Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He should've been happy, really, to see that damn [boob tube] get decimated like that. To finally see the prophecy come to fruition. To watch the man that abandoned him like all the others come crashing down.

Yet, unseen by anyone, his smile fell at the edges. 

He had it coming, he tried to justify, it doesn’t matter what happened before. It doesn’t matter how happy he looked. It was inevitable. But still, the ache in his code wasn't going away, and the dealmakers shivered on top of Kris’ head. 

Inevitable or not, it was still… almost too much. Spamton loved a good gruesome death, that wasn’t even a question, but this? This was not satisfying. Not gratifying in any way. Instead of the joy he would’ve no doubt had if he were the one to have killed [Cathode], he felt… hollow. And not just because his form was reduced to mere glasses either. No, watching [Cathode]’s lifeless body slump down into the snow made him uncomfortable; uneasy. If he could have goosebumps, he would be furiously trying to rub them away right about now.

The prophecy, something he learned against his will, was, unfortunately, still alive and well. He never wanted that knowledge. Never even crossed his mind. But, unluckily for him, he broke one of the rules in his little deal. They told him everything he never wanted to know. Of course, most of it meant very little to him. Perhaps that’s why They waited to tell him the worst one until the end: 

THE LORD OF SCREENS
CLEAVED RED BY BLADE

It still bled fresh in his mind. It always had. It wasn’t exactly something you recovered from easily. Being told your [Partner in ] was going to die. So he ran, like he always did, until he was no longer in TV World. Until he was back in Cyber City. Back to his personal phone, where he begged and pleaded to Them. He wasn’t even sure They were listening. Whether or not it was Them who did it, he still pointed towards Them as the cause for his transformation. At least when he was a Big Shot, he could still feasibly return to looking like a normal Addison. Now? Now…?

The Roaring Knight appeared, as was foretold. As the kids used his magic to boost their own, he had time to think. Perhaps even rest, if that was in the cards. He thought about [Cathode] in the snow. He thought about his ruined form, strewn about in the white expanse of the outer studio. About how [Cathode] was currently alone in his dying moments.

…How cruel.

Spamton reserved himself to the fact that he would die alone. He had come to terms with it; accepted it for what it was. He cut all his bridges; burned them all without a second thought. Now he would pay the price. But [Cathode]? He was always terrified of being abandoned. Even back when his show was doing better than ever, there would be days where Spamton would walk in on his shrunken form, sulking. 

“Do people even like me?” He would ask. “Would they care if I…”

And Spamton would let out a lighthearted sigh, running a finger or two across the top part of his screen casing. “Of course people care about you.” He would say. “At least you know I always will. I’ll make sure you don’t get lost, Ant.”

And then [Cathode] would smile, regaining a bit of his height. 

It was always in those slow moments that he found himself enjoying [Cathode]’s presence even more. When he wasn’t being a performer; a star. That was the [Cathode] he cared about the most. The one he kept in his mind for the rainiest days. When they would settle down on a couch or a couple of chairs, crack open a bottle of too expensive wine, and let the night slip away from them like sand. Something he would never share with [Cathode], of course, because he was far too scared to see his reaction. Too afraid of being forthcoming with his feelings.

Something fond settles in his nonexistent chest. Nostalgia for a time long past. And he sat in the warm feeling for a moment, relishing in the contrast of the snowy biome around him. The wind blew away the memories fiercely, leaving only the present battle in his lenses. They were clearly outmatched, and yet, he felt the determination radiating off the kids, and felt himself focusing just a little more. He made a deal, after all.

It didn’t matter if they won or lost. The prophecy said they would fail, and they did. By the time Kris and Susie returned to the dark world, it was well into early morning hours. If Spamton were a little more sound of mind, he might’ve scolded them for staying up even later than before. But he didn’t get the opportunity to even consider it, because they both ran towards the snowy wastes; towards a very tall figure slumped in the snow. 

He watched, perched on top of Kris’ head, as folks from around the studio gathered around [Cathode]’s body. Susie commanded them with ease, ordering them around to help reassemble his mutilated body. If he could scoff at the sight, Spamton would’ve. It was a waste of time and effort to be doing this. [Cathode] was destined to die, and that’s what happened. They couldn’t just change the prophecy. 

Yet they continued on, ignorant to the stewing glasses. He hated the sight. People caring about [Cathode], trying to prevent his permanent downfall. Where were they when HE was falling? Where was anyone when he found himself at the bottom of a [&%^$]ing dumpster? Nowhere. He was alone, like always, slowly drifting into madness. Why wasn’t he good enough to get help? Why wasn’t he…

He could’ve helped, of course. He knew [Cathode]’s mechanisms quite intimately. But the thought of helping that damn [CRT] now when he got diddly squat for years made him want to laugh. No, he wouldn’t be helping. They could figure it out on their own if they cared so much about that stupid TV. They wouldn’t do it right, but that was the least of his worries at this point.

When Kris leaned in to help reattach some wires, [Cathode]’s screen flickered back on, full of static. Spamton couldn’t even focus on the fact that they just revived a dead man, because the static drowned him in his memories. That noise, that damned noise, it was all he used to hear. Every day, at least once a day, he would hear that sound come from the receiver on his rotary phone. And he used to know what it meant. Used to remember every blip. The memory burned away with his contract.

So his vision glazed over, with the same static that now covered Tenna’s face, and he let it consume him. The cold of the snow faded away, and soon, the duet turned into a solo.

When he finally came to, he was back in their little “Castle town” that the goat boy technically reigned over. Not that he was the ruling type. It was obvious to Spamton, even before he became an ally, how much of a pushover the prince was. And Susie demonstrated it easily by toppling him over with a single shove. Seriously, he needed to grow a spine of some kind; even just a singular bone would be a good start.

Kris grabs the dealmakers on their head and takes it off. As soon as they aren’t attached to them, Spamton transforms back into his usual appearance. He pats off his blazer and addresses Kris first.

“WHAT STHE [Big Deals!]??”

They tilt their head slightly. “Thought you would enjoy stretching out for a little bit.”

Spamton hums. “WELL YU AREN’T WRONG!!! JUST LET NE KNOW WHEN WE GOTTAS [Hit da bricks]!!!”

Kris gives him a nod in response. 

The prince–Ralsei he recalls–steps closer to grab Spamton’s attention. “The TV world citizens are moving in nicely! Maybe you could use the opportunity to… talk to Mr. Tenna?”

Spamton forces out a laugh. “IN YOUR [*^&#]ING DFREAMS!!! I TOLD U ALREADY!!! I’M NEVER [doing that] AGAIN!!!”

“O-of course. It’s just- Mr. Tenna seems to be wondering about you and-”

“YY AWNN!!! I DON’T [[Care]] ABOUT WHAT THAT [Cathode] THINKS!! HE COVERED ME IN [Insulating Foam]!!! HE’S LUCKY IDON’T [[Killed]] HIM!!” No, hold on, wait a minute. “WA WAIT. HE’s. ALIVE??”

Ralsei seems taken aback by this. “Y-yes! Almost everyone helped pitch in to fix him. But I thought you already knew that, considering you- you were there, right?”

He was alive.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Yeah, why the hell didn’t you help us? Could’ve used some of your, uh, angel things.”

He crosses his arms at Susie. “I WAS [Hired Help] FOR YOU GUYS AND YOU ONLY!!! IF YOU NEEDED THE HELP YOU SHOULD”VE SAID SO!!”

“Oh I’ll give you some help alright-” Susie bares her teeth.

“GO AHEAD!! SEE HOW FAR THoSE CHOMPERS CAN GO AGAINST MY [Perly Whites]!!”

The tension only lasts a moment before they’re chuckling at each other. 

Ralsei continues, “Well, I hope you enjoy your time here nonetheless! I haven’t made you a room, but I’m sure you can figure something out!”

“FREE [Room and board]???”

“S-sure!”

“[^&%*] YEAH!!! [5/5 Stars: No notes]!!!” He had so many ideas circling in his head about how he could feasibly steal from the residents and hoard their stuff inside one of the empty rooms in the castle. 

