting being thrown away?

Before you can summon an answer to that question, Tenna’s mood turns on a dime and he brightens. His antennae perk back up and he leans forward towards you. “But I’m sure glad I did!” He touches his index fingers together shyly, red circles appearing on his screen as he glances away with a bashful smile. “If it meant being found by a nice Light--er, human who’d clean me up and take care of me!”

The awkward, almost pained laugh you let out barely sounds like a laugh to you, but Tenna doesn’t seem to notice. Dream or no, you really don’t want to tell him the true reason you’d been on the hunt for a CRT.

“Now! I’ll bet you’re excited to watch all your favorite shows on your brand new TV!” he says in a playfully smug tone. “So, why don’t you whip up some popcorn and I’ll find us something good!” he says. His face begins flickering as if flipping through channels…though all the channels are the same white static.

“I don’t have any--” you start in a faint protest. You pause, frowning up at him in confusion. “Can we even watch TV on you when your cord’s broken?”

“Oh sure! Don’t need electricity in this form, I run on good ol’ Tenna-Watts!” he says cheerfully. His smile fades a bit as he continues flipping through channels. “Although…I can’t seem to find a signal…”

“You’re an analogue TV, aren’t you? They uh…kinda moved to digital like…ten years ago?” you say hesitantly.

Tenna pauses, staring at you. His screen goes blank, which causes his nose to disappear as well. His head slumps forward and he turns away, his antennae drooping. “O-Oh. S-So I. I can’t…I can’t really…I wouldn’t be…very useful…as a TV…would I?”

He’s so dejected that he actually seems a bit smaller as he slumps forward miserably, but you quickly rush over to him.

“H-Hey, don’t say that!” you say quickly, the words spilling out of your mouth before you really think about what you’re saying. “We could buy an adapter--”

His gaze snaps to you so abruptly you have to duck to avoid being beamed by his nose as it reappears. He grins brightly, red circles appearing on his cheeks as he leans forward. “An adapter? You’d buy an adapter? For me?” he asks giddily, cupping his screen in his hands.

You falter a moment. Despite your phrasing, you’d meant the remark as a hypothetical, not a plan…certainly not a promise. You’re still not completely sure this is even real…maybe it is a dream and whatever promises you make actually don’t matter. But…even if it’s not…how expensive can an adapter be?

If Tenna thinks anything of your slight pause--or even notices it--he gives no indication, continuing to beam down at you eagerly.

“Uhm, s-sure…Yeah, I can do that…”

“Oh thank you!” he cries eagerly, clapping his hands while the sound of applause plays. “And in the meantime, if you want to hook up a VCR or DVD player or game console…?”

You stare at him a moment before letting out an awkward laugh.

Tenna’s antennae twitch in confusion. “Oh? Did you have something else in mind?”

You shake your head, smiling weakly up at him. “Not…as such, but…you’re…a…a giant TV-man from another world…a-and this is all so…impossible…”

He scoffs playfully, waving a hand. “Can’t be that impossible if it’s happening!”

You sputter a moment, trying to come up with a counterpoint, but none presents itself. “I…suppose you’re right,” you admit. “But…still…just sitting down to watch TV after all that seems…so mundane…”

“Takes a bit of mundanity to wind down the day, doesn’t it?” he says. “Besides, why go to all that trouble of cleaning me up if you don’t wanna watch TV?” he adds in a smug, cheeky tone.

You manage to stop yourself from flinching too visibly at that question, but you’re sure a brief look of nausea still passes over your face.

“I--I s-suppose…”

“Then it’s settled!” he declares with a clap of his hands. “You go pick out your games or movies or whatever you want and I’ll do the rest!”

“Heh…” you chuckle thinly. “S-Sure, Tenna…” You consider a moment…as tempting as it is to dig out your old SNES and see if the rumors of old games looking better on CRTs is true, you don’t think your brain can handle anything resembling thinking and strategy right now. Certainly not anything involving reflexes either. So perhaps best to stick with a movie. You glance up at him. “What kind of movies are you into?”

“A--!” He stops, his mouth open in surprise and subtle pink blush lines appearing on his cheeks. “M-Me?” He lets out a hearty laugh, waving his hand and shaking his head. “Oh, silly! I’m the TV!”

You pause, regarding him thoughtfully. You…suppose it’s not that weird that he’d truly have no opinion--or that his opinion would be that you should pick the movie--but he’s clearly flattered that you’d asked.

So for tonight, you’ll oblige and make the pick yourself. Tomorrow--

--Would he even be here tomorrow? Suddenly you find yourself hoping he will be.

“...Right,” you say, trying not to seem too deflated as you give him a bracing smile.

You sidestep around him, crouching in front of your empty TV stand and opening one of the drawers. You pull out your PS3 and its wires, setting them atop the TV stand. Your newer consoles are in the office with your TV, but you doubt Tenna has an HDMI port. So, older console it is, even if you’re just using it as a DVD player.

Tenna scoops up the console and its wires and you glance over at him, watching as he plugs the wires into the back of his head and holds the PS3 in his hands.

As for the movie, you grab a couple DVDs of lighthearted cartoons. You close the drawer and get to your feet, and are surprised to see the PS3 already powered on, the menu screen displayed on Tenna’s (once again noseless) face.

“Wh--How’s it on? It’s not plugged in…?” you ask.

“Tenna-Watts!” he chirps proudly.

“Right…” you say again, a bemused smile on your face. You put one of the movies in, then take a seat on the couch, lazily tossing a fuzzy throw blanket over your legs.

Once the disc is in, Tenna sets the PS3 on the floor beside him, then tucks his knees to his chest. He wraps his arms around his legs and rests his screen on his knees…more or less acting as his own TV stand, albeit a very tall one.

You find yourself watching him more than the movie, barely paying attention to the plot as you try to process everything he’s said. You suppose “another world” is as plausible an explanation for a twenty-foot tall TV man as any. An old TV turning into a guy is already so far beyond the realm of possibility…how can you say anything except “Sure, why not?” to whatever explanations are given?

“Can you…actually see the movie?” you ask eventually.

He doesn’t move, keeping his screen angled towards you, but you see the lines of his mouth appear over the movie as he speaks. “No, but I feel it.”

“Feel it?” you repeat. “What…what does it feel like?” you ask, intrigued.

He pauses the movie, though his face doesn’t fully reappear. “Hmmm…interesting question! I suppose…it feels like colors. Sounds. Music…it feels like a story!”

You stare at him a moment before giving a soft chuckle. What sort of answer had you expected? “Well…a-as long as you’re not sitting there bored, I guess…”

“Bored? Not at all!” He frowns slightly. “Are you? We can put in something else--you don’t have to finish it for my sake!”

“Oh, no, I’m fine!” you reassure him quickly. “I just…wanted to make sure you were doing alright…”

His antennae perk slightly in surprise and the pink circles that appear on his cheeks stand out starkly against the paused movie. “Oho, you! Of course I’m just peachy! I’m a brand new TV all cleaned and polished and set up for movie night! I couldn’t be better!” he says in a chipper tone.

Your cheeks warm at his enthusiasm and his smile is infectious. “Heh…well, that’s…good…” you say, awkwardness making you feel a bit shy.

Tenna’s grin widens before disappearing, and he resumes the movie, sensing the conversation is over.

Before the movie’s over, you adjust yourself to be laying on the couch, your head resting on the pillowed armrest. Tenna’s height actually makes the position more comfortable--you don’t have to lay on your side or with your head turned ninety degrees to see the TV. You can lay on your back with your head angled only slightly towards him.

As the credits roll, you almost tell Tenna you’re too tired for a second movie, but he switches out the DVD before you can even think about sitting up. So you stay put, letting your eyelids get heavy as the second movie plays.

Maybe hauling the CRT up the stairs and then having your sense of reality severely questioned has taken more out of you than you’d realized. Or maybe it’s just time for the dream to end. Either way, you find yourself drifting off far more readily than you’d thought you ever could under such unusual circumstances…it’s not even a third of the way through the second movie when your eyes fall shut.

*

Tenna can immediately tell when you’ve fallen asleep. Lightners dozing off in front of the TV is a very familiar sight to him, after all. Still, he waits for the movie to play out and for the credits to roll before turning off the PS3. He unplugs the cords from the back of his head and quietly tucks the PS3 and the DVDs back into the drawer on the TV stand.

He leans forward, shuffling towards you slightly, careful not to bump the coffee table. He picks up the blanket from the floor and carefully spreads it over you as you sleep. You stir slightly, snuggling into the blanket and it’s all he can do not to let out a delighted little squeak.

Blankets knocked askew had always been a sad sight for him. He likes doing what he can to give anyone who falls asleep in front of him a good night’s rest, though those abilities had been highly limited until now. In the Light World, he could only dim his screen slightly and lower the volume just a touch. Sometimes if he really focused he could switch off the screen and let the Lightners think they’d done it themselves at some point in the night.

But the simple act of adjusting some blankets? Absolutely out of the question.

What a wonderful world this must be to let him finally do that small gesture for his dear Lightner! Well, almost Lightner. Basically a Lightner. A Lightner to him.

Tenna smiles softly, leaning back against the wall and watching you sleep. He’s loved all the Lightners who’ve had him, but…there’s something different about you. About this world.

He thinks…He thinks he’ll like it here!

Chapter Text

The next morning, you drift slowly awake as the mid-morning sunlight hits your eyelids. You’re aware of the vague feeling that you’re not alone, and the memory of last night abruptly leaps to the front of your mind.

You suddenly sit up with a gasp. “Ten--!!” The cry dies in your throat when you see an ordinary CRT sitting on the floor beside your TV stand.

You lay back down, staring sullenly at the ceiling. It…really had been just a dream. Why…why did that hurt so much?

Just the lingering dream emotions, you suppose. Like when you dream about having a fight with a friend and then feel a bit off towards that friend for much of the day.

It’ll fade, and you’ll feel better for it.

So you try to tell yourself.

Still, once you get up, you find yourself shuffling over to the TV and resting a hand atop it. Just an old CRT. No more, no less.

Your thoughts are interrupted by your phone ringing and you quickly grab it off the coffee table. You wince when you see Jodie’s name on the caller ID. You’d forgotten to call her last night because you--

--You’d gotten distracted cleaning up the TV and then…had immediately dozed off…right?

The phone buzzes again, preventing you from thinking too hard about the exact sequence of last night’s events.

“Hey Jodie,” you answer.

“Heeeey!” she says cheerfully. At least, to most it would sound cheerful…but you can already detect a slight edge in her tone. She’s annoyed you didn’t check in with her last night. You brace yourself.

“So what happened yesterday?” she asks in a saccharine tone.

“I--” You falter, glancing at Tenna--at the TV. Why are you tempted to lie and say you couldn’t find a CRT…?

Jodie huffs impatiently at your hesitance. “We found a place to shoot. Tomorrow afternoon. Are you gonna be able to find us a TV by then?”

“Uh, y-yeah,” you say haltingly. Before you can clarify that you did indeed get a TV yesterday and that you even went to the trouble of cleaning it, Jodie quickly speaks again.

“Great! See you then!” she says, hanging up without even a goodbye.

You stare at your phone a moment before letting out a frustrated sigh. With a roll of your eyes, you toss the phone onto the couch and head into the kitchen to get breakfast.

With nothing to do from Jodie, you attend to your other contract work for the day--editing a video for a creator even smaller than her. The pay isn’t amazing, but it’s better than “exposure” you suppose.

In the afternoon you take a break to get some groceries. Impulsively, you pick up some popcorn along with your usual faire.

When you get back, you find your client has sent you a list of corrections--some of which seem to contradict your client’s original instructions. Maybe you misunderstood something…you should have taken more careful notes in the call last week. You quickly make the changes and send it off for review.

…“Quickly” being a relative term, of course. While you make good time given how many fixes you’d had to do, it’s still late evening by the time you sign off for the night.

You leave your office, trudging down the short hallway towards the kitchen, but as you get to the living room, you freeze, your eyes widening.

Once again, something is comedically amiss.

He’s there. Tenna. Just…sitting on the floor beside your TV stand as he had last night, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. Back against the wall, knees tucked against his chest, antennae nearly touching the ceiling.

He smiles at you, lifting a hand to wave as you stare at him, stunned. “Busy day?” he asks casually. He’s clearly not as shocked as you are about the situation. In fact he doesn’t even seem to register that there’s anything to be even remotely surprised at.

“T-Tenna?” you stammer in a weak, thin voice.

His smile fades a bit and he shuffles on his knees towards you. “Bad day?”

A flood of relief washes over you suddenly and you let out a warm, genuine laugh, shaking your head. “N-No, I just…I-I…I can’t believe you’re back!” you say, slowly stepping towards him.

Tenna’s look of concern breaks into a grin. “Back? You silly goose, I never left!” he says fondly.

You let out a sheepish chuckle. “I…I suppose, but…y-you were…a TV again, so I thought--”

Tenna scoffs, though it’s far from unkind. “I’m always a TV!” he chuckles, the top of his screen bending slightly in an imitation of a quirked brow as he gives you a bemused look.

“Eheh…right…” you say, your hands fidgeting awkwardly as you take a step back. “I-I mean--it’s just…I’d…sorta thought last night had…been a dream, y’know?” you admit.

His mouth hangs open in surprise for a brief moment before he cups his screen in his hands, averting his gaze with feigned bashfulness. “Oho! I’m the TV of your dreams, am I?” he says playfully.

You laugh slightly, your cheeks warming at his teasing demeanor. He’s clearly misinterpreting your statement on purpose for the sake of comedy, but…you see no reason to walk it back. In fact… “Sure…You’re easily the most sophisticated TV I know of!” you say, a bit of levity in your tone.

His antenna perk up, standing tall for a moment, and you think you even see a spark bounce between them at his surprise. He wavers a bit, still cupping his screen as his smile turns wobbly and the feigned bashfulness turns genuine. “O-Oh! Sophisticated? Me?”

“Well, I’ve never had a TV that sets up my consoles for me…much less switching out the disks and powering the console,” you say, giggling when the circles on his cheeks brighten and he lowers his gaze with a genuinely shy grin.

“Aw, well…a-any TV would wanna do that for a Lightner as kind as you!”

Your smile fades a touch as you look up at him thoughtfully. “Is…that what TVs are like in the Dark World?”

Tenna cants his head, seeming a bit thrown off by your question. He pauses for a moment before saying, “It’s…what all Darkners are like, in any world!”

“I’m…still not clear on what a Darkner even is…other than being from the Dark World…and…imagination?” you admit. If you’d’ve been more convinced of the reality of the situation last night, you’d’ve certainly asked more questions.

“We’re the objects of the Light World, given life by what we mean to the Lightners!”

“What you…mean to them?”

“Objects like us are created for a purpose. We fulfill that purpose, get adored by the Lightners for it, and boom! Darkners!” he says, throwing his arms up for emphasis only to flinch when he accidentally backhands the ceiling.

…Good thing you’re on the top floor.

Tenna laughs sheepishly. “Well, that’s the uh…simplified explanation anyway,” he says. He touches his index fingers together sheepishly. “There’s a bit more to it than that but you’d have to find someone smarter than me to explain it, I’m afraid!”

“I…see…” you say, trying to process even the simplified version. You smile apologetically up at him. “I uh…guess I couldn’t do much better trying to explain humans to a Darkner.” You glance around. “So…if this were the Dark World…all the stuff in here would…be alive? Like you?”

“Some of it! Hard to predict what exactly, but anything you’ve used or cared for has a chance of becoming a Darkner.”

“But…none of them…are?” you ask hesitantly. You’re not sure you’re ready to hear which of your appliances, if any, are sapient but…now that the possibility’s been raised, the uncertainty would gnaw at you forever if you didn’t ask.

Tenna glances around. “Nope! None of ‘em have woken up yet, but maybe once they’ve been around awhile…”

You frown. “How long is ‘awhile’? None of this stuff is new, most of it’s from when I was in college or earlier.” Realizing that probably doesn’t mean much to Tenna, you clarify, “So at least three years.”

“That…could be enough, but…it…really depends? How much you’ve actually used them, cared for them…” he says uncertainly.

“What about the PS3?” you ask, going to the TV stand and pulling the old console from the drawer. “It was my first game system, paid for with my own money, and I’ve probably spent…I dunno, thousands of hours playing it…I even have the newer version but kept this one because…I’m just kinda…sentimental about it,” you admit.

Tenna smiles softly at your clear attachment to the console, but it fades into a thoughtful look as you pass the PS3 to him. “That sounds like the recipe for a Darkner…and not just any Darkner, quite a prominent one too,” he says, holding up the PS3 to examine it. “But…this one feels like they’ve just come home from the store.”

“So appliances and furniture and stuff in this world…probably aren’t alive and don’t become Darkners?” you ask.

“Seems like they don’t,” he says. It’s hard to tell from his tone how he feels about that. “I guess if this world isn’t connected to a Dark World…they wouldn’t…” he muses as he hands the PS3 back to you.

“Well…m-maybe that’s a good thing? I mean, I’d…hate to think of everything I’ve ever thrown away having…feelings and…sapience and stuff…I’d never throw anything away if I thought they…y’know…were aware…” you say, feeling guilty just imagining it.

Tenna laughs warmly. “Gosh you really are just the sweetest Lightner around, aren’t you?”

Your cheeks warm as you set the PS3 atop the TV stand. “I-I dunno about that, Tenna,” you laugh awkwardly. “I think most people wouldn’t want to just…dump a sapient creature away like that…At least I’d like to think most wouldn’t…” You turn back to face him, staring up at him thoughtfully. “So…next question, I guess…why were you a normal TV all day? Did you…need rest or something?”

“I did mull that over a bit during the day! Knocked it about in my noggin, if you will,” he grins.

“And?” you prompt.

“This isn’t the Light World or the Dark World, but it seems to have a bit in common with both. During the day, it’s a bit more like the Light World. At night, a bit more like the Dark World.”

“So…you’re only like this,” you gesture to him, “at night?”

“Can’t say for sure since it’s only my second night, but we are two for two!”

