Chapter Text
Cautious optimism, tinged with an undercurrent of nervousness: that’s what you felt when you were first informed of your new home. Tenna, meanwhile, was a wreck. After so much time spent languishing in Castle Town, managing to pull himself out of the depths of his depression but never quite thriving, he was all panic and insecurity after he was told the news.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” he whispered to you, trembling as he held you close. “I-it’s… It’s been so long! What if I don’t know how to be entertaining anymore? What if I’ve completely lost my touch!?”
You soothingly rubbed his shoulder. “Tenna—”
“W-what if I’m… worse than he expected!? What if he just decides I’m worthless and throws me away!? A-and… and what about you!? I— I mean, I know Susie asked him to keep us together, b-but… you know how Lightners can be! What if he forgets? What if he doesn’t take it seriously!?”
“Shhhhh,” you hushed, wrapping your arms around him. It was hard to ignore the way his doubts made the weight in your gut feel heavier, but you had to remain stable, sensible. That had always been your role, even back when you were working for him. “Don’t dwell so much on the what-ifs. They’re going to love you. I promise.”
He swallowed. “You sure about that?”
You weren’t, but you had to believe that everything was going to be okay; that attitude had gotten you this far, and you weren’t about to abandon it in the face of a little bit of uncertainty. “Of course I am,” you replied.
He took a deep breath, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “Y-yeah. Okay. Everything… Everything’s going to be fine, so long as I have you.”
“Everything’s going to be fine, no matter what,” you corrected, poking him in the chest. “No matter what happens, I will always love you, and you are going to be okay.”
He shuddered at your implied concession that circumstances may tear the two of you apart, but tried to force a smile. “I believe you,” he said halfheartedly. “And I’ll always love you, too.”
Arriving at your new bright-pink home, you felt stunned. It felt like an almost eerily perfect fit; the moment you arrived, you could already sense some parallels to the world that Tenna had constructed himself.
“Would you look at that?” he said, wearing a wide, incredulous smile. “I get the feeling I’m going to like it here.”
You clung onto his arm as you started to explore your new environment. It was half-developed, but the existing buildings had the glitzy, showy design aesthetic that Tenna adored. It was more effeminate than Tenna’s usual taste, and preferred a motif of hearts to stars, but Tenna’s appreciation for this new land of opportunity showed on his screen.
A little while later, you heard his rate of breathing increase, panting as though he’d just finished a long sprint. “Tenna, are you okay?” you asked quietly.
“A-are you kidding me!?” he laughed, bending over to brace himself on his thighs. “I— I can’t… I can’t even remember the last time I felt like…” He tapered off to silence, looking at you with a manic grin. “Hey, take a few steps back, would you? I want to try something.”
You nodded, hesitantly releasing his arm and standing back. Tenna collected himself for a moment before adopting a confident pose, his finger held out to an empty expanse of land. “And HERE! GOES! NOTHING!” he shouted; and then, the ground began to erupt.
Beams and lights and panels and walls emerged from the ground, constructing an entire building from the bottom-up in less than thirty seconds. You gasped at this demonstration of an ability that you had never seen him use before, and as soon as you fully understood what you were looking at, your expression fell.
You knew this building. It was constructed to align with this world’s pre-established architectural aesthetic, but it was otherwise fully identical. It was the first and oldest production building, containing studios A through D, with the top floor serving as Tenna’s old apartment. It was like it had been perfectly transplanted to this new location and given a wash of pink.
“YES! YE-E-E-ESSS!!!” he shouted, pivoting to the side and pointing at yet another undeveloped tract of land. Another building sprang forth; that one, although it vaguely resembled the building that once held studios E through G, was much larger and far more grand than that structure ever was. Tenna trembled with elation as he raised his hands, instantly finishing construction of this second building.
You shivered as he let out a startlingly loud cackle, pivoting towards yet more empty space. Another building shot up, and then another, and then another. Before long, you were completely surrounded by a brand-new studio, at least three times the size of the one you had become so familiar with during your year of employment.
Tenna beheld his work, panting and grinning and shaking harder than ever. “TV TIME IS BACK, BABY!” he shouted, throwing his hands in the air as hundreds of roving spotlights shot up from the ground, throwing beams of golden light into the black sky.
You wanted to be happy for him. You wanted more than anything to celebrate his joy, to cheer the creation of his new studio, to continue acting as the pillar of support that you had adapted to playing so well. But as you looked around the shining, sparkling, bright-pink buildings, all you felt was fear.