Kris addresses him once more, “We’re planning on spending time in the light world today, so no need to follow us this time.”

“FINE BY  ME!! HAVE FUN PLAY1nG [Games, games] WITH YUOR GIRLFRIENd 5U5IE!!!”

“My WHAT!? I don’t have a girlfriend dumbass-!”

“EAHAEEAHEA SURE!!! SURE!! MY [Mistakes happen]” As if it wasn’t crystal clear she and that deer girl were head over heels for each other. Perhaps, whenever they decided to get together, he could sell them rings of some kind? He makes a mental note of it. “ANYWHO. GO OUT THERE AND [make memories you’ll look back on]!!” He waved them off happily with Ralsei.

Ralsei doesn’t turn towards him this time, letting his words hang in the air, “He really does seem concerned about you. Just… think about it.”

He’s gone by the time Spamton turns.

Whatever. What does that little prince know anyway? He wasn’t there back then. Back when it all came crashing down. Back when his life was on a train with no brakes. Back when he was swindling anyone and everyone with his charm. Back when…

He shakes his head, willing his thoughts to shake away with it. 

He was not going to talk to [Cathode] willingly. If he was forced to? Fine, whatever. But he’d avoid that damn [boob tube] like the plague until then.

At least he knew some good spots to scope out merch. The perks of being a pair of glasses on the only group of Lightners, he supposes. And of course he was making a b-line straight to [Easle]’s cafe. Any food was good food at this point; he hadn’t eaten in a while. He was planning on wading through anything they had thrown away first, but he didn’t make it to the back of the building before he heard-

“GAH!!! That Creature!!! Is here!!!”

Spamton breathes out a deep sigh. Ok, so he was doing this. He turns to face [Cathode].

After the initial shock, he seems to straighten up his tie with an awkward flair. It was a nervous habit, Spamton recalled. “Hey, sorry about what happened back in the studio! I didn’t realize you were one of Kris’ recruits! Otherwise I, hah, wouldn’t have sprayed you with… foam.”

Spamton’s eyes glazed over the CRT’s body underneath his glasses. He looked a bit more fragile than he remembered. “DO YOU [The perfect gift] EVERY!1 [Insulating Foam] WHEN THEY DECID3 TO [[Reconcile]]??”

“Ha? Wh-what an odd way of speaking! You, um, might have to repeat that.”

Spamton sighs again. “FORGET. IT. [Apology accepted]. NOW GO.  AWAY.”

“R-right! Of course. Of course.” He starts to turn away before stopping abruptly. Spamton swears in his mind. “Actually, one more thing. I’ve been asking around, and you seem to be outside of the TV world, so-”

“SPIT IT OUT.”

“Do you know anything about Spamton? No one around here will give me a straight answer!”

Spamton’s eyes widen under the protection of his glasses. So the prince was telling the truth. “EAHHAEHA KNOW?? ABOUT HIM??? I SURE DO!! SAY,, HOW ABOUT WE [Strike a deal] AND I’LL tELL U [All you need to know]??”

“...I’m listening.”

If nothing else, they both bonded over their shared love of binding deals and contracts. It seems some things never change.

“YOU GET ME A [Hot ‘n’ ready meal] AND LET ME [Crash course] AT UR [Humble abode] FOR THE NEXT [[Insert time/date here]] AND I ANS WER aNY AND 3VERYTHING YOU WANT T O KNOW ABT  [#1 Rated Salesman] SP SPAMTON G SPAMTON. YES??”

Though [Cathode] never had any eyes, Spamton found himself easily following his line of sight anyway. He squints at Spamton, mulling over what he offered.

“So, if I understood correctly, you want a meal and a place to stay?”

“CORRECTOMUNDO!!!”

He purses his lips, tilts his head, and thinks some more. “...Fine. But you get the couch, not the bed. And I’m not getting you some fancy meal. You get what I decide.”

Damn. Even now he was good at sniffing out Spamton’s plays. He’ll give that [Cathode] credit, he was always sharper than the rest of his business associates. 

And, just as they always did, they stuck out their hands to shake on it.

There was a small beat of regret that slipped through his spine. When was the last time they had done this?

“So. Cafe?”

“SURE THINL [Person footing the bill]!! ITS UR [wallet] I’M JUST LIVI NG IN IT”

The CRT scoffs, but continues to the front of the building anyway. He holds the door open for Spamton, letting him walk through before releasing the door behind him. The cafe looks slightly different now, with a stage in front for a band to play, and [Easles] wearing… cat ears? If he wasn’t 100% sure he was awake, Spamton might’ve pinched himself. That was going in the mental scrapbook for sure.

Still, the sight of Spamton made [Easles] frown, immediately halting him from coming any further inside the cafe.

“You should know by now, we don’t serve pests in this establishment.”

[Cathode] leans down a bit to match [Easle]’s height. “Um, does it count if I’m the one who brought in the pest?”

“HEY!!?!?”

[Easles] squints at Spamton before addressing [Cathode], “Fine, we’ll allow it, but you’ll be under watch while you’re here.”

“Fine by me!”

Of course he was fine with it. He loves being watched. [%^&*]ing TV. He rolls his eyes when neither are looking.

They take a seat at a table further away from the door.

“So! I never caught your name! I’m sure you know mine by now, but I'm Ant Tenna!”

Spamton glares at the screen in front of him. “NOT CALLING YOU THAT.”

His antenna immediately droop. “Huh? Why not?”

“CAN’T [Pick and choose] PAL. YOU GET [Boob Tube] oR [Cathode] OR [Trash Heap] OR-”

“I think I got it.” He cuts Spamton off before he could continue. “It’s… unfortunate, but I won’t hold it against you!” He straightens his already straight tie. “So what about you, hm? What’s your name?”

“NOT IMPORTANT. CALL ME [whatever.] YOU LIKE”

“Not even a nickname or something?” Spamton shakes his head. “Ok… Well, I’ve never been great at coming up with names, but I’ll see what I can pull out of the old hat.”

One thing that always amused Spamton was that whenever [Cathode] would concentrate really hard, his tongue would stick out just barely past his lips. He’s sure if he had eyes, they would be fully squinting by now. Alas, he only has the casing around his screen, that molds into some kind of eyebrow when he needs it to. He hims and haws for a minute before making an “o” with his mouth.

“What about Specs? Since uh, your glasses are so unique and, well, y’know.”

Despite himself, Spamton’s smile only gets bigger. “SURE. WHY NOT”

“Yeah? You like it?”

“HEAHEA YEAH!! [Specs]!!! SH>ORT FOR  [[Specstacular]]!!”

A small chuckle leaves the CRT. “Right! That’s what it’s all about!”

For a moment–a very brief moment–Spamton remembered why he enjoyed spending time with the damn [boob tube]. That stupid childish wonder would rub off on him, and they would spend ages just sitting around in a fit of giggles.

He loathed the wasted time.

“Well, um, what would you like? I know I said I wouldn’t let you decide, but I’m not heartless.”

“COVFEFE. II’M NOT PICKY”

“Really? Not even a suggestion?”

“HAVEn”T HAD GOOD FOOD IN LONG ENOUFF I. FORGOR WHAT I LIKE”

Shit, was that saying too much?

“Rough situation, huh? Sorry to hear that.”

[Cathode] orders for them both, getting coffee and a spaghetti code for each of them. Spamton hasn’t had fresh spaghetti code in… well, however long it’s been since he was actively living in the mansion. 

“So, Specs, about Spamton-”

“NOW NOW [Cathode]!!! ARR YOU REALLY GOING TO ASK THAT BEFORE A [[Succulent Chinese Meal]]??? WHAT KIND OF [Entertainer] DOES THAT 2 THEIR [Lovely Audience]??”

That gets [Cathode] to stop in his tracks. “I… suppose you’re right!” His smile wobbles at the edges as he adjusts his tie again. “How disrespectful of me! We shouldn’t dive into such pressing issues over a nice meal! Ha! Ha! Of course not!”

