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Techno was never a morning person. Especially on weekends, where he could pretend his semester-long eight-in-the-morning physics class didn't exist, and he could sleep in his apartment until noon, and only get up when Steve got too restless and drowned him with dog slobber, a wake up to go on their morning walk. But today was a bit too special for him to excuse sleeping in.
"Why are you crawling through my window." He should probably check to make sure that Phil hadn't broken something when he'd rolled off the windowsill and onto the floor. He would, maybe, if he'd finished his coffee. But seeing it was still in his hand, still half-full, it looked like Phil was on his own for this one. On his own with a dog nosing at his side. Despite the groaning and muttering, Techno was fairly confident that his friend was alive. However— "I gave you keys."
And just like that, the elytrian was back on his feet, like nothing had happened. Techno had believed in him the entire time.
"And I prefer windows." He said, opening Techno's mug cabinet to search for his single mug in Techno's sea of them, despite having a perfectly working coffeemaker in his own apartment, because he liked to steal Techno's coffee pods.
Enough mornings have went by like this to fall into a routine. Phil's ceramic green mug was always half-drank by the time that they leave for the library, miraculously forgotten despite Techno being plenty vocal about it. Somehow catching a bus on time, and somehow finding seats together, and Phil somehow managing to pull Techno from his book just in time for their stop. Techno complaining about how the old town center had been redone, just to fill air. Needing to fill air, with Phil busy trying to spot the lady who fed birds some mornings, just to chicken out right before going up and talking to her. One of these days, Techno would push him into just doing it.
Not today, though, "Earlier than usual." Techno commented, rising sun not yet streaking through the looming windows as they settled in their spot. Phil already had a book picked out. Techno needed to do a scroll through his TBR list.
"Well, yeah," Feathers slid on the wooden bench as Phil sat, loud, "Tickets go online at nine."
"The Games." Techno set his phone down, before picking it back up quick to check the time, "What're we doin'?? Phil, Phil. Computers, Phil."
His friend kept up with him, snickering, as he made his march to the old library computers that still ran better than either of their poor, overworked laptops. The site wasn't open yet, countdown ticking slowly on screen.
"Y'know, I've actually never gone to like— the 'official' Games," Techno said, paging through the lackluster UI. "Always too busy, or got somethin' else goin' on."
Phil hummed, hand leaned on the desk as he looked over Techno's shoulder, "I've gone… twice? I think, I was too young to remember."
"Really?"
"Yep! It was easier to be in the area before the parades than drive in as they're starting."
"Makes sense." The clock ticked down slowly. Normally, Techno wouldn't mind these types of silences. And he didn't! What he minded was the waiting, "We actually gonna get anything done here today, or just plan for seatin' an' all?"
"What do you think."
"Well, everyone knows we gotta avoid the front row…"
"Obviously," Phil nodded along, "You wanna look up what the stadium looks like?"
Techno opened a new tab, "Obviously."
They actually had it narrowed down pretty nice before the alarm on Phil's phone went off, Techno switching tabs back quick to take the seats that were probably close to the ones they were looking at.
"There." Techno deflated into the office chair, tickets bought, the buzz of an email from the phone in his pocket confirming that.
"Woo!" Phil cheered, warranting a side-eye from the lady walking past. Not like he noticed, "Okay, okay." Placing a hand on Techno's shoulder, "Now, you're gonna have to tell me what the hell the Games actually are, 'cause it's been explained to me too many times for me to not get it and I'm still fucking confused."
Phil didn't have the time to address the growing worries that ran amok in his mind, nor how one in particular was strained through his rational thoughts and snaked around near his heart like a noose.
He's been looking at inspiration pictures for his henna tattoo for the past week. He hadn't stuck to the celebration as well as he had wanted to, in the past. When he was younger, henna was the one thing he really looked forward to during Life's Return, a highlight among crowded houses of visiting family and prep for the parade. But it was a part of his practice that had been put on the back burner within the past few years, just from the sheer busyness of his life.
Back then, he'd just ask for whatever interested him at the time. Maybe he'd flip through a page or two in some catalogs, pick out a few things that he liked, and then he'd let the artist do the rest. But since this was more of a 'fuck it, let's wing it', he needed to be the one thinking out his design. Which was fine. His mind needed occupying, and scrolling mindlessly did just that— occupy.
He'd settled on something intricate, with careful lines that stuck to more thin and round, sketched shittily on his phone and shown to Techno with only a little tentativeness.
"Some runes in piglin," Techno showed him in return, sliding his phone across the bathroom counter. He looked over his freshly-shaven arm before pointing out spots, "Safety, protection, victory."
"Victory?"
A small shrug, "Game's a few days away."