“Hey! Hey! Look at that!” said Tenna, grabbing your shoulder and turning you to look at one of the new structures. “You recognize it!?”
Your forced smile started to falter. Of course you recognized it. It was the administration building where you had toiled away for all those long months as his secretary. “Haha. Yep. Sure do,” you replied stiffly.
He laughed nervously at your less-than-thrilled expression, turning you in the opposite direction. “Aaaah, sorry, sorry. Forgot you didn’t like that place so much. No worries!” He adopted a spirited pose; you could have sworn he was even taller than usual. “There’s no need for you to work here. That’s a job for everyone else!”
He gave you a mischievous, knowing smirk, and for a moment your heart softened. It really was nice to see him so happy, especially after his long, difficult period of depression. He took a few steps back, pointing his finger above his head. “I think it’s about time to let them know I’m here!” he shouted as fireworks erupted from his fingertip, filling the sky with shimmering rosettes of red, pink, and gold.
Not long after, darkners started to appear. Tenna eagerly greeted each of them, and you made an effort to introduce yourself as well, but soon the growing crowd started to push the two of you apart. Overwhelmed by the excitement and noise, you fell back, watching him do his thing.
When the crowd finally became too large to address without a proper platform, Tenna summoned a stage beneath himself, adorned by a banner emblazoned with GRAND OPENING. He primed the crowd with a rousing speech, telling them all that they’d been selected to become this region’s new entertainment powerhouse. The crowd ate it up. By the end of it, they were all so thrilled to be a part of this wonderful new opportunity that they signed their contracts with barely a second glance.
Watching each of them be shepherded into signing those thick booklets of fine print without even stopping to examine the contents, you felt more and more certain that your apprehension was warranted. Power had always been bad for Tenna. It goes to his head, makes him impulsive, greedy, self-centered. It was obvious just from a quick look around; the moment he stepped foot in this place, he had been granted more power than he’d ever had in his life.
You thought you could handle it. You thought you understood what he was like as a boss. You thought you were prepared for the way his personality would shift to conform to his new environment.
Unfortunately for you, he wasn’t back to the Tenna that you’d known as his employee. He was back to the Tenna that was around long before you were anywhere at all.
His work days were unbearably long, often exceeding fourteen hours per day. When he did get home, all he wanted to talk about was work. You tried so hard to be happy to hear him out. He was more successful than he had ever been, and you wanted to share in his joy, but as the weeks passed, his disinterest in you became starkly clear. He stopped asking about your day in favor of rambling about his own accomplishments and aspirations. He still desired sex, but it became quick, utilitarian, purely a means to an end. More often than not, he’d forget to tell you he loved you.
It was one thing to endure his intense monomania, but this new home was affecting him in ways you found unprecedented. He became judgmental, and superficial, and slightly mean-spirited. He made little jabs at your appearance, implying fix this or else you’re going to embarrass me. He surrounded himself with people who made you feel homely in comparison, and when you gently tried to express your self-consciousness, he clicked his tongue and said, “Well, sweetheart, there are ways to fix that! Your appearance is an investment, after all!”
He had lost all of the weight he put on in Castle Town, and then some. At first you thought it was just because his new lifestyle was so active, but he was shedding pounds at an alarming rate. He loved his new appearance, constantly staring in the mirror at his sharp musculature cutting through negligible silicone padding. It probably had more to do with his personality changes than anything else, but you found his new look repulsive.
It only got worse when you finally figured out how he was dropping the weight so fast. He bounded out of bed one morning at 5 AM, rushing into the bathroom briefly before bursting out and stretching his arms above his head. “Isn’t it just a LOVELY morning!?” he shouted at a completely inappropriate volume for the hour.
You groaned as you pulled your head away from the pillow. “Babe… I’d like to get a bit more sleep,” you mumbled.
“Oh, COME! ON!” he said, tearing the blankets off of you. “You’ve got to get up and embrace the day! Five hours is plenty, if you ask me!” He dashed out of the room, calling after you as he left. “I’ll make you some coffee! Now get up, sleepyhead!”
You begrudgingly pulled yourself out of bed, wrapping a blanket around yourself as you shuffle down the hall. His new apartment was nearly an exact copy of his old one, save for the decor. As such, it was created almost exclusively with him in mind; the only furniture that was properly sized to suit you was found in the little guest bathroom in the hallway. You’re put off by his overwhelmingly manic energy as you climb the step-stool that lets you access his couch.