He isn’t sure which one of the two he’s trying to convince at this point.

The coffee and spaghetti are brought out together. Spamton and [Cathode] both decide to take a sip before digging in. Spamton cringes at the bitter taste, but doesn’t move to make it any sweeter. [Cathode] hums happily. He was always a fan of straight black coffee. Spamton never understood how he could possibly drink more than one cup a day like that. And yet he continues to drink his unsweetened coffee, almost out of defiance.

“Well, since you’ve vetoed Spamton as a topic, what about you, Specs?”

“WHAT [About me]??”

“Tell me about yourself! There’s a story there, isn’t there?”

He stops the hand dragging pasta to his mouth. “I… GUESSS??” He slurps up the pasta before he continues, and catches [Cathode] flinch at the sight. “WHAT D YOU WANT TO KNOW??”

“Well, uh, for starters, what’d you do before you came here to Castle Town?”

“SALES. [Buy More ] AND MORE!!!”

“Like those Addiso-”

“NO!!”

His particularly loud shout made [Cathode] jump. He cringes at himself internally.

“[[Apologies, we’re experiencing technical  ]] BUT NO. IM. IM nOT LIKE. THEM.”

Despite how aggressively he shot down the idea, [Cathode] almost seemed… understanding?

“But you are a salesman, right?”

“YES. I DON’T DO. THE ADS. JUST THE [Sale! Sale! Sale!]”

“I see.”

Spamton pauses, before snickering. “NO Y OU DON’T”

“Alright-” If he could roll his eyes, Spamton was sure he would be right about now. “Very funny. Maybe you should add comedian to your resume too.” His expression turns from the lighthearted anger to something more somber. “Spamton was the same way. Just a sales guy. Or, well, he was a mailman, I think, before he got into sales. But he was adamant he wasn’t like the other Addisons either.” 

‘I don’t need your pity.’ He thinks, scooping up another bite off his plate.

They finished their meal in relative silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable per se, but Spamton could tell there was something else on [Cathode]’s mind. He paid and left a small tip for the swatchlings, and then they were both heading out the door, still in a contemplative quiet.

“Alright, now that that’s done-”

“HOLD IT. RoOM FIRST. THIS IS A [Private matter]”

[Cathode] sighs, but continues anyway.

As soon as the room’s doors click closed, [Cathode]’s hovering over him. “Alright, spill it. You’ve been stalling, and I would know, I’m the king of keeping an ending at bay. So tell me, right now, what happened to Spamton.”

Spamton looks up at [Cathode], a smirk plastered across his face. “YOU [Absolutely] [positively] SURE YOU WANNA KNOW?”

He grits his teeth, grinding out a “Yes,” in frustration.

“FINE. YOU WANNA KN0W SO BAD? I’LL TELL YOU WHAT HAppENED TO [#1 Rated Salesman].

HE’S DEAD.”

“...What?” A ripple of static crashes through his screen like a wave.

“HE. IS. DEAD.”

“N-no. You’re lying. That’s not possible. He couldn’t be dead. He- he wouldn’t-”

“THINK WHAT YOU WANT. ITS THE [truth, and nothing but the truth?]”

“He can’t-” Tenna falls onto the couch nearby, tears forming at the edges of his screen.

Tears?

“He can’t be dead… I- I never even got to… I never…” The tears pooled in heavy drops that fell down his screen, collecting at the bottom before dropping into his lap. “How? How did it happen?” He was shaking now.

“HE WAS [[Alone]]. AFTRE AVERYTHING FELL APART. ROTTING” Spamton felt like he was talking about a character rather than himself. Yet it really did happen that way, minus the death, of course. 

[Cathode] was shrinking before his very eyes. He gripped his screen casing so tight it left marks. Spamton almost felt bad for him; almost wanted to tell him the truth to satiate the part of himself that felt bad. But instead he stood there, watching the TV shrink more and more in front of him, and said nothing.

“I could've done something. I could've… I-”

“DONT [Go ahead and ACT] LIKE YOU CAR3D.”

His head shoots up, his face scrunched up with rage and guilt. “I did care! I cared too much!” His hand grips at his chest, crumpling the shirt in his grasp. “He mattered more to me than you'll ever know!”

“YEAH?? THEN WHY'D YOU [abandoned you for the slime]???”

“It wasn't like I knew what happened! I thought he left me!” His grip becomes even tighter around his shirt. “Forget it. I’m just… I’m going to bed.” 

“GOING 2 BED?? ALREADY ??”

He grinds his teeth audibly. “Yes. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve gone through a lot in rapid succession. I’m tired, and I’m sore.” He flicks off the light and walks towards the bedroom door, but pauses in front of it. Tilting his head slightly, he lets his low light spread across his door. “Feel free to make yourself at home, I guess.”

He closes the door with a quiet click.

It’s over? Just like that? He didn't even get to tell him about all the horrors he went through after he fell from grace. Nothing about his time being completely homeless and tossed aside like trash.

Spamton huffs before taking a seat on the couch. It was slightly lifted compared to the ones in Cyber City. But the cushions were soft, and despite himself, Spamton found himself scooting in further. He hadn't had an actual place to sleep in years. He laid his head down on the arm of the couch and curled up against the back cushions.

So what if he didn't know? He should've known something was up! Spamton would never have abandoned [Cathode] that easily! 

…But he believed it anyway.

No, no, [Cathode] was in the wrong here. He left him all alone! Just like everyone else! This was all his fault! He knew that.

Spamton shut his eyes.

Tenna lingered against the door for a moment, gathering his thoughts. His partner–business partner, he reminded himself–was dead. He was too late. He was always too late. It was his curse, he was sure, that he would always be behind everyone. Behind on the times, on technology, on lingo, anything and everything. So he did the only thing he could do. Cry.

Cry his stupid fucking heart out, for caring too much about some guy that clearly didn't care that much about him. His chest hurt. He was aching, in a way that couldn't be swept under the rug with a joke or a laugh. It hurt. His tears were soaking into his shirt, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. It hurt. To be abandoned by that mailman. By Spamton. 

And now he couldn’t even tell him that. He couldn’t tell him how much he ruined his life just by existing. By getting close to Tenna and making him feel wanted for once. By bolting out of his life and breaking his heart. He couldn’t tell him anything anymore. He took a stuttering breath. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. He wanted to talk to him again. He wanted… something, anything. One last piece of his mailman before he was gone forever. Now all he had was the memory of his face, right before…

He pushed himself off the door finally, beginning to peel off the layers he had on. He tossed his tailcoat on a chair and let the rest fall to a pile on the floor. He rubbed away his tears on his sleeve before taking off his shirt. He put on pajama pants, but decided to forgo his usual sleep shirt in favor of tinkering with the inside of his chest. It was still aching. 

He sat on the edge of his bed and pried open his stomach hatch. He hadn't touched his own insides in a while. Usually he had someone else poking around, making sure he still functioned before promptly leaving once they were done. The only person he let linger with his wires was… He rubbed at his screen, digging the heels of his palms into his face to stop that train of thought. This was no time to cry into his high voltage container.

He rummaged around inside his chest, searching for the source of the pain. Unfortunately, with how clunky his head was, he couldn't quite see what he was looking for. He completely turned off his vision to focus more on the sensation of touch within. Finally, he feels something out of place, and carefully maneuvers it out of the clump of wires it was trapped in.

He brings it out of his stomach and in front of his face, where he finally reactivated his vision to see… a leaf? 

He wasn't sure how one managed to get lodged inside his chassis, but he wasn't too concerned about it. As long as it wasn't bothering him anymore, he had nothing to worry about. He sets the leaf down on the side table next to his bed. He shuffles underneath his blankets and turns off his screen for the night.

Chapter Text

When Tenna wakes up, his body feels mostly normal, save for a bit of an itchy sensation where the leaf was tangled up last night. He swings his legs off the bed and stretches. A few audible pops come from his back. He gets off his bed with a small hop, and opens the door to his living room. He would grab some coffee and then afterward he would go to his new TV Time building and–

Their eyes meet from across the room. Specs was on top of the counter with a mug, waiting for the coffee machine.

