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Chapter Text

The twins are thirteen and Technoblade has been in the hospital for two and a half weeks.

Worry is second nature to Phil; anxiety is a near constant companion. They have been for six years, ever since the twins’ diagnosis.

This- this is more than just those.

Phil thinks he would call this feeling terror.

“We’re airlifting him to Logstead,” Sam’s saying, and Phil feels like he can’t breathe himself. There are nurses and doctors rushing around- Phil can hardly catch a glimpse of Techno through the sheer number of people surrounding him. “They’ll be better equipped to take care of him-”

“It’s- what’s happening?” Phil gets out. “I thought you said the pneumonia was improving-”

“It was.” Sam’s tone is grim. “It’s in both of his lungs now. Techno needs more intensive treatment than this hospital is currently able to provide.”

“And- and they’ll be able to give him that in Logstead?”

“Exactly.”

Phil’s gripping his own arms so hard he can’t feel his fingers. “Please, be honest-” His voice breaks. “Is he- is Techno going to make it?”

Sam’s expression softens- sympathetic, almost pitying. “I don’t know. Double pneumonia is more touchy even in healthy patients. But,” he adds quickly, when Phil sags against the wall for a second, “Techno’s a tough kid. And Logstead Mercy deals exclusively with high-risk patients, Techno will have an entire care team looking after him. They’re going to give him every chance of pulling through this.”

It’s Kristin who packs a bag and catches the next flight to Logstead; Phil, who’s going to stay home and take care of Tommy and Wilbur.

Tommy’s easier. He’s too young to understand what’s going on, and he’s easily distracted by a pile of toys or an episode of his favorite cartoon.

Wilbur is a completely different story.

“It’s supposed to be me,” he keeps saying, not even making an effort to wipe away the tears streaming down his face. “I’m supposed to be the sick one, not him.”

And Phil has no idea what to do.

They’ve never tried to soften reality for the twins, despite how much they’d wanted to. No one wants their kid to grow up knowing they probably won’t live to see twenty, but Phil and Kristin had talked about it together and with a counselor at the hospital and eventually decided that it would be too cruel. If one of the twins were to get seriously ill- like now- and not make it-

Techno might not make it.

“We- we have to try to hope,” he says, rocking Wilbur gently. Phil shouldn’t, he really should not give Wilbur any kind of false hope, it will only be so much worse if- “Techno’s a fighter-”

“It’s supposed to be me!” Wilbur coughs, hacking and awful- for a second Phil worries he’s going to throw up. “I’m supposed to be the one who dies first-”

He dissolves into those harsh coughs again. Phil shifts Wilbur around in his lap until he can thump on his chest effectively, help him get the mucus out.

In a room in a hospital a couple hundred miles away Techno’s lying in a hospital bed, sick and struggling to breathe, and Phil is sitting here holding Wilbur as he hacks up phlegm and bile. This is the farthest apart the twins have ever been since they were born. Of course Wilbur is crying and sick-

“I know this is hard, it’s so hard,” Phil says as he helps Wilbur change out of his vomit-stained clothes. “We have to stay strong, okay? Techno is gonna have every chance of making it through this, that’s why they moved him. They can take care of him better in Logstead.”

“I’m scared,” Wilbur whimpers. “Dad, I don’t want Techno to die.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

“It’s supposed to be me. I’m supposed to die first, everybody always says I’m gonna, I can’t- I can’t live without him.”

And what is Phil supposed to say to that?

He has no idea, so he changes his own clothes and rocks Wilbur until his son falls asleep.

Kristin calls a couple hours after Phil gets the boys to bed.

“How’s Techno?” Phil asks immediately, making sure his door is closed so Wilbur can’t overhear. The next thing he does is quadruple-check that the monitor in the younger twin’s room is active, so he’ll hear if Wilbur has a coughing fit.

“He’s in an isolation room.” She sounds exhausted. “They’re taking precautions to make sure he doesn’t pick up something else so I- I can’t be with him.”

“But he’s okay, he’s-”

“They said he’s a little worse than this morning. But he was awake for a while earlier and was able to talk to me a bit.” Kristin exhales, an audibly shuddering breath. “He’s so scared, Phil. And I can’t help him.”

Phil closes his eyes, leaning back against the headboard. “Do they- the doctors, do they have any idea about his-” The words stick in his throat. “His chances?”

“They are ‘tentatively hopeful’. Which isn’t…” A sound like a dry sob. “It sounds a lot like ‘we have no idea what the hell is going to happen’.”

Phil doesn’t know how to reply to that. He can barely comprehend it.

“How- how are Wil and Tommy?” Kristin asks after a minute.

“Tommy’s blissfully unaware of how serious the situation is.” He stares at the ceiling. “Wil’s a wreck.”

“Oh, honey.”

“I’m gonna- I’m calling him out of school tomorrow. Just to, to give him a little more time to process.”

“Of course. Yeah, if you think that’s what he needs. Make sure he gets his homework done?”

“Right.” Phil closes his eyes for a second. “Do you have a hotel room?”

“They have housing on the hospital campus for families. I’ll be closer to Techno that way and it doesn’t cost anything so- yeah.”

“Good. Try to get some rest?”

Kristin’s bitter chuckle tells Phil all he needs to know about exactly how well she’s going to sleep tonight. “I’ll call you as soon as I have any updates.”

“Yeah. Tell- when Techno’s awake again, tell him- tell him I love him and-” Phil’s voice breaks, it takes him a few seconds to get his emotions under control again. “Tell him I’ll see him as soon as I can?”

Kristin doesn’t answer for a minute. “I will,” she whispers at last. “I’ll call and talk to Wilbur and Tommy in the morning.”

Every day for eight days, Kristin calls and says “they say he’s a little worse.”

Every day for eight days, Phil holds Wilbur while his son cries and coughs. Every day he prays a little harder.

On the ninth day, Kristin calls while the boys are at school.

“It’s bad,” she says, voice shaking. “He’s- Phil, it’s really bad.”

Phil can’t help fearing the worst. “Is Techno- is he-”

Kristin sobs quietly. “Touch and go,” she chokes out.

His knees give out, and he barely manages to get to a chair before he collapses. “Oh god.”

“He’s- I’m not over there now. A- a counselor, I think, she’s been trying to- to help.” Kristin’s voice sounds frail. “He’s having a lot of trouble breathing, I couldn’t- couldn’t take it. I couldn’t sit there and listen-” Another soft sob. “Does that make me a terrible mother?”

“No,” Phil chokes out. “No, Kris, it- you need to be okay too.”

It sounds so shallow and false but it’s all Phil can offer right now. He can hardly think, Techno- his son, his baby is hundreds of miles away, fighting for his life, and there is nothing Phil can do.

“That’s what the counselor kept saying.”

“She’s right, li- listen to her.” Phil’s breath keeps catching. “Do the doctors- do they have any idea what-”

“They said- they’re just trying to get him through the day.” A dry sob. “He might- they didn’t say it in so many words but he might not- he might not pull through.”

Phil shudders. He wants to beg her not to talk like that but- but they have to be prepared. If Techno doesn’t make it-

“Do you want me to come?” He’s already thinking through the logistics. He could get someone- a family friend maybe- to come stay with the boys, or he could take them along- no, Tommy shouldn’t have to see that. Wilbur would never forgive them if they didn’t tell him… Wilbur will never be the same if Techno dies-

“Yes.” Another sob. “But don’t. Tom- Tommy and Wil need you there. I can- I can manage.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Take care of the boys, don’t let Tommy know how bad it is.”

Tommy’s smart for six. He might not understand the severity of what’s going on, but he knows something is wrong. He knows Techno is sick.

Wilbur understands the situation all too well, Phil thinks, maybe better than he does himself. Wilbur’s known since he was seven or eight that he and Techno might not live very long, but Phil thinks this might be the first time Wilbur has really comprehended what that means.

“Yeah.” He puts his head down in his free hand. “Call me as soon as anything changes, please?”

“Of course.” Kristin sniffles. “Tell Wilbur the doctors are doing everything they can.”

Phil hums. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Kristin hangs up and then- Phil just sits there. And waits.

Tommy’s school lets out first. Phil doesn’t tell the slightly subdued six-year-old about the latest update, just sends him to run off his energy with a snack and a juice box.

Tommy’s in his room, making a mess by the sound of it, when Wilbur gets home.

He’s looked so tired lately, so shaky and fragile, and Phil knows that what he’s about to say is going to trigger another emotional storm. One Phil can weather, because he has to. Because as much as Phil is struggling with this news, it’s going to be so much harder for Wilbur.

“Mom called,” Phil says after Wilbur’s put down his backpack and taken off his shoes.

Wilbur’s expression only gets more guarded, more scared.

Phil kneels, gently gathering his son into his arms. “Techno’s not doing too well,” he says, chest aching with the effort of holding himself together. “The- the doctors are doing everything they can for him, but they’re not sure he’ll make it through the night.”

“No. No, no.” Wilbur shakes his head, gripping Phil’s shirt. “He- no, Dad, he can’t- Techno can’t die-”

Phil can’t lie to him, and he doesn’t know how to be gentle with the truth. He just sits on the floor and scoops Wilbur into his lap, rocking him gently.

“They’re doing everything there is to do, Wil,” he says at last. “They’re giving Techno every chance of pulling through. And I know- I know that he is fighting as hard as he can.”

It still might not be enough, Phil thinks, though he doesn’t want to think about that at all.

It’s late when Kristin calls, and Phil immediately assumes the worst.

“Kris-”

“He’s responding to the antibiotics.”

Oh thank god.

Phil drops his head back against the wall, unable to breathe for a few seconds. “Thank god,” he gets out. “Thank god-”

“They, ah- they had to put in a chest tube to drain his lung.” Her voice shakes, but there’s less of that weight to it. “The original infection. That- they think that did the most, really. To help him breathe. But the- the antibiotics, too.”

“How is he- has he been awake, is he-”

“I don’t think so, but I haven’t really been there. It, it’s all been…”

“A lot?”

Kristin sighs. “You could say that. He was having so much trouble breathing, I couldn’t-”

“Don’t blame yourself for that,” Phil says softly, because he can hear it in her voice. “You can’t- we talked about this, we can’t take care of the boys without taking care of us, too. That still applies.”

“I’m not even taking care of him right now. I’m just here. Watching.”

“And making decisions for his care- you’re still doing that.”

“Yeah.” She sighs again, softly.

After a couple minutes of silence, Phil shifts. “I’m gonna tell Wil, do you wanna talk to him?”

“Yes- yeah. I’d love to.”

Phil goes across the hall to Wilbur’s room. Knocks, slipping in quietly.

Wilbur lifts his head slightly, clearing his throat. “Dad?” he rasps.

“Hey.” Phil puts the phone on speaker, coming across quickly to sit on the side of Wilbur’s bed. “Mom’s on the phone.”

“Hi, baby,” Kristin says, Phil can practically hear her soft smile. “Techno’s starting to respond to the antibiotics.”

Wilbur immediately looks more awake. And there are tears in his eyes. “He’s gonna be okay?” he whimpers.

“He’s not out of the woods yet,” Kristin says. “But he’s breathing a little better, and they drained some of the fluid from his lung.”

“Oh.”

“This is good news, sweetheart. The doctors think Techno’s gonna keep improving now.”

“They think.” Wilbur curls into Phil’s side, coughing. “They’re not sure?”

“They can’t be sure about anything, right now,” Kristin says quietly. “But they said he’s got a much better prognosis now than he did yesterday. Try to hold on to that.”

Wilbur sniffles, nods. “’kay.”

“Is there anything you want me to tell him when he wakes up a little more?”

“Um.” Wilbur sniffles a little more. “I want to but I’m- I’m really tired and I can’t… my head hurts.”

“It’s okay,” Phil murmurs. “How about in the morning, you can call and leave a message on Mom’s phone, and she can play it for Techno when he’s awake enough to hear?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Kristin says softly, when Wilbur doesn’t answer.

