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Wednesday afternoon bloomed sunny and bright over the quiet suburb streets. The showers of rain from the week before had dissipated, leaving only damp, turned dirt and the fresh scent of mist on the air. Phil was greatly appreciating the change in weather— rain always made his commute to work ten times longer, and it always brought the mood down around the house. Particularly because, whenever it rained, it was harder for each of his kids to find a space to themselves. Three teenage boys trapped together in a house, unable to leave because of lightning and thunder, was certainly a recipe for disaster.
That was why Phil was thankful when he pulled into the driveway, exhausted from a long day of sorting through emails and interviews in the office. He couldn’t wait to get a long day of rest in— hopefully he would ask Wilbur to take care of dinner, since he could feel exhaustion tugging at the corners of his mind. It was only a Wednesday, but already, Phil felt like the week had dragged on impossibly long.
Unfortunately for him, he could already hear two of his kids shouting when he unlocked the door. Their laughter filtered through towards the entryway, and Phil sighed as he relocked the door behind him. Time to see what they were doing, then.
Wilbur was standing in the kitchen, presumably getting food, while Tommy was sitting cross-legged on top of the kitchen counter. He hopped off guiltily as soon as Phil came into sight— they had a rule about no sitting on the counters they used to make food, although clearly no one listened to that except for Techno.
“What are you two laughing about?” Phil asked, as both Tommy and Wilbur had quieted down as soon as he entered.
They exchanged glances with each other, both of whom looked like they were trying not to laugh.
“Nothing,” Wilbur said, a little too neutral to be entirely believable. “We’re just glad that the weather is nice, that’s all.”
“Why don’t I believe you,” Phil sighed.
“Absolutely nothing of interest happened today,” Tommy proclaimed, nodding sagely. “Nothing you need to know about, that’s for sure.”
Phil’s suspicion was building. “What did the three of you do this time?”
At that, Tommy let out an ungainly snort. Wilbur turned away to laugh, hiding it with a neatly timed cough, and Phil quickly realized that one of his kids was missing.
He frowned, and directed the next question to Wilbur. “Where’s Techno?”
Wilbur exchanged glances with Tommy again, and they had a quick but silent conversation composed of only overexaggerated gestures and mouthed words that Phil wasn’t quick enough to catch.
“What did you do to Techno?” Phil asked, feeling a little nervous.
“We didn’t do anything,” Tommy said primely, “The two of us, we’re practically model children.”
Wilbur smacked his arm. Phil glanced between the two of them, waiting to get a final answer, and eventually Wilbur said, “He’s in the upstairs bathroom.”
“He dyed his hair!” Tommy blurted, and clapped his hands together gleefully, “He hasn’t left the bathroom in ages. Wilbur and I were waiting to take a picture outside, but he locked the door on us.”
Phil sighed. Wilbur and Tommy had started laughing again, even though they desperately were trying to stop themselves.
“Did you guys tease him about it?” Phil asked, and when he got no response except for raucous laughter, sighed. He supposed that was an answer in itself, though.
“Tommy,” Phil said, deciding that he would fare better if he directed his questions to just one of them instead of the pair, “Did he really dye his hair?”
It was Wilbur who answered. “I saw him carrying the dye boxes upstairs. Apparently it’s pink .”
“Bright pink!” Tommy cheered. “I can’t wait to make fun of him for it. I hope it’s ugly.”
“He’s going to look so stupid,” Wilbur gloated.
“Well,” Phil said, feeling a little nervous at how much Wilbur and Tommy were hyping it up, “How bad is it?”
“We don’t know,” Wilbur said. “We haven’t seen yet.”
“Didn’t you hear?” Tommy chimed. “He closed the door on us.”
Phil sighed. He could feel the beginnings of a headache build at his temple, exacerbated by the smell of bleach coming from upstairs and also the raucous laughter from Wilbur and Tommy, who apparently weren’t going to let this go.
Phil didn’t really know what he expected, though. Wilbur was the oldest, but he acted like the youngest sometimes— which was really saying something, considering Tommy was the youngest and certainly had the most maturity left to build. The two of them got along well, but that meant that sometimes Techno got sidelined from the action. Phil had been doing his best to remedy it, including everyone in conversations and family dinners and activities, but there was always that slight difference between the three of his kids that existed.
