Chapter Text
Wilbur wakes up to the sound of gunshots.
He opens his eyes with a gasp and rushes to get up before he even realizes that it's what he’s hearing, his body automatically kicking into fight or flight mode, choosing the flight with a buzzing, prickly sort of panic.
He stumbles on his feet in the dark, hitting the ground on his knees, his hands to the floor. Part of him is still a little too drowsy, brought out of sleep too quickly, and he takes a breath to try and process what he’s hearing, lifts his head up to look towards his window. Most of it is boarded up with stray pieces of scrap, with only the very top of it left unblocked, but from there, he sees the flash of fire, sees flickering light that’s too strong for a single campfire in the middle of the night.
There’s the sound of gunshots again, someone screaming out in a shrieking cry, before going unnervingly silent, cut off mid-way through. Wilbur moves back onto his feet, going for the door. He needs to go. He needs to be anywhere other than here, away from the noise and the light and a closed room where he can be so easily cornered. He needs out.
He pulls on his boots and yanks on his jacket with a frantic rush, and even though he’s ready to break out into a sprint, he hesitates in reaching for the doorknob, looking back at his bed. Just a jacket and boots is good enough- better than nothing, compared other times he’s had to suddenly run, but the nightstand has a drawer that he usually keeps a pocket knife in. It’s small, a little dull and may be somewhat useless, in the face of someone with an actual gun, but it is something.
He goes back for it. He tucks the knife into the pockets of his jeans, pulls the hoodie of his old, faded green jacket over his head. The gunshots are still ringing out, but the screaming is a bit more faint. The fire hasn’t died down.
Wil opens his door with an uneasy wariness, looking out into the hallway and seeing the faint light of flames outside, glowing through the boarded-up windows. He wants to go running, but he still scans down the rest of the hall, waiting for anyone else to come out to the sound of the commotion. Most of the doors are already left open. He knows a few people were on night patrol today- maybe the others all joined them when they heard the first sounds of a fight?
He can’t be sure. He knows he should just go, and maybe meet with the rest once they’re all out and everything has calmed down, but he finds himself going to each door instead, checking inside the rooms to see if anyone’s inside. A smell of smoke starts to gather up as he keeps moving throughout the building, and by the time he realizes it’s truly time to go, the fire is at the windows, and the shouting has circled back towards him.
He tries to move towards the exit, hearing the commotion of fighting right outside, the street alive with noise of struggle. Bullets fly out alongside the shout of cursing words, and Wil throws himself to the floor as one of the windows shatters apart, the fire coming inside. He curses, moving into one of the rooms, hoping to go for the window there.
The smell of smoke grows thicker as he tries to pull on the wood that’s boarded up over the glass. The nails don’t immediately give, but they move, wriggling a bit more with each desperate yank. Wilbur puts his entire all into it, bracing a foot to the bottom of the wall and pulling with all his strength.
It breaks free just as soon as he’s starting to choke, coughing out with a stinging in his throat. He breaks the glass and crawls through, falling out to the other side, rolling out into the alleyway behind the building. The air is fresh as he pushes himself up, and he flinches to the echo of gunshots ringing out again, forcing himself up to run the other way.
He gets out into the open street, and freezes up. There’s bodies strewn over the ground, their blood still fresh, debris scattered around. Fire is catching onto multiple buildings, spreading out down the road. Faintly, he sees a group of unfamiliar people surrounding someone he might know, and truly, he knows there’s nothing that can be done.
“Wil!” Someone calls. He turns his head to the other direction, and sees Niki waving her arm out, insisting for him to run. He goes, following on her heels to head around the corner, and he finds both Eret and Fundy waiting for them there, Fundy half-leaning into Eret’s side, his eyes wide and full of shock.
They have little time to exchange concerns. Niki insists upon all of them getting away, and Eret agrees. Wilbur follows with, only giving a single glance back as they go, and in the smoke of the building still burning, a gunshot still ringing out, he wonders how many he’s lost.
---
They keep moving for the majority of the night, until sunrise hits. They take the arrival of the morning as a sign to take a rest, and hide out in the abandoned building of what used to be a clothing shop of some sort. It’s not a perfect safe spot, but it’s out of the way, and the glass of the display windows lets the light inside.
Wilbur sits himself down on the floor and rests against the wall, looking over the faces of who’s managed to get out.
Fundy looks the worst off, out of all of them. He hasn’t said a single word since last night. There’s ash sticking to the edges of his clothes, some splatter of blood over his sleeve. He doesn’t seem outright injured, though. He’s said nothing of the sort, and hasn’t faltered as if in pain, so Wilbur just allows himself to assume that he got out physically fine, if nothing else.
Eret and Niki seem mildly disheveled, but they’re not too affected beyond that. Niki’s still holding onto the bat she managed to bring along, and Eret has a satchel over their shoulder, a few supplies shoved inside. It’s better than what Wilbur managed to take along, which is just the pocket knife and the clothes on his back.
“What happened?” Wil eventually asks, quiet so as to let Fundy continue sleeping in where he’s curled up into the corner, Eret letting him use their leg as a makeshift pillow. “Did you see?”
“Raiders.” Niki mutters grimly, her thumb scratching lightly at the edge of her bat, a nervous tic. “Fundy was the only one who really got close to them. I just- ran.”
