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Spamton is suffocating.
He can’t breathe. He’s drowning. His throat burns every time he tries to inhale, and exhaling somehow feels like spikes filling the inside of his esophagus. There’s a persistent ringing coming from down the hall, but no matter how hard he struggles and fights, Spamton can’t move his body any closer to enter his dressing room and pick up the phone. He’s frozen. He can’t pick up the phone.
Pick up the phone. Pick up the phone. He needs to pick up the phone. He needs to fix this. He needs to stop it from happening. Stop — what from happening? Spamton knows there’s something important that’s about to happen, something he’s trying to prevent, but the shrill ringing of the phone cuts off his thoughts every time he tries to focus even a little too hard.
He can’t move. His mouth is open, but he can't scream; can't cry for help, as desperate as he is.He's fighting and kicking, trying to pull himself towards that ringing, but nothing works; instead, everything just hurts. Everything's loud, there's too much pressure on his body. With horror, he can feel a phone cord snaking around his leg and up his torso; it twirls and tightens around his neck, squeezing tight and—
Spamton’s eyes snap open. His voice finally works, but it’s jumbled and bit-crushed. Screaming, cursing, sobbing, his body thrashes underneath the warm blankets; a heavy weight is pinning him down and keeping him from his escape. He's trapped, he’s caged, he can still hear the phone, he needs to —
“Spamton?”
A screen flicks on and shifts until it’s hovering over Spamton. The weight against his chest is lifted, and the Addison chokes on a sob as he rips himself up, throwing the blanket down. Something in the corner of his vision moves, brushes against his cold cheek, and Spamton flinches.
“Spamton? Sweetheart? What’s the matter?”
The Addison's eyes snap open and he shoves the screen away, the screaming and crying becoming even more true to him. He feels the terror turn to ice in his veins as he presses his back against the headboard of the bed, trying to get away, before his arm hits open air as he scrambles and suddenly he’s falling. Back hitting the ground with a crack, Spamton yanks himself up, grabbing the blanket he'd been trapped in previously and diving into a corner, hyperventilating.
“Spamton … Spamton, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s—”
The screen flickers off for just a second, before coming closer. Slowly, it lowers itself — himself? — to the floor. The Darkner there holds his hands in the air as he flicks the screen on again, revealing his face. A nose. A concerned frown.
“Spamton, it’s me. It’s Tenna. Your… friend.”
Spamton’s chest twists suddenly. He never had friends. He had his brothers, who were…less than friendly…and no one else.
"I–I–I- [I CAN'T BELIEVE ITS NOT!] —" his hand comes up to hold his throat. What's with his voice?
The screen — Tenna — shrinks, holding his hands up. Showing he’s not a threat.
“Here! Look.” The television flicks its screen again to show a new channel. An old commercial plays of Spamton and a television Darkner promoting something. There’s a jingle playing in the background that sounds familiar. Their smiles look so bright. “See? That’s us. We… We're friends. It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”
Spamton turns his body around in the corner so he’s facing the wall, pulling the blanket over his head. His little form is shaking, breathing heavily. His eyes are squeezed shut.
“I…” Once again, the television Darkner— Tenna — flicks off his screen, bathing Spamton in the dark. There’s a creaking sound, as if the huge man is leaning against the mattress. “That’s okay. You’re just scared! It’s okay. I can wait right here until you’re ready.”
The seconds drag on. Spamton waits until his breathing is even again, until the quivering in his heart stops. Eventually, a very weak voice comes out of the blanket bundle. "W‐Where're m–my.. [MI]..." he can't say anything without stuttering and he feels stupid. Where is he?
“Where’s who? Your brothers? They’re, uh, around! Somewhere. You haven’t really… talked to them in a while. Except for maybe… Blue? But. I haven’t seen Blue. I don’t know where he is.”
Oh angel. They left him, finally. He thinks in horror, they dropped him off and left him alone with some stranger. His head is reeling.
“Spamton? Spamton, you.. should I get someone? Prince Ralsei? I… actually, you try to avoid everyone around here, don’t you…” Tenna’s voice sounds like he’s on the edge of panic. Why would a stranger be panicking? Who is this guy, exactly? “How can I help you, Spammy?”
