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“Hurry up!” Tommy calls from down the hall. Technoblade rolls his eyes and shoves the rest of their provisions into his bag. Inventories are useful during a fight but not so much when he’s actively trying to not draw attention. Not everyone lives long enough to learn that kind of magic. A lost art, he thinks remorsefully.
Snacks, sun salve, more snacks, a spare knife, coins…
That should be it, he thinks as he throws the bag handle over his shoulder.
“Technooo,” Tommy groans, annoyed. His voice growing louder as he nears. Right as Technoblade turns the corner, they collide. Tommy’s complaining quickly cuts off at the abrupt stop, rubbing his nose as he glares at the older immortal.
"Don’t break your nose, I thought you wanted to go to the festival,” Technoblade teases. Tommy slams his mouth shut before any more grievances can escape, straightening up in a playful salute.
“Nope! I’m totally okay! Can we go now?” Tommy’s body slumps back to his usual sloth-like posture and starts pulling Techno’s arm, trying to get him out the door.
“Yeah yeah, let’s go,” Technoblade finally obliges, throwing one final glance around the house as they leave. The sun has just peeked above the treeline, they’ll be able to reach the village before noon. Which will have them arriving at the perfect time to get the freshest food from the vendors.
“Hurry,” Tommy insists as he drags him along the path, out past the yard, and into the path sheltered by the thick forest. A slight shimmer trails at their footsteps when they exit the home’s boundary, hiding the structure from outsiders.
- - -
Despite getting up early, by the time they arrive, a large crowd of people are already bustling around, vendors shouting their wares, and children are prancing in-between everyone in games of chase. The thick smell of fried and grilled food permeates the air and drowns out the scent of the dying flora. It’s accompanied by the loud sounds of laughter and friendly chatter creating a lighthearted atmosphere. The village is decorated in a plethora of bright colors—different types of reds, oranges, and yellows—and all sorts of vibrant decorations strung up from each and every building. No structure safe from the jubilant mood. Everyone celebrating the beginning of autumn and the lack of that smoldering heat.
The second they’re in sight of the stalls, Tommy immediately starts pulling them in the direction of the most fragrant scents. Begging Techno for anything and everything that draws his attention. And who is Technoblade to say no? (Besides, it’s nice to see how time changes recipes. And change they do. Who would have thought of some of these combinations? Though they stay the same in principle, their forms are vast in all their amalgamations of the human imagination.)
Technoblade is trying to keep his guard up, but it’s difficult with all the people brushing past them every second without a care in the world, diverting his attention every which way. Especially concerning are the stares—though they quickly turn away when he glares back. It could just be his height and odd appearance, or it could be something more nefarious. It wouldn’t be the first elaborate trap he has stepped into.
He still worries they know something. Know that him and Tommy aren’t really from around there. Yet there’s so many people who are a lot less conspicuous about not being from their—tourists dressed all fancily in clothes not suited for the chill—surely the two of them don’t stand out as much as the tourists gawking at every decoration and new food.
Though… he side eyes Tommy who is staring at a vendor selling a greasy smelling meat with an open mouth, subconsciously tugging Technoblade’s sleeve in the direction that draws his nose. It’s not like Tommy is the only one doing so. He thinks it should make them blend in more as just some random visitors from out of town.
Technoblade really should have looked more into this festival before they went. He didn’t even think this many people lived around here. He is starting to debate moving…
“This one!” Tommy declares as he pulls them towards yet another vendor. This time what looks to be some fried bread topped with jam. He sighs and pulls out his coin purse.
As he reaches out to deposit the coins in the vendor’s outstretched hand, something very rudely collides with his side at top speed. He takes a step back to regain his footing, but the other doesn’t fare so well as they promptly fall to the cobbled walkway. He feels a subtle hand reach for his bag but easily redirects it with his elbow. In a swift motion, Technoblade has pulled Tommy behind himself and stares down at the offender.
“Sorry, wasn’t watching where I was going,” The man on the floor says up at them with a sheepish grin and a hand rubbing the back of his neck. The perfect picture of innocence. He’s young, almost an adult, if Technoblade had to guess. He won’t give an actual estimate because, according to Tommy, his calculations are “far off” and “how did you think I was twenty?!”
