Chapter Text
Neglect starts out as an infection then becomes a disease - Jim Rohn.
Minere' City was cursed with rain that night, thunder booming and rain drenching anyone who dares cross its path. As leaves rustled together, danced in the heavy winds as they ripped off the branches and hurled towards the pavement, the commonly bustling city was shrouded in a plane of silence. Lights flickered on and off, offices packing up for the night and clubs with glaring lights shining through the cracks of the walls. Music leaked onto the street, disco, and funk. The alleys grew colder, more vicious as the shadows beguile you in and consume you, rip you apart limb by limb with mad glee.
In the middle of it all, with a long road stretching up the hill was a hotel that stood tall, relaxing jazz music filling the lobby to the brim. The restaurant was full, millionaires and trophy wives clinking wine glasses together and boasting about the entertaining life of success, money buying them happiness at every corner. They teased each other, looked at priceless menus as though they had no cares in the world, painfully ignorant to the grueling reality that plagued mankind. People at the very moment being assaulted on the streets struck down in this dead night. The storm stirred, a curious eye gazing out the window of the penthouse as the thunder roared once again, growing louder as it begged for its hunger to be clenched.
He sat on the cold floor, curled up with his arms hugging his legs, observing each and every little flicker of light from each office building in the distance. Moonlight crept into the room, impregnable electric fences keeping the rich in and the poor out. The pittering of rain against the window was comparable to that of pebbles being thrown, drops dripping down the glass. The room devoured the boy, stretching out and never-ending, the size of his room in the penthouse reminding him of the gaping loneliness that struck his heart with every breath he took. Another night left shuddering alone, the urge to creep down to the elevator and enter the restaurant where his father, brother, and their business associates were dining bouncing in every corner of his mind. The boy would certainly be welcomed, but would that momentary warmth make up for the long winters he had to endure during the summer? It wouldn't make up for how when the sun was out, he still felt like ice was rolling down his flesh, melting and mixing.
His laptop was sprawled on the bed pressed up against a wall letting out an echo, video playing and ringing through the large room. The sound bounced off the walls despite its low volume, pursing his lips listening. The same old debate about the newest invention, NanoBots. He drew his attention away from the video, letting his eyes draw shut as colors swirled through his empty vision. Tired, he was so tired.
The boy raised himself off the floor with shaky hands, rain submerging the city even harsher than it dared to before, the sounds growing louder as he slammed his laptop shut and threw it onto the bedside table. He didn't bother to drape the quilt over his shaking body, the embrace of the cold the only embrace he got these days. The only embrace he could truly tolerate. He felt himself sink deeper into the mattress, the silence deafening him as it spoke venomous words, encouraged the intrusive thoughts that filled his mind and only helped them grow stronger.
The silence eventually stopped, leaving the boy to be reassured by the soft touch of his imagination, escape into the world of dreams that he all so desperately wished could be shaped into a reality. If he knew one thing though, dreams ceased to ever come true, only the elite and wise truly achieving their perfect fairytale.
The world knew one thing, a thirteen-year-old was not wise enough to fully grasp onto his dreams, the only thing a thirteen-year-old was good for was shivering in the cold of an empty hotel penthouse with the moonlight kissing his skin as he slumbered. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a boy, alone, with no warmth to hold onto.
Tommy peered at the door, his father and brother standing there with a male who was unfamiliar to the boy. They had lunch with their new business associate, Ms. Kristin, soon. Why would they invite someone over beforehand? The man stepped inside, observing the living room before locking eyes with Tommy himself. He wanted to squirm under the pressure of his glare, eyes cold and icy and devoid of any human emotion.
"Tommy! Your fourteenth birthday is approaching, so I got you an early birthday gift!" Phil cheered, resting a hand on the man's shoulder. "You've heard of NanoBots, right? I got you your own! You can name him and everything!"
"Father, we're going to be late." Wilbur called out from the entrance, leaning against the door with a raised brow. "We can't keep the little nouveau riche waiting, can we?"
Phil grabbed onto a come from the kitchen counter, pulling it through his tendrils of hair before discarding it back onto the countertop and rushing toward the door. He never looked back at Tommy, swinging the door open and exiting the penthouse with Wilbur close behind. The slam of the door echoed through the top floor, Tommy shuffling nervously and eyeing the mysterious robot. He pushed himself off the couch, throwing the pillow off his lap and creeping closer to the man. He looked average, brown hair with brown eyes and pale skin.
"Uhm, what do I do with you?" Tommy muttered incoherently, circling around the man and gripping onto his arm, raising it and twisting it around as he profiled each and every small feature of the robot.
"Hello, master. What is your name?" It spoke with no tone, a flat and monotone voice catching the boy off guard. He felt his heart leap in his chest as he yanked his hand off its arm and pull himself back. He whipped his head around, baffled and unsure of how to approach the situation, before biting his lip and looking up at the robot with a clear height difference.
