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“Are you sure this is a good idea, Spamton?” Tenna questioned as he sat
down on the wooden backstage floor. He was a little hesitant, not wanting to
ask too much of the thing he had covered in foam not an hour before then.
“Of Course, [BIGSHOT!]]! I’ve done this with Queen [now only $1,000!]
times.” Spamton replied, scrambling onto Tenna, just tall enough to reach the
compartment he would clean.
Tenna sighed, and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the compartment in the
middle of his metallic chest. “Well okay, you can touch it, just be gentle.”
Spamton opened the hole in his chest with his screwdriver, revealing dust all
over his insides.
“Woah, [Trash Heap], when’s the last time you were [clean as a whistle!]???”
Spamton dropped his screwdriver and grabbed a rag out of his weathered
toolbox, shakily wiping off the dust. He felt Tenna looking at him intently
despite his lack of eyes. “Someth1ng wr0ng, [B0OB TUBE]?” Spamton said,
squinting through his tinted glasses at Tenna’s wires.
“It’s just been...so long since anyone had cleaned me... especially you.”
Tenna mumbled the last part, hands fidgeting. This was the first time anyone
had offered to even touch him, and so much longer since he and his past
business partner had been alone like this. Except this time, Spamton was
different. A hollow shell of the bigshot he used to seem like.
“Why d’y0u ke3p 5taring at me?” Spamton further implored, searching
around his toolbox, glancing unfocused at Tenna.
Tenna looked away, his screen overheating. “Huh? I don’t have eyes,
Spamton.” That wasn’t fully true, of course, but he didn’t think anyone noticed
what he was looking at.
“I was your partner for y3ars, [[B-B-B-B-BIGSHOT!]], I can tell when you’re
looking at m3.” Spamton reached up into Tenna, brushing off the metal boxes
inside.
“Do you miss when we were business partners? Doing those commercials,
those shows...being with each other?” Tenna asked after a moment. He almost
feared the answer. What if he was never wanted, never needed, even back then,
when he was a star, new to the scene? His screen got darker, and he focused
his attention on what Spamton was doing.
“I miss [be a bigshot!], knowing I had my future ah3ad of me....” Spamton
paused for a moment, his tinted glasses showing through to his teary, tired
eyes. “1 miss having 5omeone who car3d for me, b-b-b-before I was living in
the [TRASH HEAP].” Spamton ran his pale fingers through his hair, a few grey
hairs coming out. Spamton went back to washing Tenna, using an old
toothbrush that didn’t appear to be used.
“That’s still what we can be, what I can be for you,” Tenna replied. He
flinched as Spamton’s jerking arm hit the side of him. He almost reached out,
to hold him, but seeing how puppet-like, how unhealthy his partner looked
now. He didn’t want to think about what made him look like that, what he had
gone through after Spamton left him. He may have been lonely, had fallen off,
but Spamton...there was nothing behind him, all he was now was memories of
their past selves and years of hurt.
“[[NO! NO! PLEASE NO!!] ...I’ve...we’ve changed. We’re [all new!] now.”
Spamton gripped Tenna’s shirt with his shaky hand, not wanting to cause any
harm to Tenna. Not again.
Tenna spoke up after a few minutes. “What happened to you after you left?”
He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer, but sitting with him here
in silence, his partner disappearing into his thoughts alone...that would be so
much worse.
“[you know it folks!], I left you alone; I became [popular! You're gonna be
popular!] ...everyone else left me. I spent my days alone in [[The Trash Heap]]. I
left ev3ryone and they left m3. Spamton said, clearly not ready to talk about it
with him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Tenna asked, desprate for a way to keep
talking to him. Spamton avoided looking at him, scraping away at rust.
“...I’m sorry. For not trying to find you, for not being enough for you, for not
preventing everything that happened to you, for not being a good partner.”
Tenna said. He was apoligetic for everything he had done, really, but what kind
of Lord of Screens would he be if anyone knew what he was really like now. He
would be less than the nothing he was now. Even Spamton could like him even
less. He was always too much, or too little, and never knew what to say.
“Aw, [gee whizz] [BIGSHOT], you...actually care about me?” Spamton said,
desprate for his feelings to be assured, to know someone still loved him, if both
the masses and his friends had left him. He slowed down his cleaning, now not
wanting for this to be over.
“Am I not too [hyperlink blocked] for you? At every turn, it was... all for [that
sweet, sweet sound of Kromer!].” Spamton lied. He didn’t only stay for the
money.
Tenna shrunk down a little, and Spamton felt a little bad. He didn’t need to
lie. Tenna really did care about him, and he would tell him that ninety-nine
times every day if Spamton was more open with him.
“It’s okay, [b-b-b-b-bigshot]! I’m [right as rain]! As long as we have
3achother, everyth1ng will be fine.” Spamton assured, not knowing if he was
telling Tenna or himself. It didn’t matter, because Tenna grew a little, his screen
brightening. That in of itself made Spamton happier, and he breathed a sigh of
relief, not wanting to deal with everything right now. Maybe he would...later.
Spamton reached into Tenna’s compartment, not as tender and worried as
he was before, but wanting to truely show that he cared and wanted Tenna. He
smiled a little wider than his usual grinning mouth, seeing Tenna, try to hide
that he was happy Spamton was at least a little co-dependent on him.
Spamton decided to turn his focus to a harder thing to take care of, Tenna’s
wires. He had done this with Queen before, sure...years ago. But Tenna didn’t
need to know how long he really was in that literal dumpster of a home. Tenna
flinched a little, feeling someone other than himself touch his wires. Spamton
gently pulled at the taught wires, taking a few in his frail fingers. Tenna took a
breath, and Spamton faintly remembered something vaugely like what was
happening now...except, of course, Spamton was much healthier, and goodlooking (to Tenna, at least). As he thought more about the memory, the more
sour it became, the memories of Tenna’s screen turning black for the first time,
how Spamton felt when Tenna looked at him that night. It had hurt them then.
Sometime, when he was living in that dump, though, he had forigven Tenna.
They would both change, and they had both done bad things to each other. All
he could do was forgive him, and try to forgive himself.
Tenna remembered what he did too, how him trying to hurt Spamton would
hurt their partnership, their relationship. How Spamton had rushed out of the
room.
They didn’t know what the other was thinking, of course, but they both
decided that was enough for that day. Maybe eventually, but neither of them
were ready for that.
“Maybe we could save cleaning for another day,” Tenna decided, doing his
best not to react to Spamton holding his wires. It was for the best, he knew.
Spamton nodded in reply. He jumped off of Tenna’s thighs onto the wooden
boards, and Tenna got up afterwards. Spamton looked up at Tenna, who
seemed to be a planet away, height-wise. Tenna looked down and hesitated for
only a moment, then picked Spamton up and put him on his shoulder, just like the old times they had enjoyed before.
“Ready to go, bigshot?