Work Text:
Techno is starting to hate getting dressed in the morning.
His clothes feel too tight for some reason, and it makes him so itchy and he hates it so much. He hates having to walk around all day like that, wanting to rock and cry until it stops. But it never stops. It never stops.
He hasn’t bitten himself in ages and ages- not since the first time Phil caught him and got him his first chew necklace- but one day the tight feeling gets so overwhelming and he can’t stop feeling it and Techno doesn’t really think before he’s putting his hand in his mouth and biting down.
It helps, that’s the thing he would hate the most about it if it didn’t feel so much better. The pain distracts him from the fact that everything is Wrong.
But of course, Phil catches him almost right away. Because Techno’s sitting on the couch, in the living room. He was trying to listen to a show to try to distract himself from how bad he feels. It’s not helping, of course. Nothing helped, except this.
“Tech- hey, mate, how about we don’t do that okay?”
We. There’s no we. Techno doesn’t understand why Phil says that sometimes. This isn’t a we situation, this is a ‘Techno-is-doing-something-that’s-somehow-Bad-and-I-want-him-to-stop’ situation.
Techno bites down a little harder. This is making him feel better. He knows it’s not supposed to, but it does.
“Techno.” Phil squats beside him, clasping his hands on the edge of the couch. Techno flicks his gaze away, but Phil’s not trying to force eye contact. He never does that. “Can you take your hand out of your mouth, please?”
He shakes his head. Phil sighs, and Techno flinches by instinct. It’s stupid. He knows Phil’s not mad at him.
“Hey, no, you’re okay, mate.” Phil sighs again. “What’s goin’ on, what are you feeling?”
Techno considers. He can’t really tell Phil how he’s feeling, because words are too hard right now. Instead he pulls on his shirt, whining around his hand.
“Is something wrong with your shirt?”
Techno nods, pulling harder. Phil tilts his head, just looking at Techno for a minute.
“Are your clothes too tight?” Phil asks slowly.
Yes. Yes. Techno nods vigorously, teeth digging harder into his hand.
“Okay. Okay, yeah, you have had a bit of a growth spurt lately.” Phil shifts a little closer. “Techno, I think you’re outgrowing your clothes, that’s why they feel too small. And that’s making you feel bad, yeah?”
He nods, relief flooding him. This is why he likes Phil- Phil actually tries to figure out what Techno needs when he can’t use words. Phil’s gotten really good at that.
Phil sits there in silence for a minute. “We’re gonna have to go shopping,” he says.
Techno whines, shaking his head. There are very few things he hates more than going shopping, especially for clothes. He only had to go once, with Phil, but he had one of the worst meltdowns he’s ever had here afterwards.
“I know, mate,” Phil says soothingly. “But I know better now what you like, and Wil can come with us, do you think that’ll help?”
Well… yeah. He always feels better with Wilbur. He nods, adjusting his hand in his mouth.
“Tech,” Phil says quietly, “I know you’re feeling bad, but could you please take your hand out of your mouth? I don’t want you hurting yourself.”
He would really rather not. The small dull pain is making the rest of everything feel less overwhelming. But Phil asked- Phil doesn’t want him to hurt himself.
He carefully pries his hand out of his mouth, whining, because he feels so bad all over. Phil puts his own hand on the arm of the couch, gently cupping Techno’s wrist- not touching, because he doesn’t touch without permission.
“Can I take care of your hand?” Phil asks.
Techno considers. He- he doesn’t really want Phil to touch him right now, because he still feels really bad. But also, his hand is sticky and it hurts…
He pulls on his shirt again. It’s too tight. He needs it off.
“Is it your shirt? Do you want to try wearing one of mine?”
Techno makes a face, he… he doesn’t really want to, but he guesses it would be nicer to wear a bigger shirt…
“I know, I know you’re not a big fan of changes, but it might feel better if you put on something looser. I have a bunch with long sleeves, and you can try as many as you need to to find the right texture.”
Techno nods, pulling on his shirt again, hard. He wants it off, off, off-
“Okay, mate, let’s go upstairs.”
It’s nice when Phil gives him clear, concise instructions when he’s feeling bad. Techno likes that Phil knows he needs it.
“Go in my room,” Phil murmurs. “You can sit on the bed, or in my big chair, if you want to sit down.”
