Chapter Text
Techno sits staring longingly through the window at the blue sky, the little white cloud puffs drifting by.
What he wouldn’t give to go out there…
His IV gets jostled, and he glances up at his dad. “That hurts,” he whines.
Techno’s dad ignores him. He’s putting a syringe into the port, and Techno watches him push down the plunger, watches the medication move through the clear tube into his veins.
“Why do I need more medicine?” he asks, voice small.
“You’re sick,” his dad says. “Did you forget?”
But… “I don’t feel bad…” Techno actually feels a lot better today. He’s been able to sit up for a whole hour.
Just as he says it, he feels his stomach start to churn. His head is spinning, too- ugh, he thinks he’s going to puke or pass out or- or- probably both, really-
He slumps, unable to hold himself up anymore, and his dad sighs. “See?” he says, voice distant and muffled. “What did I tell you?”
Techno whimpers out a complaint as his dad pushes his chair back across the room… away from the window… he wanted to stay, and keep looking at the sky…
He doesn’t pass out, but he’s dazed, trapped deep underwater. Everything is swimmy and muted and confusing. He just lays there, wretchedly sick, for a long, long, long time.
Techno is cold.
He’s always cold… but it seems colder today.
He tries to open his eyes, but he can’t. He can’t even breathe. He… he feels really bad this time… his arm aches. He can’t move, even a little bit.
A thumb pulls his eyelids open, a light shines in his eyes. Techno can’t even flinch.
“Pupils reacting normally,” his dad says. “He’s ready for the incision.”
The… what? He’s… he’s not supposed to have another surgery… for a while yet.
There’s a… a kind of pressure, in his back. He whines softly, he… he doesn’t like that… he wants to squirm away but he can’t move at all.
“How does it look?” his dad asks after a couple minutes.
A scraping sound. “The spinal cord seems unchanged.” A pause. “No bone degeneration. We’ll proceed as planned.”
He whimpers when the pressure goes deeper, he… it almost hurts, he doesn’t like it-
“Is he still conscious?” his mom asks sharply.
“Yes. Do you want me to put him back under?”
His mom hums. After a minute she says, “No, he’s paralyzed for the procedure, there’s no need to waste anesthetics. Just keep his morphine up, won’t you?”
“Yeah.”
The horrible pressure and the weird scraping sounds keep happening. Techno can’t see, and he can’t move, and he feels sick and he hurts and he just wants it all to stop.
After a long, long time, he finally just goes unconscious again.
The light shining in his eyes again is what wakes him.
Techno winces, trying to turn away. The hand grips his chin tighter, forcing him to stay still.
“Do you know where you are?” his dad asks.
Techno looks around blurrily, recognizing the sterile white walls. “M’room,” he slurs.
“What day is it?”
“F… Friday,” he mumbles. He thinks so, anyway… he always gets an injection in his back on Friday mornings, and he remembers his mom giving it to him this morning, but he doesn’t know how long he’s been sleeping…
“Hm, close enough.” His dad turns his head from side to side, then lets go. He flicks back a corner of the sheet over Techno’s legs, running something along the bottoms of both his feet. “Can you feel that?”
Barely. “Yes.” Techno blinks at his legs. He doesn’t like looking at them, though. They’re too thin, too weak. That’s what his parents say, anyway.
“Hm.” His dad replaces the sheet.
Techno flinches when his dad grabs his shoulder, rolling him sideways with one hand and pulling up his loose hospital gown with the other. His dad is messing with that same spot on his back, and it hurts, but he stares at the wall and doesn’t complain.
He never complains about the pain after surgeries. They’re just trying to fix him. So he can walk, someday.
His dad doesn’t say anything to him while he messes with the surgical site, finally laying Techno back down. He turns away, making notes on his tablet.
Techno blinks at the ceiling, wanting to cry. He hurts, he’s hungry and sick at the same time, and he just- he just wants to look at the sky.
Finally, his dad goes to the door. “Get some rest,” he says shortly, and goes out.
