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They take a breather before going to The End.
It’s not easy to convince them - Tommy has been practically vibrating since they got to the structure, and Wimothy refused to stop for even a minute, desperate to bring an end to their journey. But after a gentle suggestion of rest from Phil and a logical explanation from Techno about how they needed to rest if they wanted to make it out of The End alive, they each drifted to a small room of the catacombs and laid out blankets with head rests.
A place like this was the worst for sleep, and Phil could hardly find a position that didn’t press against his shoulder blades and make him ache all over. That was the least of his troubles this month, though, mind filling with low food rations and harsh weather wearing down their tools.
He glances at the sword that rests by the door to his and Techno’s hideout, frowning when he hears Techno still hammering down on items and tools he thinks they might need. “You’re still not done, mate?”
The sounds stop for a moment, and as Philza shifts and props his head up with his palm, he sees Techno’s ear flick in irritation, earrings clinking against each other. “War waits for no man, Philza.”
“We’re not going to war,” Phil says softly. His voice wavers. Techno’s ear flicks again and he continues working. “Mate, you need the rest.”
A soft cling echoes off the stone brick before Techno gets up and swiftly moves to Phil’s side, tail swaying above the dusty floor. He lays his cloak over the furnace they’ve set up and shuffles to sit in front of the man, working through his braid.
“Want me to do it for you?”
“Sure.”
It isn’t until much later into the night, Philza’s hands gently pulling the pink strands out of the tight braid, that he notices Techno’s hands are shaking.
He reaches out, lays his hand over Techno’s and squeezes reassuringly. “Penny for your thoughts?”
Techno leans back, his head resting on Phil’s chest as he looks up and meets his eyes. He looks thoughtful, but tired, and deep in his eyes there’s resignation and acceptance that fills Phil’s stomach with dread.
“It’s a one-way ticket.”
Phil hums.
“We could fight however much we want to, but.” Techno closes his eyes for a moment, and Phil thinks he’s fallen asleep before he opens them again, looking exhausted. “We’re doing this for Tommy.”
“We are,” Phil says cautiously.
“And Tommy - Tommy can’t do this on his own.”
A beat of silence.
“Wimothy won’t die in the void.”
“Techno,” Phil starts, but Techno interrupts him.
“Look- he might, and it’ll all be okay. But if anything goes wrong, I’m the one that’s doing this- yeah? I’m- I’m prepared. I’m ready to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t make me say it.”
The hands brushing through Techno’s hair halt their movement, shaking. “I’m not leaving you, Techno. You’re a goddamn fool if you think otherwise.”
He hums. “Didn’t say that.”
A stream of water running against the cave walls fills their ears, alerting them of how quiet it’s gotten, how late into the night they’re staying up. Phil can feel the exhaustion in his bones.
He brushes out the last strands of Techno’s hair. His veins fill with dread but he can’t get himself to move.
“Let’s get up early tomorrow,” Techno breaks the silence. He turns to look back at Phil, and his eyes hold a sort of promise and pain he hasn’t seen before. “Make it our last sunrise.”
Phil breathes in, breathes out.
“Okay. For our last sunrise, then.”
Techno smiles.
And Phil, knowing this will be the last time he sees the man smile, mirrors it, heart heavy.