Techno wavers for a second, then goes to the chair and curls up in it as tight as he can. Trying to get pressed all into himself enough to make the tight feeling stop.
“I’m just gonna lay out a bunch of these shirts on my bed,” Phil says while he’s opening drawers and pulling things out. “They’re all pretty soft, they all have long sleeves and the kind of collar you like. They might smell a bit musty, cause I haven’t had them out in a while, but they’re clean. You can pick any shirt you want, more than one if you need to, and keep them as long as you need. I do not mind, and I am happy to help you.”
Techno closes his eyes, just nodding and breathing and shaking his hands out a little. He hates this. He hates feeling like this, he hates feeling like he’s going to break at the slightest provocation.
“Okay,” Phil says after a second. “Everything’s ready whenever you are.”
Techno takes a minute longer just to stim and breathe. Then he forces himself to uncurl, slowly and painfully, and plunge into the hell of Textures.
Surprisingly, Phil has a few shirts that feel the same as Techno’s. And they’re bigger, because while Techno’s getting to be taller than Phil, he’s still skinny.
They’re the wrong color, but Techno can make compromises. He’d rather wear Phil’s bright red shirt than his too-tight one.
It’s not even, like, skin-tight. It’s just. Not loose enough.
“Are those ones good?”
Techno nods. He shakes his hands out, then goes painfully still when it makes the shirt feel worse on his arms.
Phil chuckles quietly, not in the way like he’s laughing at Techno though. “Okay, okay. I’ll give you some privacy so you can change your shirt. When you’re done, just tap on the door, okay? Then I’ll come back in and take a look at your hand.”
Techno changes, pausing to shake out his arms before he puts on the clean shirt. Phil’s shirt is pretty big, a lot looser than what Techno usually wears, but he feels so much better already.
He knocks on the door. Phil comes in, smiling slightly at Techno.
“Better?”
Techno nods, shaking out his hands at his sides again. His hand, the one that he bit, kind of hurts…
“Do you want to sit down while I look at your hand?”
Techno… doesn’t really want Phil to look at his hand, but he sits down on the end of the bed anyway. Phil sits beside him- not too close, because Phil knows not to touch him. Except- Phil’s going to have to, right?
A thought that’s confirmed a second later when Phil says, “I’m gonna need to touch your hand, mate.”
Techno wants to say no. He’s pretty sure that if he did, Phil wouldn’t force it. He knows, for sure, that Phil wouldn’t just grab his arm and make him be still like a lot of his old foster parents would have.
“I know it’s gonna feel really bad,” Phil says gently. “I’ll be as quick as I can. I’m just going to look at your hand and make sure you didn’t hurt yourself badly, and as long as you don’t need band-aids, it’ll be done then. Do you think you can handle that?”
Techno tilts his head side to side, opening and closing his fists a few times. Finally he nods. He can do it. He can. He can.
He can clench his jaw so tight it hurts and sit still while Phil touches his hand, it burns it burns he wants it off-
And then, finally, Phil lets go.
Techno yanks away and goes to pace in a tight circle, shaking his hands as hard as he can until they’re so numb he can’t feel them. He’s vaguely aware that he’s making little whining sounds through his teeth, that he’s stimming too hard and too much but he can’t stop.
When he can finally breathe again, when he’s calm again, Phil is still sitting on the side of his bed. He’s not looking at Techno, he’s not watching him. He’s doing something with his phone.
Techno closes his eyes. He concentrates on other things besides his still-hurting hand. He concentrates on unclenching his jaw, opening and closing his mouth a few times to help loosen the tension there. He concentrates on taking a couple of slow, deep breaths, to let the rest of the ache out of his chest.
When he feels like a person again, rather than a ball of stress and bad feelings, he stands in front of Phil, rocking on his feet.
His dad glances up from his phone, putting it down so he can give Techno his attention. “Feeling better?” he asks softly.
Techno nods, shaking his hands in front of him, more just twisting them around than actually shaking them, really.
“Good.” Phil shifts, clasping his hands in his lap. “I know that was really fuckin’ uncomfortable, but you did so good.”
Techno keeps making those twisting movements with his hands, but he nods. His jaw aches. He wants to bite his hand again. He puts his stim necklace in his mouth instead, getting the silicone between his molars and biting down as hard as he can.