Scales dotting his cheeks and hands reveal his hybrid features and if Technoblade had to guess, he’d assume the man’s red hat and curly brown hair is hiding similar attributes. He looks harmless enough. A large leather case strapped to his back the largest possible threat. Must have just been looking for some extra gold.
The crowd that had started gathering around at the commotion had started whispering around them. Some glares of disgust, some pitiful. Ugh, Technoblade isn’t in the mood for a witch hunt at the moment. And Technoblade is always the witch in that situation no matter what he’s actually done.
Technoblade huffs, he can’t blame the kid for trying, but now they’ve drawn attention. Bending down, and leaning close so that his actions are slightly hidden away from the onlookers but giving the audience enough of a show so that they leave him and his kid alone, he flicks a couple coins onto the ground in front of the man.
“Try someone more your size next time kid,” He mutters before smoothly standing up and pulling Tommy away from the onlookers.
“Hey, wait! Are we leaving? My food,” Tommy whines as he looks longingly back at the vendor stalls. When he realizes that Technoblade isn’t stopping, he starts pulling on his sleeve more insistently, “Wait wait, we can’t leave yet. We haven’t even seen the main parade yet!” He bemoans.
“Parade? How do you even know so much about this festival?” Technoblade raises a brow and Tommy averts his gaze.
“Umm, you know, I’ve heard about it here and there…” Tommy trails off as he looks for an excuse, “When we go to trade! Right, when we visit the neighboring villages!” Tommy decides proudly with a wide, cheeky grin. This kid.
Technoblade rolls his eyes with fond exasperation. “Right, well we’ve already caused enough excitement for the night. I’m sure you can see the parade next year.”
“C’mon, but it’s almost time, and it was probably just an accident anyways,” Tommy pouts.
“And now they know our faces.”
“They’ve probably already forgotten,” Tommy mumbles before digging his feet in and forcing Technoblade to stop less he topple the boy. Tempting, but he does stop. “What if we just stayed away from the crowds. That’s why you’re worried, isn’t it?”
Technoblade sighs but considers it. He does want Tommy to have fun. He just wants him to be safe at the same time. And he supposes the festivities aren’t entirely awful. Tommy looks up at him with big, watery eyes.
Technoblade heaves another exhale, and Tommy’s face brightens up—tears completely disappearing—as he realizes that he has won. “Fine, but we’re staying in the background.”
“You got it, boss man!” Tommy says excitedly, briefly hugging Technoblade close before forcing them back in the direction of the excitement.
After visiting a few more of the booths and games that border more on the outskirts of the action, they sit down in the outdoor eating section of a quaint restaurant. A quiet corner from the main celebration, though the chatter can still be heard from there. Bright decorations hung everywhere but less people milling about. Others who have the same idea and are taking a break from all the energy as well, rest in the chairs around them.
The playful tune of a skilled bard finds their ears from the tavern opposite them. The doors thrown wide open for whoever might wish to enter. A few people entering and exiting with drinks overpouring and footsteps stumbling. The bard sits at the steps, instrument case wide open in front of him, a few people stand around and some throw in coins.
On closer inspection, it seems to be the pickpocketer from earlier. He really hopes the man hasn’t been trailing them. That would be annoying. But his paranoia is diverted by the waiter bringing them their food. From the corner of his eye, he notices the bard noticing them and then making every effort to pretend as though he hasn’t.
They’ve just finished eating and Tommy is raring to go, full of energy, feathers twitching at his back a clear tell that he has too much energy. He’s just about jumping out of his seat, when someone finally comes around the corner, announcing the beginning of the parade. To which he immediately actually jumps out of his seat and drags Technoblade along.
The bard has the same idea, popping up and passing them by with a smothered grin on his face. If Technoblade knows anything, that looks like the face of someone up to no good. Oh well, as long as he’s leaving them alone, Technoblade doesn’t really care.