Wilbur grimaces quietly, turning his head away. Some part of him can't be too surprised, really. They've been hearing rumors of bandits and raiders attacking other groups in the area for a while now, with even a few of their newcomers being the survivors of those same attackers.
Some naive hope of his was that those sorts of people would never make their way towards them. That maybe his town would stay hidden away on their little sliver of the city, the people keeping quiet and staying safe- but it was a doomed hope. Even with all the wishes of raiders not considering his home to be worth the effort, it does little against the final decision of someone deciding to set fire to something they see as a decent target.
Wilbur looks over the rest of them again, taking in their faces.
Is this all that’s left? It hasn’t quite completely set in, the realization of what he’s lost. Something in him is naturally assuming he’ll get to step outside and see everyone else within the next hour, be able to comfort and worry over them as they fret and worry in return, but he knows, realistically, the people he’s thinking of are very likely dead. He’s not going to see them again, and he’s not going to be able to return back to that street, to their little community built up in the space of old echoes of the world before.
He can’t seem to realize it. It seemed too quick, and too cruel. He wonders if he should be used to this, by now, to losing things so quickly and so easily. It’s happened so many times before. This isn’t the first time he’s had to run. At least he’s not alone, this time around.
Niki reaches a hand out as Wilbur stays staring off in his thoughts, her palm raised right side up as if waiting for him to give over something. Wilbur blinks down at the gesture, and gives a confused look. She makes a minute nod of her head, and with no other idea of what he’s meant to do- he just puts his hand in hers.
She closes her fingers around his, and squeezes tight. Her focus goes back to watching the door, wary of any zombies or people that might wander by, her other hand staying held around the handle of her bat. Wilbur stares at the sight of their joined hands, and he looks over to where Fundy is still trying to sleep, Eret meeting Wil’s eyes, with their hand resting over the top of Fundy’s shoulder.
This is all that’s left, Wilbur thinks. For now, it’s all he has.
He’s glad for it, despite the loss of everything else. He’s glad to not be alone. He wishes that some of the others could’ve joined them as they ran, wishes that they would’ve gotten out, too-
He swallows hard as his vision blurs a bit, and nobody says anything when he scrubs at his face with the edge of his palm, sniffling quietly to the silence of the room.
They have no other choice but to just continue living and to move on.
They move on.
---
They get back on the road a couple hours later. Wilbur’s not really sure what they’re hoping to find. At the moment, he supposes the best thing is just for them to make distance. Better to not come across anything too dangerous, and maybe they’ll find some other town further along that’ll be kind enough to take them in.
They encounter the occasional zombie on the road. Niki cracks most of their skulls with her bat, and Wilbur touches at the knife in his pocket, considering if he should make the risk of trying to help. Knives aren’t the best suited for killing off zombies. Too close range, too dangerous.
Niki seems to have it handled, anyhow. And it’s not as if they’re coming across a horde. The streets are mostly empty wherever they walk, the area long since looted and destroyed and left for the dead. Wil tries to imagine how it must’ve been before everything went so poorly, how lively these roads might’ve been. It’s so quiet now.
…mostly.
Wilbur comes to a slow pause as he hears faint voices from somewhere down the street, and he helps pull along Eret and Fundy to get out of sight, the four of them ducking down behind a car.
Wil pokes his head out a minute later to try and see what company they have ahead. He can kinda see- three people. Someone tall, someone with a facemask, and someone a bit shorter, loudest of the group.
They’re proper survivors. They look decked out in gear, each wearing their own backpack, one of them holding the sort of gun you’d use to mow down a pack of zombies in your way. They look relaxed in just standing out in the open, perfectly unconcerned as to whatever might come across them. Would they be friendly, if approached? Wilbur can’t tell. You can’t ever be sure, with some people.
“Should we go around them?” Niki asks, holding her bat close to her chest. Wil’s sure she sees the gun that guy is holding too. She wouldn’t last a chance against that.
“What if they see us leaving?” Eret asks. “We could try waiting them out.”
“I don’t want to wait here and hide.” Fundy mutters, looking scared.
Maybe it’s because it's the first thing he’s said all morning, maybe it’s because they’d rather not be sitting ducks, but they end up deciding that they won’t just stay here, holding their breath. They’ll move quietly behind the cover of all the abandoned cars, sneak past, and be on their way. It oughta be easy enough, considering the distance.
They move slow. Wilbur bites on the inside of his cheek as they shuffle along, staying crouched low, his leg aching a little in the odd pose and the strain. It’s a little bothersome as he goes, but he refuses to let it make him stop. They can hear the conversation of the strangers as they go on, their voices loud enough to carry across the road. Wilbur can’t focus directly on the words they’re saying, but their tones are so light and casual, an edge of laughter ringing out.
They seem content in each other’s company. Wil’s heart aches beside his leg at thinking of the people he used to enjoy talking with, passing along the time with them.
“Wha- hey, what are you doing? Where are you going?” One of them randomly asks, their laughter dying down into a serious, careful note, and Wilbur freezes up, Fundy whipping his head back with wide eyes. “Skeppy, he said for you stay put, not to wander-”
“What the hell?” There comes as a reply, the voice much closer than it was before, and Wilbur looks up to see a stranger looking over the hood of the car.
Looking right at them.
“Go!” Eret shouts, and Niki jumps up, swinging out her bat, the stranger giving a shrieking scream as he stumbles back.
“What the fuck-!?”