“Boy! Coffee! I love coffee! I know I’ve always loved coffee, but I kinda forgot just how much I love coffee, y’know!? It’s a miracle worker! There’s really nothing like getting up right at the crack of dawn and pouring yourself a cup of joe!”
You’re baffled as he continues to ramble aimlessly, filling the silence with endless words about his appreciation for the beverage. “You’re… awfully chatty,” you murmured, rubbing your eyes.
“Why WOULDN’T I be chatty!? It’s a beautiful day, I’m just loaded with energy, and unlike YOU, I’ve got somewhere to be! Can’t just laze around all day like a certain someone!”
You bristled at his jab, the likes of which had been becoming more and more frequent as of late. “Yep. I get it,” you murmur, looking away from him. “I’m just… If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like the energy in here to be a little bit more subdued until I wake up a bit. Please.”
He sighed. “Fine, fine, fine, whatever.” He continued murmuring to himself as he waited for the coffee maker to beep, buzzing around the kitchen and busily re-organizing whatever he could get his hands on. As soon as the machine signaled that it was done brewing, he grabbed two mugs and sloppily poured the coffee inside, not bothering to clean up the spill he created in the process.
As he handed you the mug, you slid off the couch, sighed, and walked over to the kitchen. You prefer your coffee with a bit of milk and sweetener, a fact that he had been consistently forgetting. You cleaned up the splatter of coffee as you fixed the drink to your preference, and he sat on the couch, sipping his mug while frantically bouncing his foot.
You weren’t motivated to sit next to him at that moment, and so you remained in the kitchen, lazily tasting the hot, bitter liquid with your back pressed against the too-high countertops.
His agitation visibly grew, bouncing both of his legs at once. “You awake yet? Am I allowed to talk, your highness?” he asked mockingly, drumming his fingers.
You didn’t respond to him. It’s not like he’s a stranger to being high-energy in the morning, but this was off. There was something sickly and bizarre about him, counter to the beacon of good spirits that he was clearly trying to be.
Watching him twitching and bouncing and moving around like he contained more kinetic energy than his body could handle, your expression grew solemn as your mind served up a memory of him telling you, long ago, that he once struggled with a severe cocaine addiction.
He drummed his fingers on the coffee table again before setting down his mug with a sharp sigh. “Be right back!” he said, rushing down the hall towards the bedroom.
Acting on impulse, you followed him; you had to sprint to keep pace with his speed-walk, but he didn’t appear to catch on to the fact that you were tailing him. A few seconds after he shut the bathroom door behind himself, you tore it open.
He was leaning against the sink, pouring a little baggie of white powder onto a small, circular hand mirror. When he heard the door open, he gasped and shoved the mirror behind his back. “S-shit!” he whispered, fearfully at first. “Shit, shit!” he hissed again, this time in frustration that his hastiness had caused the drug to scatter off the mirror and onto the bathroom rug. “Y-you made me… Ugghhhhh,” he groaned, unwilling to finish that sentence.
You were only confirming something that deep down you already knew, but seeing the physical evidence of it ripped your heart in half. “Tenna, no, no, no!” you whispered, “Tenna, why!? You know what that stuff does to you—”
“For god’s sake,” he murmured, turning away from you. “Why don’t YOU try to keep the kind of hours that I do without any assistance, huh!? Let me tell you, it’s not possible!”
“If that’s the case, then you shouldn’t be working that many hours!” you countered, tears starting to gather in your eyes.
He scoffed, dropping the mirror on the counter and stepping up to you with his arms crossed. “You know why I ever stopped? Because I was a FAILURE! A nobody, a has-been! And now I’m not! People like me can’t afford to take it easy, because everything is riding on MY work!” He turned to the mirror, laughing coldly and shaking his head. “Not that you’d know. You’ve never been anything but a nobody.”
You were speechless, staggering back with your mouth agape.
His thought processes wound him into a greater and greater fury as he looked at the wasted cocaine spilled on the bathroom floor. “Guess what? There are two types of people in this world, winners and losers. And I’ve JUST managed to crawl my way back up to the top, and now here you are, trying to drag me back down to your level! What is it, jealousy!? Do you miss looking down on me!? Can’t stand to see your old man as anything but a useless, pathetic lump!?”
“Tenna, please,“ you gasped as a tear rolled down your cheek.
“Please WHAT!?” he roared, slamming his fist against the wall. “I’m done groveling for forgiveness for every little thing! THIS is who I am now, you got that!? And if you don’t like it, feel free to see yourself out!” With that, he slammed the bathroom door.