They join the people walking to the main road. The crowd gets thicker and the noise louder with cheering. They are corralled to the sides of the road as the groups part for the large structures starting to roll down the road. Tommy is practically vibrating at his side. It’s only as he sees the decorated carts being pulled down the road that he realizes why. From atop the floats, people are throwing jewelry, candy, flowers, and other neat knick-knacks. Ah. More clutter for the nest it seems. He looks down at Tommy’s totally unashamed face with his eyes practically glittering. This kid.
Technoblade watches as Tommy’s face becomes brighter as the floats get closer, darting to catch anything that comes their way. Technoblade keeps a hold on his collar so that he doesn’t get lost. This whole thing is honestly a bit of a safety hazard, but Tommy is having fun. And that’s all that matters.
It’s while he is distracted by Tommy’s excitement that a scream breaks out. One. Then another. And then more joining them in a panic. Technoblade immediately tenses as his attention sharpens and finds…
Is that float supposed to be on fire?
Based on the surprised reactions of the villagers, he’s going to guess it isn’t. He quickly pulls Tommy close, who doesn’t seem to have noticed the large fire taking over the float.
And things only get worse. One second people are screaming and the next people are screaming in their direction. With a very familiar bard whispering something into their ears and pointing directly at Technoblade.
How he despises mortals. He picks Tommy up and puts him under his arm as he starts booking it in the opposite direction of all the eyes.
“Wait, my stuff!” Tommy protests as he tries to safely stuff everything that he grabbed into his pockets, his wings flaring up and hitting Technoblade in the face.
“I’ll get you something better when we’re home,” Technoblade states firmly as he continues. Footsteps can be heard rapidly approaching them and he picks up the pace. Of course the pickpocketer wanted revenge. Seriously, mortals, he thinks with a roll of his eyes. Tommy seems to finally pick up on the tension.
“Techno, we’re being followed!” He shouts in surprise from under Techno’s arm, straining his neck as he twists to look behind them.
“I’m aware, hold on,” Technoblade grits out as he turns a sharp corner and keeps running. He can feel Tommy clutching onto his shirt, trying to get a better purchase from his awkward position.
If he wasn’t in such a hurry, he might have felt nostalgic.
- - -
What’s an immortal got to do to have some fun? Wilbur wasn’t trying to set the whole parade on fire. Well, maybe he was. But who can blame him?
He even had the perfect alibi, he thinks with a pout. If only that random kid hadn’t seen him flicking that match into the cart. It was the perfect plan too! He almost got all the villagers to turn on that huge pink-haired bastard and his kid.
If he wasn’t currently gasping for breath as he was furiously running through the woods trying to escape the villagers, he would have sighed in exasperation.
He’s pretty sure they’ve lost him when their angry shouts die out to the sounds of the forest settling down for the night.
Wilbur slows his steps to take a breath. A fallen log sits to his right and he determines this to be the opportunity to take a seat and rest.
It’s wet. Ugh. Wilbur sighs and stands up to keep walking.
He isn’t sure where he’s going but when has he ever known. He just needs to keep going. But now that he’s not running, his feet are falling into a repetitive sound that easily fades into the background. And his erratic breathing is calming down. And his sounds are lost in the easy muffling effect of the forest. It’s like he isn’t there at all. It’s like he’s dead. It’s like he’s back in that dead village and they’re all dead but he isn’t. They’re all silent but he isn’t. He’s alive. He’s alive!
Wilbur shakes his head and picks up his pace, racing through the forest without a care. He can’t slow down, or else his heart will become silent and the world will become silent and he isn’t alive. And he’s just another ash in that silent, dead village. He isn’t. He isn’t he is not.
Wilbur is alive. The sounds of his feet traversing the uneven earth and leaves and trampling the plants are loud and clear. His heaving breaths and beating heart resound in his ears. Yes, yes Wilbur is alive!
He slips on some wet leaves and goes down with a heavy thud. He swings his arms out to catch his fall, but something sharp pierces his hand and when he pulls it back, he tilts off-balance and finishes tumbling to the earth.
“Ow ow,” He grumbles to himself as he brings his hand to his eyes to observe the wound. It’s difficult to see in the waning light of the sun going to rest. But the red is still easy to make out as the metallic scent of blood fills his nose and small trickles of the red fluid start trailing from his palm. A particularly large twig has pierced through his hand and made itself a problem. He should pull it out, but he knows how much of a mess that will make. Blood is hard to get out of clothes and these are brand new.