“Hey, hey!” His group rush to come to help him, Wilbur running out after Fundy as Eret stays behind Niki.
“Back up!” Niki shouts.
“Drop it!” One of them answers, and he holds up his gun in a warning call, eyes narrowed over his mask, Niki freezing up. “Drop the bat, or I drop you.”
Both Wilbur and Fundy don’t go far at seeing Niki under threat. They stop, and then they both freeze along with a gun getting aimed their direction too.
Niki throws down the bat, the thing clattering against the road. They get moved out into the middle of the street, their hands up against the weapons in their faces. Fundy’s breathing hard in where he’s trying to stay against Eret’s side, and Niki gives a worried look in Wilbur’s direction.
“This is why we stay with the group, Skeppy.” One of the strangers scold, his arms crossed over his chest. Skeppy sputters a little, throwing out a hand.
“Oh, I’m sorry, would you have rather gotten attacked by surprise?”
“We weren’t trying to attack you.” Eret insists, hands raised out further as they step in front of Fundy. “We’re just trying to get by.”
“You swinging a bat at my face felt like attacking me!”
“Skeppy.”
“Okay, on the ground. C’mon.” The gun is waved down as a little reminding gesture, the one with the mask seeming the most calm out of the three. “Bad, can you go get-”
“Look- We’re not dangerous.” Niki insists, raising her hands up higher with a shake of her head. “I swear- we aren’t.”
“Yeah, the way you’re all sneaking around us is definitely giving off some safe vibes here.”
“Sorry if we don’t want to be seen by the guys with the big fucking guns-” Fundy mutters under his breath, words shaky. Wilbur moves a hand out to rest it over his shoulder so as to calm him down, and he jumps as the gun goes pointed towards him.
“Keep your hands up.” He’s warned, just as Skeppy waves up an arm, calling to someone behind them with a ‘well took you long enough.’ Wilbur keeps his hands raised, averting his eyes to the ground. “And don’t even think about-”
“Stop.”
All the strangers seem to stiffen up at the order, the tone of it cutting stern through their ears, pointed at not just their targets but themselves, too. It’s a new voice. Wilbur turns his head with the others to look at whoever’s joined up with them, and he freezes upon seeing who it is.
It's his own face looking back at him. Or no, not his face, but-
“Oh my god.” Wil breathes out.
“Wilbur?” A near forgotten voice calls, and the way the name is said, with such hope that it’s bleeding through into something near desperate- it leaves Wilbur unable to even say anything in reply. All his words die out.
He watches as hands automatically return a pistol to its hostler, all sense of hostility gone. It’s like watching a stranger morph into something known, something loved. He calls out again, a bit more pleading.
“I- Wilbur? Are you-?”
The rest of their group exchange glances at the unexpected gesture, all previous tense energy now just replaced with a wary confusion. They look to Wilbur for answer, and Wilbur lets out a shaking breath, hands falling away from where he was keeping them raised. He almost tips forward to hit the ground, hands catching him upon the concrete, and he leans hard into his arms, eyes stuck on the sight of his brother.
“Oh my god.” Wilbur croaks out, not sure how to even take it in. “Techno.”
“Wait, you guys know each other?” Fundy murmurs, and he’s entirely ignored, Niki twisting her head around to try and see who Wilbur’s looking at.
She won’t recognize him, even if Wilbur did mention him. Wilbur barely recognizes him. It’s been three years since the apocalypse hit, and by the looks of it, Techno is no different from anyone else in being affected by it.
There’s a certain roughness to him now. A healing scar over the edge of his lip and the top of his brow, a missing finger on his right hand. He’s carrying a pistol at his side, a hatchet beside it, the weight of it carried like it's become second-nature. He’s dressed in the same worn-out gear as the others, parts of it looking more scuffed than the rest.
His pink hair is braided in the same way he used to always wear it. It hangs over his shoulder, a little misshapen, a few hairs out of place, but it’s still so clearly him. Still made in the same way he’s done it for years.
It’s him, even with the way the apocalypse has left its mark. It’s him.
It’s Techno.
“You’re alive?” Technoblade asks, and Wil doesn’t give any other reply except for the hitched start of a sob, his hands pushing himself up to run at his brother. Techno’s arms quickly reach out to meet him in the middle.
They stumble a bit when Wilbur slams against him. His arms grab onto Techno and squeeze him so tightly it nearly looks like he’s trying to strangle him. The only reason it’s apparent he’s not is because Techno is holding him just as tightly in return, leaning forward slightly in some effort to curl around him, his feet shuffling in place as they both try to steady their balance.
Wilbur gives a small wounded noise, something ragged and raw at the relief sinking through him. Techno lets out a breath at hearing it, shifting his head down.
“I thought-” Techno’s voice is muffled into Wil’s shoulder, but the waver across his words is so easy to catch, either way. He digs his hands in harder at where he’s clutching the back of Wilbur’s shirt, as if afraid something is about to come and tear them apart again. “I thought you were-”
Wilbur cuts his words off with a sputtering laughter, just pure honest joy that then eases out into a continuing sob, old grief still sticking to him.
He can’t help but falter to the thought of their shared fear. How many nights had he considered the same? That even with all the effort in the world, he might never get the opportunity to see his family again? The chances of finding Techno’s body rotting in the street or stumbling around in an old abandoned building were far more likely than finding him to be okay. Wil always knew that, in the back of his mind. It was just never something he enjoyed lingering on.
