Archive of Our Own ^beta

Technoblade shuffles to a locker in the hall. He takes a singular maroon book and drops a pencil, but he doesn't seem to notice.

Wilbur walks up and picks it up. One pencil with the tip broken on the brown tile floor. He smiles. "You dropped your pencil."

Technoblade looks at him and shuts the locker, tucking the textbook in his bookbag. "You're Wilbur." He takes the lock and spins it.

"Technoblade."

The two stare at each other. Students pass in the halls, one hitting Wilbur's back, and his shoulder jerks forward, but he stares straight into Technoblade's eyes. Clutching his bookbag, he straightens up. He's taller than him, Wilbur reminds himself, and he makes sure Technoblade knows that.

Technoblade shifts his stance but hands Wil's energy right back. "Are ya gonna say something else, or should I go to 10th English?"

"I have that too, my schedule changed," Wil says, determined to make Technoblade uncomfortable again. "Do you have Watson?"

He pulls his lips in a line of annoyance. "Yeah."

"I guess I'll see you there."

Technoblade hits Wilbur's shoulder as he walks by and turns back for a second. "Don't sit by me."

"Fine."

While Techno walks to class, Wilbur walks in the opposite direction. So that schedule change was a bluff. Not a problem for him.

Sunlight streams through the windows when he walks in. Mr Watson ignores his class, who is mostly seated anyway, and skims through papers with a red pen and a confused face. He's muttering something to himself, but Techno glazes over it.

He has to be seriously gifted to make enemies of someone he barely knows.

He sits in the corner of the back by the window. He would be earlier to class but—Wilbur, wasn't it?—seemed determined to not let him talk to the teacher about next week's English assignment for a minute or two.

Luckily for him, it's assigned seating. Wilbur cannot physically creep him out over here if he even has this class. Both of the seats by him are taken by other people who ignore him as blissfully as he ignores them.

Mr Watson stands. "We have a new student with us today. I'm sure you all know him anyway."

Wilbur walks in just before the bell rings with a smile. "Hey, uh, Dad, can I sit by Technoblade?"

"Told you Wil, it's Mr Watson here," he sighs. "Now I have a new seating chart because there's been quite a bit of talking on the left side." A pink-haired girl laughs and her friend shushes her, but she shushes them back. "Everyone stand and take your stuff."

He keeps the same spot.

Right by Wilbur Watson.

Wilbur scoots his seat a little bit closer. "You know, Mr Watson's told me so much about you."

Okay, that's something mildly interesting. "Oh, really?"

"So much, Technoblade. You're his favorite student, y'know."

"I'll tell him I appreciate it."

The sun sets in the kitchen window and Wilbur is about this close to throwing something. "I don't want Technoblade over for dinner."

The oven beeps and Phil takes out the chicken. "Don't throw a fit about it."

Wilbur crosses his arms at the table. "I'm not throwing a fit, I just think it's weird. You're the teacher."

"Yes, and I'm also your dad, so it's not up to you."

Wilbur taps his fingers against his forehead and bites his lip. "Is he gonna be your favorite little guy?"

Phil's dish gives a sharp clank against the sink. "You know this isn't about him."

There's a knock.

Neither of them answer it until Wilbur reluctantly gets up and lets Technoblade in.

———

Dinner is... silent around here.

Techno messes with his mashed potatoes. "So, Mr Watson. You wear that ugly cardigan everywhere?"

He laughs, and Techno's chest lightens. "You can just call me Phil around here."

"You didn't answer about the cardigan, Phil." Techno jokingly mimes to it with his fork.

Wilbur stares at his plate. "Shut up about his stupid cardigan."

The clock ticks.

Like he said. Dinner is silent.

It's not like he isn't used to it, though. 

Techno stands up. "Well, thanks for dinner."

"Come by anytime, you're always welcome," Phil says, with something of an apology thrown in. "Let me walk you out."

"Uh, yeah. Sure."

Techno and Phil walk outside, and Techno zips up his coat. The porch lights glow brightly in the dark.

"Wil just hasn't been himself. It's just—" Phil buries his head in his hand. "I had a foster son. He and Wil were practically attached at the hip. He passed away a few months ago."

"Oh."

"We're just trying to survive. Don't take anything he says personally, okay?"

"Mr—Phil, he was your son too."

"I know. Like I said, we're all trying to survive, mate. I know you two might not get along, but I'll always be here."

"Yeah."

———

Mate, you can just call me Phil.