“Well, I guess--”

Tenna sighs dramatically, leaning back against the wall with a hand over his chest, his legs relaxing slightly so that they’re no longer tucked against his chest. “I suppose this means my dreamy sophisticality won’t be available during the daytime…No automatic setup, no Tenna-watts, no switching the discs out for you…”

You laugh weakly. “Oh Tenna, that’s alright…I’m more worried about you.”

He perks up, his antennae twitching in surprise. “Me? What’s to worry about?”

“Well, I mean, this…whole setup seems pretty uncomfortable for you. I mean you’re huge--”

Red circles appear on his cheeks, and he covers his mouth with one hand while giving a demure flick of his wrist with the other. “Aw shucks!”

You can’t help but let out a snort at that, but manage to stay focused and continue, “...My point is, you haven’t been able to stand up straight in two days. You’ve been hunched over in a tiny apartment and…that can’t be comfortable…” you say, your smile fading as you look up at him in worry. “I mean you can’t even fit through a doorway…”

Tenna starts, almost as if struck, his smile vanishing instantly. “Wh-Why would I need to go out the door?” he asks nervously, once again tucking his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

You frown, canting your head. That was…quite a leap from what you’d thought to be a fairly innocuous comment. “I…I didn’t mean--I meant any door, Tenna,” you say. “You’re basically stuck in the living room…”

He lifts his head slightly, and after a brief pause seems to fully relax again. “Ooooh! Of course, you meant moving me to another room!”

You sputter a moment, unsure of what to say. You suppose you’d rather him think that than think you’re kicking him out. “I mean--the doors were just an example…isn’t it uncomfortable to be hunched over all the time?”

“Not at all!” he chirps.

“It’s not…hurting your back and cramping your legs or anything?”

Tenna stares at you a moment before bursting into laughter. “You goofball!” he giggles. The unabashed fondness in his tone makes it hard to take it as any sort of slight. “When have you ever heard of a TV getting leg cramps and back pain?”

You give him a wry look. “When have I ever heard of Lighters and Darkners and Tenna-watts?” you return.

He chuckles, shrugging. “Okay, okay, fair point,” he concedes. His grin turns a bit shy, the blush circles reappearing. “It really is so kind of you to worry, but I promise it’s not necessary! Once we get that adapter I’ll have everything I need!”

“Oh! Right, the…adapter,” you say. “I--I forgot to look for it today but I promise tomorrow--”

“No rush!” he says easily. “Or at least, no rush until we run out of DVDs!” he chuckles. His grin widens. “Speeeeeaaaaaking of…what’s on the docket for tonight?”

You laugh awkwardly. “I uh…hadn’t thought about it…”

“What do you usually watch?”

“I…don’t usually watch much…” you admit, a bit awkwardly.

“Ah! Well, I suppose if you’ve been without a TV, you wouldn’t’ve…”

“A--um, well…” you stammer awkwardly. What to unpack first? “I do have another TV,” you say, after only a brief hesitation. You’re not sure how he’ll take that, but you doubt he’ll consider it to be good news. You’re also sure his reaction will get worse the longer you let him think he’s the only TV in the apartment.

Your suspicion that he’d be displeased at the news proves true as his face falls in surprise. “A-Another?”

“In the office,” you say, nodding towards the hallway. “I pretty much just use it for work, though.”

A quirked brow appears on his screen, the top edge of the screen bending slightly to accommodate it. “Work? What work do you do that needs a TV?” he asks. He gasps, suddenly excited. “Oh oh! Are you a film critic?”

You scoff, shaking your head. “No, I’d suck at that job,” you laugh.

Tenna frowns, tilting his head. He’s clearly displeased at the self-deprecating remark, but you press on before he can comment.

“But uh, it’s…kinda adjacent I guess. Sometimes,” you say. “I do video editing. Occasionally for film critics,” you add wryly. You’re sure at least some of your clients could be called “film critics” by some definition, though there are some who use that label in a way you personally consider a bit…generous, to put it mildly. Though that’s not your place to say…especially if you want them to keep contracting you.

He once again gasps in excitement, cupping his screen in his hands. “Oho! So you are in the biz? The industry?” he gushes excitedly. He leans in, holding up one hand and speaking out the side of his mouth as if trying to not be overheard, despite you two being the only ones in the apartment. “Y’know, I’m something of an industry professional myself!” he stage-mumbles.

You laugh. “I can tell,” you say easily, causing the pink circles to reappear on his cheeks.

“Oh! Why don’t we put on something you’ve worked on then? Oooho, to have something on my very own screen that my very own Lightner had a hand in creating…!!” he says giddily, sitting up and clasping his hands beside his head as he sways--practically swoons, really. A flower even sprouts from the tip of his nose.

…You truly have no idea what to make of that.

You laugh nervously, holding up your hands. “Eheh…Tenna, I…I think you’re making more of this than it actually is…I just edit the footage…” you say modestly.

“Nonsense! Your work is still being beamed to television sets across the nation, is it not?” he asks, clearly expecting the answer to be yes.

You wince. “Er, no,” you say sheepishly. “They’re not on TV, they’re on the internet…”

You’d expected the news to make him deflate somewhat, but you’re not prepared for the way his entire body tenses, his smile becoming markedly forced and the image of an angry vein appearing in the top corner of his screen. The flower on his nose sheds its petals so abruptly it almost looks as if they’re launched away rather than simply falling off. They disappear before they hit the ground.

“...Internet,” he grates in a tight, terse tone.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you struggle to think of what to say. You’d been prepared for indifference or disappointment, but he seems…angry.

Tenna notices your nervous look and his demeanor seems to change on a dime. He laughs, waving a hand. “Oh, but--that’s fine! That’s completely fine! It’s a job after all, everyone’s gotta start somewhere! You’ll work your way up to the top kiddo! I just know it!” he declares in a way that seems a bit more forced and borderline manic rather than genuinely enthusiastic.

“R-Right…” you say, your own tone now a bit short. You can’t pretend that him switching so quickly from “You’re the best!” to “You’ll get there eventually” doesn’t sting. Even though the latter is far closer to your own opinion. Though most of the time you’re not convinced you’re going to get anywhere better than where you are. Editing isn’t really your passion, just something you’ve found yourself to be reasonably good at.

But not everyone gets to follow their passion.

You try to suppress your melancholy sigh. “I uh…need to make dinner and then we can put something on, alright?”

You don’t see Tenna’s shoulders slump as he realizes you’re upset. He crawls after you, attempting to follow you to the kitchen. Unfortunately for him, your kitchen is a long, narrow alcove not nearly wide enough to accommodate him. It’s barely wide enough to accommodate two people.

He frowns in concern, watching you from the opening as you rummage around in the fridge for some leftovers. He can tell his remarks upset you. He’s not sure what he can say that would sound even slightly authentic. He doesn’t think he has it in him to pretend he’s pleased that you help make shows for the internet. Not that he thinks less of you for it per se, but…well, it’s probably just a topic best struck from the list of future conversations.

So, he opts to simply change the subject.

“You need any help in there?” he asks. “I’ve never cooked before but I have seen many, many cooking shows!”

You can’t help but snort in amusement at his suggestion, rolling your eyes as you pull out the container of leftovers you’d been looking for. “Tenna, there’s no way you’d--” You step back from the fridge, jumping in surprise to see a human-sized Tenna standing beside you, beaming down at you with his hands folded behind his back. “...fit…” you finish, stunned.

“Au contraire, my dear Lightner!” he says with a playful smirk.

You stare up at him. He’s still quite tall, nearly eight feet not including his antennae, which he has slightly bent to keep them from scraping the ceiling.

“You…can shrink?”

“When the mood strikes me,” he grins, clearly amused at your shocked reaction.

“You…could have just done that the whole time?” you ask, wondering why he didn’t bring it up a few moments ago when you’d been concerned about his comfort.

“Well sure!” he says easily. “But who wants a TV this small?” He places his hands on either side of his screen. “Why, I’m practically travel-size!”

You laugh. “What’s wrong with that?”

Tenna scoffs playfully, placing a hand over his chest. “I’m a house TV, thankyouverymuch!” he chides with feigned indignance.

“Heh, we’re in an apartment, Tenna…” you say wryly.

“Psh,” he lets out another playful scoff, waving his hand. “Apartment, house, whatever. The important thing is I’m for at-home use. Far too big to be carried off on a whim!”

You laugh lightly. “Right…”

“So, what d’ya need me to do?” he asks, pulling out a frilly apron from behind his back and tying it around his waist.

You stare at it a moment, deciding against asking where he’d gotten that. Probably the same place he’d gotten the microphone he’d had briefly yesterday. Malletspace, you suppose. “Uh, well, I was just gonna heat up some leftovers,” you say, nodding to the tupperware in your hand.

“Oh!” he says, his brows raising in surprise. He recovers quickly, grinning as he unties the apron and tosses it behind his back, where it presumably disappears. “Simple, quick, effective. I like it!” he chirps.

You chuckle wryly. “I do what I can,” you say, sticking the tupperware in the microwave.

A beat of silence passes as the hum of the microwave fills the small kitchen and both of you watch the tupperware slowly spin as the food heats up.

“So um, are there any particular kinds of movies you like?” you ask. You’d asked him the same last night and had been too uncertain to press the issue when he’d deflected. “I-I mean, I know you said you’re the TV so you don’t pick the movies, but uh…do you have…any sort of preference?”

He leans against the counter, propping his elbow against it and resting his chin--or rather, the bottom of his screen--in his palm. “If the Lightners are happy, I’m happy!” he chuckles.

“Heh. Well, sure,” you say. “I mean if we’re limited to DVDs were going to be watching something I liked well enough to buy regardless,” you point out.

“...True,” he concedes.

The microwave dings and you take your meal out, stirring the noodles around to cool them, causing wafts of steam to rise from the container. You pause, glancing up at Tenna curiously. “I uh…don’t suppose you have any use for food?”

He folds his arms across his chest, canting his head with a teasing smirk, one side of his screen raised in a quirked brow. Clearly your question is so silly he’s not even going to dignify it with a response.

You laugh, holding up your hands defensively. “Well, I can’t just not ask!” you say.

“And it’s very kind of you to do so…eeeeven if it’s also a bit silly,” he grins.

You take a few bites of your meal, eating it while standing at the counter with Tenna. Usually you just eat at your desk…your dining table is currently taken up some film equipment you’re storing for Jodie. Not that you’d ever used it as a dining table even when it’d been clear.

“Maybe…we could play some games tonight?” you say. You smile a bit as you add, “I’ve…heard that older games look much better on CRTs.”

His antennae perk up at that and he lifts his head in surprise at the remark. He recovers quickly, grinning confidently and puffing out his chest, his hands on his lapels. “Well…I do like to think I bring out the best in anything that graces my screen!”

“Of course,” you say with a light chuckle. You giggle when your comment causes his smile to turn slightly shy as pink circles appear on his cheeks.

“What kind of games have you played?” you ask. You assume they’ve been played on his screen, not so much controlled by him…but “played” is an apt term for either scenario.

“Oh all sorts! Adventure games, racing games, platformers, puzzles…” he lists. He pauses, leaning forward and cupping his hand against his face, speaking out of the side of his mouth. “And even some scary, violent games!”

You snort. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Tenna chuckles, leaning back slightly. “Though I guess you’re old enough that your mother isn’t going to fret too much about what games you play, huh?”

You shrug, trying not to let too much melancholy show in your smile. “Eh, both my parents think video games are brain-rotting garbage with no value…” When you see the look of concern on his face, you force a laugh. “S-So you’re right about her not fretting over which ones I’m playing!” you say, your attempt to force levity into your tone making you sound more manic than cheerful.

His smile is surprisingly gentle as he says, “Well, that’s a shame. My first family adored games. Well, mostly. Tori and Asgore were a bit…confused at them, I suppose, but they loved seeing the kids happy! They never would have called games ‘garbage’, mind-rotting or otherwise!” he declares fondly, giving a short nod for emphasis. “Their son Asriel even made his own game, while he was off at college!” He leans forward again. “That’s quite hard work, you know!”

You laugh wryly. “Oh believe me, I’m well aware...”

“And Kris, the younger sibling! Oh they had a fondness for games too…at least when they were young. They just loved watching Azzy play ‘em.” He pauses, glancing at you. “D’you have any siblings?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Only child. I’d’ve liked a sibling or two though, I think.”

“I think Kris and Azzy would agree!” he says readily. “They were always so close, even though Kris had been adopted. The family never treated them any different, though…there was really no hiding the fact that they were adopted.” Tenna sighs sadly, shaking his head. “A lone human in a family of monsters…”

You sputter a bit. “M-Monsters?” you repeat, trying to recover from the whiplash of him speaking so fondly of the family only to abruptly call them monsters.

Tenna cants his head in confusion, as if trying to figure out where he’d lost you. “Yes?”

“What uh…what made them monsters?”

His screen flickers in his version of a perplexed blink. He laughs, shaking his head. “I dunno, what makes you human?”

You stare at him blankly. “Uh…?”

The two of you stare at each other in confusion for a moment until something clicks.

“Wait are…are monsters just…another type of…person? In your world?”

“Is that not what they are here?”

“Er…not…not so much, no…”

He frowns, confused. “Then what?”

“Well…” You pause, trying to find the right words. “The uh…more…literal definition is…just a fantasy creature. Kind of a…catch all for various fictional animals and peoples. Not…anything that really exists. But…the figurative meaning…” You hesitate again, wringing your hands. “I-It…usually means…just…a bad or mean person…”

His face falls and he stares at you in shock.

You quickly hold up your hands. “I-I’m not saying your family was bad! I-I just…that’s…how the word is used here, is all…They sound lovely, I-I just…I wouldn’t want to insult them at all but I-I’m sure it’s still hard to hear--”

Tenna chuckles, lightly booping your nose, causing you to freeze. “Hit the pause button, kiddo! I’m not upset! New world, new rules. I can adapt!” he assures you…though admittedly it sounds a bit forced.

“...Heh,” you say weakly, your cheeks burning from the nose boop. “Well…I-I mean…If I ended up in a world where ‘human’ just meant…bad person it’d…take me some time to adapt.”

He laughs softly, leaning against the counter. “Well…we have time, don’t we?”

“We do,” you agree kindly, turning away for a moment to rinse your now empty plate in the sink.

“To be honest…when I’m just here in this apartment…it’s…easy to forget there’s a whole new strange world out there. In here, it…doesn’t feel too different than the Light World.” He chuckles. “Other than all this,” he adds, gesturing to himself.

He goes quiet, seeming like he’s starting to get lost in thought. You fall silent as well, debating on asking him if he’s homesick…if there’s anything you can do…

You open your mouth to speak and it’s almost as if Tenna senses what you’re about to ask, for he quickly straightens up with a clap of his hands. “Anyway!” he chirps. “I do believe we have some games to play!” He grins, straightening his tie. “Delightful, classic retro games that will look wonderful on your big beautiful CRT!” As he speaks, he walks backwards out of the kitchen, returning to his full size once he has room to do so.

“Of course,” you say easily, following him out.

His grin widens at your agreement and he shuffles over to his previous spot beside the TV stand. It does look a bit odd to see him scooting around your apartment in his nice suit, unable to stand fully upright, but…you suppose it’s minor oddity in the grand scheme of things.

You set up the PS3 again, onto which you’d downloaded some old, 32-bit and earlier era games some time ago. You navigate through the menus, which have the crisper, higher definition graphics expected of newer games. You pick a game, and once you’re past the title cards and menu screens and into the game proper, you begin to take in the difference.

“Y’know…I think I see what they meant about this…” you comment after a few minutes of dashing through the levels. The fuzziness of the CRT screen makes the pixels look less like pixes…it lets your mind fill in the gaps more readily, creating the illusion that the images are more detailed than they are.

You’ve no shortage of admiration for modern pixel artists and the details they can achieve, of course, but the fact is these older games were made with CRTs in mind. So playing them on a more modern screen, with the pixels now so sharp and clear, just…doesn’t give the experience the original artists had intended.

Without interrupting the gameplay, the top of Tenna’s screen raises slightly as he quirks a brow. “You sound surprised!” he says, feigning offence.

“Well, it’s one thing to know a thing, and another to see it, right?” you say…only to wince as you accidentally go off a cliff. “Oops,” you say sheepishly. “I…may be a bit out of practice…I uh…hope this isn’t too tedious to watch…”

Tenna laughs, though his tone is gentle and far from being at all unkind. “Tedious? I’ve never found anything playing on my screen to be tedious!”

From what you’ve gathered of both Darkners and Tenna himself, that does seem to track.

You quickly get back into the swing of things, getting through the first few levels readily enough. But fatigue begins to take you a few hours into your play session, and your skill levels once again start to drop. Tenna’s encouragement prevents you from getting too tilted, but ultimately you’re forced to admit defeat.

You barely react as the boss beats you to a pulp yet again, finally bringing your carefully accumulated lives down to zero and giving you the dreaded Game Over screen.

You set the controller aside and lean back, letting out a long, cartoonishly wide yawn. “Sorry, Tenna, I don’t think my brain’s moving fast enough to dodge those attacks. I’ll have to try again some other night.”

“No worries, pal!” he says easily. “We can switch to a movie!”

You falter slightly, letting out a nervous laugh. “I…actually think I ought to just go to bed,” you say, getting up and stretching.

“Oh, of course!” He shrinks down to a more human size. “I can be in whatever room you need me in!” he says proudly.

“Erm…” You feel your cheeks heat up slightly and have to remind yourself that him inviting himself to your bedroom is really nothing to fret over or read into. He’s a TV--you doubt he’d ever do anything untoward.

“Thanks, but…I think I should just go to sleep,” you say. “Though…I…do feel kinda bad just…leaving you out here. You’re not going to get too bored, are you?”

“Bored? Hardly!” he laughs. “Even the greatest Darkners have a bit of downtime, now and again. I’ll be perfectly fine!”

“Alright…then I’ll uh…see you tomorrow night, then?”

“Certainly!” he chirps.

You smile tiredly up at him, patting one of his hands as you walk past. “G’night then, Tenna.”

You don’t notice the pink circles appearing on his cheeks when you touch his hand. His smile is distinctly shy as he lifts a hand in farewell. “G’night…”

Chapter Text

It’s early morning, a few hours before you usually get up, when panic suddenly grips you and you sit up with a gasp.