He doesn’t linger on it now. He pushes it away in favor of trying to process this unthinkable luck. Out of all the ways for them to reunite, for Wilbur to find him now, when he knew his chances weren’t looking so well for the rest of the week- god, what luck.
He’s here. He’s alright, he’s breathing, he’s here. Everything is a bit better than it was before, and Wilbur’s chest is a little lighter with an old worry loosened out of place. His brother is okay.
“I thought you were dead.” Wilbur chokes out, finishing Techno’s sentence for him. He readjusts his arms to hold Technoblade a bit more gently, hand cradling to the back of his head. “Oh god, I thought the worst.”
“I tried to find you.” Techno admits. He pulls back to look Wilbur in the eyes, and Wil takes in the sight of his face, old grief still stinging for the way he never thought he’d see that same face again, or hear this same voice. “I really did try, I tried to make my way towards your city, but with all the lockdowns, and the hordes starting to come through, it got impossible to get anywhere-”
“It’s fine.” Wilbur shakes his head, Techno’s hands gripping around his arms, fingers pressed firm just underneath his elbows. How could he blame Techno for getting a bit lost? There was just too much going on, and their own individual survival mattered more in the moment.
Wilbur himself had to consider other priorities, even if Techno's wellbeing did weigh heavy on his mind throughout it. The apocalypse doesn’t care about people trying to find each other. It just goes on, with a mess of destruction and chaos. They have to move on.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, Techno.” He sniffles, giving another slight chuckle. “It’s not your fault. Everything went to shit.”
Techno laughs a little. “Yeah, it kinda did.” He makes a crooked smile, blinking fast to keep the rest of his tears at bay. He’s admirably better at holding it in comparison to Wilbur. “But it’s fine now, because you’re okay. You’re okay.”
Wilbur gives another half laugh, half sob, hands trying to come up to wipe at his face. Techno’s still holding onto him, though, and Wil doesn’t care to really pull out from his grip, so he just puts his face back against Techno’s shoulder, making the active choice to clean off his tears there.
Technoblade doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. He’s just taking the chance to hug Wilbur again, holding him close for a second time.
They take a little over a minute to gather themselves. By the time Wilbur realizes they were in a less-than-ideal situation to begin with, he turns around to find that the danger has more or less resolved itself, the entirety of both their groups now just standing awkwardly beside each other, weapons lowered and varying looks of mild intrigue written across their faces.
Wilbur huffs quietly, a little embarrassed, but more glad than anything. He wipes his hand past his cheek.
“So, uh.” One of Techno’s guys says-- Skeppy, Wilbur thinks his name was-- his hands fidgeting in place around his gun. “You both know each other?”
“We’ve met." Techno says, Wilbur rolling his eyes. “Once or twice.”
“A little more than that?” Wilbur adds on, Technoblade snickering a bit, much to the bewildered reaction of Techno’s group. Wil looks back to them. “What, you don’t see the family resemblance?” He asks wryly, sniffling slightly before then stepping to Techno’s side, raising his head up to knock against his. “We’re twins.”
There’s a passing beat of silence where everyone’s expression goes into at least a mild sort of shock. Wilbur wonders if he should be surprised or not over the fact Techno mentioned Wilbur as much as Wilbur mentioned him. Something in him is kinda relieved for the fact Techno never spoke a word about him. It makes the fact that Wil never spoke about him a bit easier to bear.
“Wait, what the shit-“ Skeppy sputters over his words. “You have a twin?!” He shouts out.
“You have a brother?” Eret asks, Niki’s eyes turning wide as Fundy makes an incredulous face, looking back and forth between Wil and Techno as if wondering if there’s some sort of joke being played.
Techno takes a sharp breath in, almost like he’s about to give some exasperated sigh, but then instead, he just holds it, and grins to Wilbur beside him, before breathing out in something slow.
“Yeah.” Technoblade confirms. “He’s my brother.”
“You never told us you had a brother!” The tall one of Techno’s group yells out, sounding almost delighted on Techno’s behalf. The delight then turns into a baffled outrage. “Oh my god, how could you not tell us you had a brother?! Techno!”
“In my defense, I didn’t know if he was even alive or not.” Technoblade deadpans, moving his arm out to nudge his elbow against Wil’s. He then keeps it there, as if needing to keep a confirmation that Wil is really there. “Seemed kinda unimportant too, compared to, uh-”
“You having some secret twin is not something to be considered unimportant!”
“Anyway, moving on.” Technoblade insists, flapping a hand out, Wilbur giggling in a sort of way that might come off as kinda hysterical. He looks up at Techno with a smile, Technoblade mirroring it back before then looking back at their group. “Now that that’s all settled-”
“Not even nearly settled, I have so many questions right now-” Skeppy says, before then being entirely talked over.
“We should probably have some decent introductions? Since we’re not goin’ to be fighting each other, I guess.” Techno shrugs, and his look turns apologetic as he looks at Wilbur. “Sorry about that, by the way.”
“No, no, it’s fine. You should be careful out in the open.” Wilbur insists, looking out into the street with a slight frown at his lip. “I’m glad you’re wary.”
“It’s always hard to tell who's trouble or not.” One of Techno’s guys says, slinging his gun to rest over his shoulder, his words ever so slightly muffled by the black face mask sitting over his nose and mouth. “And we’d rather be safe than sorry.” He then lifts his hand up, a little friendly wave. “I’m Sam, by the way.” He then points out to the other two. “Skeppy. Bad. And you know Techno.”