Okay, Mr—Phil.

Wilbur's holed up in his room.

You can just call me Phil around here.

You didn't answer about the cardigan, Phil.

He hates him. He hates Technoblade so much with his stupid name and his stupid American accent.

Phil's just replacing him.

Phil's replacing Tommy with a prick who is nothing like him.

Technoblade elbows his side. "Hey, Wilbur."

Wilbur jerks to attention. Technoblade's talking to him... voluntarily. And he didn't even have to start.

"Wanna get some food after class?"

"Aren't you too much of a goody-two-shoes to skip 4th period?"

"Look, I asked for an answer, not judgment."

Is Technoblade annoying? Yeah. But is Wilbur also hungry and bored? "Yeah, sure, what the hell."

Phil hands back Technoblade's test with a 93 circled in red at the top. "Language, Wilbur."

Wil sighs and lies his head back on his desk. "Sorry, Mr Watson." When Phil isn't looking, he turns his head to Technoblade and smiles.

He bombed that test. Might as well make something out of the day.

———

"I'm paying," Technoblade says in a classic monotone.

"Jesus, I thought you talking to me was weird. You being nice is worse."

Technoblade rolls his eyes. "Then you can pay for yourself."

"Sorry, sorry, I'm a poor child, please pay for my food Technoblade."

After they order a blueberry muffin each, they steal a spot by the window. 

"Y'know, you don't have to call me Technoblade all the time."

"Oh, I know," Wilbur responds. "I prefer to think of you as an inanimate object."

That was... half true. More like an abstract concept. Either way, Technoblade seems to take it as a joke and deadpans right back. "I pay for your food and skip class, and you call me an inanimate object. Thank you, Wilbur."

"That thank you almost sounded genuine."

"Also don't tell your dad we skipped class together or he's gonna rear-end me with his car."

Wilbur laughs and takes a bite of his muffin. "Sure, Tech, pinky promise."

Techno pauses for a second and then smiles. Like, a genuine smile.

"Cut it out Technoblade, that sappy smile's gonna make me rear-end you."

"I would be honored."

"Hey, Techno, you know that first dinner you had with us?"

"Very, very vividly."

"Yeah, same here."

There's a lull in the conversation for a split second, like Wilbur's trying to figure out what to say.

"I'm sorry. I thought Dad liked you because—because you were replacing Tommy."

The wind blows with a chill. "You talk about him all the time, y'know. I wish I could've met him."

"Yeah."

"He'll always be my brother. There's no replacing that," Wil says, and then a tear runs down his face. He doesn't think he's ever seen Wilbur cry. "But you're like a brother I never had. I'm sorry for how it all started."

"Eh, it's been a year, I don't care that much." A lie, actually, but his apology seemed to make it kind of disappear.

"Thanks, Tech."

"Yeah."

Techno sets the flowers on the gravestone marked Tommy Watson, and Wilbur traces his brother's name with his index finger. "He was only 10."

It's beautiful out here. Techno and Wilbur can't sit by each other because of their stupid last names, but Techno's sure he can embarrass him somehow.

"Technoblade Smith."

Wilbur yips and woos, joined by the crowd, and Techno walks up to accept his diploma. Uneventful, and he isn't sure why he cares about this stuff, but hearing Wilbur's joyful whoop makes it worthy enough.

A few more classmates that Techno knows. Niki blushes the second she gets up, and Jack's yelling can be heard the world 'round.

"Wilbur Watson."

Wilbur stands up with a look of victory, highlighted on his face from the sunlight, and he walks up to that stage like it was all that mattered in the world.

"HEY!" Techno shouts, trying to be above the crowd, "NOW I CAN REAR-END YOU!"

Wilbur turns around and very subtly flips him off with a smile, then accepts his diploma.

And once it's all done—

Thousands of graduation caps fly into the air. Wilbur and Techno are right beside each other when they throw.

He wonders where Phil is. He would be here, surely, he had to be. But he hadn't seen his or Wil's sign being thrown up to the air, the one they made for him.

That's my son!  in glittery pink in an attempt to embarrass Phil, but the guy nearly cried when they gave it to him.

"You're growing up too fast."

Wilbur sobs in the hospital waiting room, and Techno is by his side.

"It's our graduation." Wilbur hisses, tears on his graduation cap. "He was supposed to be there, not—not hit by some car, not—not any of this. Not again, not another car crash, not Tommy and Dad ripped away from me."

