Chapter Text
Spamton's breath caught in his throat. He stumbled backwards, dropping his keys to the floor with a sound that pierced his ears. He moved to slam the door, but Pink's hand shot inside and blocked it. He pushed it open, then stepped inside the house and calmly closed it behind him.
"Let's talk." He started walking to the dining table, and he took a seat.
Spamton was frozen.
He felt like he couldn't breathe.
He couldn't breathe.
"White. Come here."
His legs moved before his mind could catch up. He sat next to Pink and tilted his head down, staring at the table.
"Why did you shout at Orange?" he asked quietly, his hand coming up to wrap around Spamton's shoulders. He pulled him close to his chest, tucking his head under his chin. He kissed the top of his head and carded his fingers through his hair, humming.
When Spamton didn't answer, Pink's fingers dug into his scalp.
Spamton flinched. His mouth dropped open, but he couldn't speak. He tried so hard, forcing himself, straining his throat, but he couldn't speak. He shoved his face into Pink's chest, his entire body trembling as he held onto him like a lifeline.
"He came to me afterwards, so upset, that you snapped at him. He was so close to crying. I want to know why. You can tell me." He dropped the harsh grip and kissed his forehead. He cradled him as he shook.
Spamton's eyes were wide, brimming with hot tears. He sank into his arms. He raised his hand to start miming for a pen and paper, but then he froze. Terror filled his mind. He tried to speak again, but the words caught in his throat. He tried to drop his hands, pretend like he wasn't doing anything meaningful.
But, it was too late.
"What's that?" Pink muttered. "You want something to write with? Why can't you speak? Speak to me, White."
Spamton couldn't even break into a sob.
In a sudden display of anger, Pink shoved him forward, whipped him around, and snatched the bottom half of his face. "SPEAK."
Words bubbled up in the back of his throat, and they spilled out in garbled nonsense. "H-he j-just ca-came a-and- and I-"
"Speak clearly, White. You're pissing me off," he sneered, holding his face even tighter, his nails digging painfully into his skin.
Spamton's hands raised, and he tried to push him away, but Pink smacked him firm across the cheek. Spamton slumped forward.
The pain was covered with a gentle kiss. "Did he make you angry, White? Did he say something that made you mad?" His voice was dripping with condescension. "Something about your... how would you call him? That TV host of yours."
Spamton whimpered.
"You really think he cares for you?"
Spamton's head tilted downwards.
"Oh, White. My sweet boy," Pink cooed in his ear. "He's using you."
"No, he's not," Spamton's voice cracked terribly as a tear slipped from his eye.
Pink kissed the top of his head. "Yes, he is. Stop arguing."
Spamton tensed, more words wanting to make themselves known.
He wanted to yell, scream, to break free and run to the safety of Tenna's arms.
Pink held him too tightly. He patted his cheek. "Listen to me."
Spamton listened.
"I'm doing what's best for you. Orange is doing what's best for you. Why don't you come home for a few days? We'll take some time to reconnect as a family." He smiled down at him and held him close to his chest. Spamton felt his heartbeat pressed up against his ear. Slow and even, contrary to Spamton's racing beats, unsteady and rapid, almost debilitating.
"We'll leave now, go home, and we'll be a real family again. We'll let you in on the business, White! We can combine your shoddy attempt at a car dealership with our company, and we'll help you soar above everyone else. Isn't that what you always wanted? The best?" Pink sighed happily at the idea. "You'll be so happy. You won't even have to lift a finger. Just leave it to me, I'll take all the pain and stress away from you, White."
Spamton trembled. He didn't respond.
Pink started to stand. "Come home, White."
Spamton's mouth opened, then clamped shut. He shuddered and turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Come home. I'm not asking you," Pink's voice turned sour, and he snatched him by the arm. He yanked him from his seat, his grip tighter than it ever had been before. Spamton cried out in pain and tried to pry his fingers off, but Pink's other hand came around and smacked him across the face again. "Stop fighting. You're always making things so difficult! Why couldn't you be normal, White?"
Spamton yelped as Pink swung his arm around and sent him crumbling to the floor in a messy heap, tears streaming down his face. He shook as he turned to sit, and he started to scramble backwards, nonsensical words and pleas spilling from his trembling lips.
Pink stalked after him, a firm glare in his eyes. "You had to go and ruin everything. Our parents' marriage, our lives, our jobs. You left us broken. Everything you've done since the moment you were born broke us. And yet, we love you." He crouched to his knees and reached forward, both hands cupping his cheeks. "So stop. Fighting." He dug his nails into the soft parts of his cheeks, and Spamton started to scream. His nails broke skin, and blood seeped from the small pinpricks.
Spamton's arm instinctively flew out and hit against Pink's shoulder. But, it was weak, and his arm flopped uselessly back to his side. Pink almost laughed.
