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Where sunlight drifted in through the living room windows, in the dark, stagelights blared.
“And CUE the laughtrack. Haha!”
The audio crackled through Tenna’s speakers. He twirled on his heels, coattails swaying with the motion as he chuckled and paced back towards the front of the stage. Beyond the spotlight’s glow stops a gathered hoard of loosely defined shades that watched, eager and eyeless.
Out in the living room, Kris giggled. The sound was much clearer compared to the hoots of laughter from the audience. It filled Tenna’s head and sent a surge of tender, antsy delight racing through his system.
“Oh? What's this now?” He tilted his head and raised a hand near his vent. The episode took a sharp twist, and the gasps in his audience mimicked those from the broadcast.
Kris’ eyes widened. The sunlight caught on their ruby red irises. Their mouth fell open, “wah the FUCK?!”
They were so shocked that the crayon fell from their grasp. They let it roll across the paper they'd just been busy adorning with red and black scribbles that formed a vague shape with wings and horns.
Fresh laughter rippled through the crowd. Tenna, however, feigned offense and gasped, grasping his tie as he balked. “AH! Language, kiddo!”
No one was in the house at the moment, so was on Tenna to set a good example. Dess had snuck an R-rated movie in during the weekend, and it would seem that Kris had picked up a thing or two from it. He couldn't let Tori know! She'd already mentioned something about ‘parental controls’ the other day.
His grit quickly fizzled out. He saw his own glow reflected in their eyes, and his shoulders dropped. “Oh…okay. But let's not make it a habit, m'kay honeybunch?”
It did NOT help that they just sounded so darn CUTE when they said it. Less of a hard ‘chuk’, and more a mumbly little ‘fuh’. They had been working on their pronunciation with Toriel lately. All practice was good practice…probably…!
He had their full attention now.
Tenna’s smile stretched far enough to curl at the border of his screen.
“And DON'T touch that dial! The next episode will be right here, after these quick messages.”
Sometimes, the commercials could be as fun as the movie or show. Sometimes, anyhow. This time it went to some car advert that Kris didn't care for all too much. They bounced where they sat cross-legged on the rug and went to resume their drawing. Just before they grabbed the crayon, though, their face shifted, and their eyes went off to the side.
Tenna leaned in that direction. Confused, he asked, “hm? What's up, hon?”
Kris stood up, and vanished from view. They went like they were walking towards the door, which worried Tenna, because he remembered how tired Asgore and Toriel were last night and wondered fearfully if they may have forgotten to lock it.
To his relief, he felt Kris walk right up beside him on his left-hand side. He couldn't see them, but he could feel a warm tingly presence, and that was enough. For some reason he still looked over off-stage in their direction.
His gaze was met by that of a green Pippins with a headset and clipboard. The Pippins’ eyebrows went up as he, too, cast a glance over his shoulder, only to then look back at Tenna. He shrugged. He offered a sympathetic smile.
Tenna’s smile started to fall. “What uh…what's going on, Kris? The show's gonna be back in a flash! Haha…!”
The word crackled with blue lightning. His voice crackled anxiously.
“Let's all return to our seats, yeah? You don't wanna miss this!”
His confusion deepened as he felt Kris go further near the wall. Were they going to the window? Did they see something outside? Or, wait, were they trying to squeeze BEHIND him?
“What,” his screen snapped back towards the green Pippins, “what're they doing?”
The dice bristled and stood at attention. “Lemme see!”
His green eyes faded towards more of a muted gray as he stared off towards the light. The color returned shortly. “They…would appear to be, uh…”
“What?” Worry and fear twitched and tingled under Tenna’s chassis. The static in his voice hitched, “what? Are they okay? Are they hurt? Come on, spit it out!”
His foot tapped sharply. The stage trembled underneath as he hunched his shoulders and his fingers curled. He wound tight around a thick, fiery, poisonous terror that dripped icy cold sludge into his gut.
Please. Please, don't do that again. I love you. Please don't stick anything back there again.
“N-no! They're fine, Boss.”
The tension began to uncoil.
His shoulders relaxed.
“They're just, uh…they've got…”
Static crackled through Tenna’s feelers. They sprung at full alert as a voice spoke through the signal, muddling that of the still ongoing broadcast.
“‘Ello, Mister Tenna.”
He dropped the microphone. It landed with a harsh THUNK as feedback screeched and fizzled.
Tenna threw his head back while it rolled, forgotten, across the stage's floorboards. He brought his hands up over his screen. His screen was dark, now, save for a white mouth that was rapidly warping into a tight, fanged, twisted half-snarl.
He trembled on the spot for several seconds. Then, quietly, he whispered, “...hello, Ramb. Is Kris with you?”
The plug answered pleasantly, “that they are!”
“Okay,” said Tenna, without a single trace of emotion in his voice, “great. And are they alright? Are they doing anything…worrisome…back there?”
“Not as far as I can tell,” Ramb said, “they’re mostly just sat down holdin’ me at the moment. ‘S the show still runnin’ smoothly out front? I’m still hooked up. Power’s still running good and easy on my end of things.”
“Yup. The show is fine, Ramb. Is Kris trying to UN-plug anything?”