Techno bites his lip. "I know."

Wil stands up. "How can you not be upset? How can you sit there and say I know? Dad's dead! Phil's dead, and he probably had that stupid sign in the back seat ready for us, and he never even got to see us get our diplomas." 

"Wilbur—"

"No! Don't talk to me, don't even—don't touch me. I never should've skipped class and gotten a little snack with you. This is all your fault!"

Techno stands and matches his level. "What, like he wasn't my dad too?"

"You are not my family. You are not my friend."

Techno's face drops, and Wilbur feels a pang of sadness, but he casts it aside. 

"I wish you'd stayed in that hell hole you called home."

And then he turns and leaves to go to the bathroom to cry.

"When we first met, we hated each other. And then we were brothers, and then Phil died, and... I haven't spoken to him in months."

"You should reach out," Niki says, nixing sugar into her coffee cup. "You're both grieving. You should go through it together."

"He told me he wished I'd gone back to the neglectful family that forgot to get me food."

"He couldn't have meant that."

"I don't care." Techno sighs. "I'm going back to uni soon. I thought that coming back here was gonna be good for me."

"We should see him. I'll be right by your side, alright? Just two high school buddies checking on an old friend."

"Do I really wanna end spring break with that?"

Niki sips her coffee and scowls, then adds more sugar. "It's all your choice. But I think we should go. He's barely recognizable."

"Two high school buddies checking on an old friend."

"Yeah."

Techno looks out the window and stares at his rental car. "I guess if it goes bad, I could just run him over. Rear-end him, I guess."

He smiles at that inside joke, but it fades quickly. Barely recognizable.

———

He knocks on the door on the same porch where he and Phil would sit, on the same street where Wilbur briefly tried to skateboard before he skinned his knee and called it quits.

"Hey, Wil. It's Techno."

Silence. He looks to Niki, but she just shrugs her shoulders.

"I know we haven't talked in a long time, but I've got two days left on break, and I'd like to see if you're still alive."

Nothing, still.

The curtain's open, just barely, and the lights are off. "He—he quit his job a few months back, you don't think...?"

Techno leans in and looks closer. Wilbur stands at the kitchen sink, shattered plates on the floor. There are plants long dead by the windowsill, and it's like he didn't even know Techno existed.

"Was he like this after Phil died?" Techno whispers, and when Niki looks in, her face goes pale.

"I didn't think he was ever this bad."

"I'm going to the backyard."

"Technoblade—"

Techno shatters the rusted lock on the gate and goes back through. The place looks scorched. Phil used to plant stuff back here, but even the grass is uncared for now. It's like no one lives here at all. "Wilbur," he says, and he looks in the window, but Wil doesn't seem to notice. But the back door beside him only has the screen...

He yanks the screen door open. He'll replace it for Wilbur later. 

It seems like he's snapped out of a dream. "Technoblade?"

His eyes have bags and his sweater has stains like it's been used for a week, and the shattered glass is still ever-present, a shard stuck in Wil's hand as sink water rushes over it. 

Everything looks... dirty. Dusty. Unlived in. Wilbur's hair's dirty and when Techno tries to turn the lights on, they don't work. 

"Dead bulbs," Wil says monotonously, "haven't gotten around to the store."

"How long have they been dead, Wilbur?"

"I don't know. I'm glad you're back."

"Okay, I'm gonna let Niki in, and then we've gotta talk."

"That's fine, I guess. Let me get this shard."

"Christ, Wil."

"Thanks."

Techno called in a family emergency. He wouldn't be back to uni for a few days.

It is a family emergency.

His brother needs help.

———

And after a few days' work, the house is finally, to some degree, clean.

Niki sits by Wilbur on the couch. "I want you to stay with Jack."

"Jack Manifold?"

"Yep. You can't stay here."

"This is my home."

Techno's chest tightens. "I don't trust you alone."

Wilbur stares at the ground. "Okay."

"Technoblade! Come here, I got you cake!"

Techno walks over with a stupid look on his face. "Why did you get me a cake?"

"It's your first year of uni, bud." Wilbur uses his left hand to ruffle Techno's now-pink hair. "You did such a good job."

"I think the congratulations are meant for when I graduate, idiot."

"Hey, you're an inanimate object, don't talk back. Here's your cake."

It's pink, but not quite an embarrassing color. Not like Phil's. And when Techno sees what's on the cake—well, his eyes got a little watery, that's all.

That's my brother!