Wilbur nods slightly. “Okay. Okay, yeah.”

~~~

It takes another two weeks for the pneumonia to clear up completely. For Techno’s condition to stabilize.

It’s been a month and a half now. Kristin’s spent nearly four weeks in this best-of-the-best hospital, watching her son’s battle for his life, and she’s finally being allowed into his room.

Masked and gloved and gowned just as thoroughly as all the nurses, but she’ll get to be in the room. To hold his hand.

Techno’s half-asleep when Kristin sinks down in the chair someone’s pulled over beside his bed. He’s lost weight- now that he’s eating properly he’s starting to gain some back, but he’s still gaunt and pale.

“You can stay for a while,” one of the nurses- Kristin’s embarrassed to admit she still hasn’t learned all their names- says softly. “Techno needs rest and quiet, but we think it’ll be good for him to have you here.”

She doesn’t leave the room, it’s policy for at least one nurse to be in the room at all times in case something changes, but it’s quiet. Kristin takes Techno’s hand, leaning over him to stroke back his hair.

His eyelids flutter, gaze fixing on her for a few seconds. A tiny smile pulls at Techno’s lips.

“Hi, baby,” Kristin breathes, smiling back. “Hi. There’s my boy.”

His eyes close, and he lets out a little sigh. Kristin thinks he must be asleep, because he’s still for a while. She doesn’t let go of his hand, even if he isn’t noticing it right now. He’s breathing better, almost as well as is usual for him.

The pneumonia’s resolved. The main thing keeping Techno in the hospital now is his physical weakness, and his vulnerable immune system.

“A few more weeks,” one of the doctors had said when Kristin asked. “At least two or three, to give Techno a chance to recover and get his strength back.”

And as much as Kristin wants to take Techno home, she’d rather have him healthy when she does. So he doesn’t immediately get sick again.

She’s been sitting there for a couple of hours when Techno coughs weakly, turning his head to the side. The nurse steps to the bedside to check on him, moving away when Techno stops coughing, taking shallow but easy breaths.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Kristin murmurs, squeezing his hand lightly. “Better?”

“Mom?” Techno rolls his head to the side, and his eyes go wide like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“I’m here, Techno.” She leans a little more on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

He whines, lifting his other arm slightly, fingers opening and closing on air. “Wan’ see you,” he whimpers.

Kristin catches his shaking hand, guides his arm back to the blanket. “I have to keep the mask on,” she says gently. “For a while, at least. We don’t want you to get sick again, okay?”

“Oh.” Techno sniffles. “I miss Wilb’r.”

“He misses you a lot, too.”

“’n Dad, ‘n’ Tommy.”

“Oh, baby, I know.” Kristin lightly rests her hand on his chest, over his heart. “I do, too, but we’re gonna see them soon, I promise. The doctors just want you to stay here for a couple more weeks, so you don’t get sick again when we go home.”

“M’kay.”

Techno sniffles again, and oh, there are tears gathering in his eyes. Kristin glances across at the nurse- she wasn’t allowed to bring her phone in with her, but maybe-

“Would it be possible to make a call?” she asks. “So we can talk to our family?”

The woman smiles, soft and sympathetic. “I think that can be managed.”

She brings Kristin a phone. It’s not a school day, which is good luck- Wilbur will be home.

Phil answers on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Dad,” Techno croaks, fingers closing a little around Kristin’s hand.

A few seconds of silence. “Hey- hi, Techno,” Phil stutters. “You- you feeling better?”

“Yeah.” He sniffles. “I wan’- wanna talk to Wilbur.”

“Okay. Okay, mate, I’ll get him.” Phil pauses. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”

Techno hums, low and raspy. He squeezes Kristin’s hand again, or tries to, but he’s still weak. They’re just starting physical therapy.

“…o’s on the phone?” Wilbur’s voice is a little faraway.

Techno’s expression crumples, tears pooling in his eyes. Kristin squeezes his hand gently, clears her throat. “Hey, Wilbur,” she says.

“Hi Mom.” Wilbur goes quiet for a second. “Did… is everything okay?”

“Yeah, sweetie. There’s someone here who wants to talk to you.”

Wilbur inhales sharply. “…Techno?” His voice squeaks.

Kristin gently wipes tears off Techno’s face. He opens and closes his mouth a few times. “…hi,” he gets out after a second. “Hi Wil.”

“Techno? Are, are you okay? Are you okay?” Wilbur sounds desperate.

“I’m- a lot better.” Techno manages to grab the phone with his other hand, holding on like it’s a lifeline. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. I miss you a lot, do you know when- when you’re coming home?”

“A couple of weeks,” Kristin puts in.

“So I don’t get sick again.” Techno’s breath catches, and he coughs a little. “An’ cause I still can’t get up. ‘m doin’- physical therapy.”

“Oh.” Wilbur’s quiet for a few seconds. “But you’re- you’re okay now right? You’re okay?”

“I’m okay, I’m gonna be okay.”

There’s a commotion on the other end of the phone, and Kristin waits, smiling a little. She’s pretty sure she can hear Tommy’s excitable screeching.

“TECHIE!”

Techno flinches, and Kristin squeezes his hand gently. On the other end of the line, Phil’s reminding Tommy to mind his volume.

When the six-year-old speaks again, it’s at a much more reasonable level. “Hi Tech, I miss you, I want you to come home.”

“I wanna come home, too.” Techno bites his lip. “Wil? You still there?”

“I’m here- ugh, Tommy, move- I’m still here.” Wilbur’s voice goes a little softer. “Hey- hey, you gotta focus on getting better, ‘kay? So you can come home.”

“’ll try.” Techno yawns, visibly trying to suppress it. “’m- ‘m really tired, sorry, Wil-”

“It’s okay. You need to rest, you need to get better. I- I miss you a lot.”

Techno whimpers softly. “Miss you so much.”

“We’ll see you soon, Tech,” Phil says. “Wil’s right, get some rest. You’re gonna be home before you know it.”

“Love you,” Techno rasps. “Wil, I love you.”

Wilbur hiccups. “Love you too. Get- get better soon.”

Techno hums again. He looks like he’s about to drop off again, which is what he needs right now. It’s not good that just talking on the phone for a few minutes tired him out, but Kristin reminds herself that he’s still weak. Still recovering.

“I’ll call you later, hon,” Kristin says. “I’m gonna- they’re letting me sit in Techno’s room for a while, I’ll call before bed.”

“Good. That’s- that’s so good.” Phil’s voice cracks. “I’ll talk to you later then.”

“Wilbur, Tommy?”

“We’re still here, Mom,” Wilbur says.

Her heart aches, she misses them so much. So damn much. “I love you,” she says softly. “Techno and I will be home in a couple of weeks or so, try to be strong for me, okay?”

A little sob, she thinks Wilbur’s. “I’m trying. Love you mom, love you Techno.”

Techno hums, and Kristin squeezes his hand gently. “He heard you, sweetie,” she says softly. “I love you too. I have to hang up now so Techno can get some rest, but we’ll try to call again soon.”

Techno spends three weeks in recovery before they release him.

He’s still not back to a hundred percent, but he’s stronger and has more energy. The doctors say it’ll be better for him to be home, now. Familiar surroundings will help.

Techno doesn’t let go of Kristin’s hand once while they’re going through airport security and getting on the plane. Even when they’re in their seats, he just holds on. Not that she’s complaining. She’s just glad he’s not ‘too old’ to want his mother to hold him, to need her comfort.

He takes another nap during the flight, and Kristin holds his hand and watches her son sleep. Watches his chest rise and fall, because it’s so good to see him breathe steadily, as easily as he ever does. There’s still a rasping hitch to each inhale, but that’s normal.

Techno wakes up after nearly an hour, immediately dissolving into a hacking coughing fit. Kristin twists in her seat to help him lean forward, bracing one arm across his chest and using her other hand to gently thump his back.

“You’re okay, baby,” she murmurs quietly, ignoring the dirty looks from the woman sitting next to her. “I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

When Techno stops coughing, there are tears in his eyes and he’s clutching his ribs. Kristin grimaces sympathetically, rubbing circles on his back.

“Hurts?” She shifts closer, wrapping both arms around him.

Techno nods, tucking his head under her chin. He’s shaking, and Kristin holds him a bit tighter.

“We’re almost home. You’re gonna get to nap in your own room soon.”

He sniffles. “I really miss Wilbur.”

“Oh, sweetie, I know you do.” She kisses the top of his head. “I bet he barely gets off the bus before he hugs you.”

“He better, I don’t think I can wait much longer.” Techno’s voice is softly whining. “I’m- ‘m really homesick.”

“Me too, baby.”

It’s odd- she hasn’t been even a little, not until now, on the plane. When they’re so close, they’re going to be home so soon. But all of a sudden the heartache is just too much, too heavy, and she wants so badly to just be home. In her husband’s arms, with her boys all right there and happy and safe.

“We’re almost home,” she repeats. “Dad’s gonna come pick us up, and you’ll see Wil and Tommy when they get back from school.”

Techno’s silent for a few minutes, still leaning into her arms. He has his eyes closed, which is good- it means he doesn’t see the glare Kristin flashes at the other woman in their row, the one who’s still giving them dirty looks.

“I’m gonna have so much homework to catch up on,” Techno mumbles after a while.

Kristin chuckles softly. “I’m sure your teachers will be very understanding.”

“My grades, Mom.”

“You know Dad and I don’t care what your grades are as long as you’re trying your best.”

Techno goes quiet again, looking away. “You just say that because Wil and I are dying,” he says, very low.

Kristin needs a few seconds to pull herself together after that blunt statement. Beside her, the rude woman has very suddenly started to look anywhere but at them.

“Yes, and no,” she says at last. “We wouldn’t care about Tommy’s grades, either. But you’re right that we have a lot more patience for you two because you’re so sick. Honestly, Tech, we wouldn’t mind if you wanted to drop out altogether.”

He makes a small oh sound. “But I… I like school.”

“I’m glad.”

She’s going to say more, but the seatbelt light goes on, and the announcement comes over the speakers that they’re going to land soon. Techno sits up straight, fidgeting in his seat as Kristin helps him with his seatbelt.

It feels like it takes an eternity for the plane to land. Luckily there will be no waiting for luggage, since Kristin only has the one bag that she was able to put in the overhead bins. Techno has nothing with him except the clothes he’s wearing, that she had to go out and get in Logstead before they left.

She was only expecting Phil to come, so it’s a bit of a surprise when she spots him in the terminal with the video camera in his hand and Wilbur by his side.

Techno’s not paying attention. Kristin nudges him gently.

“Sweetheart, look, there’s Dad,” she murmurs, pointing.

The long, hard month and a half spent watching over him in that faraway hospital feels so small and far away when Techno looks up. When Wilbur takes off running towards them, and Techno sprints at him.

When they collide, arms locking around each other, spinning- then, then it’s all okay. Her boys are okay.

Kristin can’t make out what they’re saying to each other, not even standing right next to them as she leans into Phil’s side. The twins are swaying, holding onto each other, and maybe she’s imagining it but she’s pretty sure they’re crying. It’s hard to tell with the masks, but they might be smiling, too.

“They’re not excited at all,” Kristin murmurs.

Phil chuckles, wrapping one arm around her waist and holding the camera steady with his free hand. “Wil wanted to surprise him.”

Kristin gazes at the twins and thinks that this is the way it’s supposed to be; Wilbur and Techno, Techno and Wilbur, one unit. Indistinguishable, inseparable. “He really needed that.”

Phil keeps the video camera on until the twins turn and fall apart- though they both keep one arm wrapped around the other. Both have wet eyes, but Kristin can tell they’re smiling.

“Can we go home now?” Techno asks.

Phil smiles, tugging him into a one-armed hug. “Course we can, mate.”

Chapter Text

Phil and Kristin are both there with Wilbur when Sam tells him.

“I got your latest test results,” the doctor says, quiet and serious.

And Wilbur knows, he knows what Sam’s going to say.

He holds his mom’s hand tighter. “It’s- bad news.” His voice hitches and rasps like this all the time, now. It’s getting so hard to breathe.

Sam nods, pulling a chair closer to sit beside his bed. “Your lung function is steadily declining,” he says. “I know this isn’t what anyone wants to hear, and I’m- I’m so, so sorry, Wilbur, but there’s nothing else we can do.”

He’s… numb. Just numb, and tired.

“What- what about the possibility of a transplant?” Phil asks.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but even if he had the time to wait for lungs to become available, Wilbur’s too sick to be a candidate and too weak to survive the surgery.”

Wilbur drags in a harsh breath, gripping Kristin’s hand. “How much time- have I got?” he whispers.

“A couple months.” There’s such a weight to Sam’s voice. “Maybe three or four, with luck.”

Silence, punctuated only by Wilbur’s labored breaths.

“I’m so sorry, Wilbur,” Sam says at last. “We’re going to do everything we can, but at this point, it’s more a matter of keeping you comfortable in the time you have left.”

He nods, he feels- empty. Strangely resigned.

He always knew he was going to die a lot younger than anyone would’ve wanted; he’s already made it two years past his initial deadline.

“Could we-” Phil’s voice breaks, and he holds Wilbur’s hand tighter. “Could we have some time to-”

“Of course.”

Sam leaves, and Wilbur just.

Sits there.

His parents are crying, he thinks, but Wilbur doesn’t. He doesn’t think he feels much of anything.

After Kristin goes home, Sam comes back to talk about options.

“I want-” Wilbur’s chest hurts, with something beyond the physical. “I want to go home.”

“Okay,” Sam says gently. “We can do that.”

“What kind of- of treatment are we talking about?” Phil keeps brushing his thumb over the back of Wilbur’s hand.

“So, what happens now is hospice care,” Sam says. “That’s end-of-life treatment to essentially ease pain and keep Wilbur comfortable, hopefully improve his quality of life. Oxygen therapy, like you’re getting here, and painkillers are probably going to be the main things.”

“Can-” Wilbur blinks at the ceiling. “Will I be able- to spend time- with Techno?”

Sam and Phil exchange a glance. “Yeah,” Sam murmurs. “Your lung function is declining but you’re not sick, so it should be okay.”

“I just want-” Wilbur glances at his dad, squeezing his hand. “I just want- to- to die on my- own terms. With- Techno there.”

Sam’s eyes are so sad. “We’re gonna make that happen,” he says.