“Yeah. I know Techno.” Wilbur nods, smiling slightly, before then taking in the new faces and new names. He points to his people. “That’s Eret, Niki, and Fundy.” He introduces each person raising their head a bit to their name. “I’m Wilbur.”
“Great, everyone’s acquainted. Why won’t we take a minute to rest, refuel? No offense, but you guys don’t look like you have much…” Technoblade trails off, shrugging off the backpack he’s wearing, carrying with one hand as he opens it up. “Wilbur, do you want water?”
Wilbur can’t even try to deny it. Their supplies compared to them are laughably meager. He hasn’t drank anything since yesterday, and probably won’t for a while if he tries to refuse.
“I don’t mind sharing some supplies to you guys, but maybe we should find a proper safe spot before really sitting down? We were just here to take a breather, before we uh- saw you.” Bad points out, smiling kindly to Wil’s group. “So…”
“This area isn’t the best place to be out in the open, either way.” Niki agrees, giving a slight nod towards Fundy and Eret. “Our town got attacked just a day ago by raiders. They could still be out here. You should be on guard.”
“Oh.” Sam says, looking over at Skeppy, who gives a blank, quiet stare.
“Are you okay?” Techno instantly asks Wilbur, eyes widening in worry. He reaches out a hand, looking Wil up and down as if expecting to find him bleeding out somewhere. “Are you hurt?”
“We’re fine.” Wilbur reassures, waving up his palms. “We got out without too much trouble.”
Techno’s expression doesn’t lighten up much at hearing that, but he hums in acknowledgement either way. He pulls out a bottle of water from his pack, giving it over to Wilbur before then looking out through the street, scanning through the buildings. He points out a shop on the corner of the road with the windows boarded up.
“That old store over there. It looks already mostly secured for us. We could probably stay safe there.” Techno closes up his pack and hands it over to Wilbur, who nearly drops it in not expecting it to be so heavy.
“What the fuck do you carry in here, bricks?” Wilbur grunts, readjusting his grip on it before then swinging it over his shoulder. “You want me to hold this?”
“Carrying bricks builds character, Wilbur. Also, you can have it.” Techno insists, looking a little amused by Wilbur’s complaining question. He pulls the hatchet hanging from his hip, ignoring Wil’s baffled look at being given all of Techno’s stuff. “You guys stay out here while we clear the building. Try to stay out of sight.”
“You do not actually carry bricks in this, you have to be joking with that.” Wilbur mutters, but he’s listening all the same and moving with his friends to get out of the open street as Techno and his group make a direct beeline to the shop, forcing their way through the door.
Wilbur kneels down beside the cover of an old car with his friends, giving over Techno’s water bottle after having had his fill. Eret takes the first drink with a grateful nod, while Niki gives Wilbur a considerate stare.
“You never mentioned any sort of family in all the time I’ve known you.” She points out, and Wilbur gives a sheepish shrug. “He’s really your twin?”
“Yeah. And- you’ve never really asked.”
“I guess not. That’s on me.” Niki concedes, and she seems mildly apologetic for a moment. “I can guess why you wouldn’t want to bring him up either, though. I mean, my family-” She cuts herself off, expression turning strained as her voice wavers.
“It’s fine.” Wilbur insists. She just nods, keeping her eyes to the floor. He offers his hand out for her to hold, and she squeezes at his fingers for a moment with a grateful smile. She then takes the bottle of water as Eret offers that out too.
“Not to, uh, downplay Wil’s entire reunion with his brother- but did you guys recognize one of the other guys that were with him?” Fundy asks out of the blue, his voice quiet and still.
Wilbur gives a confused blink. “What do you mean? You know one of them?”
“Maybe?” Fundy scrunches his face up in an unsure way. “It was- Skeppy, I think? I swear I know him from somewhere. I just- can’t really remember.”
“Maybe you guys met at some point.” Eret suggests. “Old friend?”
Fundy isn’t very convinced, but he doesn’t protest against that possibility either. “Could be.”
A few gunshots ring out from within the building. All four of them jump against the sound of it, and Wilbur’s heart is suddenly racing within his chest, his legs pushing him to stand before he can think.
He suddenly feels like an idiot. He just got Techno back. Anything can happen out here, any zombie can get a bite in at the right time- why did he let him go in there without even a slight argument? Just because he has a decent weapon? Because he seems well prepared? That doesn’t mean he’s not facing danger. That doesn’t mean Wilbur can’t lose him again.
Wil tries to take a step forward, nearly ready to try going near the door to hear if anything might’ve gone wrong, but it’s then that Bad pokes his head out with a bright grin, and all of Wil’s worries quiet down. He sighs.
“We’re all clear! C’mon, c’mon.” Bad ushers them in, shooing them all further inside as he goes to close the door, somewhat locking it with the old broken chains that were left around the handles. It’s not going to keep them completely invulnerable, but it blocks them out from the outside, and that’s all that’s really needed for right now.
The store is already picked clean from what they can see as they walk inside. The shelves for the aisles have been moved against the walls, the area a bit more open than how it might’ve been originally. There’s a short hallway that looks to lead to some sort of storage room and to the space behind the store counter. Everything is covered in dirt and dust, and old splattered blood, in some spots.