He turns out the light when he goes. The lock on the door clicks- not that it matters, because Techno couldn’t get up even if he wanted to.
Alone, in the dark, Techno covers his face with his hands and cries.
The next time he wakes up, he’s in the operating room again.
Techno stares at the ceiling. He feels… slow. Tired.
“How’s his sedation?” his mom asks.
Techno frowns. Sedation… that, that makes sense. He doesn’t like being sedated…
His dad flashes the light in his eyes. Techno tries to track it, but it’s… hard to move even his eyes. “Looks good. He’s ready for the anesthetic.”
A needle pinches just below his collarbone, and he whines. It pinches again, and again, and he lays there, tears running down his face and into his ears. He can’t stop crying, he knows his parents don’t like that but he can’t stop.
After a minute, there’s pressure on that spot, but he can’t feel anything else. Techno doesn’t react, too dazed to even flinch.
“Okay, he’s ready. Keep an eye on his vitals, I don’t want his heart rate fluctuating too much during the procedure.”
“Just get it done quickly.”
“Yes, because I’m always so slow,” his mom snaps.
“I don’t want to be late.”
“And I don’t want to be stuck here babysitting him for the rest of the week, but neither of us has a fucking choice, do we?”
Techno doesn’t like when his parents fight…
“Just- place the damn catheter.”
Techno’s still crying.
He can’t stop, especially when the pressure gets worse and when little jolts of pain go through his chest. Finally, warmth washes through him, and he slips back down into the darkness.
The next time Techno wakes up, he’s sitting up in bed, and there’s something taped over a spot under his shoulder, a thin tube hanging down the outside of his gown.
He frowns at it, confused. It… it looks like his IV, but it’s not… in his arm?
His mom comes in. Techno looks up at her, still confused.
“What-”
“It’s a central line. Don’t play with it.” His mom hangs a medication bag on the stand beside him, attaching the end of the tube to the new tubing hanging from his chest.
Techno swallows back a wave of nausea, watching her start it, watching the liquid flow towards him. “What is it for?” he whispers.
An annoyed sigh. “It’s for your medications,” his mom snaps. “And fluids.”
Techno swallows harshly again. “Like the IV?”
“Yes, but we don’t have to replace it every week.”
The fluid starts to go into him- he hates this, he hates getting things through his IVs so much. Techno tears his gaze away. “Why is it in my chest and not my arm?” he whispers.
His mom sighs again. “The end of it is in your heart. Now stop asking questions, I have a lot of work to do.”
It’s in his heart? Techno’s breath catches, and he stares down at his chest, breath hitching. He- he doesn’t want that-
His mom doesn’t seem to care. She rolls him onto his side, checking the surgical site in his back again. Techno stares at the wall and tries not to burst into tears.
He- he just wants all of this to stop. He doesn’t want to be here anymore.
And- and he knows he’s sick, he knows his parents are just trying to take care of him, they’re trying to fix him, but- but-
Techno shakes and tries not to whimper as his mom checks the most recent surgical site, as she pulls up his gown and flushes his feeding tube with too-cold water. He stares at the wall, sniffling, hoping she’s not going to connect it to the pump-
She doesn’t. Instead, she puts a tray over his lap and gives him a bowl of oatmeal. After that, she leaves.
Techno stares at the bowl, stirring it idly with his spoon. It’s lumpy. He knows from experience that it’s going to be bland and gross.
He chokes it down anyway, because he isn’t going to get anything else.
Techno scrapes the bowl clean and then he just sits there, staring at the wall. He has to just stare at the wall a lot- he’s not allowed out of his room except for surgeries. And after them, he has to stay in bed for a few days, or a week or two, before his parents will let him sit in his wheelchair. And even then, there isn’t much to look at except the sky outside his narrow little window, or his books.
“Can I have one of my books?” Techno whispers when his mom comes back to take away the empty dish and the tray.
His mom sighs loudly, sounding annoyed and upset. She goes out of the room, and for a minute he thinks she’s not coming back, but then she comes back in and practically throws his tablet into his lap.