And Tenna was shirtless.

A squeak escapes his speakers before he immediately retreats back into his room and slams the door shut.

His back was pressed against the door as he took in frantic breaths. Ok. Yeah, no, it’s fine! It’s not like he totally forgot he had a roommate and walked out while he was shirtless. Totally fine. It’s not like it was a very compromising thing, to have his chest exposed. He took in a deep breath and held it. After gathering himself–minus the steam wafting out of his vents–he pushed himself off the door and grabbed a shirt from the closet provided by Ralsei. It was by no means a shirt he would normally wear, but he just needed something to cover himself up. Anything to make sure Specs doesn’t look at him like that again. Wide eyed and… 

…Aaand he was red again! Fan-freaking-tastic.

He clapped against the sides of his casing a few times to get the color to retreat. It’s fine. He didn’t do anything that could get him kicked off air. It was an honest mistake. Frankly, Specs should be ashamed of staring. Yeah, yeah! It’s not his fault!

He opened the door to see Specs standing right outside of it. He jumps in surprise but luckily doesn’t hit Specs. “What the hell!! How did you get over here without making a sound!?”

“I’M JSUT THAT GOOD “

“Sure. Whatever.” He steps around Specs, towards the coffee machine. The mug he used was already empty. “Mind if I borrow this cup?”

“?? IT S YOURS TO [In the beginning] WITH???”

“Yeah, but, you used it already so-” What the fuck was he even talking about? Specs was staring at him like he was crazy, and he probably was. It’s just, back when he was partners with Spamton, he would always use one specific mug, and no one else was allowed to use it unless they asked. “Ha! Nevermind. I don’t know why I even asked.” He placed the empty mug under the machine and started it up.

There was a bout of silence as he waited for his coffee. Too quiet. He never liked the quiet. It was always followed by a screaming match or tears or–

“YOU GOT ANY PLaNS [Cathode]??”

He’s snapped out of his thoughts as he looks towards Specs. “Uh. Not really. I was planning on visiting the TV building at some point but that’s really all. Why, did you have something in mind?”

“MM. NOPE!! WAS PLANNINF ON JUST [Hangin’ around] TBH”

“Gotcha. Well I’ll get out of your hair in a bit.”

“THANK [^&%$]”

“Yeah, yeah, why don’t you celebrate when I’m actually gone, y’ ass?”

Specs lets out a cackle that snaps his head in different directions. It was unnerving to watch. Did that hurt? It didn’t look pleasant, at least. But he snaps back into place like nothing happened. 

“[[Celebrate good times]] AREN’T FUN ALON E!!!”

Tenna downs his coffee quickly. “You would know.” Woah, woah, where did that come from? He can’t be making jokes like that to a guy he’s just met! What if he thinks he’s serious? Reign it back in, he’s a stranger, remember?

“HEY?!???! [&*%^] YOU MAN!! [^&%$] YOU MAN!!!”

And yet his tone held no malice behind it. His smile almost looked… wider? Somehow? Was it just the trick of the light in the room, or was it truly his sense of humor too? He’s only met a handful of people that can take what they dish out, most recently being Susie. Perhaps this Darkner had more in common with him than he first thought.

He places the finished mug inside the sink and puts some water in it for later. He makes his way to his room and changes into his usual outfit. He hasn’t changed his signature look since… Spamton arrived. To be fair, he was right, red did look good on him. But it almost felt wrong now, to be wearing something so similar to a dead man’s clothes. His chest ached again just thinking about it. After finishing up, he makes his way out to the main room.

“So? How do I look?”

“THE SAME AS [Yesterday, today, and ]”

If he could blink, Tenna would’ve. “Good enough for me!” And then he was out the door, on his way to the new studio in Castle Town.

Thank Heaven, Spamton thought. He wasn’t having a horrible time, surprisingly, but he needed to look around more. And with [Cathode] sealing off his room for the most part, he was missing some key info. Mostly, what he was planning to do with himself now that he was in Castle Town. So, with him gone, and waiting just a minute longer in case he forgot something, Spamton opened the door to his bedroom.

Nothing out of the ordinary, at least not at a glance. The furniture was just a bit larger than normal because of [Cathode]’s height, there was a bed, cabinet, drawer, dresser, it was all there. 

Spamton ran a hand across his comforter as he passed by; it was softer than anything he had owned for the past decade. Red, of course, to match [Cathode]’s brand. Or was it his brand? He couldn’t remember anymore, it had been too long since they even talked about it. The prince clearly went all out making his room, anywhere he could shove TV logos, he did. The pillow covers, the rug, an alarm clock, Spamton bet it was on the sheets too. 

Moving past the larger than life bed, he opened up the drawer. Clothes, all about the same as the ones currently being worn by [Cathode], were stocked inside. In the one below, more casual clothing sat inside. T-shirts, tank tops, sweat pants, things he would wear to bed. It was all gaudy TV Time merch too. Spamton shut the drawer with a huff. There had to be something he didn’t already know about in here. 

He walked over to the large dresser and opened it. Tailcoats were hanging inside, perfectly pristine without a wrinkle in sight. If Spamton were a bit more petty, he would mess them up just to [&*%&] with [Cathode]. Well, ok, scratch that, he was that petty, he was just more focused on other things at the moment. He peeked behind the tailcoats, finding nothing but the other end of the dresser. He clicks his tongue. The last thing in the room he hadn’t checked was the bottom drawer of the dresser. 

He pulled it out, expecting more of the same, but was greeted to a box instead. Almost akin to a shoebox for [Cathode], it was smaller than anything else in the room. Spamton grabbed it and opened the lid. Memorabilia met his face, and he couldn’t force himself to look away. This wasn’t just your average souvenir you got at the gift shop, something cheeky to keep you thinking about that [Boob tube], this was…

This was all the stuff they had done together. 

Stored away, in a small box that barely anyone would find. It was almost as if [Cathode] was trying to protect it from prying eyes. Much like Spamton was doing right now. He shook away that thought. He was allowed to look at this, it was partly his own stuff anyway. 

Posters sat at the top, the one facing him being the one where they were advertising TV Time itself. He lifted it up to his face with care. He looked… like himself. Still that cheery little Addison that rose to the very top of the world. The poster creased under his thumb as he pressed into it. He was just unlucky. He was just shorter than the others. Those were the lies he told himself before getting that phone call. The truth was harsher: he was never made to succeed.

He sat down, crosslegged, and placed the box next to him on the floor. He lifted the Dealmakers off his face for the first time in quite a long time, just to get a better look at the poster. Tenna wasn’t exempt from the rough passage of time either, he noted, looking at how sturdy the [Idiot Box] looked in this photo. No burn in, no flickering between lines, just a pristine CRT. He remembers watching their own commercials on his screen, on late nights when he couldn’t go back to the mansion.

He jolts when something wet drips onto his thumb. He traces the cause to his own face, feeling more dripping down his chin. When did he… He quickly wipes them away, the fear of someone seeing him, even when no one was present, overtook any other actions. 

He didn’t miss those times. He didn’t miss the company, the feeling of someone being there when everyone else turned their backs. He didn’t miss the overt flirting, causing the poor CRT to heat up so much his face glowed pink. He didn’t miss when they would get closer behind closed doors, sometimes just holding each other because they could. He didn’t miss when he would poke fun at [Cathode], making witty banter even when the cameras weren’t rolling. He didn’t miss any of it. It never meant anything in the end.

He never meant anything to Tenna. 

That [Cathode] made it perfectly clear when he left Spamton to rot after that fateful day. He was not the one [Cathode] wanted. He accepted that a long time ago. No matter how much it stung. 

He pulled out the other poster and placed it off to the side with the first. Underneath was a pin, a little envelope specially made for Spamton to wear on-air, placed on top of one of his old suits. And beneath that was… 

He grabbed the posters and put them back on top. He shut the box quickly, shoved it back into the drawer where it belonged, and took a few steps away from it. 

