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It was okay. This was okay. He was okay. He. He was, this wasn’t working— Spamton couldn’t level out his breathing. He swallowed thickly, eyes opening to stare up at a ceiling scattered with glowing stars and the dim glow casted from the slightly ajar bathroom door. He could just barely hear Tenna humming to himself in the other room as he laid there.
The puppet thought he’d be able to keep it together in that moment, but the moment slipped. He… he had to get out of here. Now. His chest practically ached with the flurry of panic drumming away at him. He surged from the bed and scrambled down, clutching at the blankets he could hold.
Get somewhere safe. Closed in, his thoughts scattered as glitches trembled through him. Have to be safe, safe and small and dark—
Closet.
His head snapped over as he hissed out a wheeze, scrambling to claw the door open and slip inside. Almost instantly, he let out a heavy sigh, trembling form falling to his knees as he tried to soak in the way his mind sang out Safe, safe, safe.
There were already blankets stuffed into one corner, tucked against some idle boxes filled with knick-knacks and memories.
His eyes began to adjust, lower jaw clicking back into proper place as he caught his breath. He hated when a closet night struck like that, when he was alone just for a bit and it was enough to send his rattled thoughts into an utter frenzy.
Guilt was already beginning to gnaw at him, the puppet stumbling to his feet before dragging himself and his new nesting material to the corner. Tucking himself in sent another wave of steadiness through him. His shoulders cut slack as he slumped into the familiar cradle of his hiding spot.
Tenna deserves better.
His brow pinched as his breathing fluttered, segmented fingers shakily dragging down his face. Spamton thought he would be able to fight down the desire to hide tonight, he had even bragged about it. Took his glasses off to set onto the bedside while crooning how he was ‘FINE D3ALsss!’ as the CRT had hesitated to leave him alone to carry out his pre-nightly routine.
And now look at him. Tucked away in a dark corner of their bedroom closet, hiding in the shadows like some kind of rat. Why? Just because for a moment there had been too much open space around him!? Seriously?
The salesman curled the blankets around himself tighter, staring at the dim light visible from the crack between the door’s bottom and the floor. Sure, back in the good ole days, sometimes getting away from the hustle and bustle into a dimly lit room was a balm on his soul, but this? This just felt… pathetic. He shouldn’t need this.
Spamton rolled onto his stomach, tucking some of his blankets to his chest with a soft sigh. It smelled like Tenna as he pressed it to his face. A low coo wavered in his throat, exhaustion both physical and not nipping at him.
He let his eyes close, fingers running along the soft fabric in his grasp. He took in a shuddering breath, held it, and slowly let it out. Again. He repeated the motion, each controlled breath working to soothe him further. He forgot who had taught him that trick, memories slipping just as easily as he grasped them, but the small breathing exercise was grounding.
Though… as his thoughts stabilized, Spamton couldn’t help the bitterness that came back. He was supposed to be getting better. He should have been better—
Click.
Spamton held still in his nest, listening intently. Footsteps, a shuffling as that chipper humming grew louder, a door opened. He huddled down further, waiting.
“Goodnight, Spam— Spammy?”
He raised his head, opening his mouth before closing it, teeth clacking together.
Quick steps began to scramble around the room. A waver entered that voice, “Where did you go—?”
Spamton’s voice felt strained, “HERE.”
A stillness, a beat of silence. Tenna had stopped his frantic motions, probably trying to pinpoint where his voice had come from. He could practically see in his mind’s eye how the larger darkner’s screen brightened as his gaze would eventually lock onto the closet.
“Ah. I see,” steady steps came closer, he could see the other’s shadow now, “Closet night?”
That gentleness didn’t make him feel any better. As though Tenna was making sure to speak softer now, like he was some skittish thing needing the comfort.
A buzz of static laced his simple hum, “MHM.”
A shuffling, the knob twisted slightly and while Spamton tried not to shield away, he must’ve made some kind of small noise. The cathode took a step back, there was the soft shuffling of fabric (either Tens was fiddling with his shirt or was hugging at his arms), and then a soft exhale.
The puppet heard the TV walk away, a bit of shuffling about, a hot second of paper crinkling, then slow steps returning.
A gentle clearing of the throat made his eyes dart back over with a raised brow. “Can I open the door just enough to give you something?” There was just… so much kindness in that tone. It made him wilt.
He thought it over, not really wanting even a chance for the cathode to see him in this state, but also… damn if he wasn’t curious.
“…[shore].”
Tenna must have had his hand hovering over the door knob, just waiting for the moment to get his approval. The door was eased open a sliver just seconds after he’d spoken.
He sat up, tilting his head as the CRT outside gave a nervous, little laugh. “Hope you don’t mind if I steal your mailman position for a moment! Hah!” Admittedly that did get a huff of fondness from him
The corner of an envelope was eased in, Spamton watching before slowly reaching out to accept it. As he pulled back, the door clicked back shut.
His shoulders loosened as he shuffled to the corner again, resting his back against the wall as he flipped it open. A quickly jotted note meet him.
What was all this…? Shaking his head faintly at his partner’s antics, he began to read.
Dearest Spamton,
In sickness and in health. To love and to cherish.
I will ALWAYS love you.
~forever yours,
Ant ★ Tenna
Spamton gently ran a thumb along the paper, rereading the words a few times as his expression softened. Oh, that damn cathode. He gave a soft hum, leaning his face down to press against the letter, just holding it there a moment.
When he sat back up with a shuddering breath, he could already hear the rustling of Tenna settling down outside.
“Goodnight, Love letter,” his CRT said in a voice so full of warmth and care that it had his face heating up.
He hugged the letter to his chest, speaking as softly as he could in turn. “Night [10]s.”
Spamton laid down, running his fingers along the paper as he allowed his eyes to trail towards that sliver of light again. While he couldn’t see the other, he already knew Tenna was dragging pillows and blankets over to just outside the door.
Despite how sneaky the other darkner may have thought he was being, even when the room outside went dark, he could see the glow of the TV’s screen from him laying down by the door to sleep. Spamton had tried before to shoo his partner from this little habit, but that had long since been established as a losing battle.
Not that he minded all that much.
Spamton let his eyes shut, nestling down further. Listening closely, he could hear the soft humming of his partner, the rustling of blankets as Tenna got comfortable, and then the click of that screen turning off.
Safe, his mind mumbled as his consciousness eased into rest, safe.