The Addison finally pokes his head out of the blankets and looks over at Tenna, eyes a bit glassy like he wants to cry, but he can't. He – he physically can’t cry. Why can’t he cry? "I'm... I'm.." he is quiet when he speaks. "Th–They didn't [LEFT BEHIND] me?"
“No. They didn’t leave you. Actually, you left them. When you came on my show. When you joined TV Time.” Tenna’s voice is soft, and soothing. Clearly, he’s thrown out of his element, but he’s good at improvisation. “It’s okay. It’s okay. They didn’t leave you.”
"Oh." is all he says. TV Time. That jingle from before. That’s what that was. He slowly scoots his body around to face Tenna again, but the blanket stays mostly covering him. It’s safe. Tenna just smiles in return. It looks genuine, at least.
“My name is Ant Tenna. You can call me Ant, or Tenna, or whatever you want,” he offers. “I’m your friend.”
"Wh–wh–ere, [ WHERE IN THE WORLD IS ]…” Them, maybe his brothers? Or us, himself and Tenna? "I'm... confused."
“It’s okay. You get like this sometimes. Your, uh. Your memories got a little corrupted, I guess, haha. Kris… never told me what happened to you. You didn’t tell me anything either.” Tenna exhales. Swallows. Smiles, and opens his arms up as if he’s asking for a hug, gesturing to the room they’re in. A bedroom. This is.. where he lives? “We’re in castle town! You used to live in cyber city and I used to live in TV World, but the fountains there got sealed up. The Lightners brought us all here so we can keep hanging around together!”
Spamton looks down at himself. Staring for a while, as if for the first time, at the cracked porcelain of his hands and the plush of his stomach. A hand runs down his face, in the carefully carved lines that curve down his mouth. This isn't…
this isn’t his body.
"I'm... different." He sounds exhausted. "I–I–I don't..." suddenly he winces, curling in on himself as if in pain. Which he is, most definitely, as he aches for joints that don't exist and a heartbeat that doesn't feel like a rattle of something in a cage.
“… yeah. Yeah. You’re. Different.” Tenna doesn’t move closer, even though he truthfully looks like he wants nothing more than to crawl over and curl up around Spamton. Ease his joints and warm his cold little body. Tenna sniffles. “Can I… help? You? Feel better somehow?”
The puppet looks at Tenna as if he thinks he has some sort of ulterior motive. But then his expression eases, as if tired of being in the fight of fight or flight. He can't fight now, that's for sure.
"....Tenna?" he tries out. Tenna sniffles again. Smiles, though it’s wobbly at the ends.
“Yes, Spamton?”
"I. Shouldn't b–b–[BEES AND HONEY] here..." he tells the other. “How..."
“It’s a long story. But I hired you to work on my show. And then… a lot of stuff happened. Now we live here together.” A pause. “We. We’re. Friends. It’s okay! It. If you don’t remember. Don’t try too hard, or you’ll hurt yourself.” Tenna fidgets with his hands. He looks nervous, he looks sad, he looks scared. But he’s smiling. “Do you want a pillow? Maybe? Or a glass of water?”
Spamton just stares at Tenna, trying to figure out if that’s the truth. He's.. not someone Spamton can remember meeting; he would've remembered someone like Tenna... right? But he’s here, in this television darkners bedroom, so there must be truth to it. He nods a little bit at the glass of water statement, and Tenna moves to stand.
“Okay! Just a second. Just … stay put. Don’t, haha, don’t change the channel, okay?”
Growing back to his normal height (he can become big or small depending on his moods, Spamton’s brain tells him without knowing how he knows that), he moves to the sink in the bathroom, flicking on the light in there, illuminating them both in its soft glow. Dutifully, Tenna fills the glass of water to the very top and carefully makes his way back, placing it on the ground in front of Spamton and stepping away, hands clasped together to mask their shaking.
“There you go! Haha. Drink up!”
