Chapter Text
‘You don’t have to come in,’ Techno’s younger brother says, fingers nervously tapping on his thighs like he can’t stand to be still. Tommy’s always been fidgety, for as long as Techno can remember, but this is something more than that. There’s a fear in the way the boy gnaws at his lower lip, anxiety pouring from the way he holds himself.
Tommy is outlandish, loud and boisterous. He hides fear with noise, and is the complete opposite of him and Wilbur. Usually, Techno finds Tommy’s volume frustrating. Somehow, the kid knew just when to stop, but he always toed the line.
Now, Techno hesitates. He can’t remember the last time he and Tommy were alone for an extended period of time, let alone out of the house. Since the incident, Techno’s attention has been focused on his older brother. In fact, he’s not sure he’s been with Tommy for this long in over a year.
It leaves a sort-of guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach as he stares at the sixteen-year-old.
‘You asked me to come,’ Techno drawls, still confused as to why they’re standing outside of Manberg’s music hall. People bustle past on the sidewalk, uncaring of the two of them hovering outside the elaborate entrance.
For a second, defiance flashes over Tommy’s features. ‘I asked for a lift. You could have said no, but Dream was busy—’
Techno narrows his eyes. Since when is his baby brother being driven around by Dream? He’s about to ask, before his thoughts helpfully remind him that Tommy’s not asked for a lift from any of them in months. In fact, he’s been out of the house more and more.
‘What are we here for, Theseus?’ he asks, staring through the doors as someone else walks out, carrying an instrument case as they go.
The boy pauses, then sighs. ‘I’m performing.’
What.
‘You’re… performing,’ Techno slowly says, trying to piece together the bits of the puzzle he’s been gifted. Out of the four of them in the family, Wilbur’s the musical kid. Sure, Techno knows how to play some basic notes on the saxophone, and Tommy used to play the piano, but that was years ago. Back when he first got adopted, before he quit.
Tommy flinches like he’s been struck, rubbing at the back of his neck. ‘No need to make a deal out of it, Blade. Just… go get a coffee or something. God knows you look like shit in the mornings.’
It’s the most sass he’s heard since Wilbur’s… since the incident. His facial expression must shift, because Tommy quickly softens his own. ‘Or you can go back home, if you’re worried about leaving Wil alone.’
That… that wasn’t what Techno had been thinking, so he shakes his head. ‘Wil’s fine. He can be alone for a morning without…’ he trails off, not quite sure if a public street is the best place to say without killing himself.
Honestly, Wilbur’s got a lot better since his suicide attempt. Techno thought he wouldn’t recover from his overdose, at least not mentally, but then the therapy started to work. Wilbur would wake up in the mornings and would try and make conversation. He’d laugh at little things, and smile when Techno and Phil bickered in the kitchen.
He’d… he’d ask about Tommy again, because the boy was never around since he found Wilbur on the bathroom floor in a pile of his own vomit.
‘Sure,’ Tommy says, like he doesn’t believe a word Techno just said. ‘You can do what you want, but I need to meet—’
‘Tommy!’
A man with thick green hair that spills down the side of his face appears, bright eyes focused entirely on Tommy. An instrument case stays at his side, bouncing against his leg slightly as he comes striding over to them.
‘Sam,’ Tommy breathes out, looking relieved by the interruption.
‘Ah, you must be Technoblade! Tommy talks about you all the time,’ the man, Sam, says.
Techno wants to point out that he’s never heard of a Sam before, but he doesn’t, and instead takes the hand that was offered out to him. ‘I’m Tommy’s music teacher, and the one that pushed for him to apply to Essempi’s Royal Academy! Your brother has real talent,’ he says, softly smiling over at Tommy.
Techno watches as his little brother blushes the darkest shade of red, scowling at the man. ‘Shut the fuck up, big man. I’m only here cause they offer free snacks—’
Sam barks a laugh, before he offers out the case. ‘You’re late. Go and get ready; me and your brother will be watching from the crowd.’
Apparently, he’s about to watch Tommy perform for a chance to get to the Royal Academy. The same place that rejected Wilbur at eighteen, because they only take twelve students a year, out of thousands of applicants.