This… feels like something he was never meant to see. He probably wasn’t, now that he thought about it, since [Cathode] spent so much time trying to hide it away. He was never one to stop when all the signs pointed to it, though. He was always more of a ‘go, go, go’ person, until he hit a brick wall. He had hit many brick walls within the years between his Big Shot days and now. It never stopped him for long. That’s how he met Kris, how he gained and subsequently lost Neo, and how he ended up as a pair of glasses for the lightners. Truthfully, that wasn’t a bad gig.

He turned away from the dresser, about to leave the room, when he spotted something from the corner of his eye. He flipped down the Dealmakers, and made his way over to the bedside table. There, sitting just barely out of his normal reach, was something he hadn’t noticed when he came in.

A leaf.

He picked it up gently, as if it would disintegrate between his fingers. It was by no means anything special, and yet, it felt like that wasn’t true. Why was it here? There were no trees nor flowers in Castle Town. The only one that could, theoretically, exist was the one that blooms from [Cathode]’s nose. But this wasn’t a flower, it was a leaf from a stem or branch. And it was definitely too defined to be from the hedges outside the castle. After observing it for a moment longer, he pocketed it, and shut the door behind him.

The new studio was, admittedly, a lot smaller than the old one. But beggars can’t be choosers, and Tenna wasn’t planning on getting on his knees anytime soon anyway. Still, he found it odd how this “town” was so small. His old studio was larger than all three areas combined. Hell, his greenroom was bigger than the plaza. Was it just his own inflated size that made his own building so large? No, no, there were other darkners his size.

…Right?

Stepping through the doors and looking at the pristine state of the studio hit him with a wave of nostalgia. It hadn’t been this clean in years. He remembered clearing out the area himself, forging his own company and alliances. He made his own contracts, hired every employee, and paved the way to a new world. A TV world. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how he did it all. The farlands were not for the faint of heart, and a part of him wanted to have an oasis for those that couldn’t make it alone. Funny how that changed so quickly. He still had four arms back then.

The good old days as he would always call it. When he was a newly unboxed TV, capable of anything he put his mind to. He ruled that world for so long, he wasn’t sure if there were other darkners outside of his studio anymore. Not that it mattered to him. In the end, their contracts bound them to his will, and he was far too proud of that to let them go. …Until, y’know, he basically died.

It’s a funny thing, how your mind changes after coming back from the brink of death. 

The memories his mind conjured right before abruptly ending were enough. Enough to make him forget about anything other than the very real need to apologize for ever existing at all. And he did apologize. Profusely. Many times. With tears and snot and the whole shebang. Might’ve grovelled. Only for the few that deserved it. Mainly Elnina, Lanino, and Mike. 

And, fuck, maybe he was hoping he could find Spamton because of that experience. Just maybe, he wanted to forget about the whole “abandoning” thing and just make amends with someone he really cared about. He wasn’t expecting… this. Somehow it made him feel worse, to know he can’t say a word to that little mailman anymore. His presence was–although never discussed by anyone–sorely missed within the studio. He left a hole that was never quite filled. Within Tenna and the TV World. 

When he was out there in the snow, alone with only his thoughts, his mind went crawling right back to that little mailman. Of course there were other memories interspersed between them, but the bulk was all Spamton themed. It made him feel sick, thinking about it now. His chest felt constricted when he thought about Spamton for too long. All those shows, those nights, those memories just made him hurt. But it was like some sort of addiction, because he couldn’t stop inflicting himself with that pain.

Maybe he was craving something unreachable, but fuck, he just wanted to hold his partner again. Dance around their shared dressing room, talking about nothing and ruining his collection of vintage wine. When was the last time he smiled like that? Laughed that hard? What good was a showman who couldn’t even get himself to look as happy as that whenever he wanted?

He’s abruptly brought out of his head by the sound of his office door opening. Glancing down towards the now open door, he sees Mike.

“MIKE!! What did I tell you about the importance of knocking?”

“Sorry sir! It’s just- it’s time to straighten out your antennae!”

Right. He forgot about that. How could he forget about that? It was literally the only thing on his calendar for today.

“Ah. Right, of course, of course.” He pushes his office chair back and stands. 

He peels off his tailcoat and puts it on the rack by the door, then sits on a nearby stool they brought in specifically for this. He crosses a leg on top of his knee as he waits patiently for Mike to fix his antennae. It wouldn’t take very long, they were hardly moved since the last time he did this.

“You look stressed, sir. Or, uh, more stressed than usual?”

Tenna tilts his screen just far enough to show the smirk displayed on his screen. “Y’ trying to get fired twice, Mike?”

The hands on his antenna jump a bit when Mike laughs. “Last time I checked, you were begging for me to come back. You couldn’t fire me if you tried.”

Tenna lets out a hum in response. Mike was right, of course. As he usually was.

“I’ve been thinking about that spammy mailman again.”

“Again?” He can hear the exasperation in Mike’s voice. It was far from the first time he’d laid out his sorrows to Mike, especially about Spamton.

“I was hoping he would be here in town. I wanted to… talk. To him.” 

“And?”

“And then I found out he wasn’t here at all.”

“So why’s that eating at ya?”

The laugh he lets out is more of a shaky breath. “Because he’s not anywhere, Mike. He’s dead.” 

A particularly strong yank against his antenna makes him yelp in surprise. 

“What!? But I thought- What? He’s seriously dead?”

His head hangs a little lower. “As far as I’m aware, yes.”

“That’s… that’s crazy, man.” Mike pulls the antennae back just enough to have them fling back into Tenna’s face. “Well, I’m all done here. And hey,” Mike pats his arm, “if you need someone to talk to or whatever, I’ve got your back.”

Tenna gives him a nod. “Thank you, Mike.”

As soon as the door clicks shut, Tenna doubles over in pain. Ok, yeah, something was up. He unbuttons his shirt just enough to open his stomach hatch. He could feel the precise location the pain was blooming from, so it wasn’t too difficult to yank out the obstruction. The problem? It was a flower bud. One he could recognize anywhere.

A red zinnia. The flower that blooms on his nose whenever he gets extremely happy. 

Sweat drips down his screen. Why was this happening? Why were there flowers growing inside his chassis like he was some kind of pot with soil? The roots were barely developed, but he was scared of what would happen if he didn’t catch them this quickly every time. His wires were sensitive on their own, plus the fact that they were pretty damn important to him living. It couldn’t be too late in the day to talk to the prince, could it?

With shaky hands, he shuts the panel on his chest and rebuttons his shirt. He would visit Ralsei and ask about his little… condition (He refused to call it a sickness. He wasn’t sick! He was perfectly fine!). It was–hopefully–nothing, and he would be back to doing his show in no time. He slips on his tailcoat and places the flower bud inside one of his pockets.

He can’t keep breaking. Who will want him if he’s not perfect? 

No, he was fine. That’s why he was going to the prince. Because he was totally fine. Obviously. 

No one stopped him when he rushed out the door.

The walk (run, he was running) was quick, considering the new studio was basically right in front of the castle. Ralsei was in the main room, cooking something in his cauldron. When Tenna burst in, he jumped up in surprise, which caused whatever he was making to fling out of the pot and explode. 

How did he get such good practical effects? They’re phenomenal–Tenna shakes his head. Focus. You need to focus.

“Ralsei! My good pal Ralsei!”

“A-ah! Mr. Tenna! What can I do for you?”

“Ha HA!! That’s the RIGHT question to be asking! What can you do for me? I’ll tell you what: answer a burning question of mine, will you?”

“Of course, what is it?”

Tenna finds himself stepping into the prince’s personal space. He leans down and places a hand on his shoulder, holding him down in case he decides to run.

“There’s this funky little thing going on inside my insides! Y’see, for some reason,” he brings out the small bud and holds it up for Ralsei to see, “I’m sprouting these from inside my chassis.”

Ralsei takes it gently from his hand. “Incredible… I never thought I would ever get to see this.”

“What exactly is this?”