Phil chuckled, putting a hand to his mouth in some attempt to hide it. Techno raised an eyebrow, sitting up in his chair, "What?"
"Nothing." Phil shook his head slowly, "Just— I mean, I know it's important, just didn't know you were rooting for anyone."
"Oh. I'm not."
Phil bit the inside of his cheek, quite honestly just— not sure where to go from there, "Wish I could fully learn piglin sometimes, if not just for the writing."
Techno hummed, "'S a vocal thing, lotta the sounds aren't easiest to do— an' I can't imagine it's easy to just pretend."
"I know— trust me, I've tried." Phil could distinctly remember the one and only time he'd attempted to learn some phrases for his friend. He could understand the language, sure, but his pronunciations were pathetically butchered. Techno, after having a fucking fit of laughter, consoled him in the fact that a lot of the sounds needed just weren't made for overworld's tongues. Which was fine, because Phil was able to say something similar when Techno had tried his hand at elytrian.
He leaned back on the dining room chair that he'd unceremoniously dragged into Techno's too-small bathroom, letting his wings splay as wide as he could manage, just to stretch. Normally, Techno would be complaining at this point, about fallen feathers from his molting that were going to be everywhere, Phil, he wouldn't be able to find them all for the next month—
Yeah, no, something was wrong.
In attempt to be somewhat casual, Phil took one of the henna cones, prying out the little stop as he spoke, "You alright?"
Eyes darted up to Phil too quick, "Uh, yeah."
"Mhm." He squinted, setting the stop to the side, "You're doing that thing."
"Nope." Techno looked away, except he didn't have any good excuse for it because there was just a wall.
Sitting up quick, "You are." He said, not quite argumentative, but definitely getting there. He was sure as hell willing to.
Vigor unnecessary, as Techno gave in with a small sigh, "It's really nothin'."
"Yeah, but it's something."
Techno let it go silent for just a second, a sure sign Phil won this.
The mirror stared back at Techno. Phil nearly felt out of place, like he was interrupting a conversation between Techno and the mirror-Techno that he told his deepest darkest secrets to. Or something.
"I used to fight." Techno said suddenly, shattering the silence like it was glass, "Not in rings as big as this one, but uh— got hurt. A lot." He let out a sigh, one far too tired for someone who was already finished with finals, "Mostly 'cause I was dumb."
Techno was avoiding fully looking at him, eyes trained on his clenched hands. Nervously, tracing each knuckle with his thumb before switching to the other. "…Okay," Phil said. He wanted to choose his words well, he really did, but there was a point where he just had to be blunt, "Do you still want to go?"
"'Course." Techno gave a little laugh, "I mean, I know it's not gonna be as bad, stuff's crazy regulated here."
"Assumed it'll be," His open phone screen showed the pattern he was maybe-attempting, and he took the time to study it for a few moments before starting, "But, I mean, some intention never hurts."
Techno nodded, tracing the plastic tube with his finger as he held it, "I should head back home after the Parade."
Phil snuck a glance at Techno for just a moment, before honing in back on his arm. Tried his best to keep his line smooth as his hand shook. "Hm?"
"Just for visitin'," Ah. Phil didn't let the breath he let go of to be loud, "Help out a bit, see some family." He gave a small glare at the clot that had formed on the cone, wiping it into a paper towel. A small smile slipped onto his face, "See who won back there."
"Oh my gods."
"What?" Techno was smiling too, "'S important, Phil. Gotta know who's comin' for my spot."
"Ridiculous."
"Important."
In an equally exaggerated head-shake-of-defeat, Phil went back to drawing on his own design. It took a minute of trying to get back into the flow of things, but he could remember the basics of this skill before remembering half of his family's birthdays. Techno, on the other hand…
"Okay, let me do it." Phil got up after Techno's third attempt at this circle, each more frustrated than the last. His friend yanked the cone away before Phil could even grab for it, Techno looking next to outright betrayed at Phil's audacity.
"I got it." As if he wasn't slowly staining his arm before even getting a base for the design. If Phil was less worried about the nice line he'd just made, he might've risked smudging it to lunge for the cone. Ignoring the fact his own cone was still right on the counter. It was the principle of the matter.
But he rolled his eyes, "Let me help, at least." This earned a side-eye, but that was enough that Phil managed to coach him on smoother lines, until he managed the circle he was trying to start off. "There, see?"
Techno paused for a moment, just… looking, at him. Before Phil could consider pointing it out, he nodded, "Thanks, Phil."
"Anytime."
"Don't— Techno, Techno, don't pick at it." He managed to swat away the piglin's hand before it peeled away any more of his still-drying design. Because obviously it was still drying, with how thick he'd laid it on. In solidarity, Phil was keeping his own, already mostly-to-completely dried, on as well.
