The House and Everything in It, Ch. 24: Home? (Tenna x Reader)
Summary: Halfway through the journey, something pops up in the middle of the road. It makes your heart sink, but Tenna's heart soars. You'll have to talk about the elephant in the room-- er-- the house.
AN: Hi guys c: Life is...weird. I accepted a job offer and I haven't heard back from them in nearly a month, so I've been in an emotional limbo. Am I hired? Am I not? I've accepted that I should just keep job hunting again, which sucks. Anyway, I hope this chapter is good. Thank you @soul-painter and @tvgoop for beta reading!
Chapter 1 ⊹ Previous Chapter
AO3 Link ☆ Audiofic
The house stands at the edge of the river, a dock in the corner lined asymmetrically with reeds and purple irises. There's a path dotted with worn pebbles in the front and broken planks of wood leading towards the back, lilies of the valley swooning with a wind laced with the sweet scent of moving water and peeling bark of trees half-eaten by a colony of termites as old as you.
"Wowie…" Tenna hums, nose pointed up at the structure. He gently rows so the boat goes at a lazy pace, slow as to avoid too much of a jolt when you both hit the dock. "This has to be something, right?" He lets go of the paddle, scratching the top of his antenna with one hand and holding his chin with the other— that is, until he realizes the stick is sinking into the water. With a quick "oh!" he flails just enough to rock the boat while successfully retrieving what was about to be lost; paddle back in hand, he exhales a sigh.
"What do you mean?"
His eyeless gaze directs onto you. "Well…we keep following a color! You don't really do things like that unless you're living out some sort of story, ya know? I've seen enough movies to know that trope, dear viewer!"
The water babbles as you're caught in the green net of the shore, grasses crinkling against the sides of rounded and waterproof planks. Tenna ties the orange rope around the dock, and with a "hup!", he lifts his knee up until he can step up (a difficult feat for anyone besides him, how high it is above water). A goofy smile accompanies a helping hand. You, of course, accept it.
"Please be careful…I'm heavier than I look."
"Not a day heavier to me than when you laid on your stomach in front of me and watched cartoons."
You have a feeling he doesn't mean when you did that a few days ago. A blush flushes your cheeks as he lifts you up, his hand a seat and his thumb a comforting seatbelt.
…But the lift continues past the point of your feet being able to touch the floor. In fact, it goes up and up and up until you're level with his face. He's just…staring.
You give him a questioning tilt of the head.
"Oh! Don't mind me, star." The fool is absolutely lovesick at the sight of you like this, is what he really should be mentioning. With an embarrassed laugh, he sets you down and rubs the back of his head, a bit of pink on his cheeks to match yours.
"W-what was that about…stories?" you try to get him back on track.
"Well! This house feels uhhh… er… IMPORTANT!" White gloves browned ever so slightly by a mossy dock gesture to the building a short walk ahead. "Straight in the middle of our path, looking so...so—"
…Tenna gestures to it again as words fail him.
You, in turn, fold your arms. It does have a kind of mystique to it but for a reason that makes your brow curl. Tenna ends up saying it first, unaware of your opinion:
"After all, on the outside it looks just like the real deal!"
…
Yeah. It does.
There before you is a building. It's in the middle of your path, looming as if there's no way past without encountering it one way or another. What's on the other side? You can't tell. It's poetry, surely, and you aren't sure if you like it— not one bit.
Somehow, in the dark world, is your very own house.
"Come on, let's see it!"
Excitement overcomes Tenna, and he takes you by the hand before you can get your thoughts processed. Part of you thinks, it's just a house! Right? What's the problem?
Maybe it's the fact it's something that you've spent most of your life trying to run away from. But, you reason further as you and Tenna's shoes crunch over the dead leaves, you came back to the real house not too long ago on your own accord, promising to start over. Maybe there's nothing to be afraid of.
The thought echoes as Tenna opens the door. He steps aside, allowing you to look in. It's dark, and a wave of musty air creeps out in a waft. It smells waterlogged, like…like—
"OOH! Hold on just a second!"
You find your front being encouraged by a big hand to step back. Blinking away your worried mind, you return to reality and obey. You look up to him and see him practically wiggling in anticipation.
"I always wanted to do this!"
He lifts you up— bridal style this time— and you watch as he shrinks down to door frame height and exaggeratedly step his bright yellow shoe into a bleak home. "Over the threshold!" he cheers, bringing you inside. "Just like when people get married!"
Your blush returns tenfold, and this time he notices. His smile quickly turns shameful and guilty, and he sets you down. "Sorry," he gulps, tugging at his collar with the crook of his index finger. "Now how about some light…"
The glow from his television isn't remotely like a beaming flashlight as TV shows might depict. Instead, it's more like fireflies in a jar— a lingering and flickering aura that bounces with each step. You stare at him. He's still tall but he's so…small! He fits in your house!
—Or, well, the old toy make-believing to be it.
"Aha!"
Ch-ching! The light's chain is pulled and it turns on.
"I've…never once in my life thought I'd be able to do that! As me!" he clarifies.
"As you?" you question, your attention taken off of the uncanniness of it all.