“Your hand looks okay, you didn’t break skin,” Phil says. “Gonna have some bad bruises, but that’s it. You’re good to go if you wanna get back to your room and decompress, or you can hang out in here for a while. I’m probably gonna sit and read for a bit. You won’t be a bother if you decide to stay.”
He wants to stay, but he needs to stim and pace some more, so he goes. Paces a familiar track on his carpet, around and around in a circle, gnawing on his stim necklace and twisting his hands around and around to get the bad feelings out.
“Phil said you were feeling bad earlier.”
Techno nods, melting back into the couch and flicking his hands open a couple of times. He’s still feeling kind of bad, just a little bit, not enough to need to be hiding in his room anymore.
Wilbur folds his arms on the couch. Techno doesn’t understand how he can be comfortable, sitting on the floor like that, his whole front pressed against the couch.
“Do you… what happened?”
Techno shakes his head, shaking out his hands when Wilbur offers him his whiteboard. It’s too much right now.
“Okay.” Wilbur hesitates. “Do… do you want me to go away?”
Techno immediately shakes his head. He feels better with Wilbur here. He always does.
After a while, Wilbur gets out his phone. He doesn’t talk to Techno, he doesn’t do anything on his phone that makes noise, he just sits there.
It’s easier like this. Techno doesn’t have to do anything. He can just sit here with Wilbur, just sit and be together.
~~~
Wilbur gets home from school to find Phil sitting in the kitchen, no Techno in sight. Which isn’t unusual, but then Phil waves him over.
“C’mere, mate.”
Cold dread forms a pit in Wilbur’s chest. “Something happened to Techno.”
“No, mate, he’s okay. He’s had a bad day, but he’s doing better now.” Phil takes Wilbur’s hands when he sits down, squeezing gently. “Did he… he’s been doin’ so well since you got here.”
Wilbur’s stomach twists. “What happened to him? Is he okay, is he-”
“Wil, breathe, mate.” Phil squeezes his hands. “Did he ever… hurt himself, back before you guys got split up?”
He recoils, feeling like he’s going to puke. Techno- god, Techno, he didn’t- he wouldn’t-
“Tech hurt himself?”
“He’s okay,” Phil says soothingly. “He bit his hand pretty hard, but he didn’t even break skin.”
“He- he what?” Wilbur shakes his head. Not Techno. Techno wouldn’t. “Why- why- why would he do that?”
“He did a few times back when he first came here, just when he was overwhelmed. That’s why I got him the chew necklaces, to try to redirect him.” Phil squeezes Wilbur’s hands again. “Like I said, he didn’t even break the skin. He was just really fucking overstimulated, and didn’t know how else to get it out.”
Wilbur doesn’t- why would Techno do that? “I don’t- I don’t understand,” he whispers. “I- why would he hurt himself?”
“Mate, I don’t think he was trying to hurt himself. He gets overwhelmed and he can’t get it out any other way.” Phil sighs, rubbing his thumbs over Wilbur’s hands. “He’s okay now, he went to his room to decompress. We’ve gotta go shopping soon though, he’s outgrowing his clothes and I think that’s what set him off.”
“Oh.” Wilbur pulls his hands away, tucking them under his arms. “Okay.”
He bites his lip- Phil probably knows already, but he has to say it anyway. “Techno- he hates going shopping.”
“I know. There’s not really any way around it, unfortunately, I don’t want to get things with textures he’ll hate.”
“Oh.” That… that’s better, Wilbur supposes. “I- I can come, right?”
“Probably, yeah, I’ll ask him if he’s okay with that. It’d probably be better for you to be there, Techno does a lot better with you.”
He knows that. Phil keeps saying how much calmer Techno is now that Wilbur’s here, now that they’re together again.
Wilbur doesn’t see it, but then, he doesn’t know how Techno was doing before. He just knows that Techno still melts down, still has those days like he used to when they were younger where he cries and shakes or just rocks and rocks and rocks.
He- he does seem better, though. Calmer, generally. He’s using good colors, some of them Wilbur never saw him use before Phil’s.
That doesn’t seem like something Wilbur can be said to be responsible for, but, well…
It doesn’t change the fact that Techno is better. That he’s safer here than he- than either of them- ever has been anywhere.
