: ̗̀➛ [BIG SHOT] Spamton G. Spamton & Reader [+ Tenna] Imagines #5
You can’t fight against it, yet you must. You cannot break down here, but every worried glance, every call of your name; it sends you further spiralling downwards and it’s hard to breathe and there’s too much mucus in your nose and it’s making you angry, but it doesn’t stop even as you try to wipe it away with your hand. There are tears stinging your eyes and your brows furrow, but you try to appear calm, and it doesn’t work; why can’t you be okay!?
You’re already snivelling too badly, trying to stop the running in your nose, but now you’re grimacing and everything is too blurry, and colleagues are trying to stop you, but you can’t. Not here, not here, not here, please not here; please, please, please—
“[Doll face]?” Spamton’s voice rings clearer than all and every other noise, but it chimes as if the bell of your doom has come, and a sob forces its way out of your throat, and as such, you can no longer hold it as not only Spamton, but Tenna too, close at his heel, comes straight your way. They’re calling your name, but you can’t look at them.
“N—no, no, please, no,” you sob, crying as if you were a child, and you turn and try to get away but too soon hands are upon your shoulders, and you cannot keep it up anymore. “I don’t—” Your voice breaks and you cannot speak, and you wrench and claw at your face because you’re furious since your nose won’t stop running! It’s so gross and messy and you hate it; you hate it, you hate it, you hate it, you hate it!
Spamton and Tenna are speaking but you cannot hear them, though soon a tissue is gently pressed into your face, and quickly you take it, wiping away the snot before blowing your nose clear of it. Your mental breakdown is far from over, however, and now that the anger towards your nose has subsided you are instead wrecked with wails and throat-hurting sobs as you hide your face in your hands.
You hate crying. You hate it so much. There’s no controlling it once it’s begun, and you hate it! And all you can do is hide your grimacing face in your hands, feeling so ugly and pathetic as Tenna picks you up without a word, carrying you away from concerned eyes and into the safety of his office.
You don’t try to figure out where you are in the room, you’re too busy trying to control your weeping, but Tenna sits down and places you upon his lap, and too soon there’s a smaller hand touching you; quietly saying that he’s there.
It takes entirely too long for your mind to settle down, but Tenna and Spamton both remain quiet as you sob and cry your lungs sore, and only once there are no more tears to shed are you left hiccupping and heaving for breath. You feel lightheaded.
“It’s okay,” says Tenna, cradling your head with a hand, pressing you closer to his chest. “It’s okay. We’re here.” And he says your name so sweetly, and almost it’s enough to make you cry again. Your breath skips and a few more sobs leave you. Fortunately, it doesn’t linger.
Spamton doesn’t say anything, though you can feel his gaze. He’s not good with comforting you when you’re crying, never has been, but he’s there and you can feel his eyes upon you. His hand is small, but it is warm, and gently; tenderly, it stroked up and down along your arm. It forces your mind to focus on it rather than the troubles you are unable to chase away.
“… I’m sorry,” you eventually say, voice hoarse and so very small. Tenna tightens his hold on you, and Spamton kisses your arm, lips soft against your skin.
“No, you sweet [Angel]. You have nothing to apologise for. It’s okay to cry,” said Spamton, and you swallowed thickly, trying to regain some composure even if you’re slightly hyperventilating. “Breathe, [sweetest heart}. Focus on breathing.”
You nod, small and quick, as if your body didn’t want to but was forced to do it anyway.
Tenna sniffled, rubbing his face against your hair. It was hard for him, seeing you like this, so broken down over something you couldn’t even control.
“I—it’s okay, my love. It’s okay to feel frustrated. We know you struggle with the pain and the problems that comes with it, and it’s okay to cry about it. It’s okay,” he said, though his voice wavered as if he was on the edge of crying himself, and this makes you look up at him, and that, in turn, makes him choke back a sob.
Your eyes are red; glistening from the many tears you’ve shed. They are so full of sorrow; so devastated by what you’ve brought upon them both when they were unaware, and you know they’ll tell you that the chronic pain wasn’t something you could help, and that they weren’t upset that you didn’t tell them when you first met, because honestly, who starts a conversation like that? It was such a silly thing to worry about.
But seeing Tenna being on the verge of crying because of your breakdown? It threatened to set you off all over again, and this he noticed all too quickly.
“It’s not your fault that I’m a cry-baby, my sweetheart,” said Tenna, sniffling again but smiling down at you in such a tender way it made your heart bleed. “You know how easily I cry? We’re the same that way. Two cry-babies for Spammy to take care of,” he said, and his silly attempt at joking succeeded for it almost made you choke on a chuckle.
You settled down against him again, still hiding parts of your face with your hands, though you kept your eyes unobscured. Spamton reached up, urging one of your hands towards him. You relented after a short while, using only the right one to keep your mouth and nose hidden. The skin of your left hand was clammy and slightly wet from the tears, but Spamton didn’t care and instead kissed each of your fingers; making you curl into yourself as your heart fluttered.
The two remained there, pressed close against you, yet their presence didn’t trouble you for they were warm and they were kind and gentle, and they loved you so dearly it eased your mind, and for a small moment, you felt content; pain forgotten, frustration and grief thrown away, and you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to breathe; heart calming down.
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