Ralsei looks up at his screen. “From what it seems, you have something called Hanahaki.”

“Hana-what now?”

“It’s a disease where you start to grow flowers inside your body. Usually because of some kind of unexpressed love. Who haven’t you told?”

Tenna shrinks back and grits his teeth at that question. There was only ever one. Only one person he never told. Because they were business partners and nothing more. That was the deal. 

“It doesn’t matter. He’s dead, apparently.”

Ralsei tilts his head. “That’s odd. I’ve never heard of hanahaki starting after someone’s already died.” He shakes his head and offers the bud back to Tenna. “I’m sorry, but we’re working in uncharted territory here. I can’t help much more.”

Tenna finally releases his grip on Ralsei and takes the bud from his hand. “I see…”

He didn’t. He puts the bud in his pocket.

In a daze, he walks back to his room.

As soon as he opens his door, he’s greeted with Specs on the couch, slightly dangling off of it. When he notices Tenna, his head pops up a bit. “HE YEHEY HOW WAAS YOUR [9 to 5] [Sweet pea]??”

Tenna’s face scrunches up at the pet name. He takes off the tailcoat and hangs it on a hook by the door. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

“SUR3 THING [Sweets]!!”

“What, are you trying to butter me up or something?” He walks over to the arm of the couch Specs’ head was laying on. He leans over Specs, leaving a shadow over his face, and places his hands on his hips. “Trying to sweeten the pot? You do realize you already made a deal with me, right? You even got the couch out of it.”

“AND THAT WAS A SWWWWE ET DEAL!!! BUT NO. AM I NOT [Allow all?] TO S4Y NICE THIGNS?? JUST BECXUS I CAN???”

“I’ve known you for a total of one day, and can confidently say that, no, you would never do that.”

Specs bursts into laughter beneath him. “YA GOT ME THERE [Cathode]!!!”

Despite himself, Tenna finds a smirk on his face where there was once a frown.

Maybe this guy wasn’t so bad.

Chapter Text

Tenna woke up at the same time as he usually did. Which, to be honest, was something he wanted to change. By no means was he planning on waking up in the afternoon, heaven no, but just… later than 4 in the morning. It was almost annoying to be awake before anyone else. Almost. The best part, in his humble opinion, was getting the coffee maker all to himself.

He twisted the doorknob before being hit with a wave of panic, remembering the little fiasco from the day prior. He looked down and patted against his tank top, making sure it was actually on and he wasn’t hallucinating, before going back to the doorknob. He opens the door to the sight of Specs once again being on the counter, sipping from a new mug.

Tenna stood there, dazed, for a moment. “You’re awake.”

Specs snaps out of his thoughts and looks towards Tenna. “SO AR YOU.”

Tenna shuts his door behind him and walks over to the counter. “Yeah, but, I always wake up this early.”

Specs rolls his eyes. “UGH. DONT< [Reminder to ] ME”

“So… why are you up?”

Specs sighs, placing his mug on the counter beside him. He looked even more tired than yesterday, somehow. His eyes looked sunken in, dark circles only bringing more attention to them. His eyes looked unfocused, like he wasn’t quite present in the moment. And that was with his glasses on. Tenna could only imagine what it looked like without the dual toned lenses hiding him somewhat.

“COUDLN’T [Sleep remedies for insomniacs]”

Tenna’s brow creased. “Something tells me that isn’t an uncommon occurrence.”

Specs lets out a breath. “NOTHING AN [old cup’o joe] CAN’T FIXED”

“You sure you don’t want to try to go back to sleep? I’ll be real quiet, I promise.”

Specs glanced up at his screen, then turned away once more. “CAN”T. I CAAN T. I CA CAN’T. I CAN’T” He picks up his previously forgotten mug, but his hands still shook when he lifted it to his teeth. “THEY:LL GET ME. THEY’LL “ He cuts himself off with a drink. “BETT>RE TO JUST. WAIT”

“Well, if you ever need a distraction or something, the offer’s always on the table.”

Specs squints at him. “[Offer of a lifetime]??”

Tenna jumps a bit in surprise. “Oh, right, right, you wouldn’t, uh, you wouldn’t know! Haha. It’s, um, a bit personal, but, if you want, I can play something on my screen for you to watch.”

For a moment, he forgot who he was talking to. For a moment, he was back in his studio apartment, chatting with a very groggy Spamton about how he got terrible sleep. And every time, Tenna would offer up a show to play, and every time, Spamton would decline. Spamton would always complain about how early Tenna would get up, but no matter how many times Tenna told him to ‘just go back to sleep,’ Spamton would stay awake. Saying something about ‘starting the day together to be more efficient.’ A song and dance he got used to. It was domestic, something Tenna never really had a chance to be, and it made him feel warm. 

Or maybe that was just the coffee they always shared between them.

“I’LL. KEEP THAT. IN MIND” Specs took another sip from his mug. “...YOU PLANNI1NG TO JUST [stairs] AT ME OR??”

Tenna takes a hasty step backwards. “S-Sorry! Sorry! I just got caught up in my own head, haha. Don’t worry about it.” He turned around to the sink, taking the chance to wash the mug from yesterday. …It was just an excuse to keep his hands busy. “Um, actually, I was thinking-”

“THAT’Z DA[[Danger! Warning up ahead!]]”

Tenna let out a small huff. “Well, I guess it wouldn’t work if you have your own job to get to… Nevermind, forget it.”

“WHAAT?? LEAVING A [Beloved stranger] HANGING ?? [By a thread]???” He can hear Specs shuffling behind him, then his mug on the counter. “YOU SHULD KN0W BY NOW!!! I HAVE NO [job], nO [mony], NO [[home or auto insurance]]”

Tenna laughs at the cut-ins. “That’s a joke, right?”

“THE ONLY JOKES tER HERE IS> [You]”

That gets Tenna to pause. He puts the mug back down in the sink and turns towards Specs. His smile is turned downward, and his arms are crossed. 

“Wh-what are you saying? That you- You’re homeless?”

“[Bingo!] [We have a winner!]”

“You’re serious?”

“Y EAH   dUMB[@$$], WHY WOOD I LIE??”

“I dunno, pity maybe?” Tenna feels himself shrinking. “I didn’t think-”

“YEAH, OBVI OUSLY YOU DIDN’T. WH Y WOULD I WANT [Pity]?? FROM ANYONE?? I ALERADY LOOKED DOWN ON. I DON’T NEED. I DON’T  NEED. I DONTT NEED UR [Simp] PATHY”

He shrinks even more.

“I LOsT EVERYTHING!! [Everything I had! My life advice!] GONE!!! LIKE T HA T” He snaps his fingers. “IVE BEEN TRYING TO CRAWL MY [@$$] BACK UP GFROM THE [gutter] AND [all I got was this lousy t-shirt]”

Tenna was barely taller than Spamton now. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Specs clicks his tongue and leans back on the counter. “WHATEVER. IT’S DONE AND [It’s over isn’t it?]. WHAT WAS UR IDEA, [Cathode]”

He fidgets with his hands. “Um, I was gonna ask if you, uh, wanted to join me at work today.” He sniffs. “But if you don’t want to-”

“GEEEZ LOO EES [Cathode]!!! YOUR MORE DRAMATIC TH@n ON THE STAGE!!”

He tilts his screen up just enough to show the small smirk that formed on his screen. “Is it working?”

Specs’ eyebrows crease even more, but he scoffs and looks away soon after. “NO. OF COURSE NOT. WHO DO YOU THINK I AM??” A glitch ripples through his body. “BUT IF I SAID YES-”

Tenna shoots up in size, grabbing hold of Specs in the process. “You will!? OH you thrill!? We’d be happy to have you!”

Heaven, he was far too happy about this. “PUT ME. DOWN!! [Cathode]!!!”

“Right! Sorry, sorry.” He places Specs back on the counter gently. A flower must’ve bloomed while he was busy swinging Specs around like a doll, because he could feel a tickle at the tip of his nose.

Specs sighs, “WHAT AM I GONNA DO WITH YA” and plucks the flower from his nose.