Spamton goes and moves to take it. He blinks at the size of the glass — it’s Spamton sized, not the type of glass that someone as large as Tenna would need. As if it was made especially for him. Tilting the glass back to drink, he finds it more than a bit difficult; his puppet mouth doesn't open like a normal one, making it hard to drink.
“Oh! I almost forgot.” Tenna pulls out — a bendy straw. Carefully keeping his distance, places it in the glass, before taking some more steps back and shrinking smaller. “Haha. Here you are!”
Spamton looks at Tenna, the straw, the glass, Tenna. He makes a vague noise that probably means thank you before sipping quietly, only to find that it doesn’t soothe the burn in his throat. He's no longer panicked, but he doesn't look anything else but confused.
After a beat of silence, Tenna takes a deep breath. “Do you want to make a nest on the floor?” He asks carefully. “For you to be more comfortable? I can get you pillows and more blankets…”
That does sound nice... It'd certainly be better than his corner with the one blanket barely hiding him.
"...p–p–ple – [PEAS AND CARROTS]..." And as Tenna gets up, "T–T–Tenna..?"
Tenna just smiles, as he turns to pluck the other blankets and pillows from the bed. He carefully lays them down on the floor in front of Spamton, trying to hide the shake of his hands, before he sits on the now bare bed. “There. Does that help?”
Spamton sets the empty cup down and begins to work. It's a slow but practised process that makes sense, considering it's a thing Spamton’s done since childhood. Climbing into the nest and resting in its comfort, Spamton raises his head to take another look at Tenna.
"Thank.. thank you." He says, really looking at Tenna for the first time since this panic began.
Tenna just keeps smiling.
“Of course! Haha, you just. You rest, okay? You had a nightmare, and that’s probably why you’re … you’re not remembering things. I’m sure after a rest, things will be better!” His voice is tinted in something that Spamton can’t place. “I’ll go to the other room to give you some space, okay?”
He nods, burrowing himself into the nest a bit as Tenna retreats. Over the next few minutes of silence, the puppets' previous terrified expression fades away, the empty spaces filling in and being replaced with exhaustion.
When he next wakes up, Spamton is comfortable. The puppet rolls over, pressing his face into the pillow, shoulders hitching a bit as he buries himself deeper into the warmth.
But…
Wait. There’s something... Spamton cracks open his eyes, propping himself up on his elbows as he lifts himself from his nest. Huh? He doesn't remember going to sleep in a nest, but. Here he is. Did something happen in the middle of the night? Did something…
"Tenna?" he croaks.
He’s the only Darkner in the bedroom, and in the bathroom, though its light is flicked on, proves itself to be empty too. The only thing that reassures Spamton that he’s not alone is the tinny sound of something playing on the television in the living room —
Except. They don’t have a television. The only TV they have is —
Spamton finds the smallest of the blankets in the pile to wrap around himself as he climbs out of the nest. He scurries to the living room, porcelain feet muted on the carpet, and finds Tenna sitting on the couch, knees to his chest. He’s playing some old memories — Spamton can see them dance across his screen. Kris and Asriel laughing. Dess and Kris watching those awful music videos. His screen blinks off when Spamton’s feet finally make noise, and reflexively smiles as he glances over, a little wobbly. Spamton wanders over to stand in front of Tenna. Tenna keeps his hands placed carefully in his lap.
“Need more water?”
"Ar–Are y–y–you, you, okay?" He asks, surprisingly lucid.
“Yeah. I’m fine, Spamton. Don’t worry,” The TV Darkner hesitates for a moment, but reaches out — holding his hand out for Spamton to hold if he wants it. “Do you remember last night?”
Spamton takes the offered hand, so gentle, fragile, and shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing. Trying to remember, but everything that comes up is … blank. Tenna, seeing this, gently folds his fingers around Spamton’s hand, engulfing him. Keeping him safe. Protected.
“You woke up from a nightmare. You didn’t remember me. You thought you were still… an Addison.” Spamton’s face drops, horror crossing his expression. Tenna’s fingers are folded so gently around Spamton’s hand. He doesn’t squeeze, just… holds him steady. It makes the puppet’s heart shaped object thump painfully in his chest as Tenna continues. “Gave me quite a fright! Haha…”
"I- "
He didn't know. He didn’t know that was a thing that could happen, he–well. He had a lot to deal with, now. He's in a stupid puppet body with trauma enough to mess his head up, apparently. Of course something like this would happen. Of course something so awful like this could happen and he couldn’t even remember the hurt it caused.