Tommy’s sixteen. As much as Techno hasn’t been paying attention to his younger brother, he knows that for definite, because they had a party for him. Well, Phil had to stay with Wilbur, and Techno was too stressed to leave his older brother’s side for long, so Puffy hosted it and her nephew, Tubbo, planned out the events.
‘Okay,’ Tommy says nervously, allowing Sam to ruffle his hair.
‘Good luck,’ Sam bids, and Techno echoes it even though he doesn’t know what instrument his brother plays.
Tommy vanishes into the hall a second later, and the music teacher turns to stare at Techno for a second. ‘Coffee?’
It’s awkward. They walk in silence for a while, before arriving at a small coffee shop just down the street. Sam opens the door for him, and Techno follows him inside. His phone buzzes, and he checks it almost instantly just to make sure it isn’t from Wilbur.
Old man: I’m on my way back from work early, are you in the house?
Favourite child: I’m out with Tommy. Wil was watching Netflix when I left.
He pockets his phone as soon as he’s sent the message, listening to Sam order a mocha before opting for a black coffee. When he reaches for his wallet, Sam shakes his head and pays instead, before they move to the side to collect their drinks.
Techno decides to swallow his pride. ‘What instrument—’
‘The violin. He started a year ago, but he’s got a real talent for it,’ Sam says sharply, before he studies Techno thoroughly. ‘You’ll see what I mean when he performs, but he… it comes from the heart.’
Techno has the distinct feeling that he’s being judged. ‘He didn’t tell us.’
Sam’s eyes narrow. ‘I’m sure your family has been very busy this past year.’
The bluntness shocks him. Their close friends know what happened, obviously. Tommy must have told Tubbo about it, and probably the tall kid, Ranboo. Puffy knew, which means that Dream and Foolish were aware. Jschlatt was told. Wilbur’s friends, Quackity and Niki were informed.
Techno never considered that Tommy might tell someone outside of that.
‘And he’s applying for the Academy?’
‘I suggested it. This piece he’s written… it’s nothing like anything I’ve heard before.’
Techno nods. His drink is ready, and he collects it while trying to work out why Tommy wouldn’t tell them that he’s been playing the violin. Eventually, he has to come to the conclusion that it’s because they were preoccupied.
Sam sips at his drink as they walk back to the concert hall. The inside of Manberg’s musical theatre is just as Techno remembers it from Wilbur’s performance; all shiny golds and elaborate architecture that is supposed to dazzle. Sam guides him to the main auditorium, which is relatively empty. The front row has six people, the same six people that Techno remembers from five years ago when Wilbur performed.
They take a row a while back, and Techno suspects that the other people are families. There’s a couple with a younger kid sitting close-by, watching the girl currently on stage talk to the review board. A set of older people, presumably the girl’s grandparents, are also there.
Techno remembers that when Wil performed, they all came. Puffy, Jschlatt, even the kids turned up. Quackity and Niki were Wilbur’s biggest supporters. The chance to perform in front of Essempi’s Royal Academy was an achievement in itself.
Tommy just had him, and Sam.
‘Here,’ Sam says, offering out a… packet of tissues? Techno stares blankly at them for a minute, before Sam sighs. ‘You’re going to need them.’
He doubts that.
The girl on stage inclines her head and leaves, halting at the edge to speak to someone poking out from behind the curtain. With a start, Techno realises it’s Tommy. His little brother says something that has the girl laughing, before she vanishes behind the curtain and Tommy walks out onto the stage, a sleek violin in hand.
He reaches the centre and stops.
‘Name?’
‘Theseus Soot-Watson.’
When Tommy was adopted at nine-years-old, he begged to take Wilbur’s last name as well. Phil had thought it cute, and Wilbur adamantly wanted it to happen, so Theseus Soot-Watson had been born. As a teenager, Tommy had always protested the Soot in his name.
Now, he says it with a tinge of emotion that Techno can’t place.
‘Ah yes, our special case,’ says a man, chuckling to himself, ‘You’re awfully young to be performing for the Academy, Mr Soot-Watson.’
‘Just Tommy is fine, sir. And yeah, my music teacher thought I could spark some life into your old bones.’
It’s such a Tommy thing to say, that Techno almost laughs. As it is, Sam has to disguise a chuckle as a cough.