“Hey! Those are rare, y’know! In short supply! Vintage!”

Specs places the flower in his hair, and every other argument he could possibly come up with immediately dies in his throat.

“YEAH YEAH, YUOR’RE [Vintage!] ALRIGHT.”

Tenna leans in closer, the glow of his screen bouncing off the white darkner. “Are you calling me old!?”

“I’M NOT CALLING YOU [Young]” Specs lets out a cackle.

Tenna frowns, a growl growing behind his teeth. He could feel his claws start to poke out from their slots in his fingers, but he clenched his hands into fists to hide them. 

Specs’ laughing dies down, “RELAX [Cathode]!! UR [Looking up!] BETTER THAN I AM AT LEeST”

“That’s not exactly comforting.”

“SO ?? SO???WHAT?? AT LEAST YOU AREN’T [[Die]]!! [The Knight] REALLY DID A # ON U Y’KNOW!!!”

“...You know about that?”

“DOESN,T EVERYONE???”

“I thought only the folks at the studio knew. And the lightners of course. I never told anyone else, and it didn’t look like Kris or Susie did either.”

Specs’ smile strained just enough for Tenna to notice. What was this puppet hiding?

“But I’m pretty sure I would’ve remembered if you appeared again. You’re not exactly like anyone else in TV World.”

Specs’ eyes shifted away, hiding behind the glare of his glasses. “RIGHT YOU ARE.”

“So who told you?” 

Tenna leaned in enough to make the puppet shake under him. His smile stretched too wide. 

“MY [Contacts List] IS NONE OF UR CONCERNED”

Tena scoffs and pushes off the counter, creating space between him and Specs. He could hear the breath Specs let out as soon as he was no longer on top of him. “No wonder you and Spamton got along. You act the same way. All secretive and- and avoidant! I bet you knew nothing about each other! Because you’re so bad at just talking.” His nails scraped across his palms. “You make me sick.”

“[Muttering your lost friends names at the bottom of a dumpster]”

Tenna turns around at the somber tone, watching the light from Specs’ eyes drain away just as quickly as the colors on his glasses.

“NO ONE’S GONNA HELP YOU!! GET IT THROUGH YOUR [&*^%] HEAD!!! THERE WILL BE NO MORE [Magic] NO MORE [Miracles] JUST YOU AND [The phone]!! ALONE!! ALONE. ALONE. ALone. THE VOICE RUNS OUT EVENTUALLY. YOUR [Voice]. THEIR [Voice]. UNTIL YOU REAL LIES,YOU’RE ALL ALONE.”

“The phone? The phone told you…?”

“THEY T3LL ME [Just do as you’re told] [Don’t worry about those little ] [You’re a star] [[Don’t you trust me?]]”

Something cold crawls through Tenna’s casing. Like he wasn’t supposed to hear this, like he was walking in on something completely out of his range. Like he was back in the snow, wondering for however long if that was truly the end for him. It felt like the static that consumed his screen when it turned back on. It made his breath shallow, made him tense at the sound. This wasn’t right. Whatever this was, it wasn’t right.

“EAHAEHAHAE NO!! NO, THAT’S NOT RIghHT !! THAT’S NOT WH@T THEY SAID!! THEY SAID!! THEYY S AID!!!   [[Hyperlink Blocked]]” Whatever color or static was left was immediately consumed by pitch black. His smile was completely gone, replaced by a hollow frown. 

No, this wasn’t just wrong, it was… it was terrifying. Tenna was not even close to being friends with this guy, but this? It needed to stop. He needed it to stop. So he did the only thing he could think of, and grabbed Specs' shoulders so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if he tore his blazer.

A hard gasp tore through Specs’ body and he flinched out of Tenna’s grasp (Or did he… glitch out of it?). “H HASNDS OFF!! THE [Merchandise]!!!”

Tenna raised his hands in surrender.

For a while, all that happened was them staring at each other. Specs heaving in breaths, while Tenna tried to suppress all the emotions that were surely showing up on his screen. They both looked disheveled, in their own ways. Specs’ hair was tussled, and Tenna’s shirt was twisted.

Specs’ flower fell softly onto the counter.

They both looked at it, unmoving. Like some kind of spell had been cast over them, keeping them locked in this position. Slowly, ever so slowly, Tenna lowered his hands and reached for the flower. He took it gently in his hand and then placed it back where Specs had it originally.

Specs just stared at him while he did this. If he was uncomfortable, he didn’t say anything. 

Actually, as Tenna took a step back to give him space, he noticed that Specs seemed to have relaxed just a small bit. His breathing wasn’t completely ragged anymore. Maybe he did something right for once. 

“...THANKS. [Cathode].” He croaked out after a moment. Then he shooed Tenna away, making him back up just enough for Specs to hop off the counter. He cast a glance towards Tenna before slowly making his way towards the couch.

When he got there, he flopped down onto it, with the side the flower was on facing upwards. He was laying with his back facing out, so Tenna couldn't tell exactly when or if he fell asleep after that, but he stayed still for long enough that Tenna thought he did. He hoped he did.

Tenna picked up the forgotten mug on the counter, drinking the rest of the coffee left inside. It had gone cold in the time between Specs making it and now. It seemed fitting, considering how the morning had gone so far. It started off nice, he was starting to even enjoy Specs’ presence within his residence. But then… Tenna sighed at the empty mug. Why couldn’t he have just dropped it? He saw Specs was uncomfortable with sharing how he knew about the knight, but he was just so curious. The phone. He said the phone told him about it. But the only person he remembered being that attached to a phone was…

He gripped his torso as a pang of pain shot through him. 

Maybe he was looking into it too much. It's not like he was the only one who used a phone. And maybe Specs had another benefactor of some kind that did the same thing it did for Spamton. It's not like it mattered now, since Specs definitely didn’t own a phone now, and Spamton was… missing in action. 

But what if? The thought clawed at the back of his mind. What if? What if it was the same person? 

He set the empty mug inside the sink with the other one and sighed. He wouldn’t get an answer either way, it was best to just drop it now, before someone got hurt. He turned towards Specs sleeping on the couch. He felt bad. He did. He didn’t have to head into work for a few hours anyway… Why not indulge? Everyone sleeps better with background noise, right?

He walks over and sits on the floor beside the couch. He places his arms on the cushions, and then his head on top of his arms. He picked a documentary of some kind, something about sharks, if he was seeing it correctly. He lowered the volume so it was a low drone among the room. Even though he was essentially looking at the back of Specs’ head, he liked to think he was helping. He hoped he was helping. Dear heaven, he wished he could ask if he was helping. He let himself run on autopilot for a while.

When he blinked awake, he could tell it was well into the normal hours of ‘morning.’ The lights within the castle were on, shining underneath his double doors, and his window had twinkling lights along the bottom. The buildings of Castle Town weren’t nearly as large as the castle itself, so the lights never quite reached the height of his room. He wasn’t too upset about that, at this point in time. It was nice. Light just out of reach, a curtain call he didn’t have to answer. Life was slower here, sure, but that was what Tenna needed these days. Especially with his arms still healing.

Specs groaned as he started to shift. Tenna plucked the now dried out flower from his hair. They never lasted long, but that didn’t make it any less disappointing to see them wilted. Specs turned around as Tenna crushed the flower in his palm, leaving nothing but small pieces.

“Morning, sunshine.”

“MMGH.”

A smile grew on Tenna’s face.

“I hope you had better sleep this time.”

Specs’ voice came out raspier than usual, “II WAS [Dreams] ABOUT ?? [I hate the ocean]??”

Tenna chuckles. “Makes sense. I played a documentary on the subject.”

Specs squints underneath his glasses. “YOU?? DID>??” Tenna nods. “Y??”

“I felt bad about earlier. I thought it would help, so, y’know…”

“...[Idiot box].” Yet his eyes softened. He gave Tenna a smack on top of his casing, just light enough not to hurt him, but still hard enough to get the point across. Specs sits up on the couch afterwards, stretching out his arms far enough to get his joints to pop.

