Tenna fled from the stage as fast as his legs would carry him.
I can't believe I let myself get so emotional onstage! Again!
The viewers must've hated that! And now they're worried about me...
He slumped against a wall in the dim corridor and squeezed his antennas until his hands ached.
This is all wrong! Nobody is supposed to worry about me! How could I let that happen!?
Static flared in his shoulders.
His head.
His chest.
His legs.
Everywhere.
I don't know how much longer I can keep this act up...
I can't convince my viewers that I'm doing fineā¦ and it's getting harder to convince myself that I'm doing fine, too.
He released his antennas and let his arms fall to his sides.
One thing was clear.
He needed to get as far away from the TV Building as possible.
Everything passed in a staticky blurāthe castle gates, the doors, the stairs, the kids' rooms, Queen's roomāuntil his own room's door clicked shut behind him.
The soft green walls were a welcome sight, compared to the harsh stage lights.
Finally, he was all alone.
He could stop performingā¦ Drop the actā¦
Stop thinkingā¦
And rest.
The armchair in the corner never looked so comfortable.
Tenna kicked off his shoes and gingerly massaged the fresh dent between his antennas. Somehow, it hurt worse than the other night, when the accident first occurred.
Oh well. A little dent was nothing compared to everything that Spamton lost. It seemed like an apt punishment, consideringā¦
He shook his head. What good would more thinking do now?
With stiffness in his shoulders, he took off his suit coat and draped it across the back of the armchair.
The best thing to do was end the day on the best note possible, after all! That way, he could start the next day fresh, make everyone smile onstage and offstageā¦ and check the door, all over again.
It wasn't so bad, was it?
Walking around the side of the armchair, Tenna loosened his tie, undid the top two buttons of his dress shirt, and took a deep breath.
Finally, he could breathe.
That shirt felt too tight all evening.
His fingers brushed against the stickers he stuck to his chest-plate a couple nights ago.
Good.
They were still there.
Now, he could truly rest.
He reached over the armrest to adjust the cushionā¦ when he noticed a small blue box resting on top of it.
Where did this come from?
Whatever it was, it was cold to the touch and fit perfectly in Tenna's palm.
Inside was a cheap bag of diced vegetables. The frozen kind, clearly bought only for its temperature. A make-shift ice pack.
Well, the accident wasn't a surprise to anyone in the dark world or light world!
Perhaps it was a get-well-soon gift from Ralsei down the hall? But nobody ever delivered gifts directly to his room.
Tenna reached for the handkerchief in his coat pocket and wrapped it around the ice pack.
As he placed it on the armrest, he noticed something else.
It wasn't a fancy bowtie by any means. In fact, it looked like it had seen far better days. The edges were frayed, the color was faded, yetā¦
Something about it seemed vaguely familiar.
He spoke before he could think. As old and tattered the bowtie was, it resembled the same bowtie that Spamton wore in TV World all those years agoā¦ Back before everything unraveled with that contract.
Static prickled in Tenna's throat. What was something so precious doing in his room? Where did it come from? And whyā¦?
Hands trembling, he scooped up the dingy fabric, and that was when he heard a faint scuff, like socks stopping on tile.
Looking over his shoulderā¦
ā¦he noticed something else.
A smaller darkner, with clean black hair.
Wearing pink and yellow glasses.
And bright colored clothes.
The same clothes he had bought almost two weeks ago forā
"Spam?" @realspamtongspamton
For a heartbeat, the other darkner froze. Like he was a child caught sneaking out of a room.
Silence fell between them.
The other darkner shuffled back a step.
Tenna's screen flickered.
Then, the other darkner scampered out the door before Tenna could say more.
Slowly, his focus returned to the bowtie in his hands.
Static crept into his voice and along the edges of his screen.
"I thought you hated meā¦ Are you saying you don't?"
He knelt down by the armchair and hugged the bowtie close to his chest.
"Thanks for letting me take care of you, Spamā¦ Those clothes really do make you look like a Big Shot."
The static now overtook his entire screen.
"I think I know who to give your bowtie to."
None other than their sweet little angel, of course.
From within the sea of static, a smile formed.
And for the first time in a long whileā¦
He didn't have to force it.
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