Phil pushed himself up from the dinner table and went to go find his middle son, who had apparently made a very rash decision that he might regret. Shockingly, he had never expected Techno to be through the one to go through a rebellious phase— he had always expected Wilbur to be the one to do so— but regardless, Phil would do his best to help him through it. Techno rarely did things without reason, and Phil was sure that there was a reason why he had spontaneously decided to dye his hair.
The door to the second floor bathroom was closed, although yellow light seeped out from underneath it. Even from where he was standing, Phil could smell the scent of bleach drifting across the hall, which permeated the rest of the house. It nearly made his eyes sting, and he mentally reminded himself to open all the windows once he was done talking with Techno.
Phil tentatively raised a hand and knocked twice on the door.
“Go away, Wil,” Techno said angrily, voice muffled through the bathroom door. “If you’re just going to laugh at me, then—”
“It’s not Wil,” Phil interrupted. “I just got back from work.”
Techno stopped his tirade abruptly. “Oh.”
Phil hummed, and slid down to sit on the opposite side of the door from him. “Are you okay?”
There was a suspiciously long silence between Phil’s words and Techno’s. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes,” Techno said stubbornly.
Phil paused. “Really?”
Another stubborn silence.
Finally, Techno muttered, “Wilbur and Tommy are laughing at me and I hate it.”
“I heard that you dyed your hair,” Phil commented. “Is that true?”’
“Great,” Techno sighed, “Now you’re going to laugh at me too.”
“Oh, Tech,” Phil said, and did his best not to laugh, because that was certainly the wrong thing to do in the situation. “What on earth did you do?”
“Nothing,” Techno said, after a moment too long.
“What color did you dye it?”
“You’re going to laugh at me,” Techno mumbled.
“I’m not upset,” Phil promised. “If you really want your hair dyed, I would take you somewhere to get it professionally done. I don’t think anyone in this house is good at dying hair.”
“Thanks,” Techno muttered, very sarcastically. “That makes me feel so much better.”
“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” Phil said. “I only meant—”
Techno huffed. “I know what you meant.”
There was a moment of silence. Phil could hear Techno moving around on the other side, and then finally, the lock clicked on the door. It edged open slowly. Phil entered and closed it behind him.
The bathroom on the second floor of the house was slightly smaller than the first floor bathroom, as it only had a standing shower instead of a bathtub. Techno was sitting cross-legged against the far wall, legs stretched out towards the counter, and there was barely enough room for Phil to squeeze by to perch on the lid of the toilet seat.
Techno had dyed his hair, and though Phil promised not to laugh, it was truly a terrible dye job. He had bleached his natural hair from its usual dark blond to a pale platinum, and then clearly attempted to dye half of it pink, although it was brassy and splotchy in parts. No wonder Techno had been trying to hide it from Wilbur and Tommy.
Techno glared at him, though the glare was likely just Techno waiting for Phil to laugh at him. Phil firmly swallowed that instinct down— he could tell by Techno’s red-rimmed eyes as well as the way his entire body language was defensive that he was having a terrible day.
Gently, Phil said, “Why? I feel like you’re not usually one for rash decisions, you know.”
“I know,” Techno muttered, and tugged on a few pink-blond strands of hair. It was still recent— Phil could see the remnants of pink hair dye in the shower and splotched all over the counter. Techno’s hair was still damp, as well, like it was freshly washed.
Techno didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Phil was content to sit and wait him out. Finally Techno said, very small and meek, “I failed my math test.”
Phil blinked. “Your math test?”
“Yes,” Techno said. “My precalculus one.”
Phil considered that. “Did you fail by actual school standards or by your own standards?” Techno often had this way of setting himself up for incredibly high expectations and then deeply hating himself whenever he fell slightly short. In Techno’s eyes, a B+ was a failing grade, although in Tommy’s eyes, he would probably consider a B+ his highest grade of the semester.
It might not have been the brightest thing to ask, though, because the corners of Techno’s lips only pulled further downwards. Miserably, he said, “It wasn’t a great grade either way. When Wilbur picked us up from school, even Tommy laughed at me for it. Tommy, of all people! And I know he doesn’t mean it, I know he’s just making fun of me, but I really wanted to start the year off on a good note, and seeing that grade was so—”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Phil said softly, and nudged Techno’s bare foot with his own gently. “It’s only September, there’s so much more of the school year to get through.”
“But it’s already the end of September,” Techno said, “There’s only seventy-five percent of the year left and I don’t know if I can raise my grade in time to get it back up to an A, and I just—”
“You have all of October, November, and December,” Phil said placatingly. “That’s so much more time than you think.”