"Well…yeah!" His finger pokes the end of the chain before he gets distracted. The tall man turns his nose to a knickknack display next to the kitchen table. He gives a tiny church a little poke, a delicate and high-pitched ring coming from the thin bell tower. "With my own head, hands, feet!" …Fingertips delicately touch his throat. "…Voice. It sounds…nice in the walls. Though maybe I just like hearing the sound of myself talk," he jokes. The TV looks over his shoulder to you, but second by second, his smile fades. "What's wrong?" he asks.
"It— it's nothing."
"It's not," Tenna answers, getting on his knees to be level with your face. "Doesn't being home…feel good? It— it certainly does for me! Haha! This big place full of people and things we don't know?! And all of a sudden, here we are!" His hands gesture up with cheer and remain in the air for an agonizing moment of silence. Then, they gradually fall.
"Don't you feel relieved? …Star?"
…
You don't have the heart to lie to him, and you're too much of a coward to say it. His antennas droop.
"I…I guess I can understand the mixed feelings," he backpedals. "We don't have to spend any more time here—"
He grabs your wrist, but you resist.
"Maybe…you're right. Maybe it's okay. We need to rest for the night, don't we?"
…His gaze flickers over you. Then, second by second, there on his screen stretches a big smile. Oh, you brave little thing. He'll make the night worth it.
─── ⊹˙₊˚ ˚⋆˙･｡ﾟ*.☆.* ﾟ. ⋆˙₊˚ ₊˚⊹───
It's a little weird, being in a facsimile of your old home while on your way to the real deal. The textures and shapes…you haven't decided yet if they're the exact same or just a bit different. The swirls on the wood and the prints on the wallpaper keep you second guessing. Maybe it's that you simply haven't appreciated them like this before, eyes fresh and skeptical. It's liminal.
"I…wonder what made this place," Tenna asks, looking up at the ceiling as he fiddles his fingers over his stomach. It doesn't have the cracks you're used to, nor the water damage. It feels weird, having him next to you, with a big empty space where the TV is supposed to be. It's as if the house itself knows it doesn't need two of the same thing.
"It's my dollhouse," you answer knowingly. "From when I was little."
"I never saw you with one," Tenna says before he thinks. And oh, how the pause that follows makes him wish he didn't.
"…We kept it outside," you reply, staring hazily above in that way you do remembering the bittersweet past. "I…I don't know why. Sometimes I felt…like it was because I was dirty. I…made things dirty. So it couldn't be inside."
"…That aches my heart," he says quietly, just loud enough that one might be able to tell he's dropped his facade of bounce and cheer always present in his cadence.
A tear rolls down your cheek as you stare up while he stares at you, now laying on his side. You don't remember, but it's just like that first night his whole body was here. The smooth floor…the cold air…somehow so close yet so far away. God, he wants to touch you so bad, but he can't.
Not after being so selfish. Touching you is what got you here in the first place.
A moment passes, the air thick with the smell of dirt, like the house just emerged out of the ground, a zombie from the grave. He isn't used to it. Is this what outside smells like, he ponders? It's so…heavy.
He takes a breath.
And then another.
And as the tear falls past your ear and onto the floor, he decides that maybe there's a way he can help after all. Tenna scootches closer into your space.
"You know what else is nice?"
…
…
You use all your energy to turn your head to look at him. There's that goofy smile, his hand resting between your body and his.
"I get to tell you that no matter how dirty you feel…you've always been good. A good kid! …An even better adult." His smile stretches and recedes in a show of warmth. "All that time, living in silence even though it was my job to talk to you!" Tenna's voice hiccups, and moisture begins to form on his screen. "I— I couldn't even say I'm sorry."
Don't make him say it. Don't make him say what horrible things he'd have to be sorry for.
…
You reach forward and clasp your hand on his. It's more solid, somehow, than the nights where it was dark enough for him to hold you. "I don't want you to be sorry."
"I— I know. You don't need a sorry. You've needed help. S-someone t-to…rescue you. God!"
He chokes own his own breath, screen turning black and tilting down. It makes the tears on it even more obvious, gushing and creating the scent of petrichor as it melds with that of the ground.
"I…I hate this house," he confesses, despite what he said of it earlier. "But it's all I have! It's the only home I've…ever known. And…I wish…"
…
A long sigh deflates his chest.
"I just wish that it made you happy."
The answer to that is painful. There's a sting in its cliche ring, nearly meaningless with how often these words are spoken. But since your TV is familiar with what you're about to say, you consider that maybe he could never be tired of the truth if he's spent his entire life speaking it back to you through reruns of sitcoms and recordings of classic movies.
As many a show has said to a wet-eyed child before, it's your turn to tell Tenna:
"I'm happy as long as I'm with you. That's what makes a place a home."
Whimpering, his lip wobbles and his hand clings yours tight. "But…aren't I too late?" he admits. It sounds evil coming out, but it's the fear he's been shoving done over and over. You shake your head.
"No…" you tell him softly. It's strange; often when you talk about your pain, it's you that ends up comforting them. Sometimes it annoys you. But other times— like now— it brings you a sense of peace. They care enough to be upset. Tenna cares enough to be upset. That…means the world when you've felt all alone. "You never left my side."
Tenna can no longer resist the wretched temptation of laying his hands on your precious form. You become his doll in a big toy house. He holds you to his chest, and raindrops cry down his black screen. You feel dirty, yet pure; sinful, yet safe.
Maybe this is home after all.