"It's flaking." Techno complained, quietly going back to stirring the box mac-and-cheese they'd compromised on for dinner.
Phil went back to his essay, eyes jumping over every other word like they've done for the past ten minutes. "You won any of those fights?"
For a moment, he was sure that was either the wrong time to ask that question, or the wrong question to ask entirely, with the way that Techno paused. Phil should really just shut up about this— prying wouldn't serve much in his favor.
"Usually did." Techno nodded, "Weren't hard. Not worth it, though."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Techno poked at his henna, "'Specially back when I was that age, nothin' to really keep anyone safe."
Phil clicked his tongue, "Different time."
"Mhm," Techno nodded, "I mean— people told me it's changed, after I moved out, a bunch new rules got set. But, uh." He pulled back his hand before Phil could scold him, "Gotta see for myself."
"Fair," Phil shrugged, flexing his fingers and watching a chip of henna flake off, "Fine, it's dry enough."
Techno couldn't stop looking at it, darkened overnight and intricate and sat right on his arm, where he could see it, where he could see each careful line, (and where Phil helped), each hatch of shading, how the pigment still managed to set itself on some of the places Techno had rubbed off. He could see why his friend liked this as much as he did. It was, put more simply than it deserved, pretty.
He looked at it getting up, finding each detail just as striking as it was originally after putting on his glasses. Brushing teeth, hair, bringing Steve over to the neighbor's for the day, checking the time before deciding on picking something up on the way, and quickly realizing that there should be an elytrian pounding on either his door or his window.
It wasn't out of character for Phil to sleep in. In fact, Techno came to expect it most of the time, resolving that if the matter that he needed him for ever was that time sensitive, he'd resort to going over to his apartment, and break in. Somehow.
But especially on a day like today, this was out of character.
Techno hated taking public commute in the morning. Busy, loud, there was a baby crying a few seats down from him that his near-death earbuds couldn't quite drown out. And he was alone, so there was no one to blame if he missed his stop. The things he'd do for Phil.
"Can I sit here?" Techno recognized her from somewhere. He hadn't realized he'd nodded— politeness and all— until she sat. Still, she had a face that he knew he'd seen before— he was sure of it.
She raised an eyebrow, a coy smile that would finally cue into Techno that he'd been staring, "Sorry." He should look away, now, pretend this didn't happen and get off this bus as fast as he possibly could. But that had to be at least as equally awkward— what would-?
Oh. Oh, Techno knew where he recognized her from.
Phil couldn't believe he fucking slept in.
The melting winter snow was still enough to stall his car, the old thing it was. A million apologies were strung at his friend from him, met with forgiveness that he did not deserve. Though he managed to make breakfast on him, he still felt like shit with how high the sun was in the sky, glaring down at the windshield and half-blinding him.
Techno had told him not to worry about it, for the fifth time, otherwise matching Phil's own silence in the passenger seat. It did nothing to his guilt. This was Techno's thing, right, some kind of reflection to the part of his life that he had before he moved. Or— something, Phil really hadn't taken the time to speculate on what exactly their little conversations had meant when it came to a whole picture.
Either way, Phil felt like a piece of shit, he had the impeding feeling that he was going to get a headache some point soon, and they hadn't even gotten to parking yet. Fun start, couldn't mean anything.
"We'll be fine." Techno was calm. Carefully, terribly calm, "If anythin', we'll just have'ta get some overpriced parkin' and come in late."
"That's still not good."
"'S fine." Techno laughed at the look Phil gave him, "Seriously, it's fine."
Phil hated driving in this city. Not thanks to the roads or infrastructure— though both were equally hostile to anyone who didn't deal with them daily— but everyone on the road was so stupid, and that definitely didn't help this already-bad morning.
But— they made it, somehow, into a parking lot that cost too much for what it was and to the game mostly on-time. They shuffled to their seats through the rows of people. Sat, in the plastic stadium chairs, close enough that Phil could finally look over the field, when—
"You want anything?" Techno hadn't sat yet, fishing his wallet from his pants pocket, "I'm gettin' food."
"Nah," Breakfast was enough for now. Also, "I'll eat at the parade."
Now that, Phil couldn't wait for. Parade food was the highlight of the holiday, if he was being honest with himself. Only contested with henna.
Speaking of. With Techno gone, he rolled up his sleeve, looking over the darkened stain for what had to be the fiftieth time, tracing the uneven lines that came with years on pause, pushed to the side with concerns about a billion other issues circling his head. Techno had liked his, Phil could tell that clearly without him mentioning it twice on the ride over. And Phil… it was good. This was good.
He could've added to it. Could've done more, put in more detail, more visual interest that he hadn't considered beforehand. But he hadn't, and he didn't, and it'd fade in, what, a month, at most? And he'd forget it wasn't perfect, and move on.