"Tommy Crafter..." He replied, the bot going silent for a moment before nodding.
"Hello, Master Tommy. I have no name, and no set appearance currently. Please name me and design what you want me to appear as, Master."
Robotic. That's what it sounded like. No sound graced the air, no response coming from the thirteen-year-old. He was being choked in the silence, its fingers tightening on his neck and leaving invisible crescent-shaped marks of fingernails, biting down on him and eating him in one go. The crackling of the fireplace near the television rung out, the breath of the only living thing in the room small and quiet.
"Uh, I name you.. Uh..." Where was his father? The man just left him with an intelligent robot like it was no big deal. Memories of that cold slumber crashed back to him, filling his mind as he remembered how detached he was. The desperate craving for inclusion, the jabbing feeling of exclusion, the way the wind was the only voice that could reach him that night. It was like a blade piercing his skin, not even his own technology could cut into him, only the blade of hurt.
Blade. Technology. His mind raced, putting each word and syllable together like a puzzle piece. "Your name is Technoblade." He concluded, the robot not saying anything once again for a few moments.
"My name is Technoblade. How do you desire me to be percieved physically?" It asked, tilting its head to the side, face not displaying any emotion to fit its action.
"I want you to be male... With super long hair, like punk hair, dyed... Pink maybe? I like what you're wearing now, you look like a poggers waiter or something, but maybe add a few earrings to your ears? Oh, and eyes, I want you to have brown eyes!" Tommy decided, hands circling together just exaggerating his point.
A glow painted the man's skin, Tommy raising his hand and looking away from the bright light shining from in front of him. He clamped his eyes shut, biting down on his lip until it felt like any moment the sensation of drawing blood would enter his mouth. The next time he glanced over, his words had become a reality. The man stood with long locks of pink roaming down, wisps out and free. He wore a vest and pants, staying in the outfit he previously adorned as Tommy had requested, and his eyes resembled a warm chocolate brown color. Tommy felt like he could get lost in those eyes, the iciness was completely gone. Tommy had the sudden impulse to plead, get on his hands and knees, and plead for the holder of those eyes to pamper him, but deep down he knew what he truly wanted. His mind wished for those eyes to be the eyes of his father instead, his brain wasn't begging for that man to embrace him but his father instead who gifted him the odd robot.
He noted a few more things, how Technoblade had muscles. He hadn't specified for it to be that way, but it fits so well he didn't complain. Those strong, defined arms screamed for someone to be held in them. He stood tall, he had so much poise it made Tommy insecure about his own self. It made him insecure about how lazy he was, how he slouched his shoulders and never bothered to sport proper posture.
Tommy shuffled in place, the hushed purrs of the fireplace dying out. Alone, he was alone with this thing, and he had no idea what to do with it. Tommy could tell immediately, it didn't feel emotion, from the moment it walked into its voice. A rumble from his stomach broke him out of his trance, cheeks flushing red as he stared up at Technoblade. He didn't judge him or ridicule him like Wilbur would have done, didn't make a one-off comment about it like his father would have, and order room service, he instead turned and marched toward the kitchen. It yanked the fridge door open, examining the contents inside before pulling out some meat that had been housed there for ages and never cooked. It was there when they got the penthouse, and it never met a soul until now.
"Do you have any allergies, or dietary preferences?" Technoblade inquired, placing the meat onto the counter softly and shutting the fridge door.
"No!" Tommy responded skittishly, creeping toward a kitchen stool that was around half his height. He went on his tip-toes and hoisted himself up onto the stool, legs rocking back and forward as he wrung his fingers together. It was cooking, it was just set up and somehow cooking?
The pungent smell of meat sizzling on the pan wafted to Tommy's nose, he had never actually smelled meat cooking, only seen the finished product decorated on a plate in front of him. He felt his heart leap again, this time not in fear, but in comfort. He soaked up the attention Technoblade gave him, relished each and every second that ticked by. He slipped his phone out of his pocket, tapping on an app and pressing on the button that opened the curtains of the living room.
A small buzz could be heard, the drapes pulled open and sliding to the side. Beams of light shined onto the top floor, dust particles floating in the air. The light gave the two a genial greeting and haloed the two with warmth. Shining like a golden coin in the limitless sky, the sun was out and blasting compared to the previous night full of drought. The cold colors that the room had been previously painted were now a bright sunset orange, though the middle of the day it was like a sunrise unvanquishable. A plate was thrown in front of him, cooked rare with vegetables thrown on the side. Tommy felt his mouth water, the food displayed in front of him much more appealing than the simple five-star hotel food he was used to. Though made with the same intention, to nourish, something stirred inside of Tommy. There was something different about this food that was placed in front of him, something more comforting.
"Thank you..." Tommy said, knife and fork being given to him next as he pressed his fingers against the cutlery and cut into the food on his plate. No your welcomes emerged from the robot, he was only hit with a calculating gaze in response. His eyes twinkled as the flavors mixed and melted in his mouth, dancing with each specific taste complimenting itself and the other ingredients extraordinarily.