YOU FORGOT ABOUT JODIE.

You scramble to grab your phone and sigh in relief when you see no new messages from her. Still, your mind is racing and you know you’re going to be in for it if you don’t come up with a plan fast.

She’d said the shoot would be in the afternoon. For Jodie that usually means sometime between two and three o’clock. Maybe as late as four if whatever else she’s doing ends up running behind.

It’s a little after nine. You might have time to hit up a few thrift stores and…hope you get lucky.

Ugh, who are you kidding? It’ll take an hour just to get to a thrift store you haven’t visited yet.

You sit in bed a moment, chewing at your lip as precious moments slip away. Finally, you decide to come clean, firing off a quick text to Jodie.

“I wasn’t able to find a TV yesterday, but I’m going out again today. I’ll see what I can find.”

Maybe that can give her time to figure out something else. Start formulating a backup plan or back out of today’s shoot. She hadn’t told you where the shoot is yet--she usually texts you the address a bit before you’d be heading out--but you know not all the locations she’s used are places she can just rock up to on a whim. Hopefully she hadn’t made any kind of reservation or deposit yet…

There’s also the weather to consider…and the season. The pretty fall leaves won’t be on the trees much longer, and if Jodie wanted them as the backdrop of the shoot…

You quickly get dressed and head into the living room. Despite your nerves already being frayed from the prospect of how today might go, you can’t help but smile softly when you see Tenna sitting on the floor beside the TV stand.

You go over to him, crouching slightly and resting a hand atop him. “Morning, Tenna. I’m heading out for the day. I might not be back til after dark, but…I shouldn’t be out too late.” You pause, letting out a weak laugh. “I…hope you can hear me when you’re like this. You’ll have to let me know when I get back,” you say, standing up and giving him a light pat.

Last night he’d mentioned thinking over his situation during the day…but that doesn’t necessarily mean he can see or hear. After a brief moment of deliberation, you quickly duck into your office and write a quick note, repeating what you’d already told him. You use the pencil to make a small hole in the top, which you loop over his non-taped antenna, just to make sure there’s no chance it’ll go unnoticed.

You glance down and can’t help but let out a small chuckle at the sight of the old CRT on the floor with the bit of paper stuck onto his antenna.

“Yeah, I know, I’m probably being silly about this,” you say wryly. “You can tease me about it when I get home. See you tonight!” you say, giving him another light pat before gathering up Jodie’s filming equipment and heading out the door.

You don’t notice the dull grey of the inactive screen is just a teensy bit pinker than it had been.

As you get to your car, you see Jodie still hasn’t replied. Maybe she’s busy…You hope she at least saw the message.

You’d also hoped that the next town over would have all the CRTs your town lacks…but that proves not to be the case. Two of the clerks give you only a simple “no” on if they’re in stock, but the two others offer the same sentiment as the clerk who’d given you Tenna--people don’t donate working CRTs. One of the stores wouldn’t’ve even taken them if someone had tried to donate one because they’re too unlikely to ever be sold.

As you flop into your driver’s seat, you let out a sigh, staring up at the roof of your car. You realize you’re actually somewhat relieved. You’re not sure you have the stomach to see a TV get smashed with a sledgehammer right now. Or anything else, really. Even though this world’s objects are just as inanimate and lifeless as they’ve always been, the possibility that maybe, someway, somehow, they could be--

Your thoughts are interrupted by your phone dinging as Jodie finally texts you. You frown, realizing all she sent was the address of where you’re meeting to shoot, along with the time she expects you to be there. Three-thirty, which unfortunately you’re going to be at least ten minutes late for, given how far you’ve gone on your would-be quest.

You stare at your phone a moment, waiting for her to send another text acknowledging your previous message.

She doesn’t. But that’s not surprising. She’s long since had a habit of “not noticing” previous messages when she opens up the app to send a new text. In any case, you don’t have much time to sit around waiting, so you send her another text.

“Omw. Will be late, I’m all the way over in Charlington. Couldn’t find a TV. :( Can we do the shoot without it? If not I’ll help you figure something out when I get there. Driving now.”

You don’t know what something you could possibly figure out, but…you feel like you have to offer…well, something. You do have some amount of responsibility in this. True, Tenna being alive had been a wildly unpredictable twist, to put it mildly. But you still spent all of last night having forgotten you needed to get something for Jodie.

If you’d texted her as soon as you’d realized Tenna was truly real, maybe she would have had time to adjust her plans. Or you could have gotten up even earlier and had time to do a more thorough hunt for an old TV.

You’re going to look like such a flake, and you’ll have absolutely nothing to say in your own defense.

Well…there is one thing you can say…but you’re not sure you’re ready. Plus, there’s no way Jodie will believe it without proof…and you’re not sure Tenna’s ready for that. Either way, the truth is not a conversation you can have today.

You’re just gonna have to take this one on the chin, you suppose.

You’re only on the road for two minutes before your phone dings. You glance at it nervously, but try to keep your focus on your driving. A couple minutes later, another ping. Then another. For a while, they stop, only to pick up again around the time you’d been expected to arrive. You try to tune them out. You wish you’d silenced your phone before you’d started driving, but you’re not about to fiddle with it on the expressway. You’ll just have to face the music when you arrive.

Your estimate of being ten minutes late proves incredibly optimistic--there’s some kind of traffic jam on the freeway, an accident of some kind, and you end up half an hour late.

The shooting location is within a state park, which you have to pay to get into. Usually Jodie pays you back for such things (usually bundled with your payment for whatever editing you’re doing for her) but you suspect this time you’ll be eating the cost. Fair enough, given the circumstances.

It is a good location…red and orange leaves cover both the trees and the ground, giving the whole area a vibrant, pretty look. The smell of damp leaves hangs heavily in the air.

You find the trailhead indicated in Jodie’s directions and see her red Sentra is already parked there. Next to it is a dark blue Prius, which you recognize as the car of your mutual friend, Austin. Well, more Jodie’s friend than yours, you suppose. The three of you have spent a lot of time together over the years--enough that you’d reckon you and Austin know each other pretty well. Even if you could count the times you and Austin have met without Jodie on one hand…and at least two of those times were still related to Jodie in some way--one of which was a shopping trip for a new camera while the other was scouting a location for a potential photo shoot.

You get out of your car, gathering up the filming equipment you’d brought and heading down the path to the gazebo where Austin and Jodie are both waiting for you.

The two of them are an interesting pair, with Jodie in a long red evening gown, glamorous makeup, and her curly brown hair in a partial updo with curls spilling down her back, and Austin in a simple hoodie and jeans, not unlike your own ensemble. There’s certainly no doubt who’ll be behind the camera and who’ll be in front of it.

Jodie locks eyes with you and her face immediately darkens. She gathers up her skirt and stands up, her stiletto heels clicking on the wooden steps of the gazebo as she storms towards you. “Where have you been?!” she snaps. “Why weren’t you replying to my texts?”

“I was driving,” you say. “Didn’t you see the texts I sent you?”

“I saw you were on your way. From Charlington,” she says tersely, folding her arms and glaring at you. Behind her, Austin steps down from the gazebo, looking no more pleased with you than Jodie does. “Why did you wait until now to tell me you couldn’t get the TV? Why not tell me yesterday?”

You sputter, averting your gaze even as you hand off the equipment to Austin. “I…I thought I had one, but…i-it…um, didn’t work out.”

“I trusted you to handle this!” Jodie snaps, throwing her hands up. “I paid to get my hair and makeup done! We bought day passes! And now we have to throw all that away!”

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you. Look, the editing will be free, alright?”

Jodie huffs indignantly, and behind her Austin lets out a barely audible scoff.

“That’ll cover about half of this,” she says, gesturing to her hair and makeup.

“Then the next video’s free too!” you say quickly, your tone bordering on desperate.

Both their eyebrows raise and they exchange a glance, surprised at how readily you’d offered that up.

“Look, Jodie, I’m really sorry. I…Th-Things are…weird, right now. For me,” you say, awkwardly rubbing your neck as you’re unable to meet her gaze.

Austin quirks a brow. “In any…specific way?” he asks dubiously, clearly not buying your vague excuse.

“I…can’t get into it yet,” you say. “It’s complicated…” you add helplessly.

Jodie massages her temples, muttering your name over and over, each repetition sounding more and more disdainful. Finally she lifts her gaze to you, looking So Very Done. “Great. So I’m out nearly three-hundred bucks and pretty much an entire day, and the best you have is ‘it’s complicated’.”

You can’t say you’re not tempted to simply tell her. But you know she won’t believe you without proof…and you need to come clean with Tenna before letting him meet Jodie. Assuming he even wants to after you tell him the truth…

…Assuming he even wants anything to do with you after that.

“Y’know, this…” She waves her hand in a vague gesture. “This isn’t working,” Jodie says coldly, unintentionally echoing something not unlike what you’d just imagined Tenna saying to you.

Your heart stops as your gaze shoots up to hers. “H-Huh?”

“I need people who keep their commitments. I mean, first your schedule was all over the place when you were doing that silly Kickstarter thing of yours--”

You don’t think the “silly” is necessary, but you ignore that as you try to protest, “Jodie, I said I--”

“AND! What about last month?”

“I was sick, Jodie!” you cry. “I told you I was sick! I texted you the night before--”

“After I was asleep!” she cuts you off. You open your mouth to try to defend yourself once again, but Jodie’s relentless. “AND!! Austin and I manage to pull the shoot together without you and what do I see when I get home? According to your feed you’d just been playing videogames all day!”

You’re about to ready your defenses again when a quiet snicker from Austin suddenly takes the wind out of your sails. You slump, sighing. What’s the point? She didn’t believe you then, she’s not going to believe you now.

You’ve said it all before. Yes, you’d played videogames that day, but you’d been sitting in your office chair in your pajamas, wrapped in a blanket and drinking soup…a far cry from the effort it would have taken to get dressed, drive to the beach, and be on your feet for hours while you filmed whatever project she’d been working on then. You don’t even remember.

“...Right,” you say in a quiet, carefully flat tone, unable to meet her or Austin’s gaze. You’ve nothing to say in your own defense anymore. Nothing you haven’t already said. So you simply turn and begin heading back to your car.

Jodie scoffs. “So you’re just going to leave?”

You turn, blinking in nervous confusion. “I thought--I mean, we don’t--even have the TV--?”

She rolls her eyes, exchanging a disdainful glance with Austin. “There’s more shots to get than just smashing the TV!” she sighs in exasperation. “We can do that one separately. Maybe at another location. Make sure my face is out of frame so I don’t have to get my hair and makeup redone for it.”

“O-Oh, um, okay…” you say.

So you stay, helping Austin with the shoot. Nobody says much, other than clipped instructions spoken in a carefully neutral tone when absolutely necessary. You and Austin barely look at each other, and Jodie seems to be making a point of not looking at you in particular.

It’s easily the most uncomfortable, awkward shoot you’ve been on with them. And you’ve filmed on rainy beaches and frigid, abandoned buildings before. You’ve known Jodie to be a good actress ever since high school, when she earned the lead in the yearly musical sophomore year despite the lead roles usually being given to seniors and occasionally juniors. But her rapid switching between her cold, withering glare when the camera’s off and her dazzling smile that could stop traffic when the camera’s on is…impressive.

And perhaps a bit unnerving.

The shooting lasts until roughly an hour before sunset, when you’ve finally lost enough of the light that no amount of post-production magic would fix the continuity errors that would pop up in the final product.

“Too bad we don’t have an extra half hour,” Jodie says snidely, now wearing Austin’s jacket while he loads the equipment into his car.

You don’t respond. You don’t think half an hour is long enough to get the rest of the shots she’d wanted, but there’s no use in trying to argue that now. So you simply stand awkwardly, your attempts to help load the car having already been rebuffed.

No goodbyes are spoken as the three of you get into your separate cars. Jodie and Austin drive off first, but you find yourself sitting in the driver’s seat, trying to unclench your jaw and shoulders. Finally, you let out a heavy sigh, resting your head on the steering wheel.

A moment later, you quickly sit up. You’d told Tenna you’d get that adapter for him…You quickly drive over to a big box electronics store and are relieved to find that they actually do carry them. You also grab some electrical tape to fix up his cord. You’re not sure what to do about the taped up antenna…but it’s at least a start.

Despite that mild bit of success, you still find yourself in a bit of a dour mood when you get back to your apartment. It’s not quite sunset yet, so when you get inside, Tenna’s still “asleep” on the floor beside the TV stand.

You smile weakly when you see the note you’d stuck on his antenna, carefully removing it. “Guess we didn’t need this after all, huh?” you say. “I’m gonna get dinner started,” you tell him before heading into the kitchen.

You’re not sure exactly how long you have until sunset, but you think Tenna should be “waking up” any minute.

You set about preparing a simple stir fry, your mind wandering back to this afternoon despite your best efforts.

Had she meant…your business partnership isn’t working anymore? …Or…or your whole friendship?

You sigh softly. Part of you thinks the friendship’s been over for awhile now. When was the last time you hung out outside of doing something directly related to her music videos?

…When was the last time you even talked about anything other than her music videos? Had you stopped or had she?

…Maybe you had pulled away too much while you’d been trying to get that Kickstarter off the ground.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t hear Tenna moving about in the living room, despite his large size. You don’t hear him pause outside the kitchen entryway before shrinking down and walking into the kitchen, despite the quite noticeable click-clack of his hard-soled shoes on the linoleum. Nor do you notice the microphone he’s holding out towards you.

“Aaaaand to kick off this evening’s show, our very dear star and gracious host, everyone’s favorite #1 rated Lightner--” He cuts himself off when you jump in surprise and quickly turn to face him.

“O-Oh, h-hey Tenna…” you say in a thin, wavering voice. You try to force a smile, but it’s too little too late. He’s already seen the pain in your eyes, the worried crease in your brow…and your fake smile can’t hide the way your eyes shimmer with unshed tears. You clear your throat awkwardly, glancing away. “I-I was…just making dinner,” you say inanely, trying to keep your voice steady and unemotional.

His bright smile has faded into something more soft…sympathetic even. “Looks like you could use a good vent session,” he says, holding out the mic again. “So tell us your woes! The drama, the intrigue, the scoop…perhaps even the tea, as they kids say!” he says, giving a small tilt of his head and playing a cartoon “ding!” as if he’d winked playfully at you.

You give a weak, tried chuckle. “Eh, I dunno if a…a talkshow’s the best place for all this,” you say, gently nudging the mic away with one finger. The stir fry hisses warningly and you quickly get back to stirring it before you can notice Tenna’s downtrodden look. “I’d rather just keep it between us,” you add. Of course, you realize there’s no literal talkshow…the conversation would just be between the two of you either way, but…you’d rather it be a bit…quieter, than what you guess a pseudo-talkshow interview would have been.

He perks up at that, his antenna standing briefly at attention as his mouth goes slack in surprise. “...Oh?” He quickly recovers, his large grin appearing. “Oh! Well, yes, certainly! That can be arranged! Easily!” he says in a slightly nervous, borderline rambling tone. He tosses the mic over his shoulder, letting it disappear into whatever pocket dimension he’s been storing his props in. He clears his throat and straightens his tie before leaning a bit too casually against the counter--one elbow propped against it while the bottom of his screen rests on his palm. “Wh-What’s ah…what’s on your mind, then?” he asks eagerly.

“I was helping my friend shoot a music video today. It um…it didn’t go well…” you admit. You don’t force him to ask what happened, simply continuing, “I…I kinda…fucked up.”

He raises a brow, smiling kindly as he says, “I find that hard to believe!” in a warm, gentle tone.

The sentiment does bring a smile to your face, if only for a second. You sigh, shaking your head and turning off the stove. “I…I was supposed to get something for her. A prop for the shoot,” you say, praying Tenna doesn’t ask you to elaborate on that. “But…I didn’t. And I was late to the shoot. So…now she’s going to have to do another day of shooting, because of me, which means paying for another park pass, and maybe paying to get her hair and makeup done again, taking another day out of her schedule…” You sigh heavily, beginning to scoop the food into the bowl you’d left sitting on the counter. “I…I tried to tell her I’d make it up to her. Do some free editing, figure…figure something out, but…there’s no making up wasted time, I guess…” you say glumly. Your voice breaks as you speak, and you clear your throat to try to cover it.

Luckily for you, Tenna’s too busy fretting over your distress to get hung up on details about what prop you were meant to get…and certainly quite far from guessing it had been him.

“Well…everyone makes mistakes. The important thing is apologizing and making it right…right?” he says, drawing from some of the lessons and “very special episodes” he’d shown Kris and Asriel when they’d been kids.

He’s never really been in a position to give advice to a Lightner. It feels…a bit strange. Borderline impertinent.

“I guess,” you say, scooting past him to carry your bowl to the living room. “But…I…I’ve made so many mistakes…” you say, setting your bowl on the coffee table before taking a seat.

Tenna hesitates a moment, then sits down next to you, staying human size for the moment.

You sigh softly, crossing your arms and staring at the wall as you say, “T-Too many.” You take in a shuddering breath as the reality of the situation. “I…I don’t think she even wants to be friends anymore…”

Tenna scoffs lightly, shaking his head. “Oh, I’m sure that’s not true! You’re kind, you’re funny, you’re charming…who wouldn’t want to be friends with you?”

You look over at him, a pained frown on your face. You quickly lower your gaze, hugging yourself as you stare downward. “Tenna, you…you don’t know me,” you mutter darkly.

He pulls back slightly at your apparent rebuke, but in a second his gentle smile reappears. He scoots closer before saying, “I-I…guess it hasn’t been that long, but…I know you’re kind enough to take care of an old TV like me when you already have a…a big fancy flatscreen…” he says softly.

You glance up at him sharply, tears welling in your eyes, and Tenna can’t help but pull back uncertainly. You look utterly devastated. As if he’d just said something horrible and vile to you.

You should just tell him. Tell him what exactly it is he doesn’t know about you.

Then you can lose your oldest friend and your newest friend on the same day.

The thought grips your heart like an icy claw and for a moment you struggle to even breathe…until the air escapes you in a ragged sob and you bury your face in your hands.

