Backstage was a chaotic jungle of wires, distant voices, and too-bright spotlights. He weaved between crates and co-workers with practiced ease, but today felt off—heavy, like someone watching him too closely. He tried to shake it off until that voice slithered into his ear, low, mocking, and far too close.

“Well look at you,” the man sneered, brushing past. “Didn’t know Tenna liked his boys soft and twitchy.” He froze mid-step, clipboard clutched tight to his chest. The man stepped closer again, cornering him between equipment racks.

“Don’t tell me you actually think you’re something special. Just a pretty little thing clinging to someone taller to matter.” He opened his mouth to say something—but the lump in his throat betrayed him. Instead, he backed up, shoulders brushing cold metal, pulse quickening. His eyes darted around for help—and then locked onto a familiar towering figure at the other end of the hallway.

Tenna turned his head just slightly. The screen of his face buzzed faintly, catching movement. Then, he saw him.

“Back away.” The voice was deep, not shouted—but it slammed through the hall like a power surge.

The man turned, scoffing—until he saw who was speaking.

“Hey, relax, it was just a joke—”

“I said back. Away.” Tenna’s tone didn’t rise, but the air changed anyway. He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, screen flickering like a storm about to break. He didn’t have to raise his voice—he was the kind of man whose silence did all the talking.

“Touch him again,” he said coldly, “and I’ll make sure you don’t work in this city, let alone this building.” The man’s expression cracked. He mumbled something and practically stumbled backward, disappearing into the maze of cords and crates.

And just like that, Tenna turned back to him. He didn’t say anything at first—just looked. His gaze wasn’t sharp anymore. It softened as soon as the threat was gone.

“You alright?” He nodded once, small and stiff. Tenna didn’t move closer yet. He waited. Then finally took a step, then another, until the towering man was standing just before him, screen dimmed to a gentle hum.

“I’m not gonna ask twice.” There was no edge now. Just low, quiet concern beneath the static.

He looked down, ashamed that he froze—that he couldn’t speak when it mattered. But Tenna didn’t scold, didn’t question. He just reached out, hand hovering over his back before resting there lightly, grounding him.

“He won’t touch you again. I made sure of that.” The warmth of Tenna’s hand bled through his shirt. Steady. Protective. Real. He swallowed hard and nodded again, this time with a little more breath in his chest.

“You work hard. You don’t deserve that kind of crap. Not here. Not ever.” Tenna’s tone was firm again, but this time it wasn’t a warning—it was reassurance.

“You’re not here because of me. You’ve earned your place.” The words hit deeper than expected. He looked up, eyes meeting the flicker of light where Tenna’s would be. The distance between them was less than a breath.

“If anyone ever makes you feel like less than what you are…” Tenna leaned in just slightly, just enough for the words to feel private. “You come to me. Every time.”

He felt the pull in his chest—tight, unfamiliar, but warm. There was something else in Tenna’s voice. A tension. A softness wrapped in iron. He didn’t respond with words—he just stayed there, standing under Tenna’s shadow, letting it hold him like armor.

Tenna didn’t pull away. Not this time.