Chapter Text
He was moving before he could process it.
Shaky hands pulled on his boots, the laces undone as a plain white shirt was pulled on beneath his larger red hoodie, messing up his long pink locks which he pulled into a messy bun, the upwards hairstyle highlighting his sharpened jawline from his jaw clenching dangerously, teeth grinding together as rage slowly built in his chest, easily reflected in his crimson eyes which were blown out with bloodlust.
He wasn’t mad at Dream. He could never be mad at Dream. But the mere concept of Dream being stuck alone with his father sent a possessive shock through his system, his concern melding into anger as he thought of Dreams disgusting father even touching a hair on Dreams head.
He didn’t truly know what happened at Dreams home. He didn’t even want to imagine. He couldn’t be sure if he could the discern if it was physical or psychological abuse that Dream was going through, afterall there was only so much the closed off man would say and expectedly most of it was just simple dismissive talk and fake smiles.
But from a simple reflection on Tubbos behaviour when he’d first started living at their house, he could easily guess.
When Tommy had first brought Tubbo home, the boy had been sickly small. Hollow brown eyes which had nervously flickered over them all, gaunt cheeks and eyebags far too deep for a boy his age. Bandages were hidden beneath his sweater sleeves and the occasional wince with his steps whispered of further injury, each detail instantly being noted by himself, Wilbur and Phil. But maybe what was worse than the boys purple bruises and awkward limp was his behaviour.
Upon entering their house, his eyes had rapid fire tracked over everything in sight, only ever pausing on doorframes in what they figured out was the boy searching for escape routes. Constant tension ran through the boys frame, only ever eased by Tommys laughter and intensified by any of Phils movements; whether it was merely walking around or cooking dinner, Tubbo had tracked the mans movements like a hawk, but rather than being the predator, he was the prey. Anytime the older man moved into a blind spot the shorter brunette twisted to keep an eye on him. Anytime the older man held a utensil of any kind the shorter brunette would tense his legs as though prepared to run, his knee forever bouncing in a show of his anxiety. Hell, even if Wilbur moved to fast or Techno got mad the others he would freeze up, hands twitching or occasionally even raising up to defend himself as though expecting a hit or a punishment.
It had been painful to watch the obviously abused boy but overtime him opening up became worth it.
The innocent facade Tubbo put up of being the sweet little bee boy with a gleaming smile and innocent eyes was definitely a facade. The boy was if anything worse than Tommy, and boy hadn’t that been an experience to witness. Loud yelling and debating with the others, crude language that even made Phil pause, that sly smirk that graced his face when he and Tommy were up to no good and the mischievous glint to his eyes was just the addition which made them proud to have Tubbo in the family.
But they’d never dared speak of Tubbos home life.
Any mention of it caused the smaller to tense up. The fearful glint that they’d long forgotten about would reappear along with an all too familiar glassy sheen over his eyes as he tried to avoid the subject, the glazed over expression eerily familiar to Dreams identical reaction.
Logically they knew avoiding it wasn’t helpful, yet non of them wanted to put the boy through the distress of explaining it, with the last time they tried resulting in Tubbo having a panic attack in Phils arms.
Maybe that’s why Techno felt guilty about what he was about to do.
None of them knew where Tubbo and Dream lived. Their address had never been needed with Tubbo and swiftly avoided by Dream however, he knew it was in the sketchier ends of town from the direction Dream left school and how long it took him to get to Technos. Confronting either of them on where they grew up had always been avoided, Dream with suggestive comments to smoothly divert the conversation and Tubbo with awkward stuttering.
But Techno didn’t particularly care for the younger siblings anxiety at the moment.
He needed to find Dream.
Even if he was being irrational.
Even if the boy was fine.
Better safe than sorry , he thought, quickly slamming his door open and jogging down the stairs, loud creaking betraying his footsteps before slamming open the kitchen door, ruby eyes instantly narrowing on Tubbo, making the entire room tense as they stared at him.
“Techno? What’s wr—“
“What’s your address?”
The temperature of the room seemed to dramatically decline at his words, even Tommy shutting his mouth at the question, all eyes darting to Tubbo as the boy went uncomfortably rigid.
“W-what?”
Technos slow footsteps creaked on the floor boards as he slowly approached the younger, not unlike a predator stalking its prey, each of his steps causing an all too familiar tension to rise into Tubbos frame, “I said, what’s your address, I need it.”
“Why?” the boys voice had gone hoarse, eyes flickering around with nerves as he avoided the crimson ones pinning him to the seat.
“Tubbo. Tell me your address, it’s for Dream.”
The mere mention of the older siblings name seem to catch the attention of everyone in the room,
“Isn’t Dream here? Why would you need it for Dream?”
“Because he fucking left because his ‘Dad’ wanted him for something—“ Techno went on to continue his rant but slowly cut off as the colour drained from Tubbos face, once rosey cheeks turning white with an unhealthy grey hue.
“Tubbo..?”
Brown eyes still downcast, the smaller hopped to his feet, grabbing the pen and paper which were previously discarded on the table before scribbling something down, his shaking hands now visible to them all.
“Avoid knocking on the front door, Dreams room is at the back and has a window which is large enough to climb through, a first aid kit should be under his bed, don’t confront Sch— Dad, he keeps a pistol in his front left pocket. Please don’t fuck up.”
Tubbos quiet words filled the air with dread. The boys usual expressive voice had turned anxious and cold, the piece of paper now held out towards Techno who stared at the boy before quickly snapping out of his haze, grabbing the paper and reading the address messily scrawled down. The silence was eerily loud as the boys words set in.
The fact that Tubbo knew where his fathers gun was located. The fact he knew where the first aid kit was. The fact he almost used his own parents first name. Each of his anxiously stuttered words sent dread through them all. Something was very wrong here. And if treated incorrectly, could cause far more harm than good.
“Thank you.”
Eyes downcast on the paper Techno turned to leave, only stopped by a harsh hand on his bicep, forcing vermillion eyes to snap to worried cerulean ones.
“If anything and I mean anything goes wrong, you text me that address and call
me instantly do you understand me Technoblade?” Phils voice was harsh but as always his eyes betrayed his worry for the other boy who he oh so desperately wanted to help; wanted to save.
Techno offered his father a light smile before yanking out of the olders grasp, his feet already moving faster than his mind as he swung the door open, sprinting out quicker than he could hear Tommy and Wilburs yells of good luck.
He would get Dream back.
He would get Dream back safely.
No matter what.