Tenna makes a small, wordless noise of alarm at your reaction, holding up his hands as if in defense.

You slump forward, your elbows resting on your knees as you weep into your hands, your shoulders shaking.

Tenna stares at you, stricken. True, he’s only known you a couple days, but…you’re still his Lightner. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve had him--he’s your TV and you’re his Lightner, no matter if it’s been two days, two years, or two decades.

He feels so…helpless. He can see whatever pain you’re in is too deep to be chased away by some TV show or movie.

He can’t help but think of when Asriel and Kris were younger. When Asgore and Toriel would fight. Tenna would try to bump up the volume to drown out the yelling, but he could never drown it out completely. He’d been forced to watch as the kids stared at his screen, both desperately trying to pretend their parents’ marriage wasn’t crumbling in the next room over.

He’d wished he could do more than just show them silly cartoons to distract them. He’d wished so much to scoop them into his arms and carry them upstairs or outside or--or somewhere where they didn’t have to hear the fighting, and then just hug them close and tell them it would all be okay and--

Tenna stops mid-thought. He could do that for you. Well, taking you outside may be ill-advised, but…the rest of it…

He…could hug you. He could just wrap his arms around you and pull you close, and tell you it’ll all be okay.

His screen flickers nervously, his good antenna twitching slightly. He’s never hugged a Lightner. Even when Kris and their friends had visited the Dark World, hugging any of them…hadn’t exactly been in the cards. No physical affection had been, aside from the brief clap on the back Susie had given him after repairing him.

It just hadn’t occurred to him. Even something as simple as a hug had always been such a far off, impossible fantasy…something so out of the norm for what a TV could do for a Lightner, it takes him a moment to actually realize the option’s even there now that it’s presented itself.

Meanwhile, you’re trying to calm yourself, though you’re having so little success in the matter that Tenna would be easily forgiven for thinking you’ve just resigned yourself to crying it out.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. You tense, more out of surprise than discomfort, but your crying does indeed stop…at least for the moment. You feel the bottom of his screen lightly resting against the top of your head, and one of his hands gently rubbing your back as he holds you.

You clench your eyes shut.

Tenna, the truth is…

You can’t even bring yourself to say the words in your own head, much less aloud.

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay…” he says gently, even though both of you are fully aware that his understanding of the problem is tenuous at best. It’s still nice to hear, even if you can’t make yourself fully believe it yet.

Finally, you relax against him, your forehead resting against his chest as you let out a soft sigh. He hugs you closer and the remaining tension leaves your shoulders as you slump limply against him.

Hugging him doesn’t exactly feel like hugging a human. The fabric of his suit could pass for some kind of smooth fabric…a faux leather or some kind of vinyl, perhaps. But whatever’s under the suit doesn’t feel like a human body. It’s shaped like one, of course, and moves like one…but it’s too…consistent to feel like a human. You don’t feel the beat of a heart, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes…nor do you feel the other slight inconsistencies of a human body. His arms don’t feel any more or less soft than his chest. His TV head is more rigid than the rest of his body, but the body itself feels like it’s made of the same material through and through, and the only body heat you feel is your own reflected back at you.

But…it’s still a comforting embrace. Whatever his body’s made of, it has enough give and softness that being held by him is quite comfortable.

It’s probably for the best that Tenna doesn’t have a heartbeat, for if he did it would be racing, and the pounding would surely be noticeable to you as you rest against him.

After a couple minutes you pull away, and he opens his arms to let you scoot back from him.

“Better?” he asks tentatively.

You nod, wiping some stray tears away with your palm. “Th-Thanks, Tenna…” you mumble. Your cheeks are a bit warm, not just from crying…but also from crying into the arms of someone you’d only just met.

You scoot back another inch or two, now a bit awkward. As you try to look anywhere but at Tenna, your gaze falls on the shopping bag from the electronics store--a perfect reason for an abrupt subject change.

“O-Oh!” you say, standing up, your bowl of stir fry momentarily forgotten. “I…I did manage to stop at the store on the way home. I got you that adapter…I hope it’s the right kind. I’m uh…not sure how to set it up…” you say, pulling the small box out of the bag, causing the tape to fall out along with it.

Tenna picks up the roll of tape, holding it out to you. You trade for the adapter, allowing him to look at it.

He turns the package over in his hands, looking it over. He laughs sheepishly. “I’m afraid I don’t know much more about this than you…I’ve never had one of these before.”

You wince. “Ah…well, I’m…I’m sure we can figure it out together then…” you say, a bit nervously.

He passes it back to you. “Tomorrow, maybe,” he says gently. “Seems your day’s been hectic enough and we’ve got pleeeenty of DVDs left!” he adds with a grin.

You nod, more than a little relieved he’d suggested that. You hold up the roll of electrical tape. “I also got this for your cord…” you say. You pause, your brow knitting in worry. “Is that…painful, by the way? Your cord being damaged?”

Tenna’s screen flickers in surprise at the question. He quickly recovers, waving a hand and chuckling. “Ooooh no, not really. Just the usual aches and pains of getting old, I guess.”

“Would it feel better wrapped up?” you ask.

“Oh! Well…yes…” he says, a bit reluctantly…as if he thinks even confirming that is on par with demanding you fix him right away.

“Alright. Then I can take care of that tomorrow,” you say. You pause again, frowning. “Is…wrapping it too tightly a thing? I’d…hate to make a mistake and you not be able to tell me until you wake up…though I suppose I could just do it close to dark…” you muse.

Tenna laughs shyly, waving a hand. “My dear Lightner, you’re putting a lot more thought into this than ya need to!”

“Am I?” you say skeptically. “I…I just want you to be comfortable is all…”

He smiles warmly at you, giving a slight shake of his head. “Well…if you’re that worried…you could just do it at night.”

You frown. “But your cord isn’t--” You cut yourself off as Tenna scoots forward slightly on the couch. His grin widens and you notice his cord swishing back and forth behind him like a cat’s tail. You blink in surprise. “O-Oh…”

He stands up from the couch, taking a seat on the floor and returning to his usual larger size. “I usually keep it tucked away.” He leans forward, smirking and speaking out of the corner of his mouth. “Bit unprofessional to have visible wiring hanging about, huh?”

You scoff. “Unprofesional? Says the guy in the fancy suit. Meanwhile I’m doing my editing in pajamas,” you chuckle.

You move to sit on the floor as well. He shuffles, turning himself so his back is to you before laying his cord in your lap. The fraying looks about the same as it had during the day, at least from what you remember.

You start with the frayed patch closest to his body, planning on working your way down. “Just uh…lemme know if it feels like I’m doing something wrong,” you say.

“I’m sure you’ll do marvelously!” he chirps.

Your cheeks warm at that and you give a small shake of your head. You wish you were half as wonderful as he seems to think you are.

You work in silence for a few minutes before saying, “Y’know, the way it comes out of your back like that…it kinda looks like a tail.”

The cord twitches slightly as Tenna turns to glance at you over his shoulder. “A…tail?” he says blanky, before letting out a chuckle. “Never heard of a TV with a tail before,” he says playfully.

You snort, shaking your head. “Tenna, that applies to just about everything about you, y’know. You’re one of a kind,” you say warmly.

He makes a small, flustered noise, abruptly facing forward again. But not before you notice his screen turning completely red.

You feel the cord shaking and you glance down to see the last six inches or so wagging back and forth. You cover your mouth to stifle a giggle at the sight.

…He’s definitely not beating the “having a tail” allegations.

“Hey Tenna, uh…would you mind holding your cord still while I do this?” you ask hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asks blankly. “Oh!” he squeaks in a mortified tone at the same time as his cord abruptly goes still. “Eheheh…S-Sorry about that, I-I uh, usually keep it tucked away so I didn’t even realize…” he rambles nervously.

You laugh warmly. “It’s alright, Tenna. It’s cute, just…not very helpful for repairs,” you quip lightly.

The end of his cord starts wagging again. “Y-You…think it’s cute?” he asks, flustered.

You giggle at his flustered state, reaching over to gently grab his cord just below the plug, holding it still.

He squeaks in surprise, a visible shiver running down the cord and up his back.

“Sorry!” you say with a sympathetic wince. You hadn’t expected such a strong reaction!

“N-No apology needed!” he chirps, sounding cheerful but still flustered.

You work quickly to finish wrapping the frayed spot you’d started on. “Okay, that bit’s done. How’s it feel?” you ask.

“Oh, just perfect! See, I told you you were worrying over nothing!”

You roll your eyes good naturedly. “It’s your cord, Tenna, it’s not nothing,” you say lightly.

…And the wagging has started up again.

This time, instead of grabbing it, you simply pick a spot between the part that’s moving and the bit that’s frayed. You use your forearm to pin it against your knee so that the part you’re working on is held still. For whatever reason this is less startling for Tenna, so you’re able to wrap up the other two frayed sections without further interruption.

“There, all set,” you say, releasing his tai--cord. “Still feel alright?”

Tenna shuffles around so he’s facing you, lifting his cord out of your lap and swishing it in front of himself. He catches it in one hand, looking it over.

“Perfect! It feels just wonderful and you can barely even see the tape!”

You chuckle modestly, twirling the small roll of tape on one finger. “Well, that’s why they make it wire-colored, I suppose.” You overestimate your dexterity and abruptly fling the tape aside, where it thunks against the leg of your coffee table.

Tenna quickly covers his mouth with one hand before his snicker can turn into an actual guffaw.

You grin up at him sheepishly, reaching to grab the tape off the floor and put it back on the coffee table. As you do, you notice the note you’d left on his antenna this morning. You’d forgotten to even ask him about it.

Tenna follows your gaze, scooting closer and taking the note from the table, playfully bopping you atop the head with the folded paper. “Incidentally…I can still hear you during the day,” he grins. “But uh…I don’t mind you leaving lil’ notes on my antenna. If you want,” he says shyly, blushy pink circles appearing on either side of his screen.

“Oh?” you say, bemused that he’d want you to do that if it weren’t strictly necessary.

“It’s like a little piece of you I get to hold onto for the day!” he says, cupping his screen in his hands, a little red flower sprouting from his nose.

Your smile turns a bit uncertain, but doesn’t entirely fade. If a human had said that to you, you’d be pretty put off. It sounds very clingy, in a way that’s not healthy for either of you.

But…Tenna’s not a human. He’s a TV, made to serve humans, and who’d been abandoned and left to rot in a dirty storage unit before almost ending up in the dump. Perhaps he’s earned a bit of clinginess. Or at the very least, has earned the right to not be judged for it.

“Well, then…I can do that,” you say, your own cheeks warming a bit. It’s…a bit more sentimental than you’re used to, but you can’t say you mind. “Speaking of your antennae…” you start, standing up and moving to stand in front of him.”Would you want me to look at that one sometime too?” you ask, pointing at his taped up antenna.

“Huh?” he asks, his gaze shifting to you as his screen flickers in confusion.

“The one that’s taped up. I-I mean, I…don’t…really know how I’d fix it, but…if you want me to find someone who does?”

“My--” He reaches up, gripping the tape in one hand, almost protectively. His smile is wobbly and nervous as he waves his other hand dismissively. “O-Oh, no! That’s quite alright, you don’t need to trouble yourself over it, and it’s been fine for years now, you’ll see once we set up that adapter, I can pick up a signal just as well as I ever have!” he rambles nervously.

You raise a brow. So far he’s been modest and perhaps even shy about accepting help, and worried about inconveniencing you, but…this time he seems to be fully deflecting your offer.

“Would…you rather I didn’t?” you ask carefully.

Tenna freezes, a painfully forced grin on his screen. “I-I…w-well--”

“Tenna, it’s alright, really. You work perfectly well as is, if you don’t want me messing with it then I don’t have to,” you say gently. Grinning, you add, “Tape or no tape, you’re still the most sophisticated TV I know.”

“Aww, sh-shucks…” he mumbles bashfully, glancing away. After a brief pause, his smile turns melancholy, though it doesn’t fully fade. His fingers idly fiddle with the tape around his antenna. “Th-The truth is…” He pauses, chuckling weakly. “The…the truth is…well, ah, too long a story for tonight, I think, but…s-someone…very important to me, fixed me up. This tape is…something she put on, so…I-I’d…I’d like to keep it…”

You stare at him in surprise a moment before smiling warmly. “Then you can. Of course you can, Tenna. It’s your antenna, I’m not going to force you to fix it.”

He laughs nervously, releasing his antenna and clutching his hands together in his lap. “Th-Thank you…” he says, and the relief in his voice is palpable. A bead of sweat slides down the side of his face. You’re not sure if it’s just an image on the screen or if he actually had gotten nervous enough for the glass to actually sweat. He lets out another laugh, a mixture of relief and lingering nervousness. “Every time I switched homes, I…I worried it’d be removed, but…it never was. I always worked well enough without it that…it got left alone.”

You smile sadly at him, stepping forward and gently putting your hand atop his. “Good…It sounds really important to you,” you say kindly. Placatingly, even…but not ungenuine. Truely, you’re just glad he actually is capable of saying no. You’d been starting to worry that you’d accidentally steamroll him and his wishes at some point, since it seems fairly against his nature to disagree with a Lightner.

Tenna glances down at your hand on his, blushing. He suddenly lets out a shy, nervous laugh. “A-Anyway! I believe you, my dear Lightner, have a dinner to eat and TV to watch!” he says, leaning over you to grab your bowl from the coffee table and place it in your hands before--to your surprise--scooping you up in his hands and placing you on the couch.

You’re too stunned at being scooped up like a doll to even utter a squeak of surprise.

Tenna glances down into the drawer of the TV stand, pulling out a handful of DVDs. “Let’s see, let’s see…” he says, shuffling the DVD cases like a deck of cards. He fans them out, leaning forward enough for you to reach them. “Pick a card, any card!”

You grin. “Hmm…” After a brief consideration, you pick a comedy you haven’t watched in awhile.

“Excellent choice!” he chirps, setting the “deck” back in the drawer before plucking the selected DVD out of your hand.

He gets the DVD started and you settle back onto the couch, stirring your food to even out the heat after it’d been left sitting for awhile.

After the day you’ve had, you…have to admit it’s nice to have company. To not be alone all evening. You doubt you would have allowed yourself to unwind and watch some TV or movies or whatever if left to your own devices.

You’ll have to do right by Tenna. You owe him that much.

But you stop yourself from dwelling on it now. He’d surely notice your contemplative look, especially given such an expression would be very much at odds with the lighthearted, comedic romp on screen.

So you’ll focus on the movie for tonight. You can figure out an actual plan--both for Tenna and your newfound free time--tomorrow. During the day.

You’ll figure it out then.

Chapter Text

Your plan, such as it is, is to set a deadline for yourself: two weeks from the day you’d brought him home, you’re going to tell Tenna why you’d gotten him. The real reason you’d been on the hunt for a CRT.

Part of you wonders if you really should be telling him much sooner, but the fight with Jodie still has you a bit raw and uncertain. Though even that feels like a flimsy excuse…“raw and uncertain” seems to be your default state as of late.

Still. You want him to get to know you a bit better before telling him something that will no doubt be profoundly upsetting and even terrifying to him.

But how well does he “know” you if you’re lying to him?

You’ve given up on the “technically not lying” argument you’d tried to have with yourself for a couple days. He thinks you’d wanted a CRT for the sake of having a CRT…and you’re letting him think that. Just because you never uttered those words aloud doesn’t make it not a lie.

It’s weighing on you more and more as you approach the deadline you’ve set for yourself. Three more days. Three more days and you’ll tell him.

And Tenna…Tenna will do with the information what he thinks is best. You hope that means staying with you and allowing you to earn his forgiveness. But maybe he’ll decide he’d rather try his luck with another home. Or maybe…you can help him find a better place. Someone who actually wants a CRT for the sake of having a CRT.

At least he’ll be more familiar with this world than he’d been when you’d gotten him.

You’ve finished your work for the day and are once again rehearsing your confession in your head. Should you open by reminding him that objects in your world aren’t sapient…? Or pin the blame on Jodie for it being her idea, even though you agreed to it with absolutely zero objection?

From the kitchen, you hear the sound of your microwave running, followed soon by the scattered pops of popcorn.

Despite your stress, you can’t help but smile softly. Making popcorn for you is something he’s started doing the past few days. He’d seen you making it once when you’d been getting set up to watch movies with him. Since then he’s taken to getting it started as soon as he’s up, whether you’ve emerged from your office or not.

You suspect part of why he’s doing it is to get your attention--you can get lost in your work, and there had been one night the first week where you hadn’t come out of your office until over an hour after sunset.

You’d told him he can come get you when he “wakes up” if he wants. He’d insisted that wasn’t necessary, that he’s perfectly fine sitting by himself until you’re ready to watch him, and “The only TVs left on 24/7 are the ones in the stores”.

Yet, the next night he’d started making popcorn shortly after sunset. You doubt that’s purely coincidence.

You hardly mind--it’s nice to have that definitive line between your work life and personal life, something that’s always hard to manage when working from home. But now the sound of popcorn being made is like the school bell at the end of the day--pencils down, keyboards away, and time to enjoy the evening.

And exiting the office to see Tenna’s big, beaming smile as he passes you the popcorn bowl before returning to his proper size is certainly a fine way to kick off your evenings.

“What’s on our list for tonight?” you ask, going through the DVDs in your TV stand’s drawer.

Tenna chuckles, resting the bottom of his screen against his palm. “Anything that keeps your eyes on me!” he says cheerfully, the end of his cord swishing contentedly beside him.

Your cheeks warm slightly at the quip, despite him having said a couple variations of it before. If he were human, the statement would sound very forward…maybe even flirty. But he’s not a human--he’s a TV. The sentiment isn’t particularly deep and it’s certainly not flirty…it’s really just another variation of “Whatever you want”. No more, no less.

As you pile the movies you’ve already watched atop the TV stand, you find a few box sets in the back. “Oh! I forgot I had these,” you say. It’s an older sci-fi TV series called Dark Supernova, one that started when your parents were in their youth and ran for decades, ending shortly after you’d been born.

