Chapter Text
The next morning Techno practically clung to Phil's side. He didn't want to make things weird. Or weirder than they already were. He'd never had a breakdown like that before--and in front of so many people? Techno was glad people couldn't see him for once.
Tommy and Tubbo sat at the kitchen table with Dream, munching happily on some toast. They weren't talking at all about yesterday. At all. Not even a throwaway comment. Did they get a "don't be weird" talk from Dream?" Oh god , they definitely got a "don't be weird" talk from Dream. The kitchen was dark from when all the lightbulbs poped yesterday, but everyone barely even acknowledges it. Techno thinks this might be worse than if they did talk about what happened, which is saying a lot.
Techno stepped back through the wall, retreating to one of the house's farther rooms while Phil dads the boys. He glances around for Wilbur, finding him sitting on the floor and writing down new lyrics to the song he'd been working on for the past week or so. Techno sits next to him, perfectly content with just listening to the way Wilbur's pencil scratches against the paper and his soft humming. Their knees touched, and Techno felt at peace.
After a little bit, Phil showed up, knocking softly on the doorframe to catch his kid's attention. He gave a soft, warm smile that was so distinctly Phil . Techno knew he had news.
"The kids have decided that they aren't going to do any recording today," Phil says, and Techno groans, dropping his head in his hands. Phil gives him a sad look before speaking again. "And Dream wants to speak with you, Techno."
Techno gives a defeated nod and gets up, shuffling out of the room. He's stopped by Phil, who gives him a quick kiss on the forehead, a small come back to me when it's done, I'll comfort you going unspoken between them but not unheard. Techno knew in the back of his head that Dream would want to talk, at least a little more than they did last night, but that doesn't mean Techno has to be thrilled about it.
Techno finds Dream still in the kitchen, scrolling through something on his phone. He suspects that it was probably Twiter; Tommy hasn't shut up about how everyone's viewers still haven't shut up about the Livestream yet. Techno's arrival must've changed something about the air in the room, making Dream glance up.
"Techno?" He asks and pushes a small pen and paper out into the table. Techno writes a short greeting on it. Dream reads it silently, giving a little hum, giving Techno a chance to make himself comfortable in one of the chairs.
"I wanted to ask you... about yesterday," Dream says, and he sounds vaguely uncomfortable, and Techno feels like he's about to sink into the floor. "I want to know if you're comfortable with us using any of the footage we got yesterday. The camera got a little banged up, but none of the recordings got corrupted or anything. And I'm just talking about the duel here. I don't post breakdowns. Purely just the fencing."
Techno watches Dream for a second, watches how his expression changes the longer it takes for Techno to respond. "Why are you asking me?" he wrote.
Dream sputters. "Wh-because! Even though you're dead, you're clearly still here!" Dream gestures with his hand. "It wouldn't be right to post something you're uncomfortable with! You're my friend, Techno. I wouldn't do anything like that to you. Or anyone, for that matter. It's just wrong."
Techno stares at the paper in front of him. He taps his fingers against the table, and he thinks. Fencing was- is something he holds incredibly dear to him. It's such a huge part of him, even after death. He had always been eager to share it with people when he was younger, to show off his skill and all of the time he had spent mastering his craft. But now...? Now Techno wasn't sure. Did he still want to share these things? Did he still want to be known in the eyes of the masses?
Techno glanced at the kitchen wall, a place where Phil hung family photos once upon a time. He had some weird philosophy about looking at where you were and seeing how far you've come, but Techno always just liked the reminder of all of the good memories. This was one of the walls that had to be rebuilt, so now not even the nails' holes remain. Techno could feel smoke tickle the top of his mouth. He coughed. What kind of footprint had Techno left on the world? He guesses he'll never know.
Maybe he could make a new one.
"Sure. I don't mind." Techno wrote.
Dream read it, then read it again, scanning over the words more times than Techno was comfortable with.
