Chapter Text
The day after talking to Niki, settling into a call shift with Wilbur, Techno thinks that all the talking about unanswered questions hasn’t helped his stress much.
And maybe he should take Niki’s advice about slowing down, but Wilbur’s right here and Techno needs to know whether he actually found a way to help Wilbur sleep the other night.
“Hey, Wil?”
Wilbur looks up at him over his laptop. “What?”
“Can we talk about the other night?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Wilbur answers, but Techno recognizes how his expression shifts.
Still, though, Techno indulges his petulance. “Few days ago, you fell asleep on my shoulder. Remember that?” He isn’t sure if he’s actually asking or just poking at Wilbur.
Wilbur’s gaze goes to one side, but he nods. Techno gives him another moment to say something, but he stays silent.
“So was that a coincidence or…?”
Wilbur takes another long moment to answer, still not meeting Techno’s eyes. “Probably not a coincidence, no.” Techno keeps quiet. Eventually, Wilbur does look up, seeming slightly annoyed. “Thank you,” he says bitterly, almost sarcastically. “Is that what you wanted?”
“Not really. I mean, nice of you to finally show some manners,” Techno jokes, “but I’m more interested in hearin’ about why that is. If Phil and I can help you, we wanna know how.”
Wilbur shrugs. “It helped because it reminded me I’m just going to sleep,” he says quietly. “It’s like… once I’m asleep I’m fine for a while, but falling asleep feels so much like that night at the mall, and it only gets worse the longer I stay awake, it just—” He shakes his head with a frown. “The contact helped because I didn’t have to wake up to know I was okay.”
Techno nods. “I had thought touch would overwhelm you,” he says, although he’s aware it’s an excuse. “I’m sorry for that.”
“Well, it did; everything’s pretty overwhelming now. That’s getting easier, though,” Wilbur offers with a weak smile. “It helped, though. It was nice.” He’s not looking at Techno again, and Techno doesn’t try to force it.
“You think a weighted blanket would help?”
Wilbur blinks. “A what?”
“Weighted blanket? Like a blanket but heavy?” Techno had assumed everyone would have at least been aware of their existence.
“Maybe.” Wilbur shrugs again. “It doesn’t really matter, y’know? I’ll get over it soon enough.”
Techno gives him a skeptical look. “You sure about that?”
Before Wilbur can answer, the call pager buzzes.
By the time they get back to waiting in the call bay, it’s been nearly an hour and Techno’s almost forgotten what they were even talking about.
As soon as Techno gets the paper pulled up on his tablet, though, Wilbur says, “I keep thinking about what could have happened if I wasn’t in the Corps.”
Techno looks up at him with confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, on the one hand, I’d have died on that roof and Dream would have found someone else to… get. But civilians get hijacked and manipulated too, all the time, and no one would have cared.”
“I’m sure someone would have,” Techno argues, not even convincing himself.
Wilbur gives him a wry smile. “I was never missing, remember? People knew where I lived and no one even checked in when I vanished for weeks.”
“Right.”
“I used to tell myself sometimes that even if you guys were assholes sometimes and couldn’t possibly really like me, at least you’d notice if I went missing. And you did! Look at that, you could tell when it wasn’t really me.” Wilbur sighs. “I still don’t feel much more permanent.”
Techno laughs bitterly. “Trust me, that won’t change. I still feel out of my depth most of the time, and I’ve been here four years.”
Wilbur raises his eyebrows. “That sounds like a you problem, man.”
Techno makes an indignant sound. “Heh?”
“Sounds like that’s on you.” Wilbur shrugs. “Four years, on a team with your best friend, it sounds like you don’t want to feel permanent.”
“In my defense, I didn’t meet Phil until we were put on a team,” Techno retorts.
“Wait, really? Whatever, that doesn’t matter. You’re about as permanent as heroes get in this city.”
“Sure doesn’t feel that way,” Techno mutters. “Permanent should mean you can change things. Like Puffy must have, or like Dream did after her. They reshaped the whole Corps in their images and no one even questioned it. I just have to watch things go down, year after year.”