Tenna’s left to pick up the pieces. Of course. Of course. Because, prophecy forbid that Tenna be allowed to have one speck of happiness.
"I'm- sos–s0rry." He murmurs.
“Spamton, it wasn’t your fault. It’s okay.” Despite everything, Tenna’s smile persists, but Spamton knows Tenna’s unconscious tells. The CRT is still nervous. He’s still sad. He’s still— “It’s happened a couple of other times. Just, haha. Not as badly.”
Pulling his hand out of Tenna’s grip and refusing to think about how easily the boss Darkner let him go, Spamton’s hands claw at the plush of the couch as he attempts to get on the furniture alone. He wants — no, he needs — to sit next to Tenna, to comfort him somehow. But then — he hesitates as a realization dawns on him.
That’s right. Spamton is…nothing but a cold, hollow shell. He can’t comfort Tenna. Not the way Tenna needs. He can’t do anything in this stupid body, with a voice glitch so bad that he can barely understand himself.
Seeing Spamton’s hands tense as his body stops struggling to heft itself up, but not realizing the reason for the sudden hesitation, Tenna offers a hand. “Are you cold?” He asks gently. “Come on. I can help warm you up, if. If you want.”
In the end, the selfish base need to be held wins out against Spamton’s self-hate, so he nods. "Let me-me- I- c--can I [HUGGIES] you?" He asks. He feels so stupid asking, but he had to be careful, he doesn't want to make Tenna glooby — well. Glooby-er.
“Of course you can. Come on.” Tenna opens his arms, and when Spamton crawls in, he closes them. Heat radiates off of Tenna, off his old circuits and wires and the fuzz of his screen. The hum of his machinery is familiar. Calming. Tenna nuzzles his nose against Spamton’s hair, and sighs softly. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
"B-But are y-you [OAK]-ok-okay?" Spamton whispers, trying to hug as tight as he can before his joints creak. He feels awful; he had no idea something like this was happening. He had no idea.
“I’m fine, I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me, okay?” Tenna’s voice is soothing. His screen is staticky as it brushes against Spamton’s hair. He hums, soft and low, and Spamton feels his heart breaking all over again.
“If I don't, who will?"
Tenna doesn’t answer him, which is an answer itself — rather, he continues to stroke Spamton’s back with the back of his gloved knuckles, humming softly. Spamton, exhausted, thunks his head on Tenna's chest. He’s still holding one of Tenna’s hands. He's shaking too, and he knows Tenna can probably hear the rattling the porcelain makes.
“We’re okay,” Tenna soothes. “It’s alright. I’m here to help you when things get scary like this. You don’t have to be worried. I’ll always be here.”
Spamton inhales, exhales. "I d-d-don— [YOU GET WHAT YOU DESERVE] you."
Tenna goes still. His nose brushes against Spamton’s cold, jutting cheek. “You know I hate when you say that,” he says gently. “I wish you wouldn’t.”
"I... I'm [APOLOGY CARD]." He repeats, feeling like a broken record. "I just. I-I [WHEN YOU WISH] I could b-be me again."
“I know. I wish you could be back in your old body too. It hurts me to see you hurting so badly.” Tenna hums gently against Spamton. He’s trying his best; he’s not so good at listening and — talking like this, being vulnerable — but he's trying. Spamton can feel it in his chest. “I like you even when you’re like this. Okay? Nothing's changed that. Nothing can ever change that.”
Spamton snorts, his laugh glitching, a little buggy. "I [HUGS AND KISSES] you." is all he can say, voice wobbly. "I [LOVE IS ALSO AN ACRONYM] yo-you so much."