“So, you ready to get going?”

Specs lets his hands drop back down into his lap. “GIVE ME [5 more minutes] AND THEN I’LL BE [Ready, set, go!]”

Tenna gives him a nod before standing up. He brushes the crushed petals into the garbage can and goes to his room to change into his usual outfit. When he walks back out of his room, Specs is still wearing the same outfit as before.

“You, uh, don't have any other clothes?”

“KINDA HARD TO GET [Shiny new car!] WHEN UR [Flat out broke]”

“Ahah… right…” He adjusts his tie. “Well, I’m sure I can get you some new ones. Somewhere.”

Specs nods, and joins him by the door. Tenna slips on his tailcoat, and then they were off.

“YOU’D BETTER [Check up] WITH M3 BEF0RE YOU PICK SOMTHING”

“Of course. I’m not heartless.”

“[Sources say ] OTHERWISE EAHEAHEEAEHA” Specs’ head snapped in different directions once more, but Tenna wasn’t bothered by it.

In fact, a part of him was almost endeared by it. He wasn’t sure if that was such a good thing.

“Hey!!!” He lightly shoves Specs, making the smaller Darkner stumble slightly.

“YOU [Asking for a ] IT!!!”

“Not true!!”

“YUH HUH!!!!”

“Nuh uh!!”

They continued to make jabs at each other all the way to the new studio.

It was familiar. Far too familiar. He could practically hear Spamton’s voice ringing through his office, 

“Ant, come on, you were asking for it.”

“Not true!!”

“Yuh huh. You just didn’t realize.”

Tenna huffed. “Whatever. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m… not enough.”

Spamton clicked his tongue. “So what if you’re a bit weird? So am I! You just gotta work with what you’ve got!” He smacks the top of the CRT’s head. Just hard enough to snap him out of his funk, but light enough not to hurt.

“And what exactly is that?” His antennae were drooped in front of his screen.

“A groovy vibe, baby!” He smiled at Tenna, too bright for him to keep staring. How was the star getting outshined by a salesman?

The answer was obvious: Spamton was more than that. Far more.

[Cathode] holds open the door for Spamton again, waiting for him to walk through before closing it behind them. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to be back here, but he couldn’t deny the feelings of nostalgia and familiarity that sparked when he saw the place. The prince did a phenomenal job of recreating the vibe of the studio, he’ll give him that. The stars danced across the walls, the vending machines and coolers stood in silent defiance, and all the remaining employees were slacking off. Almost exactly how he remembered it. The only thing missing was, well, him.

[Cathode] led them to his office, and pulled out a chair for Spamton to sit. He had to hop up a bit to properly sit down, but it was much easier than the other seating around his room. He loathed to think of crawling up in his high chair again.

“So I was thinking… since you don’t have anything to do today anyway, we could do a show together? Or just a segment, actually. A collaboration of sorts?”

Spamton squinted under his Dealmakers. “DO YOU DO THIS WITH?? EVERY  ??”

“Huh?” [Cathode] straightens his tie. “I- Why would I? This is just because you’re available. I haven’t, uh, had a collaborator since…”

Spamton’s eyes widen. “SINCE?? [Number 1 Rated Salesman]???”

[Cathode] lets out a sigh, then clasps his hands in front of himself on the table. “Yeah. Since Spamton. I hope you aren’t too offended by that.”

“OFF ENDED?? WHYY Y WOULD I BEE???” It was confirmation that Tenna was still thinking about him, still thinking about what they had. He could practically jump for joy.

“I… thought you would be mad about-”

“NONSENSE [Cathode]!! I’ll HAPPILY TAKE THAAT [[Rat]]’S SPOT!!!”

“He wasn’t a rat.” [Cathode]’s fingers flexed in their grip. 

He struck a cord with that one, did he? That’s fine. There’s plenty more where that came from.

“Anyway- If you agree to be on set, we probably have a spare Pippins sized uniform you can use. It won’t fit perfectly, but it’ll be much closer than, well, mine.”

“I [Agree to Terms and Condi–GHHKK–” Spamton chokes on his words, his throat seizing up before he could get his sentence out. He grips at his neck, scratching at something that wasn’t there. He felt strings at his joints, pulled taught as if he was trying to escape. Really? Now? NOW? After all the time they spent slack, this is what gets them to rein him again? 

They release him after a moment, forcing him to gasp in a breath. One hand is still around his neck, the other curling into the table from pain.

He barely hears [Cathode] through the ringing in his ears.

“Hey- Hey, stay with me. Just focus on breathing.” His hand is just a little too tight around Spamton’s shoulder, like he was trying to ground himself at the same time as Spamton. 

Spamton turns towards [Cathode] and uses his free hand to push him away.

[Cathode] looks panicked, his hands just hovering in the air, like he didn’t know what to do with them now that they weren’t on Spamton. He gapes a few times, trying and failing to find something to say. He seems to find it after a moment, because he flexes his fingers before returning them to his sides.

“We’ll- ha- we’ll stick to nonverbal agreement for now.” He’s smaller than before and shaking. 

Spamton nods.

“Ok… and you agree to be on set?”

He nods again.

“Ok.” He takes a deep breath. “Ok. I’ll grab some water. Sit tight.”

All Spamton can focus on is the swirling room in front of him.

He should’ve known. Should’ve known They wouldn’t want him to make a deal with [Cathode]. Even something as harmless as this. They hated it the first time, and They hated it the second. And yet, Spamton will continue to defy Their rein, simply because he could. Because he had to. To prove he was something more than just a puppet to Them. A subservient little pest. 

It was the wording, he knew that. He could make a deal with [Cathode] just fine, so long as it wasn’t written in stone; carved into the air with their tongues. He couldn’t admit he was making a deal with [Cathode]. Or else They would hear. They controlled him with an iron grip before, but now he could get away with more. They weren’t constantly looking; a looming presence just over his shoulder. They were focused on other things now. He wasn’t sure if he was grateful for that or not.

[Cathode] rushes back in with a mug of water. If he wasn’t still sore from his throat being closed against his will, he would’ve chuckled at the sight. He remembered all too well why [Cathode] had to do that instead of using the cups that came with the watercoolers: He was just far too big. The water would either slosh out of the sides, or he would crush the cup in his hand by accident. So he had to stick with something more solid than a shitty paper cup. 

“Here. I’m not sure what happened but I’m really sorry. I didn’t–I don’t want that to happen again.”

He took the mug from [Cathode]’s hands and took a swig before attempting to respond. “NOT. UR FAU>LT. SORRY YOU HAD TOO [See?] THAT”

“It’s alright. Happens to the best of us, haha.” [Cathode] kneels down next to Spamton, putting their faces around roughly the same height.

Spamton takes another drink from his mug. “YOU SAID SOMETHING ABOUT. [a segment, actually]??”

[Cathode] freezes. “Did you… just perfectly parrot my voice?”

“YEA. ITZ A [Feacher]. DONT HA4VE CONTROL OVER IT THO”

“Incredible. Specstacular!! That’ll be perfect for the show!” There’s no way in hell he actually made word art for Spamton’s stupid quip- “Anyway, yes, I did mention a segment! I have a few ideas but I wanted your input on it too.” [Cathode] stood and walked back to his side of the desk.

He slides out a new piece of paper, filled with ideas scribbled about, some having addendums sticking out with lines connecting the thoughts together. Spamton was, unfortunately, well versed in reading these scribbles. He grabs the paper and reads through with a speed he’s sure [Cathode] wasn’t expecting.

A concert? No, no, he hasn’t touched a piano in years, let alone any other instrument. It would be a disaster.

Art segment it is, then.

“So? What’re you thinking?”

“[Graphic design is my passion] SOUNDS,, GOOD. YOU GOT ANY?PAINT??”

“I believe so!” He covers one side of his head with his hand, a stage whisper that was neither a whisper nor on stage, “And we can always steal from the props department if not.”

“EAHAEHAH!! WORKS 4 ME!!!”

“Perfect! Then let’s get ready for the show!”