“Bullshit,” Wilbur says as soon as Techno’s done talking. “Watching shit go down is the price you pay for living in a society, anyway. Puffy and Dream are shit role models, too— Dream’s in prison again and Puffy needs a cane because of the Corps. You feel bad because you’re not willing to do anything about it.”
Techno’s ears flatten back. “As if you’re one to talk.”
“Excuse me?”
“You freely admitted to Phil that your marriage fell through because you couldn’t put the effort in, so how am I supposed to believe you right now?”
“I was lying,” Wilbur retorts immediately, then blinks, something besides anger flashing across his face. “I— they really were— are real, but she kicked me out. Things had fallen apart long before I broke my cuff.”
“And I’m supposed to just trust this now?” Techno asks sarcastically.
“Then don’t! It’s still not true and I don’t even know if I could tell the real story about them now.” Wilbur pauses, giving Techno a coldly furious look. “Because I’m a self-serving asshole, which is how I know you are, too.”
Techno scoffs at him. “So you can tell me to help myself because you refuse to? Yeah, that makes sense.”
“I’ll do something to feel better if you do,” Wilbur replies with a triumphant grin. “One real, good-faith effort.”
“What do I win if you don’t hold up your end?”
Wilbur shrugs. “Moral superiority?”
Honestly, that’s good enough. This should be an easy win. “Fine. You’re on.”
“Fine.”
Later that day, Techno realizes he has no idea what he could do to win Wilbur’s challenge.
“Phil,” he announces as he sits next to Phil on the couch. “You’ve gotta help me beat Wilbur at self-care.”
Phil raises his eyebrows. “Sorry, what?”
“Wil and I have a challenge,” Techno explains. “We were arguin’ on call, and now he’ll do one thing to feel better if I do one thing. I can’t let Wilbur win moral superiority here, Phil. Got it?”
“Got it,” Phil laughs. “What did I expect. So what were you thinking, then?”
“No idea, that’s why I asked you.”
Phil looks at him in silence for a moment. “Okay, so what’s something you feel isn’t ideal, then?”
“Everythin’?” Techno jokes, a little sadly. “Wil’s still strugglin’, and Tommy’s still thrown off too, and Bad’s team seems about five minutes from goin’ off the rails, and Dream’s still not even on trial yet—”
“Hey,” Phil interrupts. “None of those are things you can control, right?”
Techno sighs. “Right.”
“So what’s something you can control?”
Techno just fidgets for a moment, thinking. “My own habits. The apartment, kind of, I guess.” Phil just looks at him in silence, so Techno suggests, “I could learn more about how Dream’s trial is gonna work. We could get called to the stand for that, Wilbur definitely will, and he’ll need backup.”
“Can I offer some friendly advice?”
“Go ahead.”
“That’s a terrible idea, mate.”
“Hey!” Phil just gives him a wry smile and Techno sighs. “Yeah, I don’t like that one either.”
“Let’s go back to the thing about habits.”
Techno rolls his eyes with no real heat. “Who are you, my dad?”
“You asked for my help,” Phil points out. “I’m trying to help you find something you want to do or change.”
“Ugh, fine. What’re my habits?”
“You know yourself better than I do.” Phil shrugs.
Techno flops dramatically against the back of the couch. “You’re so unhelpful. I guess I read the paper— well, a couple papers.” He almost mentions the maps, but that’s more a hobby than a habit. “I go on walks or runs sometimes.” He used to put a lot more effort into strength training and all that, but he noticed he gets plenty of exercise just through the Corps. He’s busy these days. “I dunno, I don’t do much.” He gives Phil a look. “C’mon. You have an idea, right? Don’t just sit there.”
Phil laughs. “Fine, alright. I was thinking you could try limiting news? Maybe just for a bit, just to see how it feels. Lots of people find news stressful.”
Techno makes a face. “I gotta stay informed,” he argues. “Gotta keep track of all the stuff.”
Phil raises an eyebrow. “Techno, what regions do you get papers for?”
Techno hesitates a second, then lists them off. Between subscriptions and free papers, he keeps an eye on this city, the county’s local paper, the capital, one international paper, and his hometown, where his moms still live. He doesn’t see or talk to them much, but he kinda feels like a bad son if he doesn’t keep an eye out.