“Nope.”
“Okay. Great. Amazing. Freakin’ SPECTACULAR, Ramb, thank you.” Each word appeared with a wet splat around Tenna, who sighed a heavy, strained huff that came as a gush of steam through his vents. His screen stayed black as he lowered his hands. His claws were out. He frowned at them.
“...what is Kris doing, exactly?” He asked after a brief lull.
He could FEEL them back there. It was further away, and he had to strain his senses, but if he tuned into the Light World enough, he could just BARELY feel a fuzzy warmth that he knew to be his favorite little viewer behind him. They were low to the floor, sitting down among the wires and cables near the wall behind his stand/stage.
Be CAREFUL. Don’t TOUCH anything back there. Oh, god, please come back. Please get out from back there. Please, please, please.
The episode was starting. The jingle was mocking him. Tenna glanced up when he heard a cough, and withered under the gazes of a troop of Shadowguys, who all regarded him with weary, pitiful frowns.
“Just playing, mostly. They’re holding me up in their lap. I reckon it’s ‘cause I’m running a bit warm at the moment. Their hands are a tad cold.”
I’m warm. Why don’t they hold me?
“Uh-huh. They’re still not unplugging anything?”
“Nah, Boss. Everything is plugging in. They’re humming along to the song. We can hear it back here just fine.”
You’re MOCKING me. You’re RUBBING IT IN. I hate you. You are evil- you are an EVIL EVIL plug.
Tenna’s chest was cold, cold as he sank down, down, down onto the floor. He shrunk as he went to sit, head slumped forward. The audience was quiet, and then the audience was gone. He draped his gloved talons over his bent knees and sighed a heavy, forlorn sigh.
“...you alright, luv?” Ramb’s tone shifted. He wasn’t smiling now.
“I’m fine,” Tenna said quickly, “is Kris still fine?”
“They’re doing just peachy, luv. Oh.”
“Oh? Ramb, what kind of ‘oh’ are we doing here? Good ‘oh’, bad ‘oh’? They don’t have anything metal, do they? DO THEY?!”
Tenna was scrambling to his feet while Ramb hurried to respond, “no no no! Nothin’, luv. They’re empty-handed. They’ve put me down, and now they’re, ah…oh, luv.”
His mind flashed with blurry blips of memory. A sharp crackle-pop. A surge of heat. The feeling of hot sparks. It was the wall socket, so it wasn't a part of the crew. Thank goodness that it wasn’t part of the crew. It was one of those things that was a part of the Dark World’s landscape, rather than a Darkner. He remembered the power going dead with a surging groan as the system went out, and following Ramb out into the snow as they went to investigate the charred black hole that had been made out of the outlet that fed the studio.
Mostly, though, Tenna remembered the sound of Kris crying.
He remembered waiting.
He hated the waiting. Hours and hours, just sitting in the dark on stage, just barely able to peer out through his screen into the living room as he waited for his family to return from the hospital. He was too tense to even vomit. For the whole time he was waiting, he was curled up in a fetal position on the floor with a cry caught in his throat that dripped through his speakers, drip by drop, in the form of a mangled, thin whine.
The stagelights surged back into view as his screen lit back up. His mouth gnashed with splintered, glassy fangs as he bellowed, “WHAT, RAMB? WHAT ARE THEY DOING?!”
“They’re going behind the stand, Mr. Tenna. I think they spotted something? Or someone, maybe? Hard to tell. They’ve put me down.”
“WHAT ARE THEY DOING! BEHIND THE STAND, RAMB?!”
A pause.
Oh god, oh god, oh god.
A quiet crackle. “They found some of the Rabbicks. Seems they’re playin’ with the dust, luv.”
Tenna wanted to throw up and scream and cry and rip his chassis off and throw it at the wall and off the stage and throw himself onto the floor and curl up and thrash around and thrash around and roll and thrash around. He didn’t do that. He let his hand fall away, groaned, and flopped over onto his side with an unceremonious clunk.
“...they’re playing. With the dust,” he said slowly.
“Ayup.”
“The dust.”
“The dust, yes.”
Tenna felt Kris brush his power cord. He eventually felt them sit down on the cable itself, and shifted slightly, wondering dimly if they’d hurt themself or hurt him if they stayed there for too long. He didn’t feel anything strain, though, so it was probably fine.
Ramb was quiet for several minutes. The show was still going.
“...you alright out there, luv?” Ramb asked eventually, only to sigh heavily when Tenna answered with another groan. “Oh, come on. At least Kris is havin’ fun, right?”
“Sure. They are having SO much fun. With you. And the dust.”
“‘S not my fault it’s been a bit since ol’ Toriel’s done a proper deep cleaning.”
And it WASN’T, but Tenna didn’t CARE. He wanted to see Kris smile and laugh at the show. He wanted to see his little star sitting in front of him. He wanted to be the one who they used to warm their little hands up. His screen was warm, AND fuzzy! So why did Kris go to Ramb, huh? WHY WHY WHY WHY?
It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair. I hate Ramb. I hate the dust. I hate everything and everyone.
“Sir?”
