Something Wrong (Tenna and Reader)
a hurt/comfort reader fic i've written for my dear friend @chamomile-carillon, and now sharing with the world! this can be read as either a romantic or platonic relationship. hope y'all enjoy <3
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
There is something wrong with you.
That’s the conclusion you make once again, as you lay on the sagging sofa and stare at your phone’s screen. It’s empty. No calls, no emails, not even a text.
There must be something wrong with you.
Logically, you know that isn’t true, but it’s so easy to think that. It’s a convincing explanation your mind gives you— along with all the proof for it. Like thorns, the painfully familiar thoughts pierce your heart. All your awkwardness, your foolishness, your shyness, every single little fuck up that you seemingly just can’t stop making—
You turn off your phone and curl into yourself even more. Not like there’s going to be any calls in the dead of the night. The softness of the old quilt does little to soothe the tension your whole body is locked in. You can feel the darkness pressing down on you both from the inside and the outside.
God, it’s just so tiring.
It’s tiring to live through this again and again, even when you know these feelings will pass. The recognition of the spiraling is, arguably, even more tiring—frustrating, even.
Can’t you just turn off your brain? Can’t you just stop feeling like that? Can’t you just be normal? Surely you aren’t asking for much. Just to feel like you belong, to have a job you don’t hate, to live free of fears and judgement, to enjoy your life.
But the black screen of the phone tells you that you are, apparently, too greedy.
…
The silence of the night is broken by a single, wet hiccup.
Then another.
…
Then another.
There’s some kind of twisted enjoyment you get out of trying to stifle your own sobs, letting the tears flow without sound, feeling your head begin to throb between your eyebrows.
You press your whole self into the old sofa. You’ve curled up into a ball, as if trying to become so small you and the emotions you feel won’t exist. Your shoulders shake and rock with your silent crying.
But even when time passes and you begin to calm down- or, rather, as you tire yourself out… you suddenly realize the rocking doesn’t stop. Confused, you finally raise your head, crumpled locks bouncing up, and you find that it’s not the sofa you’ve been crying into.
The soft fuzz, buzz of static washes over you as Tenna tenderly holds poor little you in his arms, rocking you. He’s silent, afraid to startle you, but the tilt of his giant monitor head and his gentle touch all but reveal how worried he is.
“T-Tenna–“ you choke out, a mix of emotions overwhelming you at once. You’re relieved, happy to seem him, but you also feel guilty at making him worry over you. You feverishly try to rub your eyes dry, but a giant gloved finger stops you, and Tenna’s all‑enveloping warmth presses even closer into you.
How can he look so lovingly at you even without a face?..
You must’ve began to cry again, because you can feel the silky fabric under your face become wet again. You must’ve began to babble your thoughts, because you can feel yourself gasp and choke on your tears as your throat strains. Tenna must’ve been saying something back to you, but it’s like your head is full of cotton wool, sounds coming in muffled and dull.
His hands shield you from the outside world, caressing you oh so gently, and you feel so, so small.
But… it’s nice to feel small. To feel safe in his arms. To know you are loved despite everything in you telling you don’t deserve that. He will prove it wrong as many times as it takes.
Slowly… slowly… you begin to quiet down. The world is filled with sound again. The humming of Tenna’s inner workings, the shimmering static, the crickets outside your windows. Your chest doesn’t heave with gasps anymore, and though your eyes sting and your head will surely throb violently in the morning, you feel… lighter. It’s as if Tenna has carefully pulled all the thorns out of your heart, not caring if they prick them in the process. He fixes your quilt, wrapping you up nice and snug, and you can feel him smile at your finally relaxing into his touch.
Maybe you don’t quite remember what exactly he was saying to you. Maybe you’re not sure if he was actually saying anything, but you know what he meant by it anyway. Gingerly, you let his love soothe your aching soul, and you lie upon his wide chest while he runs his finger through your hair. Your exhausted body and mind both welcome the respite, and you drift off to sleep with new thoughts in mind.
You belong, you’re loved, you’re needed, and there is nothing wrong with you.