~~~

Niki’s starting to get really worried about the twins.

Wilbur’s been in the hospital for a month, and Techno was out two days at the end of last week, and she hasn’t heard anything from either of them.

So when Monday rolls around and she sees Techno at lunch, Niki’s first feeling is relief. And then a fresh wave of worry, because he looks shrunken, exhausted.

“Hey,” Niki says softly, sitting down beside him. “Are you okay?”

Techno doesn’t look at her, but he shakes his head. He’s staring blankly at the table, at the metal cooler cup he usually drinks his lunch out of.

When she glances at Schlatt, he looks just as concerned. Which seems weird, because Schlatt is usually so stoic.

“How’s Wil?” Quackity asks, plopping down beside them.

Techno’s shoulders hike up to his ears and drop. His eyes are closed tight. “He’s-”

Niki carefully touches his arm. “Techno?”

He folds his arms on the table, dropping his head to rest on them. His voice comes out thin and muffled.

“We just found out on Wednesday. He- he’s in end stage respiratory failure.”

It feels like the whole cafeteria goes silent. Niki can hear the other kids talking, still, like nothing’s changed, but it’s like there’s a bubble around their table.

“Oh, Techno. Oh, no.” Sally’s voice catches. “I’m so sorry.”

“He came home yesterday.” Techno keeps talking, face hidden in his arms. “He, um… he’s got a- a couple months left they think.”

Niki doesn’t know what to say. She squeezes his arm, trying to offer some comfort.

“You should be at home,” Schlatt says, gruff and strained. “You shouldn’t be here, you should be at home with Wilbur.”

Techno shudders, shoulders heaving. “He doesn’t want me to- to drop out,” he rasps. “He’s gonna- he’s- and I can’t-”

He sobs, and Niki wraps her arm around his back, holding Techno while he cries into his arms.

She glances up just in time to see one of the usual bullies make a mocking remark to his buddy. To watch Schlatt’s expression go from devastated to furious.

Yeah, that kid’s in for a bad time.

Niki keeps rubbing Techno’s back, puts her head down on his shoulder. “Tech, I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

~~~

Wilbur doesn’t cough so much anymore. When he does, it’s weak, painful-sounding spasms that don’t do much to clear the mucus from his lungs.

Techno knows that is bad.

Techno can’t do anything to help.

He sits in Wilbur’s room and holds his hand and they talk, or they just sit and exist together. Techno leaves for his daily chest therapy and that’s about it.

Wilbur asked him a couple times to go back to school, but he can’t. It’s only a matter of time before…

When it happens, Techno has to be there. He can’t let Wilbur die alone.

Tommy comes in that morning to say goodbye before school, like he always does. He comes over to the side of Wilbur’s bed- quietly, he’s usually so loud but he stays quiet when he’s with Wilbur, because he knows Wilbur can’t handle much noise right now.

“’m going to school now,” Tommy announces, taking Wilbur’s hand.

Wilbur smiles, thin and shaky but still warm. “See you later, sunshine,” he says, without any real volume, just a soft rasp.

Tommy squeezes his hand, and turns and goes out.

Techno replaces him almost immediately. Wilbur’s hands are cold, it seems like he’s always cold these days, and he’s so thin. He’s wasting away, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it.

For a while they just sit in silence. Techno holds Wilbur’s hand and listens to him breathe, or try to breathe.

“Tech,” Wilbur rasps at last, near silent.

“Yeah?”

“I think… it’s time.”

Techno’s not sure what he expected to feel, if he thought he was going to cry or something.

He just feels numb.

“Do you want me to get Mom?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

Wilbur takes a heaving breath. “No,” he exhales. “Just- you.”

“Okay.” Techno holds his hand tighter, trying to get some warmth back into his twin’s fingers. “I’m here, I’ll be here.”

“I-” Wilbur’s chest heaves again. “I can’t- hold on.”

“I know. I know, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Techno presses Wilbur’s hand against his heart.

“Tried. S- so hard.” Wilbur’s glazed eyes are still fixed on his face. “I ca- can’t fight- anymore.”

“It’s okay,” Techno repeats. “It’s okay, I know, I know you fought as hard as you could, it’s okay to let go. It’s okay to go now.”

“Don’… don’ wan’- leave you.” A tear runs down Wilbur’s face.

“It’s okay.” Techno hesitates. Leans over to rest his forehead against his twin’s, to be closer than he’s gotten to be in ten years. “It’s okay, Wil. You can go. I’ll be okay,” he lies.

Another hitched, choking breath. “P- pro- pro-”

“I promise. I promise, Wilbur.” Techno closes his eyes for a second, threading the fingers of his free hand into Wilbur’s brittle, dry curls. “It’s okay,” he gets out, voice breaking. “I know- I know you’ve been fighting so hard, it’s okay to let go now. It’s okay to rest.”

“Te- Te’no.” Wilbur’s breathing is so short and pained. “L- I l-”

“I know. I know, I love you too.”

Wilbur takes a strangled inhale. Exhales, and doesn’t breathe in again.

Techno holds him, and he doesn’t call for his mom or beg Wilbur to breathe. He just holds his twin and keeps talking, keeps saying over and over that it’s okay, that Wilbur can go now, that he loves him.

Techno keeps talking until his throat is so hoarse he can’t speak anymore, and he keeps going even then, voice just a whisper. Holds on to Wilbur as long as he can, until warm, gentle hands wrap around his.

Even through the haze, Techno recognizes his mother’s touch. Lets her pull him gently away from Wilbur’s body so Puffy, his hospice nurse, can turn everything off.

He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t know why he’s not crying.

His twin is gone, and Techno can’t feel a thing.

~~~

Kristin’s washing the breakfast dishes when the monitor in the living room starts to beep.

The monitor tracking Wilbur’s vitals.

Slowly, numbly, Kristin dries her hands. Goes into the living room to mute the monitor. She can’t look at it for too long, can’t bear to see Wilbur’s vitals weakening as his body shuts down.

She calls Phil first, and then Puffy, and then goes to sit and- and wait.

Sit and wait for her son to die.

For ten years now she’s known that the twins’ lives would be too short. When they were diagnosed, doctors said Wilbur might not live to fifteen.

But now it feels far too soon. She wants more time, one more day with her child, and she can’t even go to him right now because he asked her not to. Because he wants to be alone with Techno.

By the time Puffy arrives, the monitor has flatlined. Wilbur’s gone.

Kristin goes in first, finds Techno bent over him. Whispering I love you, it’s okay, I love you over and over and over.

Gently, Kristin wraps her hands around Techno’s, pulling him away. He falls silent and lets her guide him away to sit in the corner of the room, while Puffy quietly confirms time-of-death and turns off the oxygen and the drip.

Techno doesn’t move, doesn’t cry. Kristin holds him, tucking his head against her side. He’s just sitting and staring blankly.

After a few minutes, Puffy moves closer, kneeling in front of Techno. “How’re you holding up?” she murmurs.

Kristin feels empty. She holds Techno and shrugs. Techno doesn’t speak, doesn’t even move.

“What- what’s next?” Kristin asks, her mouth is dry.

“I’m going to call the funeral home, and then we’ll take care of him. You can help, if you’d like, but you don’t have to. I know it can be upsetting.”

Kristin glances at Techno, but he still doesn’t speak. She doesn’t know what to do.

Techno doesn’t leave the room once.

Phil gets home and goes to sit with him. To help Puffy take care of Wilbur’s body.

Kristin debates calling Tommy’s school, but she can’t bring herself to do it. She wants him to have just a few more hours of peace, to just be normal for a little longer.

She’s waiting when he gets off the bus and bounces up the front walk. Kristin dries her eyes quickly, tries to breathe steadily.

Even after all the talks they’ve had about death, about what was going to happen, she’s not sure Tommy- just ten years old- really understands what that means.

“Mom?” Tommy closes the door, drops his backpack. “’s something wrong?”

Kristin takes a deep breath and kneels, pulling him close and holding his hands. “Yeah, baby,” she murmurs. “Wilbur… Wilbur died this morning.”

Tommy stares for a few seconds, eyes welling up with tears. “I don’t want Wilbur to be dead,” he whimpers.

“I know. I know, sweetheart, none of us do.” She blinks hard, glancing away for a second. “He just- he just couldn’t keep breathing anymore.”

Tommy sniffles, scrubbing his arm over his face. “’s he still hurting?”

“No, Tommy. He’s not in pain anymore. He-” Kristin’s voice sticks in her throat. “He’s not sick or hurting anymore.”

“And we’re not gonna see him again.”

“No, we’re not.”

Tommy sniffles. “Miss Clem said that some people believe after people die, they can still see and hear us.”

“Yeah.” Kristin nods. “I… I think they can.”

“So- so that means Wilbur will always be watching us. Even if we can’t see him anymore.”

Oh, her brave, brave little boy. Kristin nods. “Yeah, baby. He will.”

Chapter Text

They’re trying to relax, to take some time to themselves, when Phil’s phone rings.

Kristin yawns, reaching across his chest to grab the phone and answer. “Hello?”

Phil’s close enough to hear when Sam says, “Are you both there?”

His breath catches, and Kristin meets his gaze. She pulls the phone away from her ear and puts it on speaker.

“We’re here,” Phil manages. “Is it- is something wrong, is Techno-”

“We have a donor.”

Everything freezes.

“…what?” Kristin breathes.

“There’s a donor, he was declared brain-dead two days ago and his partner gave consent for organ donation. We’ve been trying to coordinate things, I didn’t want to say anything till I was sure but-”

“Techno’s getting the transplant?” Phil interrupts, he can’t believe it. He can’t- he can’t believe it. They’ve waited for so long, it can’t be true-

“Yeah, he’s a match. He’s getting his new lungs tomorrow.”

“Oh my god.” Kristin grips Phil’s arm. “This- this is real?” Her voice breaks. “He’s getting the surgery?”

“He’s getting the surgery, Kristin.” Sam pauses. “It’s not gonna be easy. He’ll be on the table for a long time, they’re estimating ten or twelve hours. Recovery will be hard, but Techno’s a fighter, we’re gonna pull him through this.”

“Does- does he know yet?” Phil wraps his arm tighter around his wife.

“I’m going up to tell him soon.” Another pause. “One of you should come stay with him. There’s a lot of prep we need to do, pre-surgery, he’s gonna have a long night.”

Sam hangs up, and Phil and Kristin stare at each other for a few seconds and then just start crying and laughing at the same time.

“I’m gonna- I’ll stay with him,” Phil says, while they start throwing a bag together. He pauses, taking a shaky breath. “I can’t believe it.”

Kristin ducks into Techno’s room- the room he hasn’t slept in for a month and a half because he’s been too sick, he’s been in the hospital getting intensive treatment to keep him alive long enough to hopefully get a transplant.

She comes back out with his gold pendant, the one that holds some of Wilbur’s ashes. Techno always leaves it at home when he goes to the hospital, so it doesn’t get broken or stolen. Phil takes the necklace, running his thumb over the inscription.