You hold up one of the boxes for him to see, but he barely looks at it before nodding. “A marathon! Let’s do it!” he says eagerly. He still has yet to express any kind of preference for what you watch, though he’s not exactly a passive viewer. He does offer some opinions on what you’ve watched together--the two of you have discussed the stories or lore or special effects of the movies and shows, and his interest seems genuine. All his opinions are positive, but then yours generally are too. They’re movies you took the time to buy for yourself, after all. So even though none of them are perfect, you tend to focus on the positives when talking about them.

In any case, you’re starting to think that, as a TV, he just views things differently. Perhaps it’s just not in his nature to dislike anything playing on his screen, be it movie, TV, or game. But you can work with that. You don’t mind being the one to pick the activity each night, as long as you’re not boring him.

“I got these as a graduation present,” you tell him, opening the first season and handing him the first DVD. “But I kinda…got busy and never actually finished watching them. I’d seen most of them as a kid, but…it’s been awhile.”

“A trip down memory lane, then!” he chirps, putting the DVD into the PS3.

You settle onto the couch with your popcorn and the marathon begins. You’ve been trying to stay up a bit later for Tenna’s sake--which is not a difficult ask as you’d always tended to be a bit of a night owl in general. But if you’re not having to worry about Jodie’s schedule, you pretty much can go without any schedule. Your work is online and your clients rarely require same-day replies. You should probably have a few consistent hours in the afternoon, but going to bed in the wee hours of the morning and then getting up in the early afternoon shouldn’t pose a problem for you…once you adjust, anyway.

At least it’s fall, and the sun is setting earlier and earlier each night.

It’s a few episodes before the end of the first season when you can’t help but shift so that you’re laying on the couch instead of sitting, the blanket over you and your eyelids heavy as you begin to doze off.

The sound of the ending credits startles you awake, and you reluctantly pull yourself back into a sitting position. You yawn widely, rubbing your eyes. “Ugh, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to finish this season…” you say sleepily.

You push the blanket aside, rolling your shoulder and rubbing at it. You’ve been falling asleep on the couch a lot more lately, and your body has its complaints about that arrangement.

The credits vanish as his face reappears with a playful pout. “Awww…well, maybe one more? And if you fall asleep then at least we can say we tried!” he chirps.

You shake your head. “Tenna, human brains can only stay active for so long. I could barely keep up with that last episode as it is. We’re probably gonna have to rewatch it tomorrow.”

He grins, propping the bottom of his screen in his hand. “I don’t see a problem with that!” he says, his tone far more playful than pushy.

You give him a deadpan look. “I figured you wouldn’t,” you say good-naturedly.

“Well, maybe I can find something a bit lighter on TV,” he says, his screen rapidly blinking as he begins to channel surf.

You smile weakly, rolling your shoulders. “Sorry, Tenna…my shoulder’s still sore from falling asleep on the couch twice in a row…I really need to be in a normal bed tonight.”

The channel surfing stops and his face reappears. “Oh, fair enough,” he says easily. He scoots forward, positioning himself so that he’s closer to the couch, rather than his usual spot beside the TV stand. He leans forward, propping his elbows on the armrest. “If only there were a way to watch TV in bed…” he sighs with a cheeky grin. His grin widens as he says, “Ah, but…big TVs like me are just so hard to move…far too heavy to carry, especially on a sore shoulder.” He lets out another exaggerated sigh, then pauses a moment before tilting his screen ever so slightly towards you expectantly.

You give him a wry grin. Tenna is many things, but you’re quickly learning that “subtle” isn’t one of them. But you’re more than happy to play along.

“Oh yeah, I’m definitely too tired to carry around a huge TV,” you agree, your grin widening as blushy pink circles appear on his cheeks. You sigh wistfully, leaning back against the couch. “If only there were TVs that could just get up and walk…”

Tenna brightens, clapping his hands together. “Oho! You’ve just given me a brilliant idea!” He shrinks down to his human size, now standing beside the couch and offering you a hand. “I could just get up and walk!”

You laugh, taking his hand and allowing him to help you off the couch. “Why didn’t I think of that?” you say with playful sarcasm.

“Oh, don’t worry, you did!” he quips, before you both giggle at your own antics.

He offers his arm, you accept it, trying to ignore the warmth in your cheeks as he escorts you the few steps down the hall to your room. You also try not to think too much of the fact that you’re inviting someone into your bedroom.

He’s a TV. Lots of people have TVs in their bedrooms. He’s probably been set up in someone’s bedroom before. It’s nothing to read into.

At least you’re already in your PJs…as you have been since this morning. Benefits of working from home.

Your room is much less spacious than the living room, as bedrooms are wont to be. A queen-size bed is centered against the back wall, with a nightstand on either side. On the wall opposite the foot of the bed is your dresser. The spaces between the walls and your bed are a bit too narrow for Tenna’s full size, so he shrinks down just enough to fit. He sits with his back against the wall, his legs crossed in front of him. His knees are pressed up against your mattress.

“You comfortable?” you ask, seeing as he still looks a bit cramped. “I could move the bed a bit, if you need more space?”

“I’m fine!” he chirps. “Besides, I’m not the one with a sore shoulder that needs resting!” he adds, reaching forward and pulling back your comforter for you.

“...Heh,” you chuckle weakly, your cheeks warming as you climb into bed…and warming even more when he pulls the cover over you.

You settle in, laying on your side and watching his screen as he finds a channel playing an old sitcom you vaguely remember watching as a kid. He turns down the volume, and even seems to dim the screen slightly. As much as he wants your eyes on him, he’s not going to sacrifice your sleep for it…or at least, not much more than a few minutes of it!

He’s tuned in partway through the episode. You aren’t really spending a lot of mental energy trying to figure out the dilemma of the week, but it seems to be related to some big secret someone’s keeping, their lies getting more and more elaborate. You’re sure they’re preparing to end with the classic sitcom moral of “Just tell the truth”.

It’s a moral that hits a bit close to home right now.

Well, at least you’re not planning on buying a new couch to cover up a wine stain from opening the wine your mother-in-law brought for your cousin’s wedding while frantically trying to replace the oddly specific brand of wine which had been bottled in 1945.

Though making better choices than a wacky sitcom character isn’t that much of a comfort.

As it cuts to a commercial, Tenna’s face reappears, frowning worriedly. “You alright there, friend?”

“Mm?” you grunt as his voice pulls you away from your thoughts. You hug the blanket around you, closing your eyes. “Oh, yeah, Tenna…I’m fine…” you say softly.

“Thinking about Jodie again?” he asks.

It’s not the first time in the past week you’ve gone quiet and morose. Tenna always asks about it, at least when it happens at night. You tell him you’re fine, and then he guesses it has something to do with Jodie, and…usually you just agree. It’s not entirely wrong, and each time you add another half-truth to the list.

But…you don’t want to do that anymore. You still have a couple days before your self-imposed deadline, but…what are you going to do in those days you haven’t already done?

“Not…exactly…” you admit, opening your eyes to glance up at him.

You’re surprised to find he’s shrunk down to human size, his arms folded on the edge of the bed while the bottom of his screen rests atop them. Behind him, his cord slowly swishes back and forth.

“Oh? Then what?” he asks gently, the top of his screen turned upwards in a concerned expression.

You should just tell him. Find a way to fight through the heavy fog of sleep that’s already setting over your brain. Get up, make a coffee, talk it out.

…Then again, maybe it’s better for both of you if you have the conversation when you actually have your wits about you.

You sigh quietly, shaking your head. “It’s…a lot to get into right now.” You smile tiredly at him. Impulsively, you reach over to place your hand over one of his. “I’ll tell you tomorrow night. First thing. I promise,” you say, squeezing his hand.

Tenna glances down at your hand over his, his entire screen going pink. “O-Oh! Y-Yeah, of course! No need to unpack all that when you’re trying to rest!” he says quickly.

“Thanks, Tenna,” you say, releasing his hand and snuggling back into the blankets.

He nods, still a bit stunned--and flustered--from the brief hand-hold. He returns to his full size, or at least as close as he can manage in the smaller space, letting the show continue playing as you drift off.

He’s not too fussed about tomorrow. In fact, he’s actually excited to be a real confidante to you! Of course, he’d rather you didn’t have problems at all, but…if the world has decided you absolutely must have a few woes, he’ll be glad to help however he can. Maybe he can’t do much more than listen…he can’t tell Jodie off or help with rent, but…it wasn’t long ago that even being able to have a conversation with his Lightner had been just a far off dream. Even just uttering the simple words “It’s not your fault” was something he’d never been able to do until now. Aside from the…rather unique situation around Kris, that is.

He doesn’t think for a second that whatever is weighing on your mind tonight has anything to do with him.

He cups the corner of his screen in one hand, watching you fondly.

You’re not the first Lightner he’s had a crush on. It’s not exactly a rare thing among Darkners…but they’re usually more akin to celebrity crushes. A series of passing whims and daydreams, nothing to be taken too seriously, nothing that anyone expects to bloom into anything more than a simple crush.

And of course, incredibly--inevitably--one-sided.

Yet…it’s possible this one might not have to be. It’s a heady realization, and Tenna can feel his screen turning red at the mere thought that you might actually--

You…probably wouldn’t. He’s…still a TV, after all. But you know he exists, not just as a TV but as Mr. Ant Tenna, which is farther than he’d gotten with any of his other Lightner crushes.

He can tell you like him…and he’s sure if you don’t love him yet, you will some day. Even if not romantically. It doesn’t have to be. You still chose him. In a world of phones and computers and wall-mounted flatscreens you still made a place in your heart for an old CRT like him.

And he’ll always adore you for that.

*

The next morning, you find Tenna in his usual spot in the living room, plugged into the outlet next to the TV stand--something he’d started doing after you’d fixed his cord.

“Morning, Tenna,” you say, giving him a light pat before heading into the kitchen to make yourself some toast.

Before Tenna, you’d usually just eaten at your desk as you’d started the work day, staring at the screen as your brain slowly woke up. But apparently he’s not a completely helpless TV once he’s plugged in. The day after you’d fixed his cord, he’d switched himself on while you were in the kitchen making breakfast, which you’d (correctly) taken as an invitation to eat with him. So now you at least eat breakfast with him, and sometimes lunch as well. Though you’ve explained to him that sometimes, once you get rolling on your work, it’s hard to pull yourself completely away.

But, giving yourself some time to sit on the couch and eat breakfast, while watching whatever Tenna’s picked out for you, has been nice. You’re a bit more focused and alert when you finally sit down at your desk to work.

And…you hardly mind spending a bit of time with Tenna during the day, even if he can’t respond or really show much reaction to anything at all, aside from adjusting the volume or changing the channel when you ask him to. At least you don’t need a remote!

You finish your toast and get up. “Thanks Ten,” you say, giving him another light pat as you head into the kitchen to rinse your plate.

After that, it’s into your office to begin your work.

The past week has actually been quite productive. Not only is Jodie not interrupting your work, but you find yourself able to focus better. Not just because of your new morning routine, but because of your new evening routine as well. Before, with no end time to your day, you’d often given in to the impulse to putter around on the internet or just take too many unfocused breaks in your day. But now? You want your work day to end at sunset, and to do that, you need to get your tasks done before then. No more going down Reddit rabbit holes and trading two hours of your afternoon for two hours of your evening.

Today, though, is proving to be an exception. Not because of idle scrolling of social media, though.

You haven’t forgotten the promise you made last night. Though you’re sure Tenna would allow you to back out of it. You could just say it isn’t actually that big a deal, that it’s just something your tired brain made a big deal of, nothing either of you need to worry about…and he wouldn’t question it.

Knowing you could so easily get away with pushing it down the road again only makes you more resolved to tell him.

Your struggle to try to get some amount of work done despite your inner turmoil causes you to skip lunch, and your day slowly ticks by.

It’s late afternoon when the sound of your front door opening reaches you in your office. You frown, pushing back from your desk and getting up. You’re more apprehensive than worried. You doubt you’d be robbed or accosted in broad daylight, after all. It’s probably just the apartment maintenance or something, though they usually at least knock first.

“Hello?” you call out, stepping out of the hall and into your living room.

Your jaw drops at the sight of Jodie and Austin standing in your living room, staring at Tenna.

Jodie’s gaze snaps to you, giving you a furious glare as she gestures at Tenna. “What the hell is this?” she demands.

You open your mouth to try and explain, only to snap it shut. “Wh-What are you doing here?” you ask instead. You know how she’d gotten in…a spare key you’d given her so long ago you’d almost forgotten about it, though she’d never used it to show up out of the blue like this. It’s the why that has you stumped. It’s been over a week of silence between you two, you would have assumed she’d text first…

She gives you an unimpressed look, holding up an external harddrive. “Dropping off the footage. Y’know, since you agreed to edit it?” she says pointedly.

“I--I didn’t--know you still wanted me to…” you say.

“Obviously I do!” she scoffs. “But we need to talk about this,” she says, gesturing to Tenna. “How long have you had it? When were you going to tell me you’d found a TV?”

Behind her, Austin looks less than impressed, but you look past both of them to Tenna sitting on the floor. You’re painfully aware that he can hear everything being said right now. “Can we talk about it outside?” you ask, holding up a hand as if to usher Jodie and Austin out of the apartment.

Jodie’s face twists into a perplexed yet still indignant frown. “Uh, no? We’ll talk about it here. Why do you think you get to just keep it?”

You frown, taken aback by the question. “Because I bought it! You never even paid me for the gas to get to the store, much less the TV!”

…She doesn’t need to know you technically got him for free.

She rolls her eyes. “You were getting it for me. I had already promised to pay you. Me paying you after delivery doesn’t make the contract any less binding!”

You sputter, taken aback. “C-Contract? Jodie, what--what contract, we’ve never had--”

“UGH!” she sighs, throwing up her hands. “Our texts count as a verbal contract. Legally, this TV is mine and payment will be given once the music video is done. Like we always do,” she says pointedly.

You continue to stare at her in stunned silence. That…can’t be true, can it? You know the law can be fickle and strange, but…are you really not allowed to change your mind halfway through such an informal arrangement?

…Maybe it’s one of those laws that comes down to whoever has the better lawyer. Which you guess would be Jodie, if it ever comes to that.

Behind Jodie, Austin is looking at her with a slightly raised brow, an uncertain frown on his face. If you cared to analyze his expression you’d realize he’s not any more confident in her assertion than you are.

“Jodie…You can’t take it, okay?” you say, inwardly flinching at how meek and timid your voice sounds. You’d been trying for an even, diplomatic tone, but your nerves don’t allow it.

She scoffs, folding her arms over her chest and staring you down. “And why not? We’ve just established it’s mine,” she says plainly. “I need it for this video. The video’s not going to make any sense without--”

“JODIE!” you snap, causing all three of you to flinch. You absolutely do not want her to finish that sentence in front of Tenna!

Jodie recovers first, her icy glare practically causing the room’s temperature to drop several degrees.

“Jodie, look--I know this isn’t going to make any sense, but…” You take a breath, feeling your hands shaking as a bead of sweat rolls down your back. “H-He’s…alive.”

Her glare falters out of pure confusion. “Who?”

“The TV. His name’s Tenna and he’s alive.”

Both her brows raise, all but disappearing under her bangs, while Austin’s mouth falls open slightly.

You don’t give her a chance to comment, quickly pressing forward. “I know it sounds crazy. I thought I was going crazy at first, but…Jodie, he’s alive. He looks like a normal TV during the day but at night he…well, you’ll see! You can see!” you say desperately. “Just stick around a couple hours, and you’ll see!”

It’s not the concise, level-headed argument you’d hoped to make, but…it’s out there now. No going back.

Jodie’s too shocked to be angry, at least for the moment. Austin’s recovered slightly and now looks more concerned than surprised as he stares at you with a knit brow and worried look.

A beat of awkward silence passes before Tenna comes to your aid, or at least tries to. He turns on suddenly, rapidly flipping through channels on his own.

Austin and Jodie jump slightly, exchanging a surprised glance. Jodie recovers first, and her brows lower into a deadpan, unimpressed look. “Clever. You hid a remote somewhere. Not exactly proof of life,” she scoffs.

You give Tenna a worried look and he shuts off. Apparently he senses he’s not helping your case as much as he’d hoped, and so he decides to keep quiet.

“Do you think you’re funny?” Jodie asks you flatly.

“I’m not--”

“This is like one of those stupid ARGs for your Kickstarter! Is that what this is? Are you workshopping some new scheme?”

You bristle at the suggestion that your attempt to fund a passion project is now being dismissed as a “scheme”...not to mention the fact that you’d never done an ARG for it, and even if you had it wouldn’t’ve been anything like this! “I’m serious!” you snap. “Jodie, just stay here a couple hours. Or hell, come back in a couple hours. Any time after nightfall!”

“You are so fucking petty, you know that?” Jodie snaps.

You blink, actually pulling back slightly in surprise. “Petty?” you repeat blankly. You’d been prepared for some kind of name calling over this, but…“petty”?

“You don’t think you wasted enough time? Time shooting, time preparing, time waiting for you to just get me a damn prop…and now you just want me to sit around your apartment til sundown? Why is it your goal to suck as much life out of every one of my projects as possible?”

You stare at her, your mouth going dry as you struggle to even think of a response. “I…J-Jodie, that’s…not what I’m doing!” you protest. “I would never!”

She stares at you, and you can practically feel yourself shrinking beneath her withering gaze. Finally, she sighs, tucking the hard drive into her jacket pocket. “...Yeah. Right. Guess I’ll be looking for a new editor then. This video was going to be the Patreon reward for October but I guess it’ll have to be November,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Jodie, I…I’ll still get the editing done…”

Jodie scoffs. “Suuure, until your computer comes to life too and eats the footage. No thanks.” She glares at you. “We’re taking the TV.”

Your guilt and uncertainty vanish immediately at the threat. You return her glare, quickly moving between her and Tenna, finally discovering the spine you could never find when it was only you on the receiving end of Jodie’s wrath.

“No you’re not!”

But Jodie is unimpressed as usual. She rolls her eyes, nodding to Austin, who takes one hesitant step towards you.

“Don’t!” you snap. You feel like a tiny kitten squaring off against a Great Dane. Fluffed up and fierce, desperately hoping your opponent doesn’t realize you don’t actually stand a chance. Austin’s not a particularly large man, and neither he and Jodie are any sort of fighter, but it’s still two-to-one.