He’s glad that at least his guitar is safe, hidden away in his inventory… Maybe he should take it out. The silence has started to encircle him again. That would make the silence go away. It always does.
But it’s getting dark. Too dark. Wilbur’s breathing picks up despite the fact that he isn’t running anymore. He can’t be out at dark. He can’t- He won’t- If only he had stayed to watch the village burn. Then he wouldn’t have to sit in the darkness. In the silence…
That’s right!
The village! It should be a blazing inferno right about now. He just needs to go back and there’ll be light. Right. Wilbur pushes himself up with his unpunctured hand and looks at the darkening sky. To his right, he can vaguely make out the familiar wisps of smoke slowly floating further into the heights.
Perfect.
He immediately starts stomping his way towards it, ignorant of the spark of magic that fizzles out at his ankles when he nears the source.
- - -
“Ughhh, but please?” Tommy begs again. He has moved from being a handbag to Technoblade’s necklace, happily sitting on his shoulders as he complains.
“We aren’t going back to the festival tomorrow,” Technoblade repeats. Tommy is insistent that it was just a fluke and that none of them will remember their faces tomorrow. Technoblade isn’t entirely sure there will even be a village tomorrow.
Tommy groans loudly, sagging down and resting his head and arms on top of Technoblade’s head. “Can we try to recreate the fried bread we saw there then?”
“Yes Tommy, we c-” He cuts himself off as he enters the boundary of their home. The magic sparks a bit too weakly. As though they had entered it not long ago. But they’ve been gone the entire day. The boundary should have reacted more strongly. Someone else is here. But that shouldn’t be-
Tommy bends over his head to look down at him, “Why’d you stop?” He asks curiously. Then he looks back up at home and gasps, he quickly dismounts with a flutter and runs to the doors. The open doors… “You didn’t see anything! I definitely closed these when we left!” Tommy says with a nervous look, stiff as he attempts to hide the large door behind his wings. He fails.
Technoblade huffs in amusement. Of course, it was probably just a fluke. The boundary magic must have been working overtime because the wards at the door weren’t activated because it was left open. He rolls his eyes and ruffles the kid’s hair as he steps past, “Sure.” He can feel the way Tommy relaxes under his hand.
“Yup!” Tommy agrees eagerly, turning back around with Technoblade, making a dash to his room to deposit his new treasures.
Technoblade grabs his arm and pulls him behind himself, Tommy exclaiming in surprise. A familiar stranger is laying on their couch. Not just that. A familiar, bleeding, stranger who had previously framed them for a crime that had ruined their day is laying on their couch. The scent of metal is thick in the air and Technoblade notes the bloody handprint on the entrance’s handle. And most importantly, the quiet snore that permeates the air.
Not only lounging on their couch. But sleeping. Leisurely resting on their couch. In their home. Technoblade’s fingers slip into a familiar position as he summons his axe. Peace is a familiar weight in his hand. But then Tommy is pushing his way over and evading Technoblade’s grasp.
“Theseus-” He whisper shouts.
The boy ignores him as he approaches the stranger and crouches down so that he is face to face with the intruder. He stares at the man curiously and Technoblade prepares to strike the stranger down if they so much as flinch in Tommy’s direction. But the man remains sleeping, resting peacefully with no concern for the waking world, breathing steadily with his hand hanging off the couch on the floor, his blood pooling there.
That’s a lot of blood. Technoblade would assume the intruder was dead if it wasn’t for the constant rise and fall of his chest.
Tommy pokes the man in the cheek. Once. Twice. The man’s face scrunches up, Technoblade tenses, but he only manages to weakly raise his other hand as though to swat the finger away. Which fails, causing the hand to quickly fall back to his chest.
“Hey, aren’t you the one that started that fire?” Tommy asks, suddenly annoyed, becoming more insistent in his prodding.
The man groans, Technoblade stiffens. “Go away,” The man says in annoyance and then turns on his side, back facing Tommy. Technoblade could easily strike him right there… but that would cause a mess. A mess that Technoblade would have to clean up. Ugh, fine.