"Sweet, sweet boy," he murmured. "You're only making this more painful for yourself." He squeezed his face tighter, and Spamton struggled harder against him. His leg lifted and pushed Pink's chest. He faltered a little, but his ankle was grabbed and yanked.
Spamton let out a shriek as his head collided with the ground. His vision went blank for a few seconds, dark fog and stars were all he could see. He felt hands on his face again, gently wiping away the blood staining his cheeks.
"Is it that you want us to do things differently? Will that make you come home?" Pink asked. He pulled Spamton up by the front of his sweater. He was still wearing Tenna's. Pink suddenly took notice of it, evident by a thoughtful hum. "Oh. So, you're more involved now, are you?"
His hand went to retract when he noticed an odd lump in Spamton's pocket. He reached his hand inside, and Spamton's blood ran cold. He found strength for the first time, and he shoved himself away from Pink, but it was too late.
The note was in his hand.
Pink read it. Every single word.
He laughed.
Threw his head back and laughed.
Spamton's throat clenched as more sobs wracked his body. He scooted back further, but Pink stood and walked after him, snatching him by the hair on the top of his head. Spamton cried out, his hand reached for the note, muttering something that vaguely sounded like, "Please, don't touch it. Don't touch it!"
Pink's hands tightened in his hair. "He writes you love letters, does he? Just how far does the joke go, 'Spammy'?"
The name sounded like acid coming from his mouth. Spamton latched onto his wrists, trying to pull the hands out of his hair, trying to push himself away, trying so desperately so escape.
Then, Pink dropped him.
Spamton lurched forward, frantic to snatch the letter out of his hand. Pink lifted a foot and kicked him square in the chest, knocking him onto his back, and the wind out of his lungs. He rolled onto his side, gasping and heaving. He felt vomit build up in the back of his throat. He tried to swallow it down, but he gagged, and he vomited onto the floor beneath him.
Pink sighed and shook his head. "White, you're too old for these playground games."
Then, he placed both hands on the note, right at the top. Spamton's eyes blew wide, and he started to rush towards him.
"No, no no no, don't!"
It was too late.
The paper ripped right in half. Pink tore it to shreds, the pieces scattering across the room, blown in every which way by unseen winds.
Spamton dove towards as many pieces as he could reach, collecting them in his sweaty, trembling hands. He tried to fit them back together.
It was pointless.
Pink stood behind him, kneeling, and rubbing his back. Spamton shuddered violently and tried to flinch away, but Pink held him firm by the shoulders.
"You're done with this. You're coming home."
"N-no," Spamton forced out. He started to rock, but that earned him a smack across the face.
Pink snatched his ear and leaned into it, yelling. "Stop being a freak!"
Spamton tried to cover his ear, but his hands were pinned together and trapped on the floor.
"Stop! Being! Difficult!" Pink shouted. He pulled his ear harshly, and Spamton cried out and struggled. "You're coming home! You're coming. Home."
"I don't want to!" he forced out.
Pink's hand shifted to the bottom half of his face again. He forced eye contact. Spamton squeezed his eyes shut, but Pink pried them open with both hands. He stared daggers into him, inching closer and closer until there was barely any space between.
"Say that again."
Spamton shook his head frantically. "I-I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it!"
"Say. It. Again." Pink's hands shifted to hold the sides of his face, and his nails dug into his cheeks once again, in the same spots as before. But, with more force this time. Spamton cried out, but Pink started to yell. "SAY IT AGAIN."
Spamton sobbed.
Pink dropped his face, then stood and shoved Spamton onto his back. He towered over him with a sneer. He lifted a foot, then pressed it to the middle of his chest. He slowly pushed down, and all the air was forced out of Spamton's lungs. "Say it again, and I'll stop."
Spamton tried to speak, but it only came out as breathless nonsense. So, Pink lifted his foot just a little. Spamton scrambled. "I-I don't wa-want to," he wailed. "I don't wanna go home!"
Pink fully retracted. "What do you want?"
Spamton rolled onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut as he whimpered. "I want Tenna." He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He jolted upright. "No! I-I don't. I don't!"
Pink cooed softly, condescendingly. "No, you don't. So please, White. Just come home. I'm tired of asking."
Spamton sobbed. He buried his face in his hands as he started to rock back and forth, at almost an aggressive speed. He trembled and wailed, his cries muffled.
Pink sat next to him. "Sweet boy, I'll carry you to the car. You're exhausted." He gently grabbed his hands and brought them to his heart. Spamton fell into his arms, sobbing violently into his chest. "Doesn't this remind you of when you were little? So emotional all the time. Could barely take you anywhere. You just had meltdown after meltdown. But, do you remember what helped you feel better?"
Spamton couldn't answer.
"Car rides," Pink finished with a soft smile. "And you would point out all the other cars on the road. The colors, the models, the makes, the years. Do you want to do that again? We'll go for a nice drive to help you calm before we go home."
No. I want Tenna.