Austin glances uncertainly at Jodie, who gives him a withering glare when she senses his hesitation. Finally she lets out an irritated huff, turning abruptly on her heel and throwing her hands up. “Ugh! Whatever! Let’s go!”

Austin starts to follow her towards the door, only to pause, glancing back at you. The borderline pitying expression on his face does little to raise your spirits.

The door clicks shut behind them and your shoulders slump as you let out a defeated sigh. If there had ever been any hope of you mending things with them you’re sure it’s thoroughly gone now.

You sit down on the floor next to Tenna and place a hand on him, leaning against him slightly. “S-Sorry you had to hear all that…” you say. You sigh heavily. “I’ll…explain it when you’re up.”

You’ll explain…everything. You have to. The thought of him having almost heard it from Jodie has removed all your doubts. He’ll hear it from you…You owe him that much.

He switches on again, having found a quiet, tranquil nature documentary on one of the public channels. You assume he’s trying to soothe you.

And given how limited his communication options are in this form, he’s doing a pretty good job.

You stay leaning against him, your arm resting atop him and your chin atop your arm. You close your eyes, listening to the documentary more than watching it, trying to let the tranquil forest sounds and the occasional gentle narration calm you.

The couple hours you have to wait goes by both too fast and too slow--despite it feeling like far more than two hours and some change, you’re no closer to feeling ready for the conversation. Accepting the necessity of it just isn’t the same as being ready.

Your view of the living room window isn’t good enough for you to tell exactly when the sun sets, but as the sky darkens you feel Tenna push against you slightly, as if being lifted up. You quickly back away and get to your feet, watching as his body forms beneath him.

It’s the first time you’ve actually seen him “wake up” and the process is…interesting to watch, to say the least.

It’s as if his body is already fully formed, and simply floating upwards through the floor like a ghost. As his antenna brush the ceiling, he shrinks down to human size just as feet emerge from the floor. Or, rather, emerge from him.

Tenna e immediately steps towards you and scoops you up in a big hug. Even his “human” size is tall enough that he lifts you off the ground in the process.

“Oh sweetheart, I’ve been wanting to do this all evening!” he gushes sadly, giving you a gentle squeeze, the side of his head nuzzling against your cheek. “I knew she was an unpleasant sort but the way she spoke to you!” he says, his melancholy tone hardening to one of indignation.

You sputter in surprise, your face burning at not only the pet name but the warm hug. “T-Ten--” you squeak.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t do a better job of backing you up! B-But I admit I panicked a little, I’ve never really had to--”

“Tenna, i-it’s alright, really! You did fine,” you assure him quickly. “But I--”

“Oh but the way you defended me from her!” he giggles, still embracing you tightly as he twirls around. “My knight in shining armor!” he says, red circles appearing on his cheeks while his whole screen takes on a pinkish hue. You can’t see his cord, pressed up against him as you are, but the end of it is wagging so strongly that you can hear the swishing.

“T-Tenna--”

He lets out a giddy giggle. “Oh, nothing’ll come between you and your TV, will it?” he gushes.

“Y-You’re not my TV!” you yelp, mortified.

Tenna stops spinning immediately, his whole body going still as his grip loosens enough for you to finally slide down to the ground. You wriggle out of his embrace, but before you can explain yourself he lets out a nervous, manic laugh. “Wh-What are you saying? Of course I am!” He scoffs. “I’m certainly not Jodie’s!”

“You’re not anyone’s, Tenna!” you insist. “You’re…your own person.”

His smile is tense and forced as he simply stutters, “P-Person? But…I’m a TV.”

“I know, but…I can’t…own you…”

Tenna simply stares at you, as if he doesn’t even know what to make of the statement.

You force a gentle smile, stepping towards him. “You’re…not my TV. You’re my friend. I-I mean, at…at least I’d…like you to be…” you say quietly.

His screen flickers and he smiles softly, whatever objection he had to your earlier statements taking a back seat to the idea that you’d ever doubt his affection for you.

“Well of course I’m your friend! Why wouldn’t I be?” he says, his grin finally looking more relaxed and genuine.

…Just when you’d almost managed to forget the overdue conversation you two need to have.

You wince, lowering your gaze. “Tenna…I…there’s something…I haven’t told you…”

His smile fades. “...Oh?”

You move to the couch, gesturing for him to follow. You take a seat and pat the cushion next to you. He sits down uncertainly. He hasn’t sat on the couch since he’d comforted you after that disastrous film shoot. It still feels…a bit odd. Taking a seat in the Dark World is one thing, but a TV perched on the couch in the Light World? He feels a bit out of place, to say the least…even if this technically isn’t the Light World.

“I…I should have told you this sooner. But…I-I was…scared, and…I didn’t--” You close your eyes, taking in a breath. “No more excuses,” you mutter to yourself.

He cants his head, watching you in confusion.

“Tenna…the…the shot we needed a TV for…” You take a breath, closing your eyes. “It was a shot of it being destroyed,” you say quickly, unable to look at him.

He freezes, staring at you in shock. “D-Destroyed?” he repeats in a thin, distant voice.

“W-With a sledgehammer.”

Tenna’s screen flickers several times, and you swear you briefly see the SMPTE color bars flash across his screen. His face reappears and he laughs nervously, his smile forced and bordering on manic.

“Th-That’s…you wouldn’t! You wouldn’t’ve!” he insists desperately. “Wh-Why…why clean me up just to…to…d-do that?” he asks with a frantic laugh.

You glance up at him briefly, but don’t have the courage to look him in the screen for very long. “B-Because, the…the shot would…look better with a cleaned up TV…” you admit softly.

Silence falls over you two, and Tenna’s the first to break it.

“...oh…” he says in a faint voice.

A bit of movement catches your eye and you glance up. Your eyes widen as you see Tenna shrinking. You hadn’t realized he could get smaller than his “human” size. His screen has gone dark and he’s now barely three feet tall, sitting in the middle of the cushion. He hugs his knees to his chest, wrapping his cord around them. His antennae droop miserably.

“You…never wanted another TV, did you? O-Of course, you…already own one. A nice one. A new one. What…what would you need with an old CRT like me?” he says, shrinking down even further. “It’s…it’s like that lady at the store said…n-nobody…wants big, clunky TVs like me anymore…s-so just…chuck me in the dumpster!! Hahaha…ha…”

“Tenna, please! I would never throw you away! I promise, I’ll never, ever let anyone destroy you or toss you away!”

“I’m…irrelevant…I’m junk…” he says in a small, trembling voice. He’s now barely six inches tall.

“You’re my friend!” you insist, reaching out to cup your hands around him.

He shies away, scooting back. “But…not your TV.”

You blink, pulling back. “Huh?”

“If…I hadn’t come to life…You would have just…”

You wince, lowering your gaze. “Y-Yes…but…I-I…”

“You didn’t want another TV. Especially not an old junky one.” His gaze finally lifts to you, his smile sad and almost pleading. “Right?”

“You’re not junky, Tenna!” you protest.

“Answer the question.”

You stare at him in silence a moment before lowering your gaze. “...Right,” you say softly. “But--”

His screen goes dark again and he rests it against his knees, curling in on himself. “I-I…want to be alone...Please.”

You pull back, tears stinging at your eyes. It’s…one of the kinder things you’d imagined him saying to you after finding out what you’d almost done. “S-Sure, Tenna…” you say in a shaky voice.

You get up and head to your room, hoping against hope he’ll change his mind and call you back, but…he doesn’t. So you grant his request, and spend the rest of the night in your room.

Alone.

Chapter Text

You don’t sleep particularly well that night. You have to resist the urge to go back out and try to talk to Tenna. But…he’d wanted space. You can--and will--grant him that request, humble as it is.

You stare up at your ceiling, thinking of how you can possibly make it up to him. Eventually, you think of one thing that might work…At least, it would work for him…

You may never see him again, but…that’s his choice. His right.

It’s close to noon when you finally give up on getting enough sleep to actually feel rested, and head into the living room. Tenna is, of course, plugged in beside the TV stand as always. You suppose that bit of normalcy is a good sign…or at least not a bad sign.

You lean against the wall beside him, letting yourself slide down into a sitting position. You lift your hand, about to rest it atop him, but think better of it. No need to go getting all touchy when he’s currently incapable of pulling away.

“Tenna, I…I am…so sorry…” you say. “I-It…It makes me sick to think about what almost happened…but…I can understand why…why that might…not be much of a comfort for you,” you sigh.

“B-But…I’ve been thinking…Y’know our talk about…s-some games looking better on CRTs? Well, there are…communities of people, online, who like CRTs for their retro gaming setups.” You take in a steadying breath, already feeling a pull in your heart at what you’re about to suggest. “S-Someone…like that would…appreciate you. The--The way you want to be appreciated. S-So, i-if--” Your voice breaks and you clear your throat. “If…you want me to help you find someone like that…I can.” You sniffle, wiping your eyes. “S-Sorry. I-It’s not fair for me to be crying right now,” you admit glumly.

You don’t give him a chance to respond, quickly continuing, “B-But um. D-Don’t…try to answer now. T-Take the day and…think about it, alright?” you say in a small, thin voice as you get up and quickly return to your office. You’re not really sure how he would answer, if he were to try…this sort of conversation requires more than simply putting on some channel of his choice and expecting you to infer what he means by it, after all.

It’s not a particularly productive day. You skip both breakfast and lunch, simply forgetting to eat. You’re not exactly dwelling on Tenna or Jodie or anything in particular. Your mind is merely filled with a melancholy haze. You look at the screen and see what needs to be done next, but by the time you place your hand on the mouse to do it, it’s already flitted away, dissolving back into the fog. Only occasionally do you manage to hold onto your thoughts long enough to act on them.

It’s late afternoon when you get a text from Jodie. You’re tempted not to answer it, but you suspect you are in some way committed to helping her finish the music video. Or at least she thinks you are. It’ll be easier to make a clean break once that project wraps.

She’s given you a simple errand. Her tailor in Remadale has the modifications to one of her dresses ready--the dress she’ll be wearing in the video she’s making after the current one. So Jodie needs you to pick it up for her. Tonight.

You chew your lip, considering. Part of you--most of you--wants to refuse. To at least stick to only working on her current project instead of getting roped into future projects again. But…maybe playing nice for now is best. You don’t think she’s going to take legal action over you keeping Tenna, but…maybe it’s best to keep your inevitable parting as amicable as possible.

You glance at your screen, sighing softly. Seeing as you’ve done fuckall else today, maybe a two hour drive to Remadale could be a way to clear your head while still maintaining the thin veneer of mild productivity.

Four hours roundtrip though…You’ll be back well after dark. You’re honestly not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. Does Tenna even want to see you? Maybe he’d like having the apartment to himself for an evening--or at least part of the evening.

You quickly write up a note for him, punching a small hole in it with the pencil before heading into the living room.

“Hey Tenna,” you say, carefully looping the note over his antenna. “I um. S-Sorry if you…don’t actually want these notes anymore…but I’m going out for a bit. Er, awhile. Probably four or five hours or so? A bit more if traffic’s bad, a bit less if it’s not…So you’ll be on your own for a bit when you get up,” you explain. “I gotta run an errand for Jodie, but…I promise, when I get back, we’ll do whatever you want. TV, games, popcorn…you name it!” you say with a small, hopeful smile, which fades almost immediately as you wring your hands. “Or um…if…you’d rather not do any of that…we don’t have to…” you say, trying not to sound too upset at the prospect. “A-Anyway, I’ll…see you when I get back, alright?” you say, giving him a light pat before heading out.

Like this morning, he has no way to give any sort of meaningful answer, so he remains off and silent.

The deadbolt clicks into place as you lock your door behind you, and your apartment falls silent. The quiet only lasts an hour before the sound of the door unlocking is once again heard.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this, Jodie…” Austin says, and from his tone it’s clear that he’s already repeated himself several times, and he’s now at the tail end of a losing argument. “This is bre--”

Jodie shushes him and pulls the door shut so quickly he has to jump out of the way to avoid his coat being caught in the door. “It is not!” She gestures to the door, waving her hand in front of the doorknob as if showing it off. “No scuffs, no scratches, no signs of forced entry. And I have several texts saying I can ‘pop by whenever’ and they’ve yet to tell me otherwise. That TV is mine, and I’m taking it.”

“B--”

He can barely get a single letter out before Jodie lets out an overly sweet, saccharine laugh. “Austin…you know I hate repeating myself,” she says, leaning towards him and twirling one of his hoodie strings around her finger. Her eyes harden and her sweet smile becomes visibly forced. “So stop making me do it, alright?” she chirps before abruptly turning away.

Austin’s face is beet red as he readjusts his hoodie, awkwardly clearing his throat. “R-Right…s-sorry, Jodie…”

She moves to stand in front of the TV, frowning when she notices the note on its antenna. She tugs on it, tearing it off unceremoniously.

“‘Running an errand. Be back around nine or ten’,” she reads. Her frown deepens. “Who the hell is this for…?” she wonders.

“Is it possible they’re expecting company?” Austin wonders.

Jodie crumples the note in her hand, tossing it aside with a scoff. “Doubt it.” A brief hint of uncertainty passes over her face, and she shakes her head. “Let’s just get this done with,” she says, pulling a hair tie from her pocket. She holds it in her teeth while she uses both hands to gather up her long hair before tying it into place.

“Agreed,” Austin says, watching as she reaches down to unplug Tenna.

The cord doesn’t budge.

Jodie frowns, yanking it a bit harder. Still nothing. Austin moves to stand beside her and she releases the cord, stepping back. “You try it,” she says irritably.

Austin grabs the cord in both hands and pulls. The plate on the outlet twitches slightly but the plug shows no sign of loosening. He drops the cord and grips the plug itself. He can’t even wiggle it, much less loosen it.

“Jeeze,” he mutters, stepping back and shaking his hands out. “Did they glue it in there or something?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jodie scoffs. “It’s a shitty old TV. The prongs were probably bent and it just got jammed.” She smirks, letting out an amused chuckle. “Wonder if that’s why they didn’t want to give it up? They don’t want to admit they fucked up their outlet trying to plug the thing in.”

Austin shrugs. “Maybe…It…does make a bit more sense than it being alive…”

Jodie snorts, staring at him with raised brows while he tries at the cord again. “A bit?” she scoffs.

“Well--I mean, more than a bit, but…they’re both…weird things to lie about, don’t you think?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, but one’s possible and the other’s not.”

“True…” Austin braces his feet against the wall, gripping the cord in both hands, holding it tightly while he pushes against the wall. He strains so hard his face turns red, a vein twitching near his temple. Soon his hands slip and he stumbles back, and Jodie has to quickly sidestep to avoid his head bumping into her shins.

“Man, that’s really in there…” Austin says, sitting up.

She sighs, rolling her eyes. “Let’s just cut the wire,” she says, heading to the kitchen to look for a pair of scissors.

“While it’s plugged in?!” Austin protests, scrambling to his feet.

Jodie gives him a patronizing look as she pulls a pair of utility scissors out of the junk drawer. “After turning off the breaker, obviously!” she says, rolling her eyes as she pushes the drawer shut.

“D’you know where that is?”

“A closet probably. It’s not like it’s a big apartment. It’ll be faster to find it than for you to keep fucking with the wire,” she says, waving a hand in the direction of the TV.

Austin’s cheeks pinken and he gives a sheepish shrug, reluctantly conceding that she’s probably right.

As they begin their search, the TV suddenly switches on at full volume, filling the apartment with the sound of heavy metal screaming from some concert.

Both Jodie and Austin nearly jump out of their skins at the sudden burst of sound, but Jodie’s the first to recover.

“T-Turn it off!” she snaps.

Austin quickly scrambles to do so, and the two are granted a reprieve from the loud music. But as soon as Austin stands up, the TV turns on and they’re once again accosted by the noise, this time with the discordant chaos of rapidly flipping channels.

“I said TURN IT OFF!” Jodie cries, both her hands over her ears.

“I just did! You saw me turn it off!” Austin snaps back, hitting the power button again. Yet as soon as he takes a step away from the TV, it starts on again.

“Oh for the love of--” Jodie snarls. She waves her hands, shaking her head. “Forget it. It’ll be off once the breaker’s off and then it is never coming back on again,” she huffs, storming into your room in search of a breaker box. “Why it is so fucking complicated to just get a TV?” she mutters to herself.

Jodie’s guess about the breaker box is right, and she and Austin find it in the back of your bedroom closet. Out of an abundance of caution, they flip all the switches, plunging your apartment into darkness. And more importantly, silence.

They return to the living room. The fading sunlight outside is enough to see by with the lights off, but just barely.

Austin gives one last half-hearted pull on the cord before Jodie passes him the scissors. Even with utility scissors, the cord is a struggle to cut through, but Austin grits his teeth and keeps at it until finally the cord is severed.

The plug falls from the outlet, landing on the floor with a dull thud.

Austin and Jodie exchange a perplexed glance.

“Now it comes out?” Jodie asks dubiously. She scoffs, shaking her head. “Whatever,” she mutters, throwing up her hands and returning to your room to switch the breakers back on.

While she’s doing that, Austin frowns at the severed plug on the floor, picking it up. It looks perfectly normal. Undamaged, unwarped…What had made it get so stuck like that?

The lights come back on and in a moment Jodie emerges from the hallway. “Alright, let’s get outta here. This has already taken like ten times longer than it should have.”

To that, Austin nods in reluctant agreement, absently tucking the severed cord into his hoodie pocket before crouching down to lift the TV and carry it out.

The late evening sun illuminates the parking lot in an orange glow, and the shadows stretch across the asphalt.

They tuck the TV into the back of Austin’s Prius, heading to Jodie’s house. She lives outside of town--the tradeoff of buying a home young was buying one that was a bit out in the boonies. The road they take to her place is long and empty, with little to look at other than fields of corn.

The first ten minutes pass in silence before Austin finally speaks. “D’you…think there’s…something odd about all this?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, like…you think maybe…they’re…going through something?”

Jodie scoffs, shaking her head. “Austin, we’re all going through something. It’s called ‘living in 2025’,” she chuckles.