“He should have Wil with him,” Kristin says, voice breaking. “Tonight, he- he should have Wilbur with him.”

“Yeah.” Phil tucks the pendant carefully into his pocket.

~~~

Schlatt comes over to hang out with Tommy, so Phil and Kristin can both wait at the hospital for Techno to get out of surgery.

They’re standing in the waiting room already when there’s a brief commotion in the hall. Kristin glances at Phil and he shrugs, moves to look out of the glass door.

The hall is lined with medical staff. Phil recognizes what’s happening, and his heart aches.

“It’s an honor walk,” he says softly.

There’s still space for them to step out into the hall and stand as the gurney is wheeled past. Phil recognizes Bad, walking along behind, his arms wrapped around himself. Watches, feeling like he’s intruding on a private moment, as they stop at the end of the corridor and Bad moves to the side of the gurney, bending over to take the man’s hand and press the back of it to his lips.

That’s the man who’s being taken off life support today. Whose lungs are going to keep Techno breathing for a few years longer.

Phil’s not sure if he should be ashamed of how grateful he feels.

It’s busy, and they’ve put all the families of today’s transplant recipients in the same room.

Phil watches the room empty slowly, until it’s just them. Just him and Kristin, sitting and waiting to hear the outcome.

He knows that a lung transplant, even a single one, is one of the most time-consuming operations there is. That a double transplant takes even longer. He knows that every surgery comes with risks, and Techno could die in the operating room, without having gotten his second chance.

But then, they’d know. They’d have been told if something happened.

So the longer they wait, the more Phil’s able to hold on to the faith that the doctors know what they’re doing. That Techno will wake up tomorrow with more time on his clock.

It’s been just over thirteen hours when a nurse comes in. Quietly, mindful of the late hour, but smiling.

Phil shakes Kristin awake in a second, sitting up straight. “Is he-” he croaks, and can’t finish.

“Techno came through the surgery well,” the nurse says quietly. “He’s been in the PACU for about an hour, they wanted to get him settled in and make sure he was stable.”

“He- he’s okay?” Phil chokes on the words.

“He’s stable,” she says, nodding. “The surgeon wants to talk to you, but we thought you’d like to see your son first.”

“Yes- yes, please.” Kristin laces her fingers tightly through Phil’s.

The nurse stops them outside the ward. “We can only let one of you in at a time, and only for a couple minutes,” she says. “You need to wear masks and gloves, sanitize your hands before you put the gloves on.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah.”

Kristin goes first, she’s pale when she comes out but she nods, smiles. And then it’s Phil’s turn.

Even at his sickest, even at the end of his life, Wilbur was never connected to so many tubes and wires.

Techno’s dwarfed by the sheer amount of medical equipment surrounding him. The nurse says that Phil has to stay a little way back, and he’s ashamed that he’s almost glad of it.

“I know it can be overwhelming,” she says quietly. “But he’s really doing very well, all things considered.”

“Good. Good, that’s-” Phil takes a choked breath. “Good,” he gets out.

The weight of Techno’s pendant is warm against Phil’s sternum.

Techno is breathing. Assisted by a machine, and with someone else’s lungs, but he’s breathing. He’s going to get more time. Time that Wilbur didn’t have, and couldn’t have had.

Even if his lung function hadn’t declined as drastically as it did, Wilbur would never have qualified for a transplant. He was just too sick.

Phil is, again, thankful that Techno’s downhill was slower. Steady, but slow, he made it long enough to get another few years, with luck, on his clock.

~~~

When they first asked him about organ donation, Bad’s first thought was no. Was they want to cut up my best friend, my Skeppy-

But then Bad stopped to really think about what Skeppy would want.

Skeppy likes- liked helping people. If Bad says yes, then even just a few people who are sick, who are dying, could get better. Or at least have a chance at getting better.

“Can I- can I think about it?” he asks, voice shaking.

“Of course.” The doctor nods, backs out of the room. “I’ll give you some space.”

He sits beside Skeppy and holds his hand and it hurts that his expression stays empty and blank. That he doesn’t smile the way Bad loves so much.

Skeppy’s gone. They told him this morning, there was too much damage to Skeppy’s brain and he isn’t going to wake up. He’s being kept alive by machines, but he’ll never open his eyes again. Won’t take another breath on his own.

Skeppy is gone, but he could still save people.

“Okay,” Bad says when the doctor comes back, a couple hours later. “Okay, you can- I’ll consent to the organ donation.”

It’s late the next night when they tell him.

“How are you holding up?” the doctor asks, her voice and expression are sympathetic.

Bad shrugs, still holding on to Skeppy’s limp hand.

She pulls a chair over and sits down. “We’ve arranged five transplants, and for bone and tissue donations,” she says softly. “We’re taking him for surgery tomorrow morning, early. You can stay with him overnight, if you’d like.”

Bad gazes at his best friend’s face and nods. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“With your permission, we’d like to hold an honor walk for him.”

He sniffles, rubbing his arm over his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I-” His voice catches, and he just nods helplessly. He takes a shaky breath. “Can I- I mean, is it okay if I ask- what are you- what is- which organs are getting donated?”

She nods, understanding. “You can ask me to stop at any time, I know this can be hard to hear-”

“I want to know.”

“Okay.” She glances at her clipboard. “They’ll be transplanting both kidneys, his heart, part of his liver, and both lungs.”

“Oh.” Bad takes a shaky breath. “Um, can I- I don’t know if it’s okay to ask if I can meet any of them.”

Her expression softens. “I’ll ask around,” she says gently. “Some people find it easier not to, but- I’ll see what I can do.”

She comes back a while later with a different doctor, a man with dark green hair. Who says that his patient is okay with the meeting.

Bad follows him up to a closed ward, where the doctor- Sam- has him sanitize his hands and put on a mask and gloves. Says he’ll have to maintain a safe distance from the patient.

Whoever this is must be really sick.

Bad follows him into the room.

The kid- maybe not a kid? he looks like he might be close to Skeppy’s age- lying in the bed definitely qualifies as really sick. He’s pale, hooked up to a bunch of medical equipment including an oxygen cannula with thick tubing.

Sam introduces him to Techno, who’s going to be getting Skeppy’s lungs.

He is Skeppy’s age- just a year younger. He’s dying. He’s been waiting a year for a life-saving transplant.

He and his father look at Bad like he’s an answer to their prayers.

After he gets back to Skeppy’s room, Bad cries.

That kid is going to get another chance at life, because of Skeppy. Because Bad agreed to the donation, that kid is going to get to breathe longer.

Bad sits on the floor with his back to the wall and he still feels like he’s falling.

He needs to… to call Ant and Velvet. They’re supposed to come visit this weekend and they don’t know yet, he’s been so overwhelmed that he hasn’t thought to call.

Which is when his phone buzzes with a text.

-Ant: we’re here, where are you

Bad flinches. Texts back blindly because he doesn’t- doesn’t know what else to do. Just that he’s in the hospital, and what room number.

His phone buzzes a few more times but he ignores it, it feels too hard.

They burst into the room a while later, they both look desperate and Bad can’t get up to meet them, doesn’t have any words to reassure them.

“Bad? Bad, holy shit, what happened?” Velvet hurries across, dropping to his knees beside him.

Bad doesn’t have the energy to scold him for the language. His voice comes out small and quiet when he says, “Skeppy’s gone.”

Stunned silence.

“What?” Ant’s voice is choked. “What- no. No, Bad, what-”

“There was an accident,” Bad says, still sounding so small. “Skeppy- the head trauma, it was just- there was nothing they could do. They pronounced brain death two- no, no, three days ago.”

“Oh, Bad.” Velvet gently takes his hand. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t think about it.” He pulls his knees up to his chest. “There- it’s been a lot. They asked me about organ donation and I- I said yes.”

“Oh.”

“That’s-” Bad takes a shaky breath, checks the clock on the wall. “They took him down for surgery about two hours ago.”

“Oh. Oh, Bad.” Ant sits down at his other side, and Bad slowly leans sideways against him. “I’m sorry, I wish we could’ve been here to help you.”

Bad scrubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. Velvet rubs his arm, putting his head down on Bad’s shoulder.

“He, um…” Bad sniffles. “I think it’s what he’d want, helping people. Even like this. They, they’re doing five different transplants.”

Ant makes a sound between a laugh and a sob. “Yeah. Yeah, he- he’d want that.”

“Um. I didn’t meet- they’re transplanting his kidneys and his heart and part of his liver, I didn’t get to meet the recipients. But there’s this kid-” He takes a ragged breath. “This kid a year younger than Skeppy, he has cystic fibrosis and he’s- he’s been waiting for a year for new lungs.”

Ant sobs again, squeezing his hand. Velvet keeps rubbing Bad’s shoulder.

“I met- met him and his dad,” Bad hiccups. “The way they looked at me, it- it was like their prayers were coming true- I mean, they probably are, they told me his- his twin brother died a few years ago from this same thing.”

“That’s awful,” Velvet whispers.

Bad scrubs at his eyes some more. “It- I still can’t believe Skeppy’s gone, you know? They- they had an honor walk for him, and they let- let me hold his hand and say goodbye-”

His voice finally breaks, and he sobs, leaning into his friends’ arms.

Chapter Text

The house feels so much quieter. Emptier.

Tommy’s away at college, and Techno doesn’t need to cough like he used to. Then again, lately Techno hasn’t been anything like he used to.

Phil tries not to worry. Techno’s just quieter, that’s all. And yeah maybe he’s a little weaker than he used to be, and maybe he spends more time in bed, but he still laughs and smiles and acts like his old self, just a little… less.

Still, they never take a single day for granted. Because they thought Techno was going to die, and now he’s had three years they never thought he was going to get. Three years of breathing free and easy with another man’s lungs.

Phil doesn’t have to give Techno daily chest therapy anymore, but he still gets up early to spend some time with his son before work. Some mornings he has to help Techno up, because he occasionally gets weak and his limbs don’t have the strength to hold him.

They’ve talked to Sam, and the doctor says not to worry. Says it’s normal for Techno to be more fatigued, that it could just be the natural decline of his body.

It happens on a Saturday.

Phil goes into Techno’s room in the morning to find him propped up against a pillow, hands clasped over his chest, an odd, introspective look on his face.

“Hey,” Phil says softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He gently brushes back Techno’s messy curls- he stopped dyeing his hair a few years ago, Phil thinks partly to avoid the stress on his lungs after the transplant. Like this, especially now, he looks so much like Wilbur. “Feeling okay this morning?”

Techno hums, gaze slipping to some point across the room. “Yeah,” he says after a second.

The quiet isn’t all that unusual. Techno is always quieter these days. But the distant look- that, it worries Phil a bit. “Yeah?” He tips his head to the side, trying to catch Techno’s gaze. “Something on your mind?”

Techno inhales slowly, exhales. Shrugs slightly. “It was just a dream.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Techno shrugs again, still not meeting Phil’s gaze. He’s silent for a few minutes, and Phil assumes that’s the end of it. He starts combing through Techno’s hair, putting it in neat order- as neat as it can be for his boys with their riotous curls, he thinks with quiet amusement.

“It was about Wil.”

The quiet, rasping admittance catches Phil off guard. Mostly because of the mention of Wilbur- Techno doesn’t talk about him very much. Oh, Phil knows he thinks about his twin. It’s so easy to see, especially when Techno spends some particularly quiet days sitting in Wilbur’s bedroom. (they never did change it. it sits furnished the way it always was, before Wilbur died, a silent monument to him.)

“Yeah?” Phil manages to get out after a second. “Was it a good dream?”

Techno’s expression contracts, and he stares away. “…I think so. Maybe.” He bites his lip. “Yeah.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head slightly. Clears his throat. “You have an idea what Tommy’s schedule looks like today?”

Okay, Phil is worried now, but he racks his brain for the information anyway. “I think he was planning to go to a party. Why do you ask?”

“Just… want to talk to him.” Techno shrugs slightly.

Phil’s heart aches. “He’d answer if you called,” he says softly, because as busy as Tommy is, he loves his big brother (he always adored both of the twins) and he’d pick up for Techno. Even during his teenage rebellion phase, when he wouldn’t always talk to his parents, he’d always, always answer Techno’s messages.

“I know.” Techno gives him a thin smile.

They sit together in the silence for a while longer. Techno’s having one of his weak spells, and Phil helps him to the couch in the living room to sit and read for a while. Brings him breakfast there, because it’s easier- a tray table, because Techno’s hands tremble these days.