“I love you too.” Tenna’s voice goes soft. He cradles the back of Spamton’s head, and sniffles. “I love you. So much, so much…” Tenna’s voice goes soft. He cradles the back of Spamton’s head, and sniffles. “I love you. So much. so much…”
Spamton moves a bit, in a practiced way, and presses his mouth to Tenna's screen; the best version of a kiss he could even give in this body. The puppet mailman is suddenly exhausted. "I... Can I slee-sle- [SLEEP WELL TODAY] here?" He asks.
“Yeah. Of course. You don’t even have to ask.” Tenna gently shifts, uncurling his legs so Spamton can rest his head against Tenna’s lap — curl up there, if he wants. He smiles down at Spamton, soft and sweet. “I’ll be here when you wake up, okay?”
Spamton does curl up, a little tight ball, head resting on Tenna's lap. His breathing, once a little wheezey, slows, and he finds himself asleep once more. Tenna flicks off his screen — knowing that light disturbs Spamton, and he’s not an easy sleeper — and carefully angles his head away.
—
The Addison wakes up in about three hours; despite having slept, it feels like he hasn’t slept well. His body aches and pulls in directions it never has before. So, as he wakes up, rubbing his eyes, he looks up to the television Darkner whose lap he’s curled in in. He’s dozing, and there’s something playing dimly on his screen — a dream, or a memory, maybe — but it flickers away as the addison sits up. The television Darkners screen face comes back, and he smiles.
“Good morning, Spammy,” he says softly. “Feeling better?”
The Addison’s head is foggy, but he nods anyway. He feels a bit embarrassed, so he can't bring himself to admit that he forgot what this darkner's name is. He knows they're partners, in some various ways but... his name has been lost.
“Okay. Good. Do you want me to make you something for breakfast? I think we still have some hearts donuts around. I know those are your favorite.” The CRT is careful. Cautious. He smiles, but he doesn’t show what he’s feeling inside. “Or maybe a chocodiamond?”
The Addison is unsure what those are but he trusts him, considering he woke up in his lap, there has to be something there.
"Wh-Whatever's fine." He murmurs, instead of answering truthfully. Tenna takes pause, watching the addison, before … his shoulders loosen, and he sighs softly.
“Okay,” the television Darkner says, gently nudging the Addison off his lap so he can stand. “I’ll cut you up a hearts donut.”
He carefully gets off the couch, following the CRT like a duckling. The large Darkner moves slowly to the kitchen, each step made with purpose. He pulls out a donut from the cupboard and begins to cut it into small pieces, as if it’s something he always does. The jelly filling wiggles and drips from the center as he hands the plate down.
“Here you go. Eat up, Spamton.”
Spamton? The Addison frowns, confused. That... was that supposed to be him? He looks at the food and quietly starts eating. He's not said a word. Tenna tenses. Swallows.
“It’s okay,” he says, voice shaking a little bit. “If you don’t remember me. It’s … you’ve been through a lot, Spamton. You have these episodes sometimes.” A pause. He tries to smile wider, and the Addison finds that he doesn’t buy it one bit. “It’s okay. You forget when I tell you all this, anyway. I just have to… keep moving like everything’s okay.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but he decides against it. He eats, and he feels this Darkners concerned stare burn down to his core.
"I.. It's.. " he starts, worried. "[WHO AM I] Spamton?"
It doesn’t sound right to him.
“Yeah. Spamton.” Tenna’s face has gone blank. He straightens his shoulders. “They used to call you White, though.”
That sounds…not better, but right. The puppet nods, taking another tiny piece of food and pressing it in the gap of his mouth. He can’t eat correctly, but he’s too bone tired to question it too much. "...I. I'm sorry." He says, feeling so small. "Wh–a‐wh – [INSERT NAME HERE] a-a-again?"
“…–my name is Ant Tenna. It’s nice to meet you.” Tenna turns his face back on. Smiles. Spamton feels a stone sinking in his stomach, but tries to ignore it.
"T–that's.. a nice, a nice ... good name." He nibbles again.
“Thanks. I was named by my … by my Lightners.” Tenna stays still, watching carefully. He hands over a napkin when Spamton’s face gets sticky. “Here,” he offers. “To keep clean. I know it’s hard to eat sometimes.”
He takes the napkin, rubbing his solid face, it's not the same, it feels wrong, and he pauses. Why... he closed his eyes, trying to think, trying to remember.