Techno blinked and glared down at the floor. “I don’t really want to talk about my grades right now.” His voice was dejected.
“That’s alright,” Phil said. “Want to talk about something else?”
There was silence for a moment, and then Techno mumbled, “Tell them to stop making fun of me. I can still hear them.”
Phil grimaced. It was true. Even throughout their entire conversation, he could hear Wilbur and Tommy’s laughter below, ringing through the house. The two of them were getting along as thick as thieves, which was wonderful considering all of the family arguments they tended to get into, but at times like this, Phil could understand entirely why Techno felt so terrible. Being ganged up on by family never felt good, even if one knew that they were joking.
“I’ll tell them,” Phil promised. More gently, he said, “You know they don’t mean any harm, right?”
“I know,” Techno said sullenly. “Doesn’t mean I have to feel good about it, though.”
Phil nodded. That was completely fair and expected, and so he said so.
“I’ll go downstairs and talk to them,” Phil promised. “They mean well, but sometimes they go too far. They still care about you, even if they have… strange ways of showing it.”
Techno let out a small, choked laugh. “Yeah. They’re stupid.”
Phil smiled, and so did Techno, although his smile was tentative. Already Phil could sense that Techno’s mood was lifting, just like the sunlight outside.
Phil got up and winced at the way his knees cracked. He was really getting too old to deal with this. At the very least, only Techno was going through a rebellious phase. God forbid Tommy start to follow in his footsteps.
“And open a window,” Phil warned. “All the bleach is going to go to your head.”
Techno scoffed, but he looked slightly abashed and gave Phil a thumbs up. Good. Phil’s head was going to explode if he smelled any more hair dye.
When he emerged back downstairs, both Wilbur and Tommy immediately stopped their chatter. Tommy opened his mouth, and Phil knew that he was going to ask something about Techno, but before he could even get the words out, Phil interrupted them.
“Tommy and Wil, stop laughing,” Phil said directly. “If you’re going to keep teasing him, then I’ll ground you.”
Wilbur gaped at him, and then his eyes narrowed. “You can’t ground me. I have a recital on Friday.”
Phil reconsidered, and said, “I’ll ground you after your recital.”
Wilbur huffed, but crossed his arms and remained silent.
Tommy, however, glowered. He scowled, “This is favoritism.”
“I don’t have favorites,” Phil said automatically, even though he knew that whenever Tommy got into his Phil has favorites and it’s not me mood, there was nothing he could do to combat it. “I would do the same for any of you, if your brothers were teasing you. Techno’s been stressed lately and we should all do our best to help out.”
Tommy frowned, eyes narrowing, and glanced between Wilbur and Phil as if calculating what the right decision to make.
“You know we’re not actually making fun of him, right?” Tommy said eventually. “Even if he does look very stupid—”
“Shut up,” Wilbur said, and smacked Tommy’s arm. “You’re going to get us grounded. Phil just said to stop.”
“Am not,” Tommy said sullenly. “Would serve you some good, though, you’re always acting all high and mighty just because you’re a senior this year—”
“It’s not my fault that I’m older than you, more mature than you, smarter than you…”
Phil sighed, but left the two of them to bicker. Clearly, their conversation was going to take a turn for the noisier, and Phil had no desire to be a part of it. He was going to take a long, warm shower, let the hot water work out the stress of the day, and then he would talk to Techno again to see how he was doing. Things would calm down with time.
Later that night, things had certainly quieted down. Wilbur and Tommy’s bickering had faded from Techno’s new hair color into what to order for dinner— Phil had put Wilbur in charge of making dinner that night, and Wil had made the executive decision to order takeout pizza— and now both of them had split into their separate rooms, hopefully doing homework, although Phil doubted that.
The sky overhead had faded from a peachy sunset into inky black, spotted with stars. Phil closed the window blinds, darkening the backyard, and then looked up best places to dye hair in Brighton. He got several results, and after a few moments of careful deliberation, made an appointment for Techno to get his hair re-dyed on the weekend. He loved his sons, he really did, but he didn’t know if he could stand to see Techno’s terrible dye job every day until it grew out again. Besides, if Techno really did like the pink, and Phil had a sneaking suspicion that he did, he would be able to keep it.
After scheduling a two hour appointment on Saturday afternoon, (did dying one’s hair really take that long?) Phil sighed and closed his computer. The house was blessedly quiet, even though he could hear the soft sounds of Wilbur’s guitar echoing through the walls, and Tommy’s delighted laugh coming through his closed door. He was probably on a call with friends, but at least he was being polite and not bouncing around the entire house with it.