“Surely you don’t need to follow all of that,” Phil says. “Think about it, okay? You could use app time limits on your tablet.”
Techno shrugs, unconvinced. “I’ll think about it. Thanks, Phil.”
“No problem, mate. Glad I could help out?”
Techno nods and stands off the couch. Wilbur will probably let the whole thing drop anyway, right? It’ll be fine.
The thing is that Wilbur still hasn’t gotten much better, really. He doesn’t leave the apartment unless he insists on taking a shift, where he’s inevitably shaky and on edge. He’s somehow managed to faint from dehydration once because he forgot to drink water and he’s almost never rested enough to be fully awake. Reasonably, Techno figured Wilbur wouldn’t have the energy or capacity to do anything extra.
Apparently, Techno had underestimated the power of spite. Techno finally gets downtime after an eventful call shift with Phil and finds that Wilbur’s sent him several texts.
The first is just an image that Techno has to inspect for a moment to realize is of the passenger seat of Wilbur’s car with a weighted blanket still in its box in the seat.
The captioning texts just read
Done.
Bitch.
Techno can’t help but laugh, then realizes this means he has to hold his end of the challenge if he doesn’t want to lose.
He hasn’t thought about it the past couple days, and he still doesn’t have an idea other than Phil’s news thing.
Maybe he should just do that, come to think of it. He can set it up quickly in the last few minutes of this shift so Wilbur doesn’t get any time to boast, and he can see how it might make his life less stressful.
Screw it, why not? He checks the time and pulls up his tablet settings.
Back at the apartment, Wilbur is waiting for them at the table, a smug look on his face.
Techno does his best to stay impassive as Phil retreats to his own room to change. “Sorry, did somethin’ happen?” he asks dryly.
“Oh, nothing, nothing. I won, is all,” Wilbur says with false nonchalance.
“Nah,” Techno scoffs.
Wilbur scoffs right back. “Really? Because I got the dumb fucking weighted blanket you suggested, it’s out of the box and everything, and last I checked, you have done…” he pretends to check a note on his palm “...nothing.”
“Really?” Techno echoes him. “Because last I checked, I’d done my thing too.” He was ready for this— he already has the screentime limits pulled up in settings. He shows Wilbur the screen. “Bam. Limiting my newspapers.”
Wilbur chews on his lip for a second. “Fine. Stalemate.” He pauses, then adds, “I never would’ve thought of that one, actually. That’s a good one.”
Techno smiles at him despite himself. “Thanks, dude. How’re you liking the blanket so far?”
“It’s been, like, an hour,” Wilbur laughs, but then his expression softens into something more nervous. “I mean, it almost feels risky to even hope, y’know? But… I kinda think it’ll help. Something has to help.” He laughs again humorlessly.
“Something will,” Techno assures him, and honestly he’s talking as much about Techno’s own uncertainty as he is Wilbur’s insomnia. “We’ll work it out.”
Several days later, Techno’s reading about the mayor of his hometown defending a scandal-ridden bus route when a pop-up informs him he’s hit the screen time limit for that website.
He rolls his eyes, closes the tab, and looks up from his tablet. It’s nearly eleven at night, come to think about it, and he’s the last one up. Phil, consistently up and down with the sun, has been asleep for hours, but Wilbur’s only recently gone off to bed.
Techno still wouldn’t call Wilbur’s sleep schedule anything like consistent . He sleeps more with the weighted blanket, but still in a disorganized corruption of his old biphasic cycle. The exhaustion of the past weeks still shows, but there’s also a clear improvement.
Part of Techno wants to think he’s contributing by making an effort to make casual physical contact with Wilbur when he can. He’s not great at seeming natural or spontaneous, he’s sure Wilbur’s noticed, but he hasn’t been called out.
The tablet screen dims in his hands, snapping him back to reality.
He doesn’t have a morning shift tomorrow, but he should still go to bed. The mayor of a totally separate town failing to run public transportation really isn’t that big of a deal— certainly not enough to warrant tampering with the settings briefly.
He closes the case over the tablet. Anything else out in the world can wait for tomorrow.