“Things, uhm. A lot’s different. Your body is different,” Tenna explains, “It changed after… some bad things happened to you.” the television darkner fidgets with his sleep shirt. He can’t look at Spamton. “Do you need anything else?”
Spamton turns to shake his head no; his neck clicks when he does. He winces, jumping a bit at the sound. He doesn't like this. "I'm [APOLOGIZE FOR THE DELAY]." he says unaware he keeps saying that so many times.
“It's okay, Spamton. You don’t have to be sorry. You don’t have to worry. I’m here to help you. Take care of you.” Tenna clasps his hands together. Somewhere in the room, there’s a chirping sound; the TV’s face brightens, and Spamton freezes up. That sounds like a–
“Oh! That’s — that’s foley. Let me take care of her. She must have just woken up! Oh, she’ll be excited to see us.”
"A–A pipis?" Spamton asks, almost a little desperately. He had always wanted a pipis when he was younger, a family. The other addisons with blurry faces that he can’t completely remember always made him scared he'd never be able to.
“Yeah. Yeah, she’s… her name is foley. Come on.” Tenna offers his hand for a second, but hesitates. Spamton closes the gap and reaches to grab it. He looks very excited. Feels excited, for what feels like the first time in ages. A pipis! A baby. Spamton’s breath quickens as they move down the dark hallway.
Tenna lets Spamton take his hand without any fuss, and carefully leads him to the incubator in the room next to the bedroom. The pipis there is huge, bigger than any other pipis Spamton has seen in his life. Tenna lifts Spamton to place him on the table, and clicks the incubator open.
“This is Foley. She’s… yours.”
Spamton blinks, looking up at Tenna with a massive grin, or at least as much of a grin that he could form on this face. "R–Really? Sh–she's." He goes and sits in front of the incubator, reaching to touch but feeling scared. Will.. will she only know him like this? The pipis, as if sensing his doubts, squeaks, lurching excitedly towards Spamton’s hand. She bounces and wiggles, peeping happily.
Tenna laughs softly. It’s a wet sound. “She’s been incubating for a long time. I don’t know when she’ll hatch.” Spamton rubs the top of her gently, pressing his ear to the pipis and closing his eyes. The puzzle pieces slowly slot together and something clicks in his head. He looks up to Tenna, expression cautious.
"Ours...?"
“Uhm. Yeah.” Tenna’s smile goes tense. It’s always hard to see how Spamton reacts to this. It changes every single time, and he can’t prepare himself. “She’s … ours.”
The puppet turns back around fully and makes grabby hands for Tenna, wanting to hold his head and give him a smooch. The TV Darkner goes tense, as if not expecting it, and maybe it’s a little forward of Spamton to kiss a stranger but he doesn’t care. This man, this Tenna, can’t be a stranger, because pipis are only made out of love.
Then: "I h–hope I really [HOPES AND DREAMS] I remember th-this." he whispers, scared he'll jinx it. Tenna tenses, and then… he starts to cry, softly. The pipis chirps louder, and Tenna has to cover his mouth with a hand.
“I’m sorry. She— hates seeing me cry. She’s such a good girl. I… I’m sorry…”
Spamton brings his arms down. "I'm sorry, Te– Te– [TENS CENTS]" He looks back to the pipis, petting her to calm her down, he can't chirp, so it doesn't work as well as it could. The little blue egg wobbles dangerously, almost like it’s trying to throw itself out of the incubator. Tenna reaches to touch her, and she begins to calm down. Tenna pulls his hand away and sniffs. Spamton yanks his hand away, watching her settle as if heaving a sigh. Spamton is quiet. Maybe a little heartbroken, though he doesn’t understand why.
“I — just. I just. She’s. She loves you so much,” Tenna says with a hiccup. “She’s so sweet. I promise.” The pipis starts to chirp again, a little upset that Spamton stopped touching it. Tenna reaches over, and brushes against its shell. It quiets a little, but still wobbles. “She needs attention when we’re sad, it seems,” he says, a little watery, still. “Our little Foley.”