“I-I mean, this…this whole thing with the TV…being alive?”

She rolls her eyes. “Just some dumb bit they made up to stall us.” She rubs her temples. “Ever since that stupid Kickstarter of theirs flopped they’ve been jealous of me. Face it, Austin, they stopped taking my projects seriously when they started working on that dumb game…and now they’re salty nothing came of it.”

“I-I mean, s-sure,” he says awkwardly. Uncertainly, even. “But…the TV being alive, that’s…I dunno, it’s…not really like them?”

Jodie shrugs. “They were never a good liar.”

“That’s just it, though! I…I don’t think they’re lying…”

She gives him a deadpan look before laughing. “What, you think the TV might actually be alive?” she sneers.

He briefly glances at her with an unimpressed look. “Of course not,” he says plainly. “I didn’t say they were right, I said they weren’t lying.”

This gives Jodie pause, and she raises a brow. “You think they might actually believe their own nonsense?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe?” he says uncertainly.

Jodie glances out her window, watching as the sun finally disappears below the horizon. “Well then maybe some time apart from the thing will do ‘em good,” she quips wryly.

BZZZZZT!!!

Jodie and Austin jolt at the sound of a gameshow buzzer coming from the trunk, Austin being so startled the car actually swerves a bit.

The car screeches to a halt and the pair frantically turn around to face the back seat.

A human-sized Tenna is grinning at them, his arms draped over the back seat as he kneels on the floor of the trunk. “Incorrect!! Ten out of ten experts agree! No good can come of separating a Darkner from his Lightner! So with that in mind…” His screen goes dark, only his large, toothy grin remaining. “Let. Me. Out.”

Jodie barely lets him finish before letting out a shriek, frantically shouting at Austin to let the stranger out while simultaneously screaming at Tenna in a chaotic, intelligible string of demands and threats peppered with a lot of cursing.

Austin’s panicked protests are not much more coherent as he quickly reaches under the steering wheel to release the trunk and immediately screaming at Tenna to “Get the fuck out of my car!”

The trunk door pops open behind Tenna, and he smirks at Jodie and Austin, doing a casual half salute. “Well, thank ya kindly!” he chirps smugly, pushing it open and starting to climb out.

He’s still sitting on the back of the car, his feet having barely touched the ground when Jodie screams, “GO! JUST GO!”

Before Tenna can quip that he’d love nothing more, Austin slams on the gas. The tires spin against the gravelly shoulder, the rubber screaming as the car lurches forward abruptly, causing Tenna to tumble out the back of the car with a yelp.

The Prius swerves down the empty road with its trunk wide open, the panicked screaming of Jodie and Austin echoing across the darkening roadway.

*

You arrive at the tailor shortly before their close time--8PM. The woman who owns the shop, along with a helper you guess to be her daughter based on resemblance, glance up in surprise when you enter. The daughter hides her apprehension better than her mother, no doubt worried that whatever business you have with them will keep them well after close.

You do your best to smile reassuringly as you say, “I’m just here for a pickup.”

They both visibly relax at that. “What’s the name on the order?” the daughter asks.

“Jodie Rafferton.”

She frowns, not recognizing the name, but types it into the computer all the same. Her frown deepens. “Can you spell that please?”

You do so. Still nothing.

“Er, maybe try Jodie Morgan?” you say, offering her stage name.

“Sorry, nothing under that name either.”

You give your own name, and even Austin’s for good measure. Still nothing.

“Let me text her,” you say apologetically, and they’re gracious enough to let you stay at the counter while they finish closing. You text her, then even try calling her, something you know will annoy her but she’s left you no other options at this point.

Of course, you get no reply. The texts remain unanswered and the call goes to voicemail. Not too long ago you’d’ve fretted and pleaded with the store owners to wait and let you try to figure something out, to please just wait a few more minutes because you’re sure she’ll reply any minute and you can get everything sorted--

“Any luck?” the mother says as they begin switching off the lights in the back of the store.

You sigh, dropping your phone into your hoodie pocket and shaking your head. You force a polite smile. “No, she’s…probably busy. We’ll just…have to figure it out tomorrow. Or whenever,” you shrug. You don’t bother telling them it’s a two hour drive each way. No need to guilt them with that bit of trivia.

“Well, sorry about that,” she says, clearly genuine in her wish that your quest had gone better, but there’s little any of you can do about that now.

You nod graciously and make your exit, letting them finish closing up.

It’s not the first time Jodie’s unresponsiveness to questions has caused issue. Wasting four hours of your time for absolutely nothing is certainly a record, but not one you care to dwell on.

Not when you have a TV to get home to.

*

Eventually, Jodie and Austin’s panic subsides, and several minutes of tense silence pass before Austin finally speaks.

“S-So, um…that--”

“Was a prank. A prank,” she says in a short, clipped tone. “They got some guy to hide in the TV and pop out to scare us!” she says. Her tone is mostly one of anger, but there’s an undercurrent of desperation.

“That’s impossible! There’s no--”

“AND A LIVING TV THAT COMES TO LIFE AT NIGHT ISN’T?” she shrieks. “God!! They’re just trying to make us think we’re as crazy as they are.” Before Austin can reply, she whirls on him. “And it seems to be working!” she growls, pointing at him accusingly.

“B-But…how--”

“It doesn’t matter how! That’s just what they want--to get us distracted. Get us spinning our wheels figuring out their dumbass little trick. And waste our fucking time.” She waves a hand. “Forget it. We’re not playing their dumb games. I’ll take the L on the TV. Be an actual adult about it instead of this petty prank bullshit.”

Austin stares at the road ahead, his shoulders tense as he grips the wheel. “Y-Yeah…yeah, you’re probably right.”

*

Tenna’s bravado had faded almost as soon as he’d tumbled out of the trunk, his back striking the road’s gravelly shoulder. Fortunately his Darkner form can take far more hits than the average CRT, so he’s at least undamaged.

…Or at least, just as undamaged as he was when they’d loaded him up. He reaches around to grab his cord, pulling it in front of him to examine it. He shudders at the sight of it, quickly releasing it and letting it swing back out of sight. Well, there’ll be no more daytime TV for…awhile. Possibly ever.

He glances up at the darkening sky. There won’t be any nighttime TV either if he can’t find his way back to you.

Being stolen is every Darkner’s worst fear. Being given away or sold is painful, and in the moment can certainly feel worse. It is, after all, a type of rejection. Being dismissed before one’s time hurts and it’s a hurt Tenna himself has certainly struggled with before. More than once.

Eventually, though, there’s a certain acceptance, a peace even, to be found. A Darkner could eventually feel as if they’d completed their duties. That they left their Lightner better than they’d found them. That their services were no longer required. That, at the very least, their Lightner has found some path to happiness, even if it’s not one that includes them.

But to be stolen? To be separated from their Lightner when their Lightner still wanted them? Still needed them? To be torn apart at the behest of some stranger?

It’s hard to imagine anything worse.

How is he ever going to get back to you? He has no idea where he is. Or where you are. He doesn’t even know what your apartment building looks like from the outside. Nor your car. He doesn’t know your phone number or your address…Maybe he could ask someone for help, if he just pretends his head is part of some elaborate costume. But…the twinges of pain running up his cord and along his back make him very reluctant to go near another human besides you ever again.

He shivers nervously. The sky’s so high and the world’s so big…he’d feel tiny out here even at his full height. But the futility of his situation presses in around him, causing him to shrink more and more with every passing thought.

But maybe even that’s not so terrible. At only six inches tall, with his screen darkened, he won’t attract the attention of any cars that pass him in the night. He can just…head down the road, in the direction he’d come from, and then…

What? He doesn’t know.

He hopes you’re looking for him, but…what if you’re not? You’d given him permission to leave…what if you assume he’d simply taken your offer? What if you never realize how desperately he wants you to find him?

Tenna shudders, hugging himself as his antennae droop miserably. This morning you’d wept at just the thought of giving him up to a “better” home. You’d cried at the thought of being apart from him. He wishes now that he’d responded in some way, but…he’d been so sure he’d have a chance to tell you how much you still mean to him once the sun set.

The thought of you just…thinking he’d left…thinking he would just leave without a word…It damn near shatters him.

*

“Tenna, I’m home!” you call out as you step into your apartment.

You’re sadly not surprised when you don’t receive an answer, but something about just how quiet and still your apartment is makes you immediately ill at ease.

“...Tenna?” you say, stepping into the living room, frowning when you find it empty. Something twists in your gut and you try to steady your breathing as you quickly check your office and your room…and even the bathroom and the closets despite knowing he has no reason to be in any of those places.

Your heart sinks as you return to the living room, and your eyes fall on the crumpled note. You know what it is but you still uncrumple it to make sure it’s indeed the note you’d left him this afternoon.

In your mind’s eye you see a vivid image of him waking up, ripping the note off his antenna in annoyance, and heading out the door.

But where would he go? Would he just find a thrift store and leave himself on the curb? Maybe an electronics store? Just park himself somewhere he’d be found and…roll the dice?

As for being seen, you assume anyone who does would just assume it’s some kind of costume. Halloween’s only a few weeks away…but he’d still stand out quite a bit.

You’re sure whatever he’s doing is a mistake…but perhaps it’s his mistake to make.

You suck in a breath, wiping the tears from your cheeks and getting to your feet. You can’t just let him throw himself into the big wide world just yet. You can’t completely stop him, of course, but…you can extend the olive branch one last time. Beg him to tolerate you for just a little longer, if only to make sure he lands somewhere safe.

So you head out and begin your search.

Chapter Text

You can’t even begin to guess where Tenna might have gone. Actually, you do have a few rough guesses--very rough--but not enough to narrow things down in a way that feels even remotely helpful.

He’s limited to walking, and he doesn’t know the area. So it’s unlikely he’s gone far. Is he going to try to find a new home directly or set himself up in a thrift store? Maybe he’s already been taken in by one of your neighbors…

Well…if he has, he’s safe, but you’re still going to search around nearby in case that’s not what happened.

You drive slowly around the complex first, then to the surrounding apartment complexes, then the nearby streets, shops, and neighborhoods, methodically circling the area around your apartment.

You try to check various social media posts in your area to see if someone’s posted a picture of the “cool cosplay” they might have seen. At least, you hope that’s what any pictures of Tenna get tagged as.

There’s no sign of him anywhere.

By 3 AM, your head is pounding and your eyes feel itchy. After a momentary debate on if you should find an open gas station or go back to your apartment--which you’re still only a fifteen minute drive from--you decide on the latter.

Maybe Tenna will be there. Maybe he’ll have changed his mind and returned.

That thought gives you a boost of energy and you practically dash out of the elevator and down the hall to your unit, hoping Tenna will be standing outside your door waiting for you.

He isn’t. He isn’t, and your fatigue hits you like a brick wall as that bit of hope disappears. You’re wavering slightly as you shuffle down the hall to your apartment.

Once inside, you vow not to sit down. You’re so tired that it’ll be difficult, maybe even impossible, to get up again if you do. You make yourself a coffee, eating a couple breakfast bars while it brews. They taste like clay in your mouth and you struggle to get through them. You don’t actually have any appetite--just a desire to stay busy while the coffee brews so you don’t fall asleep.

Your desperation to get yourself caffeinated enough to power through another few hours of searching causes you to burn your mouth on the still-too-hot coffee…which does wake you up a bit, if not in the way you’d hoped.

Back to searching.

More sidestreets, alleyways behind stores, strip malls, any electronics store you can find…

There’s no sign of him.

You’re parked in a random parking lot, about twenty minutes from your apartment. It’s nothing remarkable. None of them have been. Your headache had never fully gone away, but it had been bearable for the past few hours. The coffee and acetaminophen can’t keep it at bay anymore. You need sleep. The stars have disappeared from the sky and the inky blankness of night has faded to the purply hue of pre-dawn.

You rub your hands over your tired eyes. Where could he have gone? You’re already farther out than he could have walked…

Farther out than a human could have walked, anyway. He’s twenty feet tall…if he really booked it, who could say how far he could get?

But if he were running down the road at twenty feet tall, he’d surely be seen…right?

He could be anywhere. He could be places you’ve already looked. He could be miles and miles away. He could be in your next door neighbor’s apartment for all you know.

It’s hopeless. It’s completely hopeless. You’ll never find out what happened to him, you just have to hope he’s okay because you’ll never know, you’ll never see him--

You clench your jaw, biting back a sob and wiping the tears from your cheeks. You’re just tired. It’s not that bleak. There’s still hope. You’re just tired.

Maybe you should sleep…

But how can you sleep without knowing Tenna’s safe?

Then again, it’s not as if passing out in your car will help anyone…

Your mind’s second attempt at spiraling is interrupted when your phone buzzes. You grab at it more out of instinct than anything, but as you swipe your code to unlock it, you find yourself hoping against hope that it’s somehow something helpful.

A text from Austin. You sigh in disgust and nearly toss the phone into the passenger seat before the first two words in the preview text catch your eye.

Your TV

You quickly tap the message, displaying the full text.

“Your TV got out on Holly Creek Rd. That stretch between the two churches.”

You stare at it in stunned silence, your fatigue slowing your ability to parse the full implications of his message. In the couple seconds you spend staring at it, he sends another.

“I don’t know what’s going on with him. Or you. But thought you should know.”

If the phrase “Your TV got out” didn’t confirm he knows what Tenna is, the fact that Austin referred to Tenna as “he” rather than “it” certainly does.

Everything suddenly snaps into place.

The bullshit errand. The spare key.

Tenna hadn’t left. He’d been taken!

You suck in a shuddering gasp, tears stinging in your eyes. Your hands are shaking as you start your car.

You can’t even spare yourself a moment of joy over the fact that Tenna hadn’t chosen to leave you. He must be so scared…You assume Jodie and Austin must have taken him while it was still daylight. He would have been aware of them moving him, but helpless to stop them until dark…

But sunset had been hours ago…why had Austin texted you now? What had happened in the several hours between Tenna waking up and now?

Doesn’t matter. You don’t have it in you to care why Austin did what he did. You don’t have a single thought to spare for him--neither gratitude nor condemnation. All you care about is finding Tenna and bringing him home.

Of course, you know the stretch of road Austin’s talking about. The road leading to Jodie’s place has little in the way of landmarks and you don’t know the names of the intersecting streets offhand. But you know there are two churches separated by about two miles of corn fields, and that’s where Tenna must have gotten out.

…Had he jumped? Just bailed? Had they at least stopped to let him out?

You pray he wasn’t damaged in the process.

You do your best not to give into the temptation to speed--at least not by any more than five miles above the limit. The last thing you need is to be pulled over. Tickets and driving records be damned, you just don’t have the time to spare for a traffic stop.

The purply pre-dawn sky is rapidly lightning into the pale blue of morning, and your heart sinks as you realize you’re not going to reach Tenna before sunrise. Will he stay near the road? Will he hide? Are you going to have to come back at night to continue your search?

You pass the first church and slow down, turning your high beams on to chase away the lingering shadows on the side of the road. You chew your lip as you scan the shoulder, looking for any hint of--

There! A big, boxy CRT resting beside the road, slightly askew on the uneven gravel.

You slam your brakes so hard that the screech echoes across the cornfields, causing several birds in the nearby trees to take flight. Long, black skid marks are left on the road. The faint scent of burned rubber hands in the otherwise fresh morning air as you scramble out of your car. You don’t even bother to close the door or take the keys before dashing the twenty feet between Tenna and where your car had stopped.

“Tenna!” you cry breathlessly, collapsing in front of him and hugging him close as best you can. “I’m here. I’m here, Tenna…I’m taking you home…” you whisper, tears running down your cheeks.

You give him a brief squeeze that you hope gives him some comfort before hooking your hands under him, lifting him up with a slight grunt and carrying back to your car. You briefly set him down to pop the trunk, then lift him into it. As you’re gathering up his cord, you finally notice the end of it.

It’s been cut.

You gasp, glancing at Tenna’s screen. Of course, he gives no reaction.

“Oh Tenna…” you say, gently curling his cord beside him. You rest your hand against the side of his screen as if cupping his cheek. “I’m sure I can figure out how to fix--” You cut yourself off, wincing at your own uncertain phrasing. “I’ll--” Maybe you should quit while you’re ahead. You sigh softly, gently running your hand over the side of his screen. “I’ll get you home now,” you say softly.

You get back into the driver’s seat, taking a breath to steady yourself before heading home.

At a stoplight, you glance back at him briefly, seeing his antennae poking up behind the back seat. “I hope you’re not in too much pain,” you say, once again facing forward once the light turns green.

It’s not a long drive home, but you feel compelled to fill the silence.

“First thing when we get home, I’m getting the locks changed. I should have taken the key back the other day, but…I just…I didn’t think. I never thought she’d…do something like this…” You sigh, shaking your head. “I’m done with them both. You’ll never need to see either of ‘em again. And I hope I won’t either.”

You focus on the road, gripping the steering wheel tightly to keep your hands from shaking. “I…I’m really glad you’re safe though, Tenna. You--you’ve been…a really good friend.” You pause, forcing a weak, tired smile. “And a wonderful TV, of course,” you add warmly.

You think you see one of his antennae twitch in slight acknowledgement, but maybe that’s just it shifting due to a bumpy patch of road.

You arrive back at your apartment and carry him upstairs. Once you do, you realize how dirty he is from being outside. Dust from the road had coated him during the night and been semi-solidified by the morning dew, covering him in a thin layer of grime.

You frown worriedly, debating if you should call maintenance about the new locks or clean Tenna first. Once you check the time, you realize it’s too early to call. So the decision is made for you.

“I’ll get you cleaned up, then call maintenance once they open, alright?” you say, giving him a light pat.

The cleaning is considerably easier than it had been the day you’d brought him home. The layer of dirt he’d accumulated over night is far thinner, and hasn’t set as deeply into his seams and buttons. But you’re no less thorough--you give him the full spa treatment with rubbing alcohol and cotton swabs.

“I hope the moisture hasn’t done any damage…” you say, peering through the side vents on his casing. But the view is too obstructed for you to glean much, even if you had known what to look for. “I think I’ll just let that air dry…the compressed air might make it worse…” you muse, absently resting a hand atop him as you think aloud.