"Are you sure?" Dream asked. "It took you a while to respond."
"I'm sure." Techno wrote immediately.
Dream glanced up, and for a second, held steady eye contact with Techno. Awkwardly, Techno dropped the pen he was holding, and Dream glanced away.
"If you're sure." Dream shrugs. "That's all I needed, by the way. Come find me if you need anything; I'll be helping Tubbo and Tommy edit today."
Dream smiled and got up, leaving to join Tubbo and Tommy in the living room. He greeted them, mentioning something about how damage control was going. Techno watched Dream, slowly rising from his chair and tucking the pen away. Well... that wasn't as excruciating as it could've been—only a minor existential crisis, really. That's about as good as it gets. Techno sighed and rubbed at his face. Even after all this time, it was weird not to readjust his glasses afterwords. He was tired.
Techno trudged his way back to where Wilbur and Phil were, tiredly phasing through the walls and plopping himself down in between them. He rests his head on Phil's shoulder as he's pulled into a half hug, Phil placing a quick kiss on the top of his head.
"What'd he want to talk about?" Wilbur asks, tuning his guitar. Techno is sure it's more of a nervous habit than anything now.
"He just wanted to know if I was okay with them using the footage they got yesterday," Techno replies.
"You mean like-"
"Just the duel," Techno cuts Wilbur off. "Not anything else."
"Oh, well, that's nice," Phil says, leaning some of his weight back into Techno. "What'd you say? You give them the go-ahead, or...?"
"I said it was fine. Had a minor existential crisis, but that's all in the day's work of being a ghost."
Phil purses his lips, and he and Wilbur share a glance.
"Anything you wanna talk about, mate?"
"Not really."
Techno sighs, and the room falls silent. Wilbur is still working on one of his songs, and the quiet strumming of his guitar is a comforting constant for Techno's aching heart. He just needs some time. Some time to process things and come to terms with what this experience has made him realize about himself. His family knows this, too, and they're willing to give Techno all the time he needs. If it meant that Techno could rest easy and find peace in such a cruel reality, all the time in the world.
"Hey, wanna hear what I have so far?" Wilbur asks, leaning back and grinning.
"Yeah, let's hear it," Techno says, matching Wilbur's grin with his own small smile.
The next day goes off without a hitch. They spend some time recording some content for Tubbo and Tommy's channel and exchanging information about communicating techniques and what gear worked the best. Techno clung to Phil's side as he supervised, feeling just like he did when Phil had just started fostering him. It felt weird, honestly, but his family was a comforting warmth he knew he could lean on.
Dream spent some time on the phone with George and Sapnap throughout the day. They had been tasked with keeping the situation under control while Dream was visiting and apparently had some updates. There was a lot of laughing between talking about schedules and whether they should address certain things. Everybody felt a little bad about the fact thousands of people had been pestering Dream to open up about his dead friend, even if they didn't mean it, but he insisted he was fine. "I've got thick skin," he said, even everyone dropped the subject.
Time flew by until it was time for Dream to leave, bags all packed, and every reminder of him removed from the house. Everyone waved goodbye, including the ghosts, as he disappeared into the treeline off towards the airport. The house felt normal again, if not a little empty. Techno wasn't sure how to feel. He started to cling to Phil less and less as time continued.
Wilbur showed Tubbo his song, trying desperately to make Tubbo understand the progressions and the tunes and failing miserably. Technoblade might not be alive anymore, but he definitely still had a life here. It was in the videos two stupid, impulsive teenagers posted and the songs Wilbur wrote. It was in the way Phil dads everyone in the house, no matter who they were, and how Tubbo still asks him to point to papers with "yes" and "no" written on them.
Time. In time, things would be okay again. The house would feel normal again, feel like home, and the smoke would clear from the back of his throat.
Techno watches as Tubbo premiers their videos, giving a quick squeeze to Phil's hand. For now, he could bask in the fact that even though he was dead, he could still kick ass.