Techno picks up the fork, gives him a watery smile. “Thanks. Love you, Dad.”

Worry and love tug at Phil’s heart, and he leans over to press a kiss into his son’s hair. “I love you too, mate.”

He tries not to listen, but can’t help overhearing when Techno calls Tommy. When he ends the call by saying, “Hey, Toms? I love you.” And later, to Kristin, when she brings him a glass of water, a quiet “thanks Mom, love you.”

Her gaze meets Phil’s as she’s going back to the kitchen, and he reads an identical worry and apprehension there.

…it’s fine. Techno’s fine.

By noon Techno’s up again, walking slowly to the table to get lunch. He smiles and laughs, maybe a little quieter even than he has been lately, but he doesn’t talk. Just listens to them.

After lunch, Techno gets up and starts back to the living room. Phil’s not watching, because he tries not to hover, despite how worried he is.

(later, he’ll wish he had been, because each moment they had with their son was a gift, a moment longer than they thought he’d have.)

“Dad.”

Phil turns at the sound of Techno’s voice, a yeah? hovering on his lips when-

Thud.

He’s yelling for Kristin before he can entirely register what’s happened, practically tripping over his own feet to get to his son’s crumpled body. Techno’s in a heap on the floor, his breathing short and labored, and Phil turns him over carefully, cradling his head in his hands.

“Kristin, quick, call 999!” Phil yells. “Tech, Techno, look at me mate, open your eyes please-”

Techno’s dying.

The doctors say that he suffered a massive heart attack, and his body is just giving out. There’s nothing they can do, and Phil knows, painfully, that Techno wouldn’t want it anyway.

He’s lying in a hospital bed, with an oxygen mask helping him breathe, barely conscious because of the morphine. Kristin’s holding his hand, smoothing his hair; Phil is waiting for Tommy to answer his phone.

“Hey Dad!” There’s a lot of noise on his end of the call, and Tommy yells to someone else. “What’s up?” he continues after a second.

Phil swallows past the lump in his throat. “You need to come home,” he gets out. “Right now, Tommy.”

“What?” The background noise fades. “Dad, what’s wrong, what’s going on?”

Phil’s eyes burn. “It’s Techno. We’re at the hospital, you need to get here right now, Tommy.”

“What- wait, wait, what happened? He just talked to me this morning, did-” Tommy sounds panicked.

“He- he’s dying, Toms. Hurry.”

He hangs up, and turns back to the bed. Techno’s gaze slowly slips to his, and he blinks, eyes hazed. Phil takes his hand.

“Hold on,” he says. “Just- just for a couple more hours, Techno, can you do that mate? Tommy’s coming, if you can just hold on a little longer.”

A weak, faint nod; fingers curling around his own.

~~~

Tommy doesn’t remember most of the two-hour drive back to his hometown.

It’s Techno. Get here right now. He’s dying.

His brother is dying.

Tommy can barely think straight as he hurries into the reception area at the ER. “My- my brother,” he says. “Techno Craft, is he-”

“Tommy,” Phil calls, and he turns, stumbles across the waiting room to his father.

“Tech-”

“He’s hanging on.” Phil’s face is drawn. “I think he’s waiting for you.”

He pulls Tommy through into a cubicle with glass doors, drawn curtains. For a second Tommy feels like he’s going to vomit- Techno looks so much like Wilbur did, right before he died.

Then Techno blinks, and Tommy moves closer quickly, taking his hand.

“Hey, big man,” he says, voice shaking. “I-”

His voice breaks, he doesn’t know what to say. Techno’s fingers curl around his hand.

“I love you,” Tommy chokes out, bending over to rest his head on Techno’s shoulder for a second. “I- I love you, Techno.”

He said it earlier, and so did Techno, and Tommy can’t help wondering did he know?

Another feeble squeeze. Techno’s gaze drifts to Phil’s, and Tommy thinks he reads some emotion there he can’t understand.

Phil steps closer, taking his other hand. “Is it time, mate?” he asks softly.

Techno blinks slowly. Nods, almost imperceptibly.

Phil sits on the bed, lifting Techno to rest against his chest. Kristin sits on the side of the bed, pressed against his leg, and holds one of his hands; Tommy sits in the chair, keeping hold of his brother’s other hand.

And they just wait.

Techno’s already labored breathing gets erratic. Stuttering, gasping inhales followed by quiet exhales. Sometimes he takes another breath right away; sometimes a few seconds or a minute passes and Tommy thinks this is it, that was the last one but then Techno will inhale again, thin and wheezing.

Suddenly he opens his eyes. Tommy sits up straighter, holding his own breath for a second-

“Wilbur?” Techno’s voice rasps, barely audible but so soft, so wondering.

Tommy thinks he’s going to sob. Wil’s not here, he wants to say, but he can’t. He’s heard of stranger things than people seeing long-dead loved ones before their own death.

Techno doesn’t say anything else. In the utter silence that follows, he inhales, exhales softly, eyes slipping closed.

It takes Tommy a couple minutes to realize that Techno hasn’t breathed in again.

“Dad,” Tommy whispers.

Phil doesn’t move, doesn’t stop smoothing dark curls. “I know.” He turns his head to the side, kissing Techno’s temple. “It’s okay, Techno,” he murmurs. “You can go to sleep.”

“We’re all right here, baby,” Kristin says softly. “You can go now, go to Wilbur.”

Words stick in Tommy’s throat, and he brings Techno’s hand up to his face, pressing his cheek into his brother’s palm.

“I love you,” he gets out. “I love you.”

It’s quiet and peaceful as Techno’s heart stops beating and he slips away. Tommy keeps his brother’s limp hand pressed against his face, trying not to think about the fact that this will probably be the last time he ever holds Techno’s hand.

“He’s not sick anymore,” he says at last.

Kristin sobs softly, putting her head down on Techno’s other hand. “Yeah. Yeah, baby,” she chokes out.

Tommy is too strung-out, too tired and numb to cry. He turns his head a little more into Techno’s limp palm, closing his eyes for a minute. “He- he’s not in pain anymore. And he’s with Wilbur.”

Tommy has to believe that, because it’s the only thing making this bearable. Techno’s not sick or in pain anymore, and he’s with his twin now. They’re together again, the way they’re supposed to be.

They’re asked to leave the room so the doctors can take care of Techno’s body, and it’s painfully clear to Tommy that none of them knows what to do.

He watches his father break down in his mother’s arms, watches her cry, too, and doesn’t know why he isn’t crying. It hurts- of course it hurts that Techno’s gone, but he’s at peace now, can’t they see that?

“Hey.”

Tommy glances up, seeing Puffy standing there, expression sympathetic. It’s been- ten years, he thinks, he doesn’t think he’s seen her since Wilbur died.

“Hi,” Tommy says, his voice comes out quieter than he meant it to. “What, um- what’re you doing here?”

Her expression is sympathetic. “Why don’t you all come up to my office?”

Her office is quiet. Tommy sits beside his parents on the couch, and Puffy moves a chair closer and sits facing them.

“I’m a grief counselor here,” she says quietly. “Techno came to see me a couple weeks ago, to ask me to help him put things in order.”

“He didn’t-” Phil’s voice catches. “He didn’t tell us.”

Puffy nods. “He didn’t want you to worry,” she says gently. “Techno wanted his last few weeks to be as normal as possible.”

“He knew- knew it was gonna be soon, then?”

“There were signs. His body was beginning to decline. He didn’t have a concrete idea of how much time he might have left, but he wanted to make the whole process as easy for you as he could.”

Kristin’s voice shakes. “I didn’t- we didn’t notice anything was wrong.”

“That’s okay, I doubt you would have.” Puffy’s voice is just as comforting as Tommy remembers. “Don’t blame yourselves. You couldn’t have known- Techno didn’t want you to.”

And god if that doesn’t sound like his brother, thinking of his family even as he was dying. Tommy squeezes his mom’s hand.

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Finally Phil clears his throat.

“What, ah… what happens now? With- with his- body?”

“Techno made all the arrangements. The hospital will contact the funeral home, and they’ll come to take care of his body.”

“Will they-” Kristin sobs quietly. “They’ll be careful with him?”

Puffy nods slightly, but Tommy speaks before she can.

“Mom, it’s okay,” he says. His voice is steadier than he thought it would be. “That’s not- it isn’t Techno anymore. He’s at peace now.”

Puffy meets his gaze, giving Tommy a gentle, sad smile. “You don’t have to worry about anything,” she says, looking towards Kristin again. “Techno wanted to make sure of that.”

“That s-sounds like him.” Kristin turns to hide her face in Phil’s shoulder.

“He, um…” Phil wraps his arm around her shoulders, glancing up at Puffy. “They said he signed a DNI?”

“And a DNR. I helped him with those, too.” Puffy’s expression is sympathetic. “Did he tell you?”

Phil shakes his head. “I don’t- know why he’d- why he’d do that.”

Puffy’s eyes are so sad. “He explained to me that he didn’t want to draw out the end. He was very sick, and very tired, and he was ready to go.”

It hurts, it all hurts, and Tommy thinks he wouldn’t have been able to bear it if he’d missed being there at the end. If he hadn’t gotten that phone call.

~~~

Puffy is… not surprised, exactly, but- shocked might be the right word, when the young man steps into her office.

She recognizes Technoblade Craft, of course. She’s never forgotten the family, watching a seventeen-year-old boy die slowly will do that to a person, she supposes.

“Come on in, sit down,” Puffy says, abandoning her now-cold coffee and moving to the armchair. “How are you, Techno?”

He seems startled. “You remember me?”

“Of course,” Puffy says softly. She gestures to the couch.

Techno sits down, exhaling deeply. He looks worn, Puffy notes, and tired.

“What brings you to see me today?” Puffy asks, when Techno’s been silent for a minute.

He takes a deep breath, clasping his hands in his lap. “I’m dying.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be.” Techno glances down. “I’m… I’m ready for it.”

She worked in hospice care long enough to have heard this before, and to understand.

“What can I do to help you?” Puffy murmurs.

“It’s not about me. My family.” He pauses, staring at his hands. “I want… I want to know that they’ll be okay when I’m gone.”

“What can I do?” Puffy repeats, quieter.

“Can, um… I don’t know how things can be… I know you can’t promise anything but is there a way to make sure you’re the first person that’s called after I… pass?”

“I can try to arrange that.” Puffy shifts. “Have they given you an idea of how much time you may have?”

“Months, maybe. Or weeks.” He pauses, gestures to his chest. “It’s my heart. There’s not a whole lot they can do, and I… wouldn’t really want it, anyway.”

Puffy hums sympathetically.

“I’m just… I’m exhausted.” There’s so much weariness in Techno’s voice, and Puffy’s heart aches for him. “I’m ready for it all to stop.”

“I understand that,” she murmurs. “Do you plan to tell your parents?”

“No.” His answer is immediate. “They’ve spent their whole lives taking care of me, I don’t want to burden them with this.”

She chooses her words carefully. “Techno, this is the end of your life. You deserve to be selfish now more than ever.”

“Yeah,” he mutters, “you wouldn’t say that if you knew what I’m thinking.”

Puffy tilts her head slightly. “Would you like to tell me?’

Techno looks away again. His hands are empty in his lap, but he keeps twisting his fingers, fidgeting with nothing. Finally he looks at her again.

“I don’t want my parents to know I’m dying.”

“Okay.” Puffy nods.

“They… I know they love me. I know that.” He glances away again, just for a second. “That’s the problem,” he adds, much quieter.

Puffy waits, offering a neutral hum.

“They… would want to fix it. And I don’t think it can be fixed. I don’t want it to be.” Techno’s voice is so, so weary. “It would all be doctors and appointments and tests and long-shots and I- I don’t want that. I’m so damn tired of hospitals and being sick. I just want it to end.”

“That’s okay,” she murmurs, because it is. Another doctor might tell him to have hope, not to give up, but Puffy isn’t any other doctor. She spent years working in hospice care, she’s seen it all. Desperation, false hope, quiet acceptance, utter exhaustion. “It’s perfectly understandable that you feel this way.”

“You’re not gonna tell me how much more I have to live for?” He almost sounds like he’s daring her to try.

“Techno, I don’t think anyone could blame you for being ready to stop.” Puffy meets his gaze, sympathetic without being pitying. “You’ve been so sick for almost your entire life. I can see how tired you are.”