“Techno?” Wil calls as they head in. A part of him is still kept in a rising panic, and it's quickly soothed when Techno comes out right away, exiting the hallway with a bloody hatchet being put back into its spot on his hip.
“I’m here.” Technoblade calls back, and Wil doesn’t care, he pulls Techno into a quick hug again, needing to just reassure himself that he is there, he is ok.
Techno makes no protest to the gesture. He just squeezes Wilbur tight for a second, and then pulls back with a hand lingering on his shoulder, pointing vaguely out to the hallway.
“Don’t recommend for anyone to head in the spot behind the counter- Sam and Skeppy are kinda putting the zombie bodies over there.”
“Eugh.” Wilbur wrinkles his nose, not caring for the mental image of a rotting corpse being so near, and Techno huffs at him, looking fond.
“Bad, you can share some food with them now, if you want.” Techno suggests, Bad taking the time to put his pack down and dig through his items to see what shall be distributed. “I’m going to pull Wilbur to the side for us to catch up, if you don’t mind.” He adds on, just as soon as Sam and Skeppy come out from the hallway.
“Yeah, sure, fine, but you’re explaining the twin thing later on.” Skeppy accuses, pointing out a jabbing finger at Techno, who gives a judgemental sort of squint.
“What is there to even explain? We were born twins. I’ve been stuck with him since birth. There you go, now you know.” Technoblade says, Wilbur grinning wide. Skeppy gives an indignant noise.
“No, I mean-”
“You guys can go talk.” Sam cuts Skeppy off, shoving him along to go sit with where the others are settling down. Techno proceeds to move along and pretend to not hear Skeppy shrieking out some effort at clarifying himself.
Wilbur follows Techno over to the storage room, which, same as the rest of the store, has been pretty much picked clean. Only the trash of old cardboard boxes remains, and Techno halfheartedly kicks it to the side as they head in.
He steps around for a second to look around where the old shelves have been shoved aside, checking in the little spots where something or someone could be hiding, and upon finding nothing, he stops to just look at Wil.
Wilbur looks right back at him.
Three years, he thinks again, trying to remember when was the last time they had spoken. It might’ve been over the phone, then. Some passing conversation to just catch each other up, with an empty promise to try and visit at some point, whenever they could find the time.
They never got around to it.
He supposes Techno did make the effort to try and come visit him either way, in the end.
“What happened to you?” Wilbur asks, and it’s not quite what he meant to ask, but it’s important enough for him to continue with it. Techno gives a raised brow, and Wil nods to the missing digit on his hand, to the scars on his face. “You’re missing a finger.”
“Oh, yeah.” Techno lifts his hand up, his pinky completely missing with only a small nub left behind. It looks completely healed, so it must be an old thing, but it doesn’t make Wilbur’s stomach turn any less. “That’s- It wasn’t that bad.”
“It’s literally gone.” Wilbur insists, taking off Techno’s backpack (because honestly, it’s just too heavy) to put onto the floor before then reaching out to grab Techno’s hand so that he can really see the damage properly. Techno flexes his hand out a bit in Wil’s hold, giving an unconcerned noise. “How the fuck does this even happen?”
“I got it caught in a car door when things started going sideways.” Techno says simply. “Time was of the essence. It was either tear it off or have a zombie get too close. I chose the first option.”
Wilbur winces hard, closing his hands around Techno’s fingers. He’s glad Techno did it, in a way, glad for the fact he’s alive to tell Wilbur about it, but it doesn’t make it any easier.
“And your face?” He asks further, looking up towards him. “Was that also from when everything started going to shit?”
Techno’s lip twitches up in a smile. Even to the reminder of being hurt, he seems more happy than anything to the fact that he’s being worried about. He shakes his head.
“No, this is from later on. I got into a fight.” He tilts his head to the side, a bit of pride seeping through. “I won, obviously.”
“Obviously.” Wilbur repeats, acting a little exasperated. He’s relieved though, truly. He’s just glad Techno’s lived. That he’s here. “What are you-”
“Are you hurt?” Techno cuts him off, Wilbur having meant to ask how Techno even got in the area to begin with. Wil lets go of Techno’s hands, huffing slightly to the worry now being returned to him.
“I’m alright. Really, the worst thing was just me dying of dehydration.” Wilbur insists, and then he falters a little at realizing he left Techno’s bottle with the others. “We kinda finished your water, by the way.”
Techno doesn’t look too bothered. “You’re good.” He insists, and then he frowns down at Wilbur, the worry still lingering. “But really, if you’re hurt, just tell me. You have a slight limp.”
Wil blinks in surprise. He hadn’t thought Techno would notice that so quickly. He’s hardly even seen Wilbur walk, how did he catch that?
“That’s an old thing.” Wil explains. “I landed badly on a jump off a bridge a couple months back. It never really healed right, I think…” He puts a hand down over his affected leg, still feeling the slight ache underneath the skin, his knee stinging a little under his own weight.
“Maybe we could think about getting you a walking stick or something?” Techno suggests, holding his hands out as if Wilbur needs to be steadied or helped. “Better to not strain it, if you can.”
“I’m okay, Techno.” Wilbur says.
“I’m just saying…” Technoblade trails off, and as he does, his eyes catch onto his backpack still resting on the floor. “Are you hungry?” He asks, going over to open it up again, so that he can go through it.
“Techno.” Wilbur says, a little touched by the honest fretting. “I’m alright.”