Phil went up the stairs to Techno’s door, which was closed, and raised his hand to knock on it. After waiting a few moments, of which Phil heard no response from inside, there was a slight shuffling.
“You can come in,” Techno called.
Phil opened the door slowly, eerily reminded of finding Techno in the bathroom earlier, and closed it behind him. Techno was curled up in bed under the covers, a hoodie pulled over his head, and he glanced up at Phil. Phil came to sit at the edge of his bed.
Techno still didn’t look much happier. In fact, he almost looked more stressed, and Phil was willing to bet that he was looking at his grades currently on the school webpage, scrolling over and over obsessively.
“Hey,” Phil said, and waited until Techno closed his computer fully before continuing. “You doing okay?”
“Fine,” Techno muttered. Techno was a terrible liar.
“I had a question to ask you,” Phil said, and again he waited until Techno nodded in apprehension. “I wanted to know if you want to take the day off tomorrow.”
Techno looked at him suspiciously. “Like a day off of school?”
Phil nodded.
A slight divot appeared between Techno’s brows, and privately Phil hoped that Techno took him up on his offer. He could tell when the stress was getting to him, and Phil could only sympathize with how difficult it must be to be a middle child. He knew that Techno always tried his best, put in as much effort as possible, and sometimes that paid off and sometimes it didn’t.
“Just skip?” Techno asked. “Become a truant?”
Phil snorted. “You’re not a truant for taking a mental health day.”
“Sure,” Techno muttered, and ducked his head. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Phil wondered if he had said something wrong when eventually Techno said, “Okay, then. That sounds good.”
Phil smiled. Techno did too, soft and a little loopy. His hair wasn’t really that bad, the longer Phil looked at it. Maybe it would be good for the pink to stick around a little bit.
“Alright,” Phil said, and got up from Techno’s bed. “I’m going to go deal with Tommy now, he’ll be demanding dessert soon. Get lots of sleep, and we can do whatever you want tomorrow. We can even get takeout from that one Chinese place, with the spring rolls you like.”’
A spark of interest bloomed in Techno’s eyes. “The one Wilbur and Tommy always veto?”
Phil sighed, but nodded. Techno grinned, although his smile was decisively sharper now.
“That would be nice,” Techno said, “Really, really nice.”
“Wonderful,” Phil said, now that he had his Thursday plans sorted out. “Time for sleep, now.”
“I’m sixteen,” Techno muttered, although he yawned as he said it. “You don’t need to make me go to sleep.”
Phil checked his watch, and with a start, saw that it was almost ten thirty at night. Time had flown by without him realizing, caught up in the thrill of a sunny day and sibling teasing.
“You know growing kids need ten hours of sleep a day,” Phil said.
Techno narrowed his eyes. “That sounds like a lie. I’ve been getting five hours of sleep a night and I’m doing fine.”
“Techno!”
Techno’s eyes widened. “I mean, I’ve been getting eight hours a night. Of course. Like every teenager does. One perfectly rested teenager, right here.”
Phil didn’t believe him for one second, but he hoped that one night of sleep would be able to help Techno catch up on some of that lost sleep. He paused at the doorway, one hand over the light switch.
“Light on or off?”
Techno, already under the covers, said, “Off.”
Phil nodded and turned Techno’s bedroom lights off, as well as the hallway lights off, and he had only taken one step down the stairs before Techno’s voice, very quiet, stopped him..
“Hey, dad?” he said, and Phil’s heart jumped.
“Yeah?”
Techno’s voice was even quieter when he mumbled, “Thank you.”
Phil tried to stop a hopeless smile from spreading across his face, but the fight was lost before it even started. “Anytime.”
It wasn’t often when his kids called him dad, but when they did, it made Phil’s entire day. It made his entire month. It made his entire chest glow with a warm, fluttering light. It was the kind of memory that he treasured each time, tucking them inside a little box, where he knew he could remember it if he were ever feeling down.
One day, Phil hoped to be able to make his kid’s lives as wonderful as they made his.
He made sure his steps downstairs were slow and quiet, avoiding the one creaky step that Tommy always forgot to step over. He could still hear Wilbur’s guitar playing— he had a recital this Friday that Phil has been looking forward to for the last month, and had cleared out his schedule days in advance. His music was soft, gentle, and echoed throughout the house. It was a lovely tune to fall asleep to.
It was going to be a good rest of the week. Phil could tell.