"Foley," Spamton repeats. The pipis tries to jump, realising her name is being called. The chirps are every once in a while. "I'm." he closes his eyes trying to think. What was he going to say?
“Yeah. Foley. I got excited and… and I wound up naming her, without asking,” Tenna says with a laugh. A sniffle. He wipes at his face a bit. “She… I mean, I think she likes her name. I hope she does. She can change it when she hatches, I guess.”
Spamton stares up at Tenna. Oh, he remembers.
"I love you."
Even though it doesn't sound right, he knows it’s the truth. Spamton knows that he has nothing but the greatest amount of love for this man.
Tenna’s screen goes dim for a moment, before brightening once more, tinted pink. He smiles, pressing his lips against Spamton’s hair.
“I know,” he says, though his voice is getting choked up. The pipis starts to chirp again, louder now. “I know.”
The puppet hums, and some part of him realizes that he’s singing the TV Time theme, even though he doesn’t remember what TV time is or what the jingle’s words are. He leans against Tenna, hesitant, but trusting, sinking into Tenna’s hold as the TV Darkner’s arms wrap around him. “I can do this for as long as I need to.” Spamton can hear the burn of tears against Tenna’s screen, and is suddenly glad he’s not looking. He’s shaking something fierce. “I don’t mind if you forget. Again, and again. I’ll keep taking care of you. I promise.”
Spamton’s silent. He opens his eyes and looks up at Tenna. Tenna, who’s standing stiff and straight. Tenna, whose screen flickers with burn in. Tenna, whose antenna is only hanging on by a piece of duct tape. Tenna, who’s shaking so badly it looks like he could crumble to pieces. Spamton looks at him, and then:
“P-Please d-d--don't."
Spamton turns his head away; he suddenly finds that he can’t look at Tenna. Instead, his eyes set straight ahead of him. "If.. If-if-I if I ke-kee–[KEEP ON] forgetting, I-I want y-you to take c-c-[CARE FOR YOUR CRT!] of yourself, an-and Fo-Foley. P-[PASS ALONG] m-me off to s-[SOMEBODY I USED TO KNOW].. Liv-live a better life,” he ignores the way his voice shakes. “I-I do-don't want to li-l[LIVE MY LIFE] forgetting an-and [REMEMBER ME]. H-Hurting you [EVERY TIME WE TOUCH]. ...just… just let me forget."
Tenna swallows. He smiles, and dips his head down to hold against Spamton once more, maybe a little tighter. “Okay. It’s as you wish, love letter.”
Spamton sighs, relaxing a bit more. He's relieved. He doesn't want Tenna and Foley to suffer because of him. He's glad Tenna agreed. "Th-tht-th-thhhh[THANK YOU VERY MUCH]," He murmurs. He looks exhausted.
“it’s still early,” Tenna says softly. “You must be tired. Why don’t I make you a nest in here? Right next to foley. You can keep her company.”
Spamton blinks against the burn of sleep, looking at Tenna and smiling, though it holds no warmth. "That.. sounds nice."
“Yeah? Okay. Come on.”
Gently, careful, Tenna lifts Spamton up, cradling him in one arm. The tv moves to gather blankets and pillows, making the perfect nest. Just how Spamton likes it. Carefully angling Spamton down into the pillow fluff, Tenna covers him with his favorite blanket. Smiles. “Sleep well.”
Spamton wriggles a little, not as able to curl and get comfortable without a pliable body, but he finds a comfortable enough position, and as he closes his eyes, he's out in a few moments. Tenna’s screen manages to hold the smile until Spamton falls asleep. Until his chest begins to rattle the way it only does when he breathes deep.
It’s only then, as he closes the door to the nursery, he begins to cry. He cries as he stumbles out into the living room, curling up on the couch.
How many times had he promised this before? How many times had he lied right to Spamton’s face? How many times had Spamton woken up like this, disoriented and terrified, looking at Tenna as if he was a stranger, and Tenna just… took care of him?
How many times had it happened? How many times will it happen? And what happens, when Spamton finally realizes that Tenna’s been making false promises this entire time?
He’s still crying, when, exhausted, he too drops into a dreamless sleep.