Crowds were always a weird sort of jumble in Phil's head. This one was no less so. Hundreds, if not thousands of voices, all tangled together in this loud, ambiguous buzz that he couldn't quite manage with. But he found a way. And what he did manage to do was pick out a conversation in the row in front of him.
"And— and then the other one goes in like wham!" The kid acted out something that Phil was mostly sure was an elbow drop? Which was something not described to him during his friend's recountings of the Games, "And it'll be really cool. I'm gonna scream super loud." Phil almost chuckled.
His phone buzzed. Techno sent him a picture of ice cream flavors, followed by 'which one?'. Phil was about to say he really didn't want anything. What quickly changed his mind was the cookie dough ice cream.
The kid had a jersey on, for some athlete that he was pretty sure Techno liked? Yeah, that was the one. She was smiling wide, beaming as she explained to her adult how each round would go.
Had Techno ever been this excited about the Games? He had to of, to like them so much he'd participate. Knowing his friend, it wasn't unlikely that he'd have similar conversations to this one with himself, about each player's stats and his thoughts on them, how challenging they'd be, their chances of winning.
Techno came back soon enough, but by that point, Phil had had too much time to think on this by himself. "Okay, so— who were your favorites, again?"
Raised eyebrow, "I don't got favorites."
"Okay. Who do you want to win?"
"That— that's the same question." Techno covered his mouth to laugh, handing Phil his ice cream.
"Excuse me if I want to know my friend's interests."
Techno shook his head. Phil assumed it'd be the end of it, but then, "Uhhh— hang on, can't see his number. Four-oh-one. Good sportsmanship." Knew it. The smile on his face went unnoticed by Phil himself, "What?"
"Nothing."
It was about five minutes before the players entered the field, one-by-one, each getting a cheer from the crowd. And while the rest of the game flashed by in Phil's head from the fact that half the game was commentated in Piglin, he hadn't watched a Game before, and he doubted he would again, he did remember to keep an eye on that player. And cheered, and cheered loud, any time he'd win.
They were walking the block to the parade, after the game, marching along with about a dozen other people and assuming they were all going to the same second event that they were, because where else do you go in this city? And that was fine with Techno— made their plan easier.
"You didn't have'ta do that, y'know." Closest he'd get to telling Phil he appreciated what he did, the unspoken care poured into each cheer that Techno didn't have the heart to do himself— not this time. Wasn't gonna happen.
"What?" The cheeky smile on his face did nothing to help this plea of innocence. "I just liked the game, that's all."
Techno gave a quick eye roll, making sure that Phil saw it before looking up at the parade in the distance. If elytrians knew one thing, it was celebration. Even from here, he could see the colorful floats, the vibrant colors, carefully constructed in what must have taken months. Their plan only took the twenty-minute bus ride to come up with, but he had to hope it'd be at least close in impact. He could, at the very least, hope.
Phil was soon distracted from their bickering by the floats, so Techno felt a little cruel about pulling him off to the side as he spotted the booth, doing a quick check of his phone, just to be sure that this was the place she'd said.
"We just ate." Phil raised an eyebrow, as he veered off towards the vendors. Techno shrugged, very inconspicuous and not suspicious at all. Lucky for him, Phil didn't protest more than that.
Bright purples flew from her booth, advertising the shop she owned a few streets down. She was selling staples from her menu, elytrian dishes that Techno was sure Phil could name, if asked.
"Go talk to her."
Despite the little shove he gave, Phil stayed planted where he was. "What?"
Face red, it almost made Techno laugh. He might've, if he was a little meaner, "I told her I got a friend who thinks she's pretty, said I'd get you two to meet." The glare he received was panicked, embarrassed. Maybe he should've warned Phil beforehand. But no, his friend would've gotten in his head, like always. "You'll be fine, go talk to her."
"Techno—"
Now, him? He wasn't getting roped into any of this, no thank you.
And Phil seemed to get that, eventually, and after maybe too long, went up to the booth. Techno tried not to watch, but they talked for long enough that he had to assume it went well. Confirming this was the grin on Phil's face as came over to the curb with an open styrofoam takeout container, "Fuck you." He said, handing Techno a fork. The food looked delicious, smelled it, too, and Techno managed to steal a bite before Phil, "We're going out on Friday."
"You're welcome." There was no doubt in his mind that Kristin and Phil would get along well.
"Good Games, Tech."
"Uhh… happy Parade? I dunno what y'all say."
Phil snorted, "Something like that."
Phil was looking up, watching each float go by slowly. People walked around them, ignored them. Like they were in their own little world, full of banners and streamers and people screaming cheers for their favorite players. For just a minute, or maybe a bit more, they could get swept up into the celebration of all of this.