Wilbur sits bolt upright in the middle of the night, startled into awareness by a sudden realization.
Techno did use to hurt himself during meltdowns. How, how could Wilbur forget-?
He didn’t- he never bit himself, but he used to- when he had meltdowns, he would make sounds almost loud enough to be screams, and he would hit himself. Ball his hands into fists and hit his legs or his head or- or any part of himself, really. Wilbur- now that he’s thinking about it, now that he remembers- he has actually quite vivid memories of holding Techno’s arms to make him stop hitting himself, especially when he would hit himself in the head.
How, how the fuck did Wilbur just- forget that? How, when he held tightly to every detail, every single memory, how did he forget something so big and earth-shatteringly important as Technoblade fucking hurting himself?
Wilbur stares at the shadowed ceiling, chest heaving with the effort it takes not to burst into tears.
He hates- he fucking hates Techno’s useless fucking piece of shit social worker. Pulling them apart and making him spend four fucking years away from his twin. Wilbur missed Techno every second they were apart and yet- and yet-
It’s a school night, and he should be sleeping, but he lays there and stares at the ceiling until he realizes the darkness has been replaced by the grayish pre-dawn light.
“He… Techno did hurt himself,” Wilbur whispers to Phil, sitting at the table and pushing his cereal around with his spoon. Techno and Tommy aren’t downstairs yet- he’d be willing to bet Techno’s not awake yet, since he doesn’t have school today- or Wilbur wouldn’t be saying it at all.
“What?”
“He- when he had meltdowns. He used to hit himself.” Wilbur stares at the bowl. “Sometimes I had to grab his arms to make him stop hitting his head. It was- it was really, really bad.”
“Oh, mate.” Phil sits down opposite Wilbur, sighing. “That must’ve been hard to deal with on your own, I’m sorry.”
“I- I never minded.” Wilbur pulls his feet up onto the chair, knees knocking into the tabletop for a second.
“I know. That doesn’t mean it’s easy to watch someone you love struggling like that.”
“He- it’s not like he can ever help it.” Wilbur’s face pinches up. He shouldn’t be getting upset with Phil. “He gets overwhelmed.”
“I know. I wasn’t saying it’s Techno’s fault in any way, or that it’s bad.” Phil’s tone is placating. If Wilbur lets himself think about it, he’ll use the word soothing. “Just- it affects you too, Wil. Just by being close to him and caring about him, it hurts you too.”
“But it’s worse for him.”
“Yes.” Phil makes eye contact with him. “But Wilbur, something can be bad for more than one person at the same time. Just because you’re not experiencing the intense emotions and the things Techno’s body has to do to deal with them, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt you too.”
“…oh.” Wilbur stares at the table. That… he never thought about it like that.
Techno has meltdowns because his brain gets too busy or loud and he needs to regulate it. Just because Wilbur’s not feeling it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt him. He loves Techno, so of course it hurts when Techno is upset and overwhelmed and having a hard time managing all of it.
“I always hated watching him hurt himself,” Wilbur whispers. “I- I knew he was struggling, I knew he had to get it out, but I hated when he would hit himself. It was the only time I’d ever touch him without permission. I just wanted him to stop.”
Phil nods, looking sad. “I hate it, too,” he says. “I hate knowing he’s feeling that bad. If it helps, he hasn’t done it as much since he started going to therapy. He’s had fewer meltdowns, too.”
“…oh.” Wilbur relaxes a bit. “That, that’s good.”
~~~
It’s Friday. Techno didn’t have school today, because a bunch of kids are sick, so the school is closed. He doesn’t like the disruption in his schedule, but it’s better than getting sick. Techno fucking hates being sick.
Phil knocks on the door. He knows it’s Phil, because Tommy and Wilbur are both at school, and Phil decided to work from home today because he doesn’t like Techno to be alone. Which is fine. Techno doesn’t like being alone in the house, either. He likes knowing someone else is there to answer the phone or whatever.
Techno knocks twice on the wall to let Phil know he can come in. He settles down into the beanbag better, pushing it around into kind of a nest shape. Phil opens the door a little but doesn’t come in.
“Hey, mate,” he says, in the usual warm and gentle way. “I’m thinkin’ we’ll go shopping for clothes for you tomorrow, is that okay?”