"Not with that again," Pink sighed.
Spamton's eyes went wide. But, there was no punishment for those words.
Pink held him tighter to his chest. Spamton let out a shaky breath. He slowly brought him away, then started to wipe the thick streams of tears from his eyes. He kissed his forehead. "Come on. Hold on to me. I'll carry you."
Spamton's body slumped. Pink hoisted him up, wrapping his arms around his neck, and his legs around his waist. Spamton was like dead weight in his arms, heavy and unmoving. He hummed in his ear as he started to carry him to the front door, leaving everything behind. His keys, his wallet, his phone, his life.
He opened the door.
Then, he froze.
He backed up with a curse under his breath.
Spamton cracked an eye open, but he was too exhausted to look. He buried his face into Pink's shoulder, defeated, worn out, torn apart.
His blood smeared onto Pink's face.
Then, Spamton was being moved. It wasn't Pink moving, it was his own body being physically moved. He was lifted into the air, then cradled in a set of very large arms.
Those arms stiffened, and Spamton scrunched his face up, another sob ripping from his throat.
"Please," he begged pathetically as he wrapped his shaking arms around the person's neck. He buried his face into their shoulder as he trembled weakly. "Stop hurting me."
He was clutched tighter. But, it didn't hurt. He wasn't restricted, he wasn't caged, he wasn't shackled.
This grip was familiar. Even as his mind was filled with thick fog and terror, he recognized these hands, these arms, these shoulders.
That face.
Spamton's eyes slowly cracked open.
Tenna's face was pitch black. Spamton could see his reflection. Pale, tear-stained, blood smeared across both cheeks.
Tenna's head slowly looked down at him. He pressed his screen to his forehead. Spamton couldn't feel any lips, but the kiss was all the same. It was gentle and soft, such a stark contrast to not even two minutes ago. Spamton bit back another sob.
Tenna spoke, his voice loud and rumbling. It shook the house, rattled Spamton's body, and waves that made Pink stumble in his stance.
"I don't even have the words to describe what I'm going to do to you," he hissed from between his teeth. "I warned you, I warned you, and yet you still-" He broke off with a shuddering inhale.
He couldn't keep his composure.
He started to yell. "HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO FUCKING SAY IT, PINK? DO I NEED TO BEAT IT INTO YOU?! DO I NEED TO BREAK YOUR FUCKING ARM SO YOU'LL LISTEN?! DO I NEED TO PUT OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MISERY?!"
Spamton trembled in his grasp, terrified by the sudden loud voice, and Tenna held him a little tighter, a little more secure. "I want to beat you black and fucking blue, you son of a bitch. There is only one thing stopping me right now."
Pink took a careful step back, his eyes trained on Tenna's face, searching for any possible plan for escape. He knew he couldn't do anything to him. There wasn't a single word or action that could shake a man who wouldn't ever fit under his thumb. It was pointless to even try.
But, Tenna was blocking the door. He couldn't even see it, Tenna's body was too huge. He grimaced. "You wouldn't," he sneered.
Tenna took a step closer. "You don't know a single thing of what I would or wouldn't do. But, I know what's going to happen. You are going to leave. You are never going to come here again, or send any of the others here again. If you do, I will beat you so bloody that they'll be cleaning you OUT OF THESE FLOORS FOR WEEKS!"
Pink's posture was shaken by the screams. His hands clenched into fists. He opened his mouth to speak, but Tenna cut him off.
"If the next word out of your mouth isn't 'okay,' and if you don't walk out that door right after, I will not be responsible for what happens next," he snapped. He took another step forward.
Pink tore his gaze away. "Okay," he said, gritting his teeth so hard that he could taste blood. "Okay."
Tenna stepped to the side.
Pink tried to take a glance at Spamton, but Tenna turned his whole body away, showing his back to him. Pink huffed, then slammed the door behind him. Tenna locked it.
Spamton quaked in his arms, sobs still making his body shudder. Every breath was painful, every shift was agony. His face hurt. His head hurt.
He slumped in Tenna's arms, weak, defeated, sluggish.
Tenna brought him to the couch, then sat down, still holding him in his lap.
Spamton's eyes drifted shut. But, he couldn't relax. He trembled. He tried to breathe, but it felt like burning fire every time he inhaled. His face drew up tightly, and he started to sob again.
Tenna held him through it all.
He didn't say a word.
What could he say? What could he possibly say to him?
It was impossible. This was something far beyond Tenna, something he would never be able to even begin to understand, let alone help.
He cradled him. He rocked him back and forth.
He hummed to him, he sang to him. Soft melodies that he'd heard in his jazz songs.
Songs of love, of devotion, of warmth, of light.
He sang until his voice went hoarse, until the words died off with a painful twang.
Until Spamton's sobs died down to soft hiccups, until his body stopped shaking, until his expression shifted into something neutral, if not almost peaceful.
Until he was soothed to sleep.