What if it’s already worse? What if the moisture and dirt inside him has already done something?

The uncertainty of the situation hits you in a wave and you clear your throat awkwardly. “I…I really hope…you’re doing alright…” you say softly. Impulsively, you lean forward and wrap your arms around him, hugging him again. “I’m…I’m going to see about getting those locks changed now…” you say.

You stay seated beside him, one arm resting atop him as you call maintenance.

It’s a straightforward enough call. You give your name and unit, then state you need your locks changed because you lost a key. They confirm the $200 fine, and of course confirm that it will not be refunded even if you find the lost key. You agree to both conditions readily, and they ask no further questions. No inquiry on if you’d loaned the key out, or where you might have lost it.

Just as well. You’re not exactly in an explaining mood right now.

They’ll be by sometime in the afternoon, giving you the wide window of 12PM to 4PM.

So…you have awhile to wait. You’re reluctant to go even two feet away from Tenna knowing Jodie still has unfettered access to your apartment. You carefully move him into the bedroom, away from the main room of your apartment.

It’s a bit paranoid perhaps, but your brain is so fried from being up all night that the possibility of Jodie coming back for Round 2 seems like an actually plausible threat.

The chances of that may be slim…but they’re not zero.

“I hope you’ll be alright in here for the day…” you say to Tenna as you crouch before him. You smile wryly at him, your eyelids drooping with fatigue. “I’d stay in here with you but I can’t fall asleep just yet…” you say. “But I’ll be just in the living room, waiting for maintenance. I promise, nobody else is getting in here,” you assure him. You pull yourself to your feet before you get too comfortable, giving him another pat on the head and closing the bedroom door behind you. One more barrier between him and the main door.

You even go as far as to hook a dining room chair under your door. You’re sure that’s a move of utmost paranoia, but…you don’t trust yourself to stay fully awake and alert until maintenance arrives.

And, as you predicted, you don’t. You refuse to lay down on the couch, but even sitting upright has you drifting in and out, occasionally being snapped rudely back to reality every time your head slumps forward enough for your chin to hit you in the chest.

You try to putter around on your phone to stay awake, but everything on the small screen blurs together and leaves you more tired and dizzy than when you’d started.

Finally, maintenance knocks on your door. You quickly move the chair aside, opening it up for them.

The old man’s brows raise when he sees the state of you, but you force a polite smile and his expression softens.

“You look like you were up all night looking for those keys,” he chuckles sympathetically.

You laugh weakly. “Oh, uh, yeah kinda…” you say vaguely.

Lucky for you, he doesn’t make any more smalltalk than that, passing you two new sets of keys and having you sign a form committing to the $200 fee before getting to work installing the new lock.

It’s quick enough work, over and done with in less than ten minutes. He bids you farewell with a gentle quip about “Keep an eye on those ones, now!” before moving on to his next appointment.

And once more, your domicile is secure.

You allow yourself to lay down on the couch, resting your eyes for a few hours until sunset. You’re still ill at ease at the thought of falling fully asleep while Tenna’s still vulnerable…but that comes from a place of fatigue-driven paranoia rather than any actual danger now.

As the light from the window fades from yellowy afternoon sun to the orangey glow of dusk, you get up and move Tenna back to his usual spot beside the TV stand. You take a seat next to him, waiting for him to wake up.

You don’t even try to hazard a guess at what his reaction will be. You don’t dare to hope for anything when he wakes up, other than that he will wake up.

You don’t see the sun dip below the horizon, but you do feel the TV shift slightly as Tenna begins to stir. Just like he had three nights ago, the TV lifts off the ground as his body appears beneath him. And, just like he had then…

“Oh sweetheart!” he cries, scooping you up into a hug once he reaches his human height--a hug with markedly more urgency than the last one. “Oh I’m so sorry for making you worry all day, I wish I’d had some way to tell you I was alright! But I’m so glad you found me!” he gushes, nuzzling his forehead against yours. You feel the smooth glass and fuzzy static of his screen against your forehead, and his nose bumps against your upper arm.

Your relief is immediately replaced with shame. “Tenna, you shouldn’t be apologizing to me!” you blurt out, mortified that he would think he has anything to apologize for.

“But you were so worried when you thought I’d been…” he trails off, not wanting to admit how much worse the misadventure could have gone for him.

“I know, and…I’m so glad you’re safe…” you say, pulling away slightly. He takes the hint and opens his arms, letting you step back from him. “But…you were…so upset…I’d…understand if you’re still upset with me, after…everything…” you mumble.

“I’m not!” he says quickly. “Even if I’m not your TV…you’re still my Lightner,” he says fondly.

You blink as the phrasing causes something to click into place. “Oh…” you murmur aloud.

Tenna flinches at your response. “O-Or, i-if you’d…rather not be! We can just be friends! Plain ol’ ordinary friends, nothing wrong with that!” he says quickly. Even if you hadn’t noticed how forced his laugh is, the fact that he can’t say that without shrinking down to less than a foot tall betrays how upset he is at the notion.

“Tenna, no, that’s not--!” It’s heartbreaking enough to see him so upset, but his desperate attempt to play along and placate you…it damn near threatens to break you. But you clear your throat and steady yourself. “I’d be honored to be your Lightner,” you say, reaching forward and gently cupping your hands around him, watching for any signs that he would shy away from your touch.

He all but melts into your hands, slumping against your hand and wrapping his arms around your thumb, his blank screen resting against it.

You gently lift him up. “I…I know I’m not exactly everything you wanted in a Lightner, but…you’re more than I could ever ask for in a TV…and…in a friend…”

He glances sharply at you, too alarmed at the self-deprecating remark to fluster at the compliment. “Oh, sweetheart! Don’t say that! You’re everything any Darkner could ever want of their Lightner!”

You scoff weakly, giving a roll of your eyes. “Except I’m not even a real Lightner.”

“You are to me,” he says softly. “Maybe you’re not the same as the Lightners in the Light World, but…you’re still my Lightner.”

You glance down at him, your cheeks warming as the sentiment makes your heart skip a beat. You’re still not fully aware of the differences between Lightners and yourself, of whatever small detail he’d noticed that first night that made him realize you’re not a true Lightner, just something similar to one…

But the warmth and fondness in his voice as he reassures you, combined with the knowledge that whatever little bit of Lightner you’re missing, he’d still want you to fill that important--maybe even sacred--role in his life…

“And…you’re my TV,” you say gently.

His gaze shoots up to you, his screen turning back on to reveal his stunned expression. He quickly turns away, laughing nervously. “O-Oh, that’s…that’s alright, you made it…clear that’s…not how things are done here…‘When in Rome’, right?” he says with a forced laugh, quoting a phrase he’d picked up from one of your movie nights.

“Tenna, we’re not in Rome. We’re in my apartment,” you say pointedly. “We…We need to figure out something that works for us, not what works in ‘my’ world or the Light World or the Dark World…right?”

“Sure thing! Whatever you want!” he chirps. Despite his perky tone, the underlying nervousness is unmistakable.

“Tenna…” you sigh, your exasperation causing him to flinch away from you even as he sits in your hands. You take a breath, once again steadying yourself. Fatigue pounds at your temples but you need to get this sorted out, and you need to do it without upsetting him.

“This world…is different,” you say. “I don’t know how Lightners would have felt about…realizing their furniture and appliances and whatnot are sapient. Maybe they’re…better equipped to understand it than I am.

“But in this world…claming ‘ownership’ over a sapient being…it’s…it’s wrong, and it feels wrong…”

“Then we don’t have to! It’s fine, really--”

“Tenna!”

You both flinch at your snappy tone and you once again try to steady yourself.

“I…I realized that…when you say I’m your Lightner, that’s not ‘ownership’...”

“Of course not!” he agrees readily, shaking his head and looking slightly mortified that you would even consider that possibility.

“So…maybe you being my TV doesn’t have to mean that either.”

He watches you, the image of his mouth making it look as if he’s chewing his lip in thought.

“The past couple weeks…have been really nice.” You smile softly, too shy to meet his gaze. “I haven’t…really told you how nice. I used to just…pretty much work on my editing all day. I didn’t really have a personal life anymore. I’d get up, eat breakfast at my desk, try to start working before my brain was fully up, and just…spend the day in a haze. I might take a break and read random stuff online that I was barely even interested in, just to fill time until my brain recharged enough to get back to work. I didn’t really…sit down and watch things, or play games, or…do anything…fun…

“I didn’t even really realize it had gotten that bad until you came along. But…having breakfast with you, and then hearing you start up the popcorn to get me out of my office, knowing there’s…someone waiting for me at the end of the day…” Your cheeks warm at how…domestic the phrasing sounds, but you don’t walk it back. “And something to do other than work. Just…watching stuff other than what I’m editing, has been…really nice. I didn’t even realize how much I’d missed it. And the thing is, I’m working less hours but getting the same amount done because I can focus again, I’m motivated again!”

He stares at you, the top of his screen curving as he raises his brows in awe, his whole screen pinkening at your impassioned monologue.

You lift your hands slightly, holding him up to eye level. “You’re a wonderful friend and a wonderful TV…and maybe…it doesn’t matter so much where one ends and one begins. I…I want you to be my TV…in the same way I’m your Lightner. And…my friend, too…”

You barely have time to notice he’s growing before he becomes too big to sit in your hands. He jumps back, landing on his knees in front of you and wrapping his arms around you as he grows to his full size.

He hugs you tightly to his chest, the bottom of his screen nuzzling gently against the top of your head. It’s certainly different than the hug you’d shared when he’d been human-sized…You’re standing on his lap, his torso alone is taller than you, and his arms all but engulf you in his embrace.

“I’d love that…” he whispers softly, his voice breaking.

“Me too,” you say. With the way he’s clutching you so tightly, pinning your arms at your sides, you can’t exactly return the hug, but you can rest your cheek against his chest, relaxing in his arms and letting him hold you as long as he needs.

After a few moments, you can’t help but ask, “How…are you feeling? Physically? Your cord--” You cut yourself off, unable to even make yourself say it.

He brings his cord around, allowing you to look at it.

“That…must be painful…” you say.

Tenna shrugs glumly. “It’s faded a bit. I’ll…get used to it eventually.” He forces a tense smile. “N-No more…daytime TV…s-so we…won’t be having breakfast together anymore…”

Your expression softens and you reach up to cup the bottom of his screen in one hand. “I’ll still have breakfast with you Tenna. If you want.”

He slumps, letting the weight of his screen rest against your hand. “Even though I won’t be very good company?”

“You’re still you, Tenna. You’re always good company. Besides…I think your cord is fixable.”

Tenna perks up at that, his antennae straightening. “You think so?”

You nod. “Yeah, replacing a power cord is…I-I mean, I…don’t know how to do it, offhand, but…it’s doable. I’m…sure I can figure out what’s needed…”

He smiles softly, putting his hands around your shoulders and cradling your face in his thumbs. “You really are the perfectest little Lightner, aren’t you?”

Your cheeks burn at both the closeness and the sentiment and you lower your gaze shyly. “W-Well, let’s…let’s not get too excited before I actually fix it, yeah?” you laugh awkwardly. Your smile fades and you ask, “What even made them cut it?”

His antennae drop and he averts his gaze, a pained frown on his face. “I…I wouldn’t let them unplug me. I…I thought…if I just held on…kept my plug in the wall, they…they might just give up…” he says in a small voice. “O-Or…m-maybe…I could stall them long enough…f-for you to come back…”

“You were…fighting that hard to stay…?” you say, stunned.

“Of course! Oh, sweetheart, I…I know I was upset but…leaving you…” He shakes his head. “Never. I never wanted that.” He lowers his head, his antennae dangling morosely in front of his screen. “I’m sorry I…didn’t respond when you talked about finding me a home…and when you gave me that note…it’s just…without words, I--” He cuts himself off, giving you a gentle squeeze. “...The silence…must have just felt so cold…”

“I-It’s…understandable that you’d…be upset…” you say.

“I-I may have been upset, but…I promise I’d never want to leave you…” He smiles fondly at you, one of his thumbs gently brushing a lock of your hair aside. “I…admit, there was a…a story I’d told myself. About a Lightner who had a taste for retro tech, who’d love an old CRT like me even after I’ve gone out of style…who found me and cleaned me up because I was the most wonderful TV they’d ever seen…”

Your own smile is a bit melancholy and tired as you allow your cheek to rest against his thumb. “I wish I was that. You deserve it,” you say, your fatigue making the sentiment spill out easier than it normally could have.

“Hey now! That script only needed a bit of tweaking, that’s all!” he assures you. “So your wonder was a bit delayed. It took you a minute to see how dreamy and sophisticated I am…but you do see it,” he says, leaning forward with a cheeky grin.

You laugh softly. “I do,” you agree.

“And you realized I was not some mere prop…So you came to my rescue! Twice! My dear knight in shining armor!” he giggles.

Your cheeks warm at that and you glance away shyly. “Well…you deserve it,” you say again. You allow your head to rest more heavily on his thumbs. The fatigue and the fact that you’ve been mostly awake (aside from the barely-a-nap you took this afternoon) for over twenty-four hours now is finally catching up with you.

Your body considers the matter resolved. Tenna is home and happy. Anything else can be dealt with later. It’s no longer keeping you awake, despite your conscious mind wanting to make sure the details are sorted now…Not to mention the desire to not fall asleep on him so soon after he’s awake.

Tenna frowns, leaning forward and peering at you so closely his nose is resting against your arm. Up close, he finally notices how heavy your eyelids are, and the dark circles under your eyes.

“Sweetheart, did…did you sleep last night?” he asks.

You wince, shaking your head.

“Hm,” he lets out a worried hum. “And when’d you last eat?”

Your long silence before replying already tells him he’s not going to like the answer. When all you can muster is an uncertain, “Sometime last night? I think?” it only confirms that.

“Well, that won’t do!” he says, feigning a stern tone but unable to bring himself to actually sound even remotely chastising towards you. He shrinks down enough to stand upright, scooping you up in his arms bridal style as he does, causing you to let out a small squeak of surprise.

“We’re going to get you some food, then get you to bed!” he says with a decisive nod, carrying you over to your dining table and setting you down in one of the chairs.

“You don’t have to--”

“Ah bup bup bup!” He cuts you off, adding another “BUP!” when he sees you open your mouth to protest…even going as far as to put a finger over your lips to silence you.

Your face burns at the little touch, but it does cause you to fall silent.

“Now just wait right there!” he chirps.

You do so, propping your elbow on the table and resting your chin on your hand. You don’t have a great angle to see into the kitchen from here. You wonder what he’s even cooking…Hopefully he has the sense not to make you popcorn right now, though you suppose even picking at a bowl of popcorn is better than going to bed on an empty stomach at this point.

In a few moments, you get your answer when you hear the sound of toast popping up from the toaster. You smile weakly at that. That is your go-to meal for breakfast, and sometimes lunch…so he has taken some note of your tastes, apparently.

Tenna reappears, proudly setting a plate and cup in front of you. The cup is orange juice, one of the more common things you drink with breakfast, and the toast is buttered, just the way you usually make it.

“Just how you like it…right?” he asks hopefully, his severed cord still swishing eagerly behind him.

“It’s wonderful, Tenna. Thank you,” you say.

You swear he lets out a happy little squeak at that before taking a seat across from you. “Y’know, I always notice what the Lightners are doing when they watch TV. Like what foods each of them likes, what they’ve got on their pizza, who salts their popcorn, favorite flavor of chips…” he says wistfully, resting the bottom of his screen against his hand. “It’s nice to be able to finally put that information to use!” he chirps.

Your brain attempts to draw a connection between him cooking for you and the term “TV Dinner” but your wit is currently too sluggish to make any sort of quip worth speaking aloud, so you simply give a weak chuckle as you eat.

Tenna remains seated across from you, his screen resting against his hand. Even though he doesn’t have eyes, there’s still an unabashed fondness in his gaze. There’s a certain dopeyness in his grin as a flower once again sprouts from the tip of his nose.

You can’t help but giggle at the sight, even if you’re not entirely convinced you deserve such warmth and affection from him.

But…that doesn’t mean you can’t earn it. You’ll figure out how to fix his cord. He’ll be your TV and you’ll be his Lightner, and…you’ll do right by him. He’ll be the most cared for and pampered TV in the world!

…Once you figure out what exactly “pampering” is to a TV.

You finish your meal and Tenna is immediately on his feet to take the dishes to the sink. You’re barely out of your own seat by the time he gets back, and you squeak in surprise as he scoops you up again.

“T-Tenna, wait, I need to change!” you say as he carries you into your room.

“Ah! Right!” he says, a bit sheepishly as he lets you down. He waits outside your room for you to change into your PJs. Once you let him back in, he remains human-sized as he kneels beside your bed, resting his screen atop his folded arms.

You get under the covers, rolling over to face him. “I’m…sorry I’m going to sleep so early…and leaving you alone all night…” you say.

He chuckles softly, giving a small shake of his head. “I won’t be alone,” he says kindly, reaching out to take your hand in his. “Besides, I’m just…happy to be home!” he adds with a warm grin.

Home. Him calling your humble apartment home makes your heart skip a beat.

“I’m glad you’re home,” you say, giving his hand a light squeeze, causing him to blush and his happy little nose flower to reappear.

Despite how much you wish you could stay up with him, you’re fading fast. Your hunger had been the last thing truly keeping sleep away, and with that sated your body is absolutely refusing to stay awake anymore.

“We’ll…stay up all night tomorrow,” you mumble. “Maybe…rent something new?”

“I’d love that,” Tenna murmurs fondly, even though he’s pretty sure you’d fallen asleep before you could hear the answer.

He stays beside your bed, holding your hand and looking over your sleeping form illuminated by the glow of his screen.

Three nights ago he’d sat in much the same position. The two nights he’d spent apart from you, one by his own choice and the other very much not, make that little moment feel like a lifetime ago.

Despite some bumps in the road his affection for you has only grown in that short time.

So it hadn’t been love at first sight for you…but it is love. He’s more sure of that now than ever. You love him as a TV, as a friend…and maybe someday you’ll even love him just as he loves you.

But for now, knowing that you do indeed love him is plenty.