“Look, we’re here to refuel, no harm in us eating while also talking.” Techno says, kneeling down as he looks through his bag. He pauses to glance over his shoulder. “And uhm- not to insult you or anything, but you don’t seem particularly well supplied.”
“Yeah, well, my town got raided.” Wilbur says bluntly. He goes to sit down beside Techno, the ground a bit cold to the touch as he does. “I barely had time to grab anything. I’m lucky I got out without getting killed.”
Techno slows a little in pulling out some food. He stares at the granola bar in his hand as if considering something else, and then he just holds it out, Wilbur giving a grateful nod.
“I’m glad you got out.” Technoblade tells him, his words a little murmured. “I’m glad you're here.”
Sap, Wilbur wants to call him. He wants to make fun just for the sake of it, but the sentence is too honest, and Wil feels too fragile to do anything other than soak in the honest care. He unwraps the bar in his hand, picking it apart to eat it in bite-sized pieces.
“You seem like you're doing well.” Wilbur says, Techno properly sitting down to mirror Wilbur, his legs crossing over each other, hands in his lap. “Your group is nice?” He asks, nodding towards the hall, where the conversation outside can be heard, some light, polite laughter given around the group.
Technoblade shrugs a bit. “Eh, they’re ok. Skeppy and Bad are like free entertainment with how much they go back and forth. Sam is reliable.” He says, so matter-of-fact, and a bit oddly distant. Wilbur doesn’t think too much of it. Not everyone is a friend to keep. Sometimes they’re just all survivors sticking together.
“That’s good. I'm glad you're not alone.”
“I’m not alone.” Techno repeats, a sort of confirmation, and a bit of something more, in the way he smiles so honestly towards Wil. Wilbur smiles back. He’s not going to have to worry anymore. For the rest of their days, for as long as they try to survive- Wilbur won’t have to wonder if Techno’s been caught up in danger, because Wilbur will be right there beside him. It’s such a relief to know that. To realize it’ll be better.
The conversation in the room over starts to get a bit too loud. There’s a rising commotion with voices shouting out, someone swearing hard, and Wil turns his head in concern, Techno lifting his chin with the smile on his face faltering quick.
Techno gets up to go see what it is. Wilbur goes with him, not wanting to just sit back and leave it to him. It doesn’t sound like anything good- and half the group are still his.
“Hey. Hey.” Techno calls out as they walk in. They’re not immediately acknowledged. Wilbur gives a look of concern from where he’s standing at Techno’s back, frowning hard at the way everyone’s hackles have suddenly risen up, their faces wary and their posture on guard.
Just a few minutes ago, they were making decent conversation, sitting together amicably. What the hell happened?
“What’s going on?” Techno asks.
“Don’t you fucking come near me!” Fundy snaps out, and Wil’s eyes go wide as he tries shoving back Skeppy, Bad rushing forward to help him not fall back onto the floor. Sam steps to the side with his gun in hand, looking unsure on if he should point it out yet or not.
Both Niki and Eret aren’t doing anything to stop Fundy from acting out. They’re only staying behind him, staying a firm distance away from all the others, their backs kept to the wall.
“Hey, you can’t just-!” Bad goes to protest, and Fundy kicks out at some of the supplies they had laid on the ground, some of it scattering out across the floor.
“Stay back! I mean it!”
“Fundy, hey!” Wilbur holds a hand out, trying to move past Techno to get a hold of the situation. Techno holds an arm up to keep him back, not seeming to trust the chances of Wilbur avoiding getting hit. “What are you-”
“You’re all fucking murderers!” Fundy shouts, and there’s nothing but fury in the accusation, his hands waving out, wild and frantic. “Go on, tell him! Admit it!”
The room goes tense.
Sam takes another step back, towards the front doors, right as Bad steps away from Skeppy, spacing himself out into the other part of the room. Wilbur furrows his brows together with his attention caught only on Fundy, a thick worry gathering up underneath the space of his ribs. He breathes in.
“What’s going on?” Techno asks again, but the question is more firm, and more pointed to his own people than to Wilbur’s group. There’s a warning note to it.
“We didn’t even do anything.” Skeppy huffs, throwing a hand up. “He just-”
“Like hell you didn’t! Did you think I wouldn’t recognize who you were?” Fundy cuts him off, taking a step forward with his fists curled tight at his sides. “I know your voice! I heard it that night!”
“Okay, let’s just- calm down.” Wilbur suggests, forcing his way past Techno’s arm to get a little closer towards his friend. “Fundy. There’s no need for yelling-”
“I’ll yell how I want, they’re the ones who-!” Fundy yells, and he flinches to the side as Bad takes a slow step towards him, as if to get him to back up. “Get away from me! Get them away from me! I’m out of here- I want out!”
“Wilbur.” Niki calls, and her face is pale, stricken with a sudden terror. Eret’s expression beside her has turned stony, lips pressed thin. “Move away from them.”
“What-” Wilbur feels a sinking dread in his stomach. “What’s going on?”
“We- we need to go.” Niki warns. She looks to the door, then looks directly at Techno, who stays standing directly behind Wil’s shoulder, staring right back at her. She shrinks away under his gaze. It’s too cold to be anything safe. “Wilbur, we need to go, now.”
“Why?” Wilbur questions. “What-” He glances behind him to look at Techno, and when he finds only a blank sort of look given to him, no proper answer given, he moves to join his friends, wanting to be close to them while figuring this out.