Technoblade briefly sets his axe back into his inventory and walks over to the couch and picks the man up.
“Ack, wha-” The man starts lethargically and twists in confusion but Technoblade ignores him as he keeps walking towards the door. Once he’s about five paces outside their gate, he drops the body. The intruder makes a noise of pain but stops moving.
Technoblade huffs in approval. The man can die away from his house and not get anymore blood everywhere. Tommy stands at the door.
“Do you think he had any gold on him?” He asks innocently up at Technoblade.
“We can check in the morning,” Technoblade tells the boy and heads towards his closest to start getting his cleaning supplies together. It’ll take a while to scrub all that blood from the rug. “Get ready for bed.”
Tommy waits a moment, looking between the now closed and locked front door and Technoblade, before he shrugs his shoulders and goes to the bathroom to wash up.
Technoblade is a bit annoyed by the intruder but it makes sense that it was that man. He must have some magic that allowed him to bypass the barrier. It wasn’t made to allow regular mortals in. That would also explain the ease in which the people believed the thief that he and Tommy were the ones who started the fire.
Technoblade shakes the thoughts away as he starts scrubbing. Well, at least he has one less problem. That man will be dead come morning. No human can survive after losing this much blood, he thinks in annoyance as he continues soaking up all the red.
- - -
Technoblade opens his eyes to the sound of Tommy talking somewhere outside his room. Technoblade immediately pushes himself out of bed when he hears the sound of pans clanging in the kitchen. Tommy can not cook for the life of him. The boy continues chattering as Technoblade opens the door to his room and steps out.
A surprising and unusual sight greets him. He rubs his eyes. The sight of the same stranger from yesterday sitting slumped over at his dining table does not go away.
Tommy turns around and his face brightens when he sees Techno, “Techno Techno! He didn’t die! And look, he plays music. Good music!” Tommy excitedly announces, gesturing to the instrument resting against the man’s chair. Did he always have that? He doesn’t remember seeing it last night. Tommy looks at the man expectantly.
“Wow, I thought I was the ‘worst musician in the world,’” The man jokes with Tommy, looking at him with a soft humor. Then he turns his gaze to Technoblade and his mouth drops open.
“Whatever, I guess you’re alright,” Tommy says, ignorant of the look on the man’s face as he continues clattering around with the kitchenware. “You should play that first one…”
His words trail off as he turns to investigate the silence behind him. Tommy looks between Technoblade and the stranger. Before realization passes over his face.
“Techno, you can’t kill him,” Tommy declares childishly and stares in Technoblade’s direction with big eyes. Technoblade stares at the two in front of him and weighs the options in front of him. The man can easily be dealt with, if the clear fear on the other’s face is anything to go by. There’s no way the intruder isn’t hanging on by a threat with the amount of blood he lost. And, if Technoblade knows anything about fearful looks, the stranger will almost definitely run off once he gets the chance.
It probably isn’t worth making Tommy sad. Or mad.
Technoblade sighs as his shoulders lower and he leisurely walks over and shoves Tommy away from the oven.
“Well, I’m waiting,” Technoblade says gruffly, turning his back as he gets the ingredients necessary for breakfast.
He can hear Tommy mumble, “That’s Techno for introduce yourself,” to the man.
There is a tense silence but then, “Wilbur,” The man’s voice becomes icy sharp. His previously scared expression wiped away.
“Technoblade,” Techno responds likewise, cracking the eggs into the pan and listening to them sizzle.
“Tommy!” Tommy declares to the room in typical Tommy-fashion and then goes back to the other person, “Did you know Techno can play music too? But on a different instrument, it’s smaller and more shiny.”
“I see,” The man, Wilbur, says humorously. That tone… He turns back to see Tommy and Wilbur looking at him with twin looks of mischief.
Technoblade feels like he definitely shouldn’t have let Tommy go to that festival.
- - -
Technoblade’s beauty sleep is disturbed by a scuffling outside of his door. He scrutinizes the door until it slowly creaks open with Tommy whispering, “Shhh.”
Another voice whisper-shouts, “No! This is a terrible idea!” There’s the sounds of a fight as they continue pushing and shoving until there are finally two silhouettes inside Technoblade’s room and his door is gently shut.