‘What piece will you be performing for us today, Tommy?’
‘Uh, it’s an original. I call it The Death of a Shooting Star.’
And, just like that, the air is knocked from Techno’s lungs.
‘You’re just like a shooting star, Tommy. Energetic, fast, and you’re lucky. Plus, everyone seeks you out for comfort,’ a nineteen-year-old Wilbur Soot said, teasing his twelve-year-old adopted brother as Tommy insisted on stargazing yet again.
‘What was the inspiration behind the piece?’
Sam’s hand grips the arm of the chair tightly.
‘A… a year ago, I almost… lost my older brother. It’s been, uh, difficult to recover from that.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that, Tommy. Take a minute to compose yourself, and whenever you’re ready, feel free to begin.’
Techno’s chest hurts. He has to remind himself to exhale, trying to recognise the kid on stage that looks so small and young, like he first did when he arrived at the Watson household. There’s a tremble in Tommy’s hand as the violin is raised, and the boy looks scared when his eyes flicker shut against the harsh lights illuminating the stage.
The moment the first note plays, Techno realises what Sam meant when he said that Tommy’s performance comes from the heart.
It’s painful. Each note has a vibrato to it that made his heart splinter, and each eery movement of the bow had sound strumming out across the hall. His brother isn’t focused on any of them, eyes screwed shut as his body moves with the music.
He plays like he’s lost something. Like a part of him is broken, and the song is trying to fix it, or perhaps is just highlighting what cannot be repaired.
He plays with the same anguish that Wilbur did, before he tried to off himself in the bathroom.
Techno thought the most terrifying moment of his life was getting a call from the hospital to say his older brother had tried to commit suicide, until he heard Tommy play like it was physically hurting him to string together the song.
By the end of the piece, Tommy has tear-tracks down his cheeks, and Techno knows his own mirrors it.
‘That was beautiful,’ one of the reviewers says, as Tommy lowers the violin back to his side.
‘Thank you,’ he chokes out, before fleeing from the stage like he can’t bear to stand there a moment longer.
They meet in the foyer. Tommy comes out with red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks, looking slightly haunted as he approaches the two of them. Sam grins, offering out a side-hug.
‘You did brilliantly,’ Sam praises, kissing the top of Tommy’s head as the boy huffs a laugh.
‘Thanks, big man. All in the fingers,’ he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows in such a Tommy-manner.
Techno clears his throat. ‘You… it was impressive, Theseus. Really impressive.’
His brother stares at him like he just hung the stars in the sky. ‘Really?’ he asks, awed.
Fuck, how had he forgotten his little brother for a whole year? How had he not noticed that Tommy… that he needed him.
‘Yeah, kid,’ Techno promises, offering out his arms.
Tommy looks surprised, like he thought Techno wouldn’t offer comfort. Sam takes the case from his hands so Tommy can stumble forward fully, burying his head under Techno’s chin. ‘Thanks, Blade.’
Sam leaves them outside of the music hall, and they walk back to the car in silence. Only once Tommy clambers into the passenger seat does he look across, all nervous energy and guilt. ‘Can you… don’t tell the dad and Wil? I don’t want them to know.’
He’s torn in two. On the one hand, he knows what it’s like to want a little part of himself hidden away. On the other hand, Techno ignored signs of Wilbur’s mental decline, and he was… concerned about Tommy.
Concerned that maybe, just maybe, a fifteen-year-old should have had the chance to speak up about finding his older brother trying to commit suicide.
‘I won’t,’ he finally says, starting the car, ‘If you let me hear you play sometimes. When will you know if you got the place?’
Tommy snorts, kicking his feet up onto the dashboard like he isn’t aware that it pisses Techno off. ‘Big man, I ain’t getting that place. I just did it for Sam.’
‘Indulge me in the hypothetical then, nerd.’
‘Two weeks? Maybe less.’
‘If it comes while you’re at school, I’ll hide it from dad,’ Techno says, a peace-offering between the two of them.
Tommy smiles softly. ‘Thanks, Blade,’ he says for the second time that morning.
Techno has a horrible feeling that this is the most he’s spoken to his brother in the entire year.
‘What are big brothers for,’ Techno says, mostly to himself, and pretends not to notice Tommy’s flinch.