Tenna swatted a claw in the vague direction of the Pippins’ voice, dismissing him immediately. He heard a low ‘okay, jeez’, and withered further into the floorboards. The warmth of the sunlight on his Light World form and that of the stagelights as it soaked into his suit didn’t do anything to ease the cold, itchy unpleasantness that was gnawing at him from within.
“...Tenna?”
“Go away, Ramb.”
“I’m backstage, luv.”
“Shut up, Ramb.”
Ramb tutted, “now, now? Is that any way to talk while we’re on-air?”
“Kris can’t hear,” they never ever can, “and I don’t care. Stop rubbing it in.”
“I’m not,” said Ramb. And he wasn’t. And Tenna knew that. And knowing didn’t do anything to ease the aching, crawling worry in his chest. He suddenly wanted to cry. He could FEEL everyone staring at him. He wanted to disappear. “...’m sorry. Don’t go.”
He sniffled, “I’m sorry.”
“I know, luv. I get it. It’s alright.”
“You’re…you’re sure that they’re havin’ fun? ‘nd they’re okay?”
“They’re laughing, luv. Can you hear it?”
Tenna cranned his attention once again towards the backstage. Towards the snowy expanse beyond the studio’s walls. Towards the light. Towards the tangle mess of tangles behind the stand, where it was all dust and bits of paper, and some bits of loose change, probably. Maybe even a few Pippins.
He heard Kris giggling and mumbling to themself. It was too far away for him to make out the words, but they sounded happy. They were probably coming up with some story or another. Kris liked to do that. They told stories with Noelle and Dess and Azzy all the time, but Tenna would be honest: he liked Kris’ solo stories the best. They were always the most THEMSELF when they were alone.
His chest loosened just enough for a few tears to leak through the darkened glass of his screen. “Oh…mhm…I hear it…I hear them…”
He heard a bird sing, somewhere. Far, far away. Even further than the snow or the dust or the golden walls that were his whole world. He inched further towards the stage’s screen slightly in some vain hope he’d get closer to Kris. He could hear them, just barely. His star. His personal little Angel.
“I hear them…”
~~~
It was cold. Everything hurt. How could it burn so much when everything was so cold? It was dark, but there were colors. Swimming waves of colored, blackish static. It hurt. He was dying.
“...na…”
Something, somewhere. Far, far away.
A voice.
“...m…rry…”
Someone. Warmth. A weight on his screen. A hand, palm pressed against the cold, frost-tinged glass. He tried to power on, but all he got was pain, and hot sparks all over. He whined and hoped whoever it was wasn’t hurt. He was so sorry if they were. He didn’t mean to.
He did good, right?
He made sure they had fun, right?
Did he mess up? He didn’t mean to.
He just wanted to see them smile, just one last time.
The weight pressed closer. Warmth enveloped his head as the voice, clearer now, mumbled softly against his vents. “‘m sorry…I didn’t think it’d hurt so much…I’m sorry…I’m so fuckin’ sorry…”
…language…
A blip of memory. Staticky, and strained. Golden walls and golden light and golden flowers on the kitchen table. Birdsong, somewhere, far far and far away. He was lying on his side, crying like a baby, because he wanted to see his baby smile, and he felt like he was all alone.
“Kr-zzt?”
He tried to lift his head, but they hushed him. “No, no. Just stay still. It’s okay. It’s okay…”
“-m…sor-” Another glitch fractured the words. His voice began a wet, choked gurgle. He whined loudly and trembled into the snowbank. “-id…what you…I did…”
“You did very good,” they whispered, “it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. You’ll be okay…” They mumbled against the metal of his head, and he worried they’d get stuck like that kid in that movie who licked that pole when it was snowing outside. They didn’t have a gun, did they? They’d shoot their eye out if they did.
“-old. I wanna…zzt…h…old…it’s so…c-ZZT!”
Old. Hold. Cold.
He wasn’t alone.
Kris was here.
His baby was here.
He tried to hug them back, but there was nothing there. Pain screamed from his shoulders. He made a guttural sound of pain. His fear spiked impossibly further when he felt the sparks fly out, and on sheer impulse, began to nudge his screen against Kris to push them away.
“-URT. DON’T WANT TO. HURT-”
They came right on back, and hugged him even harder. “You won’t,” they said, “you can’t…I’m sorry…”
Voices.
Getting louder?
Kris whimpered. “...I’m scared, too…and I’m sorry. I don’t…”
Voices, yes. Many, many.
Kris was starting to leave. He cried, loudly.
Getting closer. Further. Don’t go. I love you. It’s okay.
“You’ll be okay,” they repeated. There was something in the words. Some vague terror in their voice. “...you’ll be okay…”
Don’t say it like that. Come back. Why can’t we both be okay? Why can’t we both be okay? Please. It hurts so much.
Kris left. Tenna sobbed into the snow. Snow crunched as footsteps hurried away, and more rapidly approached. He heard a voice, and foreign hope began to swell, underscored by mournful horror.
“...I hear him. I SEE HIM! Tenna, Tenna! It’s gonna be okay!”
Come back, please.
I love you…
…did you have fun, angel?
Please, be okay.
I love you so much.