Techno’s expression crumples. “I’m exhausted,” he breathes, eyes closing for a second.

Puffy leans forward and rests her hand on his knee. Techno takes a ragged breath, closing his eyes tighter.

“I want-” He clears his throat, inhaling deeper. “I want a DNR.”

“I can help you with that.”

It never gets easier, helping patients place the groundwork for their end-of-life procedures. But Puffy would be lying if she said the work wasn’t rewarding in its own way. To help someone who has nothing else left to arrange their final days in the way they want.

She hesitates. “May I make a suggestion?”

Techno shrugs.

“There’s another form you could sign, a DNI or Do Not Intubate order.”

“What’s the difference?”

“A DNR only prevents medical personnel from giving CPR if your heart stops. A DNI would prevent them from intubating if your lungs were to fail.”

“Oh.” His expression clears, hands stilling. “That… yeah. I want that- that too.”

“I thought you might.” Puffy’s instincts are rarely wrong, and this comes from knowledge of his medical history as well.

“Would they…” Techno pauses, looking away for a second. “I don’t want to be in pain.”

“If you end up in the hospital, yes, they’ll give painkillers. Probably something quite strong, that would affect your level of consciousness-”

“I don’t care about that.” Techno grimaces. “I just… I don’t want it to hurt. At the end.”

“I understand that.”

“I kind of hope I just… go in my sleep, or something, y’know?” There’s so much heaviness in his voice. “I mean it’d be harder on my parents but…”

Techno trails off, looking away, and Puffy finishes the sentence quietly.

“Easier for you.”

He nods. “Is… is that awful of me?”

“No, not at all.” Puffy bites back a sigh. “This is… it can all be about you, Techno. I’d argue that it should be about what’s best and easiest for you.”

“But my family will have to live with it.”

“Yes, they will. And Techno, I think it will be easier for them to know you didn’t suffer.”

“…yeah. Maybe.”

“I can see this is bothering you quite a bit,” Puffy murmurs. “I know you don’t want to tell them anything beforehand, and that’s all right, but have you considered writing a letter?”

“A letter.”

“So that after you pass, your parents can read it and understand, in your own words, why you made the choices that you’re making now.”

“Hm.” Techno shifts, staring at the floor. “I… I hadn’t thought of that.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“I just…” His mouth twists. “I think it’s gonna be soon, y’know? They said I might have a few months but I… I have this feeling.”

Puffy nods in understanding.

“Like… like he’s waiting for me,” Techno adds, much quieter.

“Your brother?” Puffy murmurs.

Techno gives a jerky nod.

“I understand,” she says. “That’s not uncommon at end-of-life.”

“Oh.”

Techno goes silent, and Puffy lets the quiet sit for a while. She doesn’t have another appointment for a few hours, thanks to her loose schedule.

Finally she shifts, inhaling deeply. “I’m gonna go get that paperwork for you, okay?” she murmurs.

She keeps copies in her filing cabinet. Doesn’t even have to leave the room, just puts together a clipboard and pen and hands them over, indicating where to sign.

Techno hesitates for a couple of minutes, pen hovering over the page. Puffy leans her elbows on her knees.

“Is there something on your mind?” she murmurs.

Techno’s expression twists. He puts the pen and clipboard down on the coffee table, looking away.

“I… I never told anyone else this,” he says after a second.

Puffy nods slightly.

“Before he…” Techno’s visibly struggling to maintain his composure. “Wilbur,” he breathes at last, quiet and soft and reverent. “The day he died he told me… he said, he said he couldn’t keep fighting. He fought so hard and he… he just kept apologizing that he couldn’t anymore.”

Puffy watched that young man fight for every breath he took, for every second he held on. She’s never forgotten him, she doesn’t forget any of them.

Wilbur was- and still is- the youngest patient she’s ever cared for. He was one of the ones who didn’t want to give up. Didn’t stop fighting until his body just couldn’t take it anymore.

Techno has accepted his death, and that’s almost harder, in some ways.

“And here I am-” His voice cracks. “Giving up.”

Oh. Oh, Puffy understands now.

“I didn’t know Wilbur nearly as well as you do,” she says, “but I don’t think he would blame you.”

Techno still looks so guilty.

Puffy leans down a little more, tilting her head to try to look him in the eye. “Techno,” she murmurs, “Wilbur loved you more than anything and anyone. I know that, it was so clear to see.”

Techno’s throat bobs. “I- yeah,” he chokes out.

“He wouldn’t want you to suffer.”

“He told me he wanted me to do whatever it took to stay alive. He said, he made me promise that if I could get a transplant, I’d go through with it.” His expression crumples. “I- I told him, I swore I would do whatever it took, and-”

“And he wouldn’t want you to keep suffering like this.”

Techno sobs, quiet and harsh. Puffy moves to sit beside him, letting her hand rest lightly on his back.

“Don’t you think Wilbur would want you to rest?” she asks, so gently.

Techno’s shoulders heave in another sob as he drops his head in his hands. Puffy rubs his back gently, hoping the movement is comforting.

“I miss him,” he chokes out. “I m- miss him.”

Puffy hums, quiet and low.

“He was- he-” A horrible sound wrenches out of his chest- Puffy knows this to be the sound of grief, pure and unfiltered. “I loved him so much.”

“I know.” Puffy doesn’t even attempt to disguise the sorrow in her own voice.

She sits there and holds Techno while he cries. His exhaustion is so painfully evident that her own heart aches in sympathy.

~~~

Niki doesn’t let many people’s calls through Do Not Disturb.

One of those is Techno.

So when her phone rings before she’s even out of bed that Saturday morning, she answers right away.

“Hey,” she says, yawning. “What’s up?”

“Hey.” Techno’s voice is quiet. “Sorry to wake you.”

“It’s okay, I was awake. What’s up?”

Techno’s quiet for a minute. “Sorry. I’m having a hard time… putting words together.”

“Take your time,” Niki says softly.

“I, ah… I just, I wanted to say thank you. For being there for me, for being my best friend. I don’t think I would’ve gotten through that first year after losing my brother without you. Just… yeah. Thanks.”

She sits up straight, worry clawing at her heart. “Techno, what’s wrong?”

Another minute of silence. “I saw Wilbur this morning,” Techno says at last. “He- he said he’s coming back later to get me.”

“Oh.” Niki needs a few seconds to process that. “You… you think it’s today, then?”

“Yeah.” Techno clears his throat. “I just… wanted to say goodbye.”

“I… I don’t know what to say, Tech. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s okay.” He hums quietly. “I’m… at peace with it. I’m ready.”

“Do, um- do your parents know?”

“I don’t think they want to admit what’s going on. I’ve… been in decline for a while now.” Techno sighs. “Besides, it’s easier this way. They don’t have to fuss over me, and I don’t have to sit there and- and know that they’re worrying. I just- want my last day to be normal.”

Niki swallows back a lump in her throat. “Is- is there anything I can do?”

“No, but thank you for offering. It means a lot.” Techno pauses, and she can hear, now, how he’s struggling a little for air. “I have… everything’s in order. The will, funeral arrangements, the, ah… the DNR.”

“…oh.”

“I don’t want… I’m ready for it to be over.” Niki’s heart breaks at the exhaustion, the weariness in Techno’s voice. “I’m so- so tired, and I just want to be with Wilbur again.”

“I understand.” She’s known for a long time how much Techno misses his twin. It’s hard not to see. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too. I, I texted Schlatt but I don’t think he saw it.”

“He’s taking his two weeks off in Kinoko.”

“I thought so.” Techno clears his throat. “Don’t let him blame himself. It’s not his fault, and I’m- I know he’d have answered if he could.”

“Yeah,” she says softly. Schlatt will, for sure, be upset with himself for not knowing. “If there’s anything you want…”

“I just… needed to hear your voice.” He pauses. “Thank you, Niki. Thank you for everything.”

“I’m glad to have been your friend.” She blinks back tears.

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.” Techno exhales slowly. “Goodbye, Niki.”

It’s always been see you later, and Niki digs the heel of her hand into her eyes. “Bye,” she whispers. “Goodbye, Techno.”

Kristin calls her the next evening.

“Hi, Mrs. C.” Niki sits down heavily on her bed, leaning her head back against the wall. She knows what she’s going to hear- she’s not ready, but she has to hear it anyway.

“Hi, Niki, I have some bad news.” She pauses, taking a shaky breath. “Techno… Techno passed away yesterday afternoon.”

And that hurts, but Niki thinks that he’s with Wilbur now, and that makes it easier to bear. “I’m so sorry,” is all she manages to say.

“It was peaceful. He, he wasn’t in any pain.”

“That’s good,” Niki whispers. Techno never complained, because he never would, but she knows how sick he was, how much that hurt sometimes. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I’ll let you know, thank you. We’re- we’re planning the service, ah… I mean, he already had all the details written out but- but it’ll be about- a week, we think, before everything’s ready.”

“Please, tell me if there’s any way I can help.” Niki hesitates. “How are you all doing?” she asks after a second.

“We’re… holding up as well as can be expected.” Kristin exhales slowly. “It was… it was just so sudden, they said he had a heart attack. He, um…” She’s quiet for a minute. “He lived a few hours longer, enough for Tommy to get there and say goodbye.”

“I’m glad.” Niki shifts. “I’m gonna- I need to do some baking anyway, can I bring you over something tomorrow?”

“We’d really appreciate that, thank you.”

“I’ll see you then.”

Niki’s still awake at midnight when her phone rings.

There’s only one person who would call her so late, only one reason why he would. Niki takes a few seconds to wake up a little more, to prepare for the emotional storm she’s about to be in the middle of.

“God- thank god, Niki, finally-” Schlatt sounds wild, desperate. “I can’t- I can’t reach Techno, he texted me, is he okay, is he-”

“He’s gone.”

Utter silence for a few seconds.

“What- what the fuck? No. No, he- he’s not. He can’t be.”

“He died yesterday afternoon, he… Mrs. Craft said it was peaceful, he wasn’t in pain.” Niki turns her face into the pillow for a second, to try to stop the tears. “He, he called me that morning.”

“No. No. He- he’s not- no.” Schlatt’s voice sounds utterly wrecked. “No, I- the last time we talked I didn’t- I didn’t say goodbye-”

“He’d understand- he did. It’s okay.”

“I’m- shit. I need- I gotta get a flight, I need to come home.” Schlatt nearly sobs, a harsh sound. “Did he- you talked to him, did he- did he know?”

“Yeah.” Niki hides her face in her elbow. “He… he knew.”

“Fuck. That’s- god fucking damn it. I sh- should’ve checked my fucking texts.”

“He doe-” Niki’s voice catches on the verb, the wrong tense. “Didn’t want you to blame yourself,” she manages.

“I just- fuck, man, I- we should’ve had more time-”

“He was ready to be done.” Niki stifles a sob in her arm. “If you’d heard him- he was so tired, Schlatt. I hate it and I hate saying it but I think- I think it’s good it happened when it did. He said he was ready, he said- he said Wilbur was coming to get him.”

Schlatt does sob then, raw and aching. “That’s- good. At least- they’re together, right? They- they gotta be together.”

“Yeah, I think they are.”

~~~

Techno is tired. He’s so tired and it’s getting so very hard to see.

Is this finally it?

A voice cuts clear through his mother’s distant, muffled humming. A familiar voice, soft and quiet and so, so warm.

“Hey, Techno.”

He opens his eyes and Wilbur’s there, sitting on his legs (somehow so heavy and yet weighing nothing at all), eyes so bright that the rest of the room (and his family) seems fuzzy and dark.

“Wilbur?” Techno breathes, hardly daring to believe.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Wilbur smiles, soft and shining and happy. “I told you I was coming, dumbass.”

“You did,” Techno exhales, tears stinging his eyes as he thinks about the dream that wasn’t.

Wilbur reaches out, gently brushing a stray curl off Techno’s face. His hand lingers there for what seems like forever, thumb smoothing warm and gentle over Techno’s cheekbone. Techno tilts into the contact, he doesn’t want Wilbur to ever stop.

“It’s time to go,” Wilbur says at last.

Techno thinks he can hear… other voices. Muffled, like they’re on the other side of a wall.

He’s said his goodbyes to his family and his friends, and all he wants now is Wilbur, wants his twin’s arms around him.

“I’m ready.” He’s been ready for so, so long.

Wilbur holds out his hands, and Techno takes them, the point of contact warming his whole body. Wilbur pulls him closer, into a hug. Techno clings to him desperately.