“What are you doing?” Technoblade asks, voice gravelly from sleep. He can barely make out the way the two figures flinch at being caught.
He can almost feel Tommy’s sheepish grin as he turns to face him, “Well, we just thought a sleepover was in order!”
“We?! That was very much a you thing,” Wilbur fervently disagrees. There is silence as they both turn to him for Technoblade’s approval.
Technoblade sighs. He supposes he doesn’t hate Wilbur. He’s been pretty useful around the house these last few months—when he isn’t up to something with Tommy. And his music is nice. He’s… tolerable.
“Fine,” Technoblade grumbles and closes his eyes. He can hear the two shuffle towards his bed, one dragging and the other dragged. Then there’s a dip in his mattress and he moves over to allow space for the new guests. The warmth isn’t unwelcome. He can feel Tommy press himself against his chest and settle into the crook of his neck, where he always does. Technoblade obliges, wrapping his arms around him. Wilbur hesitantly settles in behind Tommy and Technoblade easily rests his arm over him as well.
Technoblade figures that’s it and starts to drift back to sleep. Tommy has already conked out, his snores light in the night, but Wilbur is shaking.
He sighs and Wilbur flinches. “You can leave if you want now,” Technoblade says blandly. Tommy is asleep, he won’t know any better.
“No, it’s just-” The man starts, sounding embarrassed. But he doesn’t continue.
Technoblade hums in question.
“I don’t like the dark,” Wilbur forces out.
Technoblade leans back and flicks his lantern on before returning his arm to cover the two others. He can feel the way Wilbur relaxes—his shaking stopping immediately at the sudden luminescence.
“Thanks,” The other mumbles tiredly.
Technoblade closes his eyes. Finally content to sleep.
- - -
The vegetables swirl around in the pot in a mesmerizing fashion, a pleasant aroma wafting up from the stew. Wilbur sets the spoon down and leans back on the counter to look at the others. Technoblade is cutting up the bread for dinner on the counter next to him. Tommy, having finished setting the table, is stretched out on the couch like a cat—lazily watching them do all the work.
It’s been a couple years and yet… This place never grows too silent. Or too dark. Or too little. It’s… tolerable. Nice even.
A small smile tugs his lips up, and he hides it in his shirt collar as he turns back to his stirring. Wilbur realizes, fondly, that he doesn’t mind this life with these people. In the next moment, his senses come back to him and a terrible weight shatters that contentment into a million pieces. A heavy boulder settling in his gut. There is no way this will last.
Yet…
Maybe just this once, he’ll stay here a while. Maybe a long while. Just to see how it goes…
- - -
The summer season arrived again as it always does, its sweltering heat beating down on the earth and all living things foolish enough to venture into its rays. Though Technoblade enjoys the heat, he doesn’t enjoy the way it kills his sensitive plants. Or the complaining. Specifically, Tommy and Wilbur’s complaining. That’s why they find themselves at their “personal beach,” as Tommy called it. Which, in reality, is simply a section of the river not too far behind their cottage that isn’t as fast flowing and hazardous.
Tommy is having fun, cooling off in the water and splashing the other two when their guards are down. Currently, Technoblade and Wilbur are sitting on one of the dryer rocks, Techno’s head on Wilbur’s lap as he brushes his wet hair.
“Techno…” Wilbur starts slowly. Technoblade hums in acknowledgment but continues lounging, eyes closed and shoulders relaxed where he lays. Letting Wilbur brush his hair with long strokes. It’s nice. He enjoys it when no one is trying to pull his hair out. (Or when Tommy is further tangling his hair despite his best efforts.)
The man continues, sounding conflicted, “Do you remember how long I’ve been with you two?”
“Uhh,” Technoblade has to think. It was since that festival, right? That one village that Wilbur set on fire and that has been in the process of being rebuilt for… fifteen (?) years. Or did they give up and that other village was the new one they were making? Ehh, not like it matters that much. “Forty years, give or take,” Technoblade says nonchalantly, with a flick of his hand.
Wilbur stills in his brushing. “Don’t mortals only live for like fifty years?”
He thinks that’s right. Though he used to know some people who made it all the way to their hundreds. “Sounds about right.”