You ran into the guest bathroom down the hall, muffling a panic attack into a towel as you heard him storming around outside. Finally, there was silence. He left at 5:30 AM and didn’t come back until eleven o’ clock that night. You didn’t see him. He slept on the couch.
You had been planning your escape ever since then, but it took a few days to fully get in motion. You had struck up a friendship with one of the residents who was less sympathetic to Tenna’s plight, and they had offered to let you use their spare room until you got your bearings.
On the final day, you packed your sparse amount of belongings into cardboard boxes, placed them by the door, and waited for him to get home. Eight o' clock passed, and then nine, and then ten, and then eleven. Tenna finally got home a little after midnight, staggering unsteadily into the living room, visibly drunk and exhausted. He looked at you, looked at the cardboard boxes, and wordlessly slumped onto the couch.
You explained to him that you were leaving in clinical, disaffected terms. He just nodded silently, screen blank, completely still. You half expected him to burst out in a rage when you gave him the news, and your other half expected him to beg you to stay. You weren’t expecting that he would have nothing to say to you.
You told him goodbye. He did not return the sentiment.
As you pushed the boxes out the door and shut it behind you, you paused, listening for something, anything, any sort of reaction to prove that your departure had affected him at all. You heard nothing. That apartment hadn’t been so quiet while he was inside it in months.
Seven days passed. You had spent most of your time job-hunting, trying to scrounge for what little job opportunities were available outside the jurisdiction of his studio. You were frustratedly calling phone numbers and crossing out your options when your new roommate knocked at your bedroom door.
“Yeah?” you called.
They gently opened the door. “So… You heard about what happened to Tenna?”
Your expression grew serious. “…No?”
“Shit.” They sat down cross-legged on your floor. “Well, he’s… He’s gone.”
“What do you mean, gone!?” you asked urgently, feeling a pit of dread opening up in your gut.
“Woah, woah, I didn’t mean he died or anything like that. He’s…” They ran their hand frustratedly over the top of their head, trying to find the words to explain an unprecedented phenomenon. “So, the Lightner that owns this place, he… He, like, didn’t have a body. And now he does. And it’s Tenna.”
You stammered. “Wh— what the fuck does that even mean?”
“I wish I had a better explanation, but that’s kind of all I know right now.” Your roommate sighed, wrapping their arms around their legs. “But this is, like… a big deal. It’s never happened before. And apparently they’re off on a press tour? In the Light World, I mean. And… I guess in the Dark World too? I don’t know.”
You sat back with your mouth open, letting your pen roll out of your hand.
“Yeah. Um… I guess you won’t have to worry about running into him so much, at least?”
You remained silent for a long, heavy moment. “Guess not,” you said weakly.
They sighed and got to their feet, stepping backwards towards the door. “Uh… I suppose I’ll leave you to process that one.” They paused with one foot outside your room. “Good luck with the job search. Did you try calling—”
“The record shop? Yeah. They said that position was filled yesterday.”
“Damn,” they sighed. “I’ll keep looking. Keep your chin up.”
“Thanks,” you murmured as they shut the door.
And thus Tenna finally got his big break, rocketing from local, to national, to international fame at blistering speed. He became unavoidable on TV, popping up everywhere, from the news, to the tabloids, to movies and music videos and more.
His behavior was distinctly strange. He didn’t act like himself, didn’t speak like himself. The man who greeted you every time you turned on the TV was a person you had never met. In a way, it was relieving. He was so immensely different like this that he didn’t remind you of the man you fell in love with. He speaks of life experiences that are clearly not his own, expresses opinions that he would never sincerely hold. But every now and again, for just seconds at a time, it sounds like him. It always hurts. No matter how much time passes, during those little glimpses into his real self, you remember your love for him.
Three years have gone by since the last time you had seen him in person. He occasionally returns home, and you always happen to be sick any time he does, an affliction that you rarely have to fake. Those visits become less and less frequent as his business partner continues ramping up his level of Light World fame, and not-quite-Tenna becomes more and more ubiquitous in Dark World media as a result.
You brace yourself to once again see your ever-present ex as you turn on the TV, and predictably, there he is. He’s on a late night talk show, giving an interview about his rise to stardom.
You’re about to change the channel when your ears perk up to the sound of something unusual. It’s the tone of his voice; you had gotten used to hearing him speak in that affected, overly-flamboyant cadence that he adopted since his departure, but it sounds different. The words sound strained, choked, panicked. He sounds as if someone behind the camera is pointing a gun at him and forcing him not to acknowledge it.
Something is wrong.
Something is very, very wrong.