Techno balls his hands loosely into fists to shake them around a little. He doesn’t really want to… he doesn’t want to go shopping at all, but he knows he has to because he’s still wearing Phil’s shirt.
He shrugs, and nods. Reaches for his whiteboard.
“Wilbur too?” he asks.
“Yeah, mate, Wil can come too. We’ll make it a trip just for the three of us, how about that?”
Techno frowns. “Tommy.”
“Tommy can hang out by himself for a while, he’ll be fine. Unless you’d rather have him come along?”
Techno doesn’t want Tommy to come. He loves his little brother, but Tommy is- is a lot, all the time. Techno would much rather have it just be him and Wilbur and Phil. It’ll be easier- well, as much easier as it can get, since he’s going to be plunged into the pits of hell.
Techno rocks on his feet, smacking his lips a few times. He’s holding onto Wilbur’s shirt, he’s wearing his headphones, but he still doesn’t want to go in the store. It’s gonna be too bright, and too loud, and just too much-
Phil crouches in front of him, tapping his own ear. Techno’s hand shakes, but he reaches up and pulls off one side of the headphones.
“We’re gonna do this as quick as we can,” Phil says gently. “I know it’s still gonna be pretty uncomfortable, though, so let me or Wilbur know if you need a break, okay?”
Techno nods slightly, winding his fingers tighter into Wilbur’s shirt. His twin smiles at him, very lightly touching Techno’s wrist- just over his sleeve, though. “I’ve got you,” Wilbur says.
Wilbur’s got him. Wilbur’s going to make everything okay.
Techno puts his headphones back on and holds on to Wilbur’s shirt as tightly as he can. All he has to do is follow them. That’s all. It’s okay. He’s okay.
And then they step into the store, and he is not okay.
Techno winces at the bright lights, cringing closer to Wilbur. There are so many people walking around, looking at him- they don’t bump into him, though, and their eyes just slide off him and they keep walking past. His headphones are on, so it’s not as loud as it could be, but it’s still too much.
Phil and Wilbur don’t stop walking, though, so Techno can’t either. He hurries along behind them, free hand coming up to shake around in front of him.
They finally stop in front of a display full of long-sleeved shirts. Techno rocks back and forth, still stimming hard with one hand, trying to get rid of the bad feelings and the energy jittering in him.
Phil starts looking through the shirts. Wilbur turns around, smiling- a little bit strained- when Techno flicks a glance up at his face.
Wilbur fishes in the bag hanging over his shoulder, holds out the cyan marker. Techno shakes his head slightly, but it does make him feel better. The reminder helps- he’s okay. He’s safe. Wilbur’s here.
After a few minutes, Phil holds up a shirt- gray, almost the right color, bigger than the old ones. Techno hesitates- the shirt looks soft, but he can’t be sure, and he hates touching bad textures.
They wait, though, while Techno works through all the bad feelings in his head. While he builds up the courage to touch the shirt.
And- and he trusts Phil. Phil knows what he likes- Phil wouldn’t try to hand him something he thinks Techno won’t like.
The shirt is soft. It’s exactly right, actually. The texture is, anyway, but the color isn’t…
Phil’s got that worry line between his eyes, but he’s smiling a bit, too. He glances at Wilbur, saying something Techno can’t hear. Wilbur nods, pulling out the whiteboard and writing something.
“Is this shirt okay?”
Techno tips his head side to side, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. Finally he nods. He needs new shirts, and it’s the right texture, so it can be okay that the color isn’t right. It’s gray, anyway. Which is good enough. He just needs, like… twelve more of them.
Phil smiles bigger, putting the shirt- and a few more just like it- in the cart.
The rest of it goes pretty much the same way. Phil is patient, though, and he doesn’t try to make Techno do anything. Which is nice. Techno feels pretty bad already, and it’s easier when Phil lets him take his time about touching things.
When it’s finally over, Wilbur takes Techno to the car while Phil pays. Techno’s having a hard time focusing, it feels like his brain is melting out of his ears and eyes and everything is loud and bright and too much, too much-
Wilbur lets him sit in the backseat of the car. Wilbur doesn’t touch him while he shakes and rocks and hits his hands on the seat a few times to make the buzzing stop.
~~~
Techno does not want to go back to school today.