“And how old are you?”
How old is he? He isn’t sure. He stopped keeping track around the seventh century he thinks. So he just shrugs, “Ask Tommy. He might know his.”
“Tommy!” Wilbur calls urgently. Technoblade peaks an eye open. What’s Wilbur so concerned about? (And why has he stopped brushing his hair, is the question that Technoblade will not ask out loud.) Tommy’s splashing stops as he looks over at them.
An answering, “Huh?” is shouted back.
“How old are you?” Wilbur calls again.
“I’m like uhhh,” He counts on his fingers, feathers dripping wet, “Like… ninety-five?” He looks up as though struggling to remember, “Or something like that, why?”
Wilbur’s eyes widen, “Oh.” A strange look of realization passes over his face before it settles into a soft contentment. Wilbur turns back to brushing Techno’s hair. It looks like whatever was concerning him had finally settled. “You’re both immortal,” He says like an afterthought. Okay, well if Wilbur is fine.
Technoblade settles back down. He hums in vague agreement, closing his eye, and relaxes back into the brush.
Technoblade thinks that’s it but then Wilbur whispers, “I’m immortal too.” It’s so quiet, as though it’s a terrible secret. Something he has kept hidden forever.
“Obviously,” Technoblade huffs a laugh. Ah, maybe Wilbur was trying to joke. But the brush stills again. He’s starting to get really worried that something is actually wrong with Wilbur. Technoblade looks up at the man.
Is he sick? He pushes himself up and reaches a hand for his forehead. He doesn’t feel warm-
“Right,” A large grin breaks out over Wilbur’s face. His shoulders sag as if a heavy weight has lifted from them. Then he throws himself at Technoblade, tightly wrapping him in his arms. Technoblade grunts in confusion but easily hugs him back.
“You good?” He asks. Is this heatstroke? Is Wilbur dehydrated or something?
“Perfect!” Wilbur says loudly with a contagious joy and when his laughter quickly spills out, Technoblade finds himself grinning along.
Though he doesn’t have long to ponder Wilbur’s health as Tommy barrels into them, insisting that no brotherly bonding can be done without the “superior brother.”
- - -
Technoblade is worried for Wilbur. He’s been acting weird recently. More reckless. Smiling in their direction randomly throughout the day. He’s definitely up to something. Technoblade just doesn’t know what. Yet.
He doesn’t wake up to a burned down cottage, or a bucket of water to the face, or anything that the troublemaker might usually do. Wilbur has been awfully… calm doesn’t seem to be the right word. He’s still chaotic. Pulling pranks with Tommy and coming running back to Technoblade the second they get caught.
Technoblade can’t figure it out. He’s almost worried…
He watches as Wilbur jubilantly—yes jubilantly—walks out of the door to sit by Technoblade on the porch. Technoblade sips his tea while watching Wilbur sit down on the chair adjacent to him, setting his guitar in his lap and happily tuning it with a hum. He doesn’t even say anything. Sends a glance out at the silver moon and then just sits. His hands fiddle with the guitar knobs, pulling a string to test its note.
Once satisfied, he’s plucking the strings in a gentle tune. Another song he must be working on. Totally calm. Technoblade listens for Tommy, perhaps they were tag-teaming him and Tommy was sneaking up behind him to dump something on him. But nothing, and he can hear Tommy thumping around in the kitchen—trying to not let Techno know he’s up and probably sneaking more dessert.
“Is something wrong?” Wilbur asks, relaxed. Eyes still focused on his strings.
“No, I feel like I should be asking you that,” Technoblade says with apprehension.
Wilbur laughs, “What? What’d I do?”
“Hmm, it’s more so what you didn’t do…”
“If this is about the hole in the wall, that wasn’t me, Tommy-” Wilbur starts.
“Hole in the wall?”
“Nothing,” Wilbur looks away.
“Right,” Technoblade takes another sip from his cup, “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Technoblade,” Wilbur looks up at him with a gleam in his eyes, “I don’t think I’ll ever be better.”
“If you’re sure,” Technoblade turns away as he takes another sip of his drink. He’ll keep an eye on him. Just in case.
Just in case.