The silence was deafening. Mike had a tense look on his face, looking to avoid his TV friend's gaze as much as possible.

Despite having no visible eyes, he could still feel Host's gaze burrowing deep into his soul. Or maybe in his nerves, he was projecting emotions and trying to picture some form of expression in the soft static of their screen.

The cathode frowned pensively, taking their small whiteboard and erasing what they had written on it, picking up their marker as they wrote something else before flipping it to Mike.

"You don't believe me."

"N-No, not that!" Mike immediately snapped out of his trance, almost losing his balance as the phantom pain of where his limbs should be continued to linger "It's just that… It's a lot to take in…!"

Host's stern expression softened as they held the board close to their body, not actually writing anything. Their gaze continued being on Mike, who did the closest approximation to sitting down that his small incomplete body could allow.

He was still having trouble processing it all, if he told himself one month ago that he'd be living at a stranger's house because his body broke down, he'd call himself insane. He felt insane, claustrophobic, and like he was losing his mind.

But Host… Host wasn't a stranger, at least not anymore, spending all of this time together, a bond was inevitable. But he wasn't even sure if the TV also considered him a friend, or if he was just a nuisance brought by a fate that had decided that they were now bound together.

It was hard to read Host's expression, not that he could blame them. Learning that there was no way to fix their voice, left Mike with little hope that he'd be able to ever walk on his own again.

And the way Host would look at him just left him embarrassed, it was like a mix of pity, but also an anxious avoidance, like they expected him to resent them for what happened.

"I do believe ya…" Mike quietly stated "I'm just havin' trouble with understandin' the full picture…"

He saw Host hold their breath as he said this, writing down again.

"Full picture?" They wrote and Mike nodded in response.

"That none of this ain't… real…?" He hesitantly muttered, hearing a quiet wheezy gasp from Host who nodded while fidgeting with their hands.

Host knew the lightner who spoke in their mind didn't want them telling Mike about any of this, that he "wasn't like them", that he "wouldn't get it", but Host still cherished having someone listen to them. Mike just had a way of keeping their thoughts from drifting.

"And if the world isn't real… Am I…? A-Are you…?" The small microphone seemed tense as he spoke, looking up with an expression like he was both terrified of them but also knowing there was no one else he'd rather trust. "What is real?”

These last words seemed to get to Host as they began to quietly breathe. Were they real? Was everyone else fake? Nothing but projections of objects in a lightner's home? Were they even alive? Was any of this actually happening?

"S-So if we ain't real… I… My lightner… He…" Mike expectantly looked at Host, who gave him a look of mourning.

"Objects. In the light world. That's what we are." Host wrote before realizing how shaken Mike had gotten by this. Was this all there was to it?

"B-But… What is this?! Wh-What are we?" Mike called out, realizing he was getting overwhelmed and swallowing in deep "I-It just makes no sense…!"

Host looked apologetically, reaching out to Mike who allowed them to hold and hug him close while whispering a very croaky and glitchy apologies.

Focusing on the sensation, Mike closed his eyes, his tail wrapping around his friend's hands as he took deep breaths. Host remained quiet, more than usual that was, laying back on the couch they had been sitting on.

If they had a heartbeat, Mike could swear he'd be able to hear it, instead, he focused on the soft static sound of their screen and the gentle whirring of the machinery within their chest.

Mike had been denying himself the thought, but Host's company made him way too happy. He was still terrified of them, but yet, no one ever held him with such care or bothered to comfort him. How he wished he still had the arms to hold them back. How he wished to make their pain go away.

"Host… I… I dunno what bein' real is… But… You're real… to me at least…"

Host didn't respond, but Mike heard their chest whirring more intensely as he spoke, with their hands still holding him and playing with his cord. They tried to speak, but winced as they did, taking a deep breath before very slowly trying to sign something with their hands.

"You… R… E… A… L"

Mike looked up at them with bright eyes, tail curling curiously as Host looked embarrassed and grabbed their board, quickly writing something down with Mike still on their chest.

"Idk the sign for REAL yet"

They showed this and grinned as Mike began to laugh quietly before sighing.

"We can keep learnin' your signs, don't worry 'bout it…" His smile became solemn "I dunno what's really out there… But… Is it so bad in here? Where we are?"

Confused by his statement, Host looked thoughtful and then wrote again, taking about a minute to do so, getting shakier as they did.

"You can't move. I can't talk. Aren't you upset? I don't like this world. I don't like the pain. I don't like that I did this to you."

Their words became wobblier by the end as Mike looked apologetically at them, becoming thoughtful and quiet once more as he rested on their chest.

"I'm upset, but… it's not at you, y'know? He sighed "Forget 'bout me, just… I want ya to know that I… uh… n-nevermind..."

He paused, hesitating as Host glanced expectantly at him, signing a "What is it?" to which Mike grew flustered.

"N-No, it's nothing important…!" But their gaze spared him no mercy as he glanced at the sides "...It's just that… This… E-Even if it ain't real… Is still the most alive I've felt in a long time… That oughta count for somethin', I think..."

Host became flustered by this comment, clearing their throat and grabbing their board, making it so it was at an angle that covered their embarrassed face, and they held their marker in place, unsure of how to respond.

"...Host?”

They began writing again, before quickly flipping the board.

"I feel the same way."

---

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