Techno reaches out and snatches at the back of his shirt before he goes too far.
“Okay, no, no, hold on.” Techno insists. He pulls Wilbur back, Wil stumbling a little in being yanked to the side as Techno steps between him and the others. He raises up a hand, the back of his head facing Wilbur, his voice kept low. “I think we all just need to-”
“They’re the raiders.” Fundy tells, and Techno’s words immediately stop, lips falling shut. “They’re the people who- I know his voice. That's why I felt I knew him.” He points out at Skeppy, something of both grief and anger held in the way he grits out his next sentence. “I heard you kill my friends.”
Both Eret and Niki move back a single step more, closer to the wall.
Techno stays perfectly still.
Wilbur stares wide at his brother’s back, waiting for some sort of reply. Some refusal, or protest, something. He looks to the others, who all seem to be waiting on something too.
They all stay quiet in the room, the silence dragging on.
“...Huh.” Skeppy finally says after a long while, giving a raise of his eyebrows to Bad, who makes a silent little sigh, shoulders falling low. It’s a resigned sort of gesture.
“Ok.” Technoblade mutters. Wilbur can’t guess at what his face might look like right now. It bothers him a little to realize it, to realize he can’t tell what the tone in Techno’s voice means. “Let’s not-” Techno begins to say.
“They attacked the town, Wilbur.” Fundy goes on, and Wil sees the way Techno’s shoulders lift up, drawn back in something tense. “He’s- part of the group that attacked the town. He attacked the town.”
Wilbur thinks of the gunshots, then, the screaming and the fire in the street, the bodies by his feet as he ran past-
“No.” Wilbur can’t help but deny.
He needs that to be wrong, he needs Fundy to be wrong, he needs- this has to be some stupid, horrible misunderstanding. A bit of trauma getting the best of them, his friends being too jumpy from what they’ve been through. Because otherwise, that means-
“Wilbur-” Niki tries to say.
“Look, I know we didn’t get off to the best start, but that’s- there’s no need for such accusations. They wouldn’t do something like that.” Wilbur insists, but the confidence of such a statement is weak, a bit too quiet past his lips.
“What, and you know them?” Fundy scoffs, making a sharp glare towards Skeppy.
“Techno’s my brother.” Wilbur snaps out, moving to step out around him, trying to ignore the way there’s a quiet whisper of something wary of having Techno at his back. “What the fuck do you think you’re saying?”
“Wilbur. I’m not denying that he’s your family, but- When’s the last time you even saw him?” Eret points out, looking sorry to say it. They hold an arm out in front of Niki, something protective and afraid. “How would- How could you know?”
“Excuse me?” Wilbur can’t help but immediately feel some sort of offense, even with the valid point. It’s been years since they’ve seen each other, since before the apocalypse even hit.
Even so, Wil knows his twin. They’ve still spent the majority of their lives together, Wilbur knows him, better than anyone else, he would dare to say.
“I know because I’m- He’s-” Wilbur stammers over his words, shaking his head. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“How would you know? Ask him!” Fundy asks, and Wilbur narrows his eyes towards him, hands held tight in a passing urge to lash out.
“Because I know him! He wouldn’t do that, alright?!” He turns around and looks to Techno for confirmation, waiting for him to give the proper denial, to back his words up. “Techno, tell them!”
Techno looks back at him as Wilbur gives an expectant look. He lowers his eyes to the ground, and pointedly says nothing. He stays quiet.
Wil’s breath hitches in his chest for a second, as if the air in his lungs is now sitting wrong.
“Technoblade.” Wilbur says, fully facing towards him. “Techno?”
“Okay, we’re leaving. We’re going-” Eret demands, taking Niki’s hand and grabbing onto Fundy’s arm, trying to make a beeline towards the door.
Sam steps directly in their way, gun raised. They stop in their tracks.
“Calm down.” Technoblade says, giving a slight glance towards Sam, before then giving his attention back to Wilbur. Wilbur makes a confused look at Sam’s action, and then looks back at Techno with honest worry.
“Techno, tell me you wouldn’t do something like that.” Wilbur insists, taking a small step closer to him. “Techno.”
Technoblade still says nothing. He does not confirm it, he’s not confessing anything, and maybe Wilbur would be fine with taking that if only he could deny it too.
He’s not denying it. He’s just not saying anything.
He just looks at Wilbur, as if trying to wait for something. Or maybe trying to decide.
“They’re raiders, Wilbur.” Fundy warns, his breath picked up in panic, eyes wide at how both Skeppy and Bad’s focus has turned into something sharp, rather than just observant, from the moment Sam stepped in the way. “They’re gonna- they were gonna kill us.”
“I said to calm down.” Techno repeats, the words held thin. Sam doesn’t lower the gun in his hand. Skeppy quietly pulls his own gun from his holster.
“Fuck you.” Fundy spits out. Wilbur flinches slightly to the sheer temper in his voice. “You’re a fucking murderer.”
“Wilbur. We gotta go.” Eret insists, panic written across their face. Niki reaches out, moving towards to try and pull Wilbur back-
“Don’t grab my brother.” Technoblade warns, stepping forward and pulling his pistol in the blink of an eye, holding it out with a hand that’s far too steady and sure.
Wilbur backs away, eyes wide. “Techno-”
“And I said to calm down. Now.”