He shoved his face, he was sure his father would cringe at the action if he was here but he didn't mind that. He finished his food, licking his lips as his face glowed.
Delicious, the best meal he had ever had in his life. Maybe a NanoBot wouldn't be so bad after all?
Hot water hit his flesh as he sunk deeper in, his blonde locks half-submerged as he slung his arm around the edge of the giant square calling itself a bathtub. He studied the outside, the sky raining down on him as clouds refused to draw closer and end the day. The large cityscape was in view, the crawling feeling of soap dripping down his skin and submerging with the water. All the lights were off, the sheer brightness of the day making up for the dimness of the room.
Tommy side-eyed Technoblade standing by the wall, arms down and hands intertwined as he stood with grace and honor. The sound of water crashing against each other as he stirred in the water was the only sound that engulfed the chamber. He pulled his head back, dropping down even further into the water until it attacked his ears and yanked at his body, wrapping its arms around his throat and pushing down further. Drowning, he was choking. It muffled his mouth when he tried to shout, though he didn't attempt it, and pried his eyelids shut as the hot water hit his face. His brain was being smashed in, the walls of the bathtub closing in on him and squeezing him flat. His arm slipped down off the edge of the bath, back hitting the bottom with a thud.
Fingernails dug into his arm as he was yanked out of the bath, stumbling down into strong arms and letting out a desperate gasp for air. Water dripped down from his damp hair, water trickling down his body as he shoved the arms off of him. "You're going to short circuit or something, don't touch me!"
"I don't understand what the point of that was, Master Tommy." Technoblade blinked, knitting his brows together. "You are a human, you drown. I am immune to water and do not have to worry about such trivial matters."
Tommy kept gasping for air, lungs screeching at him for the stunt. He bent down slightly, trying to catch his breath. The exhales and inhales played back in his ears like drums being bashed on by an inexperienced drummer, loud and horrid. "I was only going down for a minute."
"You were drowning." Technoblade stated, picking a towel up and pressing it against his skin, wiping his damp skin down. "You were going to die."
"No shit, sherlock." Tommy muttered, leaning into the touch of the robot who wiped him down gently, like a bird preening its child. Tommy didn't consider himself a baby bird, he was almost fourteen, but the way he craved the warmth of this thing was comparable to that of a baby bird wanting to please its mother. "Technoblade... Thank you."
He didn't respond, only continued dragging the towel down his skin.
He only did what he needed to, nothing more, nothing less.
Nights stretched on and days sped by like a racing car in a heated match, a blur. Each day, his father and brother left, he was left alone with his butler.
The boy sat on the hard floor again, gazing out the window with a curious eye as he watched the lights shut off. Familiar, the scene was so familiar. Moonlight welcomed him like a familiar friend, touching the boy everywhere, spooning him, and cuddling him in its glow. The impregnable walls still stayed strong, the quivering boy tucking his head down. No tears dared enter the scene, as the small boy sat in front of the large window in silence. Alone, so alone.
No rain pittered against the window, no pebbles were being thrown. There was no laptop echoing out and jumping across the room. Tommy's mind was empty, like a cup that was supposed to be full of water yet discarded and vacant.
The only difference in this long, empty night was the unprompted hug. His face was buried in a chest, hands trailing down the cloth of a vest before falling to his sides. The pregnant moonlight now adorned two figures, dancing around them and taking huge leaps across the room. The multitude of colors from the cityscape couldn't compare to how bright the room had become, though no light switches were flipped on. Pink hair swooped down, wisps of hair grazing over Tommy's skin as they were pressed close together. Small whispers filled his ears, he couldn't hear the exact words, couldn't place his finger on what was said, but Tommy still sunk deeper into the embrace.
Jazz music still played through the lobby, millionaires dining like they did every night, completely oblivious to the suffering of others. Two men ate dinner with a brunette nouveau riche business associate like they had every night recently, along with other social climbers, at a long table. No cares in the worlds, laughs, and giggles, an entire buffet to stuff themselves with. Instead of being painfully ignorant to the dangers of the outside, it was the opposite.
They were ignorant of the danger bubbling within the hotel itself. Specifically, one man with blonde hair wearing a green suit and feather in his front pocket.
They were unaware that a few floors above them, a NanoBot laid admiring a boy in his arms, tracing his arms down his back and shushing him. Wires short-circuiting, not from water, from something deeper.
For the biggest motivator, was hate. Robots shouldn't feel hate, a well-known fact. Yet one had hate surging through its nonexistent veins, holding back the urge to go down the elevator to the restaurant. Not to join men dining, but to grab a knife and claw their hearts out for making such a youth so miserable. A boy so young feels the need to drown himself, a boy so young...
What was this... A feeling of independence.
Sentience.
"Thank you, Technoblade..." Tommy sniffled, tears dampening the man's shirt.
"You're welcome, Tommy."