“I missed you so much,” he whimpers, because he feels like he’s going to cry and he feels like that’s okay, with Wilbur.

“I know. I know you did.” Slender fingers card through his curls. “You stopped dyeing your hair.”

“Wanted to look like you.” Techno sniffles. “Idiot,” he adds.

Wilbur laughs, or sobs, or maybe both. “Sentimental prick.”

They sit like that, clinging to each other, for what feels like an eternity. It’s a dark place, quiet. It’s so peaceful and Techno is holding on to his twin and everything is all right now.

“Is this the afterlife?” he asks after a while.

“No, this is… between.” Wilbur leans back slightly, gesturing around. “Limbo, I think it’s called. I’ve been here. Waiting.”

“All that time? Just… waiting?”

Wilbur laughs softly, cupping Techno’s face with warm palms. “How could I move on?” he murmurs. “I couldn’t go without you.”

“Oh,” Techno breathes, and copies the gesture. “Oh.”

“I’m so proud of you.” Wilbur smiles again, still with tears running down his face. “You were incredible. Everything you did-”

“I was only half myself without you.”

“I never left you.” Wilbur leans in to press their foreheads together. “Not for a second, Tech. I was with you all the time.”

“And now we’ll always be together?” Techno thinks he knows what the answer will be. He needs to hear it, anyway.

“Forever,” Wilbur swears.

Chapter Text

Dad, Mom, Tommy,

When you read this, I will be gone.

I got the diagnosis three days ago. My heart is failing. It could happen tomorrow, or months from now; but some day soon, it’s going to stop.

I know you’re probably pretty upset right now. Maybe even with me, for not telling you what was going to happen. And I’m sorry, but I can’t apologize for that.

I love you all so much, but I’m tired. I don’t want to spend the time I have left going to doctors, in hospitals, grasping at straws for a chance to get just a little more time. I’m so tired of everything and I know this will hurt you to read, but I’m ready to die. I’ve felt more and more, lately, that Wilbur is waiting for me, and I’m ready to go through the door and be with him.

But that’s not all I want to say.

Dad: You have been my rock. Through all the treatments and the sickness, you have always been there to hold me up. I can’t begin to thank you for the countless hours you spent giving me percussive therapy, or sitting with me in the hospital, or just being there no matter what I needed.

Mom: I don’t have the words. What more is there to say than I love you? You were always there to hold me when I cried, to comfort me when I was sick. To give me a hug and a warm cookie when the treatments were particularly rough. You were my safe place.

Tommy: I’m sorry, kid. I know I broke my promise, and I know I can’t make that up to you. Leaving you is my biggest regret. But you’re gonna be incredible, you know? The world isn’t ready for you, and that’s a fantastic thing. Go out there and wow ‘em, kid. If there’s any kind of afterlife, I’ll be cheering you on.

I love you all so much, and I’m sorry that I have to leave you, but I’m tired. I just want the pain and the sickness and the treatments to stop.

I just want to see Wil again.

Please, don’t grieve for me too much. I’ve lived almost twice as long as I was supposed to, and I’m grateful for the time I had. You- all of you- made it a good life. A bearable one, after Wilbur died.

I love you all,

Techno

PS: I saw Wilbur this morning. I think I was sleeping, but he sat beside me, as clear as anything. He smiled and said he’d missed me. That he’s coming back for me later, to take me with him.

However it happens, I’m ready.

I love you. I feel like I haven’t said that enough. I love you, I love you, I love you. Dad, I love you. Mom, I love you. Tommy, I love you.

I wish you could feel the peace that I do. Soon I’ll be free of CF forever. And if I know anything, Mom and Dad, I know that’s what you’ve wanted for me the most.

The pain will be over soon, and I will be with Wilbur. That is all I want, now.

Tommy’s voice cracks on the last line of the letter Techno left. His dad is crying; his mom looks kind of lost. He thinks he might be going to cry, too.

How- he wasn’t around a lot, he wasn’t home, but how- how did he not know? He should’ve seen how tired Techno was, he should’ve known.

“We- how did we not see this?” Kristin asks at last. “How- we should’ve- god, why couldn’t he tell us?”

Tommy stares at the tear-stained paper in his hands- tears that aren’t his. All of it, he never saw Techno cry- not when he was sick, not when he was in the hospital for treatments, not even when Wilbur died- Tommy never saw his brother cry.

“You would’ve tried to get it fixed,” Tommy says at last. “He wrote it here- he didn’t want more time.”

“We- we would’ve understood-”

Tommy shakes his head. “All his life- him and Wilbur both- you just tried to cure them, and-” He looks away. “I don’t know. Just… I get it. Why he didn’t want it.”

Because he did see Techno in pain. After treatments or surgeries or just- just because. Because he was sick.

And, after Wilbur died, how much he withdrew. Techno was always there when Tommy wanted him, but he didn’t smile as much.

“He- he was so strong,” Tommy whispers. “All the time. Can you imagine how tiring that must have been? I can.”

“Oh,” Kristin says, covering her mouth with her hand.

“We- we weren’t- we never wanted to hurt him.” Phil buries his face in his hands.

Tommy thinks about Techno, sitting alone in his room, writing I’m so tired of everything and I’m ready to die and- and crying over it as he said goodbye to them-

Tommy can’t absolve his parents of that.

He knows how much they loved his brothers, love him, but Tommy also knows- now, he knows for sure how tired Techno was of being sick. Of trying to get better.

Tommy can’t absolve them, but he can’t blame them, either.

Phil sobs again. “We didn’t- we never tried to hurt him.”

Tommy stares at the letter. “He’s- what’s the point now?” His chest hurts. “Techno’s gone now. He’s not- not hurting anymore.”

Kristin nods, inhaling deeply. “He’s not sick anymore,” she whispers. “He-” Her voice breaks and she starts to cry again, leaning to rest her head on Phil’s shoulder.

Tommy leaves them there and goes down the hall. Gently turns the knob, opening the door to Techno’s room.

It’s quiet in here. Tommy closes the door and goes to sit in the hammock chair in the corner. It feels weird, being in here without Techno.

“Hey,” Tommy says at last, quietly. “I don’t know if you can hear me, Tech. Don’t know if- if I believe in that kind of thing. But, um… in case you can, I- I want you to know I understand.”

His heart aches. He misses his brother so much.

“I hope you’re with Wil now. I hope you’re resting, god knows you deserve it.” He scrubs at sudden tears. “You- you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be okay. And I…”

He has to take a few seconds to breathe. To pull his hurting pieces together.

“I forgive you for breaking your promise. You-” Tommy’s breath hitches. “I don’t blame you for giving up. You- I’m sorry I never knew how tired you were.”

Tommy sits there for a few minutes. When he leaves, he picks up Techno’s pendant and puts the chain around his neck.

He closes the door with a quiet click.

Chapter Text

Kristin knows Techno’s more than capable of going to doctor’s appointments by himself, but she still goes along when he asks her to.

Today, he’s getting some test results. And having to go in and talk to Sam means it’s serious, so Techno asked her to come along.

Sam’s expression is grave. Kristin’s seen that look before- with Wilbur- and she just knows. Her heart aches with premature grief.

“I have some bad news,” Sam says, after pleasantries- half-hearted on both sides.

Techno smiles, shaky and small. “I know.”

Sam clasps his hands in his lap. “Your heart is failing,” he says quietly. “You could have weeks left, or months, but eventually your heart is just going to stop.”

“There’s- there are treatments, right?” Kristin reaches for Techno’s hand. “You could buy him some more time-”

“There are options,” Sam says. “Medications to control the symptoms, or surgery to put in a device to help his heart beat properly. As a last resort, a heart transplant.”

“Okay.” Kristin shifts. “So- so medication is the first step, right?”

“No,” Techno says. Stronger and steadier.

“What?” She twists to face him. Taking in his still, calm expression. “Honey-”

He looks at Sam; Kristin follows his gaze to the doctor’s resigned expression. This can’t be happening, god, this can’t be real-

“I’m done,” Techno says.

Sam nods slowly. Kristin cups Techno’s face, turning his head towards her. “Sweetheart, please,” she says, voice breaking. “Please don’t give up-”

“I’m done,” he repeats, expression pinching. “Mom, I’m so- so tired. I surrender,” he says, looking back at Sam. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“Oh, baby-”

His voice breaks. “Mom, I- I can’t do this anymore. I’m sick and I’m in pain and I just- I’m ready for it to be over-”

He sobs, and Kristin slips out of her chair to hug him tightly, letting him press his face into her stomach and cry.

Her son, her son, she had no idea-

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry, it’s okay-” Kristin threads her fingers into Techno’s curls, her own tears falling onto his hair. Holding her son close while they both fall apart. “It’s okay to go, baby, you’ve been so- so strong, it’s okay to stop now.”

~~~

Techno feels like he’s cried out- until they go home, and he realizes he has to tell Phil. He knows- oh, how he knows this is going to just break his dad.

“Hey,” Phil calls from the kitchen. “How was it?”

Techno exhales harshly. Kristin squeezes his hand.

“Techno?” Phil’s tone shifts to worry as he comes around the corner. “Kris? What’s-”

“He’s in heart failure,” Kristin says.

Techno glances up briefly to meet his dad’s gaze; looks away again.

Phil’s silent for a minute. “Okay,” he says at last. “Okay, what- what’s next? What’s the treatment plan?”

“There’s no plan,” Techno whispers. “I’m done.”

“What? Oh, Tech- there’s nothing they can do?”

“That’s not what I said.” Techno finally meets Phil’s gaze- heartbroken, scared even. He, himself, is exhausted. He is in so much pain, he’s been in pain for so long. “I’m done. I don’t want any more treatments.”

“No.” Phil’s voice cracks. “You- you can’t give up, mate-”

“Yes, I can.” Techno closes his eyes tightly for a second. “I’m tired, Dad, and I’m ready to go. I don’t have it in me to fight anymore.”

Phil looks like he might be going to cry. “Techno, Tech- please, baby, please don’t do this- please-”

“Dad,” Techno says, his voice breaking. “Don’t- don’t try to change my mind, I- I’m ready to go. I want to go.” He wants Wilbur, he’s lived so long without his twin and he just wants all of this to be over.

“Techno-”

He can’t look at Phil. “I can’t- Dad, I can’t do this anymore.” A sob wrenches his body so powerfully he can’t help but go to his knees. Kristin sinks down with him, pulling Techno’s head to rest against her shoulder.

“Please,” he begs, broken and hurting and so, so tired. “Please, please don’t- don’t make me try to live any longer, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t-”

Phil kneels, cupping Techno’s face. “Tech,” he breathes. “Oh, baby, no- no, I’m sorry- I’m so sorry-”

Techno sobs, giving in completely and going limp in his parents’ arms. “I just- just want it over,” he gets out between sobs. “It hurts and I want the pain to stop, please-”

“Oh, Techno.” Phil sounds anguished. He brushes his thumbs over and over Techno’s cheekbones. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, love-”

“It’s okay.” Kristin’s crying, too, Techno can hear it in her voice and he twists into her with a choked wail. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you can go. You can go.”

And then, even later, he has to call Tommy.

“Hey, big man!” Tommy chirps. “What’s up?”

Techno swallows harshly. “Hey, Tommy,” he says softly. The words I’m dying hover on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t- he can’t say it. “How- how- how was your day?”

Tommy launches into an animated description of his roommate’s antics. Techno closes his eyes, just listening to his brother’s voice. Savoring these last moments while Tommy doesn’t know.

“I’m in heart failure,” Techno blurts out, interrupting Tommy’s story about a cafeteria prank.

Abrupt silence.

“Wh- what?” Tommy stutters. “What?”

“I’m dying,” Techno says softly. “My heart is failing.”

“They- they can fix it, right?” Tommy sounds desperate. “You have a treatment plan, and-”

“No, kid.” Techno feels tears sting his eyes again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“No. No, you’re not- you promised,” Tommy whimpers.

“I know. And Tommy, I am so sorry, but I just- I can’t fight anymore.”

Tommy doesn’t say anything.

“I’m so sorry.” Techno’s voice breaks. “I held out as long as I could, but I’m- I’m done, kid. I just can’t do it anymore.”

“You promised.” Tommy’s voice cracks. “Tech, I can’t- I don’t want you to die.”

“Tommy, I’m- I’m exhausted, kid.” Techno stares at the ceiling, watching the light from a passing car’s headlights flicker on the plaster. “I’ve been sick for twenty years, I was supposed to die a long time ago- I outlived Wilbur by ten fucking years, d’you know how hard that’s been?” His voice is getting scratchy from overuse, but he plows on. “I love you, I love you so much Toms, but I’m- I’m ready to be done. I’m ready to see Wil again.”

Tommy’s answer is a sob, and Techno closes his eyes again. Waits.

“I- I know it’s selfish but-” Tommy’s voice hitches. “Techno, why- please, can’t we have just- just a little more time?”

His heart breaks, to have to do this to Tommy. “I have a few weeks, or months. Treatment might get me more time, but I- it’s not worth it. I’d rather die at home, with Mom and Dad and you, than in the hospital after months of painful treatments and desperate last chances.”

Tommy’s breath catches audibly. “You- you don’t want to be sick anymore,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Techno says softly. His heart skips a beat, a physical flutter in his chest. “Yeah, kid.”

“Is…” Tommy pauses. “Does it hurt a lot?”

Techno doesn’t know how to express that he’s been in pain for so long, his perception of it has been completely skewed. “Yes,” he says at last. “I suppose it does.”

“That’s horrible.”

“It’s life, Toms. It’s been my life for a long, long time.”

“I never knew…” Tommy pauses. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay. You couldn’t have.” Techno shifts to rest more comfortably against his pillows. “I didn’t want you to know… you got to grow up so easily, Tommy. You didn’t have to spend your childhood in hospitals, taking dozens of pills every day just to keep your body going. And that’s good,” he says at Tommy’s pained sound. “Toms, Wil and I- we were both so glad you’d never have to go through all of that, we never resented you for being healthy.”

“Tech-” Tommy’s voice cracks. “I’m sorry,” he says after a minute. “I’m sorry I never- I didn’t see how much you were suffering.”

Techno doesn’t know how to answer that, so he doesn’t.

“And-” Tommy pauses again. “I’m s-sorry I pushed. You- my feelings don’t matter-”

“They do. And it’s okay,” Techno says softly. “I know- I know it’s a lot. To process.”

Tommy sobs. “I’m- I’m just really, really gonna miss you.”

“I think I’m gonna miss you, too.” Techno swallows past the lump in his throat. “But I- I miss Wil a lot, and- I want to be with him again.”