“Do your school,” she snaps, and goes out, slamming the door.
Techno stares at the tablet, finally picking it up. He- he doesn’t dislike doing school work, but he doesn’t really enjoy it either. He doesn’t think he enjoys anything. Except looking through the window.
He wonders, sometimes, what it looks like outside. His books say there are trees, and that they’re green, but Techno’s never seen even a picture of a tree, so he doesn’t have any idea what they look like. He’s read about rivers, and the ocean, and mountains, and snow and flowers and a million other things that he doesn’t know how to imagine.
He wonders if he’ll ever get a chance to see any of them. To see anything except the white walls and tiled ceilings and medical equipment he’s grown up surrounded by.
He sighs, and starts his math lesson.
Techno is supposed to be asleep right now.
He blinks at the dark ceiling, frowning. It’s only been a few days since his last surgery. They usually give him sedatives so he sleeps all night after surgery. Maybe his mom forgot…?
The door opens slightly. Techno lifts his head, blinking.
That doesn’t look like either of his parents, though Techno can’t see the person very well. Just their silhouette.
“Oh.” It’s a very soft whisper. “Sorry. I didn’t know there was anyone here.”
Techno pushes himself up on his elbows. Very carefully, because it kind of hurts his back when he does. And makes the insertion site from his new IV line pinch. “S’okay,” he breathes. “Who… who are you?”
The person leans away, glancing up and down the hall. Then they come in, closing the door softly behind them.
“My name’s Phil,” he says, very quietly. In the faint moonlight, Techno can see him looking around the room. “Your mom or dad not around?”
“They’re sleeping,” Techno whispers. He lays back down, feeling too weak and shaky to hold himself up anymore. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“Yeah, it is.” Phil laughs a little, very softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. I got a little bit lost.”
“Why are you here?” he asks. He knows he shouldn’t ask a lot of questions- he needs to sleep- but he’s curious. Techno’s never met anyone except his parents and one other doctor, one time.
“Ah, just doin’ some work,” Phil says. “Why are you here, mate?”
“I live here.” Techno picks at the sheet. “I have to have a lot of operations to fix my back.”
“Aw, I’m sorry. That’s no fun.”
Techno shrugs a little bit. Phil looks around again.
“So, you live here? How long has that been?” he murmurs.
Techno shrugs again. “As long as I can remember. I’m really sick.”
“Really?” Phil’s voice sounds a little strange. “Your parents aren’t able to take you home at all?”
He’s… confused. “This is home,” Techno whispers.
Phil hums quietly. “I’m sorry. That’s not a lot of fun, is it, mate?”
Techno shifts uncomfortably, not whining even when the new IV pinches again. “My parents are trying to fix me,” he whispers. “They just want to make me better.”
Phil’s quiet for a few minutes. Finally he sighs, moving a little closer. “What’s your name?” he asks.
Well… Techno’s parents never said he couldn’t talk to people… or tell them his name. “Techno,” he whispers.
“It’s nice to meet you, Techno,” Phil says quietly. “What’s your mum or dad’s name?”
He shifts again. They never said he couldn’t tell.
“Another doctor, he called my dad Doctor Blade,” Techno whispers. He only saw that other doctor one time, and he doesn’t really remember what for, but he remembers. The other doctor was the only person besides his parents Techno ever met.
“I see. Thank you for telling me, mate.” Phil’s voice is so nice and soft. “I should probably let you get back to sleep, huh?”
Techno frowns a little- he doesn’t really want this to be over- but he is supposed to be sleeping. “I guess.”
“I’ll try to come back and see you again sometime, would you like that?”
“I could ask my mom-”
“Oh, there’s no need for that.” Phil pauses beside Techno’s bed, finding his hand and squeezing gently. His hand is warm. Rougher than Techno’s parents’ hands. It’s kind of nice. “I’m a friend. So it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“…okay.”
Phil goes to the door and stops with it a little bit open. “Well,” he says, “goodnight.”
“Good night,” Techno whispers back, though he doesn’t really know what that means.