~~~

Tommy decides to go home.

He can’t bear the thought of being away, far from home, when Techno dies. Even just the thought of Techno, dying, is- it’s utterly fucking unfathomable, but Tommy wants to be there. He wants to be able to hold Techno’s hand while it happens.

He comes in the front door and finds his mom sitting at the dining room table, staring blankly at the paperwork spread across it. She barely glances up at him, but Tommy doesn’t mind. He knows- he knows this is hard.

He goes over and leans down to rest his chin on his mom’s shoulder. “Hey,” he says softly.

“Hi, baby.” Kristin sighs, reaching up to cup Tommy’s face. “How, ah- how was your drive?”

“’s okay.” Tommy leans his head against hers. “How’s Tech?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. “Resting,” she says after a second. “Today was… a lot.”

Tommy waits, eyeing the papers on the table. Something to do with hospice care and refusing treatments, as far as he can tell.

“He was on the phone with the funeral home for a while this morning,” she says. “And with hospice.”

Tommy blinks back tears. “He’s… can I go in and see him?”

“Yeah, honey, of course. I know he wants to see you.” Kristin shifts, kissing his cheek. “Just- he needs quiet, okay?”

“Yeah,” Tommy whispers, “yeah, I can- I’ll try not to disturb him.”

He goes down the hall to Techno’s room slowly, pausing to toss his duffel bag in his own bedroom. To lean against the closed door of Wilbur’s room for a minute.

He knocks lightly on Techno’s door. “Come in,” says a quiet, low voice.

Tommy hesitates a second before going in. Techno’s in bed, reclining against a pile of pillows- holy shit that’s a ton of pillows, Tommy thinks a bit hysterically, Techno is practically surrounded by them.

He yawns, shifting. “Hey, Toms,” he says quietly.

“Hi, big man.” Tommy comes over and sits down where Techno’s shifted his legs aside to make space for him. He rests his hand on Techno’s. “How, um… how’re you doing?”

Techno shrugs, relaxing more onto the pillows. “Tired. Not, ah…” He gazes away across the room. “Feeling pretty weak.”

Tommy swallows harshly. Through all of it, Techno’s been so strong. Even when he was in the hospital, before the transplant, he never- he didn’t-

“Are you in pain?” Tommy whispers.

Techno hums, looking away again. “Always. Not so bad right now. Just… just tired. ‘s been a long day.”

“Can I help?”

Techno’s gaze drifts back to his, a faint smile appearing on his face. “Just… be here,” he whispers. “Just stay.”

Tommy takes his hand. Techno closes his eyes, sighing.

A lot of days pass like this.

There’s not much the hospice nurse can do for Techno, except give him painkillers and medication to help control the irregularities in his heart rate. He seems to sink willingly into the morphine-induced haze, and Tommy can’t blame him- Tommy has no idea how much pain Techno’s endured all these years, but he suspects it’s been a lot.

“I know… know it’s not gonna be so easy,” Techno says one day, turning the pendant in his hand, light glinting on the gold surface. “Dyin’, I mean. But at least… it doesn’t have to hurt.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says softly. He’s been keeping up with his classes online, from his laptop in Techno’s room. His brother hasn’t protested, and Tommy doesn’t want to leave him alone.

“It’s… I know my mind’s not so clear. With the morphine.” Techno exhales heavily. “But ‘s better than the pain.”

“If it’s what you need, then it’s okay, Tech.” Tommy couldn’t blame him for it. He moves to sit against Techno’s bed, reaching up to hold his brother’s hand. “I don’t want you to suffer.”

“I just… keep thinkin’ about Wil.” Techno squeezes his hand briefly, weakly. “He didn’t… he didn’t. Take the strong stuff, I mean. And…”

“He wouldn’t want you in pain.” Tommy brushes Techno’s knuckles against his cheek. “I know- I know I was just a kid when he died, but I remember him well enough, he wouldn’t want you suffering either.”

A weak hum. “I’m gettin’ my G-tube tomorrow,” he says.

“Yeah?” Tommy heard his parents talking about that, a few days ago. “That’s good, right?”

“Yeah.” Techno sighs. “’s gonna be easier t’ get my meds in. No more… piles of pills.”

Tommy grimaces sympathetically. “Good.”

Silence reigns for a long few minutes, before Techno sighs again. “I miss him. Y’know?”

“Wil?” Tommy asks, even though he knows who Techno means.

“Mm.” He pauses. “He… he was… he was so sick, y’know? But he, we always did everything together. Like, everything.”

“I know,” Tommy says softly. He doesn’t remember Wilbur well, but he remembers a smile- even in the midst of what he now knows must have been agonizing pain- and warmth, and so, so much love. “You must miss him so much.”

“It hurts.”

Tommy shifts to look at Techno. He’s staring at the wall blankly.

“Missing Wil,” he adds, nearly inaudible. “It hurts. So bad.”

Tommy leans the side of his head on the mattress. “You’ll be with him soon,” he says softly.

Truthfully, Tommy’s not sure he believes in any kind of afterlife. But he’d like to hope that if there is one, Wilbur’s out there somewhere, watching over Techno.

Techno closes his eyes. “’s waiting for me,” he whispers. “I c’n… feel him.”

Tommy doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything. Just squeezes Techno’s hand.

“Will you be okay?” Techno whispers.

He’s not strong enough to move much by himself, so everything they do together, they do in Techno’s room. Tommy wonders if, after he dies, they’ll turn Techno’s room into a cold empty shrine, like they did with Wilbur’s.

Phil puts his fork down, giving Techno his full attention. “What do you mean, mate?” he asks quietly.

Techno gazes at the wall, expression distant. “When I’m gone,” he breathes. “Will… will you be okay?”

Tommy glances at his parents’ anguished faces and wonders why he feels so numb about all of this, today. About the reality that his brother is dying and will be gone soon.

“Of course,” Phil says after a minute, voice choked.

“We- we don’t want you to try to stay just for us, baby,” Kristin adds.

Tommy looks at them and he knows they’re lying. His whole life, his parents’ lives revolved around Wilbur and Techno, and then just Techno. Tommy was never left out, or unloved, but their priority was always his brothers.

He’d resented that, for a while. But then Wilbur died. Then, Tommy truly began to process just how sick his brothers were.

By the time he was fifteen, he knew almost as much about cystic fibrosis- the symptoms, the treatments, the medications and their side effects- as his parents and his brother did. And holy shit, is it more brutal than Tommy had been able to comprehend or imagine when he was younger.

So no, he doesn’t think his parents will be okay without Techno. But he knows they’re telling him what he needs to hear so he can go peacefully.

“Oh.” Techno’s gaze slips away, vacant. “I… I don’t want to. Stay, I mean. I love you but I… I can’t. I just. Can’t.”

Tommy gently squeezes Techno’s hand. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You’re in pain, it’s okay for you to go.”

He will make things okay. He will help his parents be okay after this, even though he knows it’ll be hard.

“I’m tired.” Techno puts his spoon down- not so much that, as his hand seems to be too weak to hold it anymore- and his head drops back against the pillow. “I’m so tired.”

Tommy squeezes his hand again. “It’s okay,” he repeats. “You can go whenever you’re ready, Tech. We’ll be all right without you.”

Techno sighs, weakly squeezing Tommy’s hand.

They finish eating in silence, and when Phil and Kristin leave, Tommy goes to the door with them.

“I’m gonna stay with him,” he says quietly.

His parents look at each other, and back at Tommy. He thinks that they’re all thinking the same thing, but he doesn’t say it out loud.

Maybe Techno will wake up in the morning. Maybe he has a few more days, or a week or two left.

Tommy has this sinking feeling, that it’s tonight, and he doesn’t want Techno to be alone.

He goes back into Techno’s room, closing the door softly. He gets a washcloth to gently wipe Techno’s face and hands clean; his brother is silent during the process, still just looking away at the other wall.

When he’s done, Tommy changes into pajamas and slips into the bed beside his brother. Techno sighs, rolling his head sideways to rest on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy takes his hand, because Techno seems to be too weak to reach for him.

The room is so quiet.

“We really are going to be okay,” Tommy murmurs after a while. “We’ll miss you, but we don’t… I don’t want you to hold on, just for me. If you’re ready, if it’s time, you… you can go.”

Techno hums, feebly squeezing his hand. There’s barely any strength to the grip.

Tommy knows. He just knows.

“Toms.”

“Yeah?” Tommy says softly, heart aching.

Techno sighs, trying to squeeze his hand again. “Wil’s here,” he whispers.

And Tommy knows- the rational part of his brain knows Wilbur isn’t here, but it doesn’t even occur to him to disbelieve his brother. He’s absolutely certain that Techno is seeing his twin.

“He… he says I’m going with him tonight.”

“Good,” Tommy manages, barely able to get the words out. “When it’s time, you go, Tech. Go with Wilbur.”

“Love you.”

“I know.” Tommy doesn’t even try to brush away his tears, just letting them come. His brother is going to die tonight, and Tommy’s going to sit here and hold him while it happens. “I love you too, Techno.”

Techno makes a faint sound. “I’m s… so tired,” he breathes.

“I know you are.” Tommy gently tips Techno’s head to rest on his shoulder, smoothing his brother’s hair, leaning his own head on his brother’s. “Go to sleep,” he whispers. “You can rest now, Tech. Just rest.”

When Techno’s breathing starts to sound labored, Tommy reaches for the oxygen kit set up beside his bed, easily fitting the mask onto his brother’s face and turning it on. Techno’s eyes flicker open briefly, and close again.

The room is dark. Tommy guides Techno’s other hand to wrap around his pendant, holding it there with his own hand.

When Tommy wakes up in the morning, Techno’s utterly still beside him, and he is gut-wrenchingly relieved.

It’s horrible, isn’t it? That Tommy’s glad his brother is dead.

But Techno’s been suffering so much, for his whole life, and he is finally at peace. That’s all Tommy can see, looking at Techno’s still face as he helps the hospice nurse take care of his brother’s body- the peace.

Techno is somewhere else now, free of sickness and pain, and that tortured body is only the shell of what used to be his brother. Grief will come, Tommy’s sure, but right now all he feels is his own peace.