The weekend was… bad. And good, at the same time. Shopping was rough, because it always is, but Phil ran his new clothes through the washer and dryer four times so they’d be soft and smell right. So Sunday was better, because Techno got to put on his new clothes, and he didn’t have to do anything except sit in his room and listen to his music and stim. Which is nice.
But now, it’s Monday morning, and Phil wants him to put on shoes so he can sit in the bus for thirty minutes to go to school.
Techno leans away from Phil, jaw set and arms folded tightly over his chest. He shakes his head again.
“Mate.” Phil sounds like he’s starting to get exasperated. If he wasn’t Phil, if he was any one of Techno’s other foster parents, Techno would be scared. He’d scurry away and put his shoes on and ignore how horrible everything felt. “You have to go to school.”
Techno shakes his head again, scowl deepening. He hates his sneakers. Well- okay, they’re not terrible, but every time he thinks about having to put them on, his skin crawls and his toes curl inside his socks. He cannot wear his sneakers today, and he’s supposed to wear his sneakers to school, because those are the shoes he always wears to school.
Another sigh, Phil raking his hands through his hair. “What- what is the problem?” he asks after a second. “Do you just not want to go to school?”
Hesitantly, Techno shakes his head. No, it’s not that. He wouldn’t be upset about going to school, he supposes. He likes Mr. Skeppy, and he wants to see his friends…
“Something else?” Phil asks, gentler now.
Techno nods. He doesn’t really know how to explain, though. His hands are all tingly and useless- just picking up a spoon to eat his yogurt was hard, and he just knows he won’t be able to pick up his whiteboard right now.
“Are your clothes making you uncomfortable?”
Techno hesitates. It’s- well- it’s not his clothes, but sometimes people mean shoes when they say clothes, so maybe it’s close enough?
He shrugs. Phil hums, leaning his arms on the table.
“Is it because it’s all new?”
Techno shakes his head. He’s starting to get frustrated- but, he reminds himself, it’s not Phil’s fault that he can’t read Techno’s mind. And it’s not really Techno’s fault that he can’t just pick up his whiteboard and tell Phil what he needs- Sam has told Techno that a few times, and Ms. Clara says it too. He’s not to blame for his sensory issues acting up, and he doesn’t have to push through them to the point of discomfort or pain.
Phil pauses. “Is it… something bothering you in a general way?”
Techno shakes his head again.
“Something specific.”
He nods, relief flooding through him- Phil’s finally starting to get it.
“Your shirt?” When Techno shakes his head, Phil continues. “Your pants?” After another shake of his head, Phil asks, “Socks?”
Techno starts to shake his head, but pauses. Shrugs again.
“So not your socks, but… your shoes?”
He nods. Yes! Yes, that’s it!
“Ah.” Phil hums. “Do they not fit?”
Techno shakes his head. They still fit just fine- or, well enough, anyway, because before Phil he had a lot of foster parents who made him wear the same shoes until they fell apart or made his feet hurt from how small they were.
“Is…” Phil hesitates. “Is this more just a sensory thing? And you just don’t want to wear shoes?”
Yes, yes! Techno nods vigorously, hair flopping into his eyes.
Phil hums, nodding along. “I see. You do still have to go to school today, though. What do you think about wearing your crocs?”
Techno frowns, shaking his head. He- he can’t wear crocs to school. They’re not school shoes.
“I understand that it’s not what you normally do,” Phil says- and he’s good about that, too. Recognizing that Techno has his routines and his ways of doing things, and that changing them is either really hard or completely impossible. “But do you think you could be comfortable wearing them?”
Techno hesitates. Yes, he thinks, he probably could. That’s why he likes his crocs. They’re good to wear when he has to put shoes on, but anything else would be bad for his sensory issues. They’re too big, and loose, and as long as he has socks on, the rubbery texture doesn’t bother him.
He nods. Phil clasps his hands on the table, leaning a little more towards Techno.
“Mate, I know you don’t want to wear different shoes to school, but you need to go. Can we compromise?” he asks gently. “You wear your crocs to school, and I’ll pick you up today so you only have to ride the bus once.”
Techno makes a face at that- he doesn’t like riding the bus, but it’s another change in his schedule, and he doesn’t want that.
Phil laughs softly. “So no on me picking you up, then?”
Techno nods, loosely balling his hands into fists and shaking them in front of him a bit to relieve some of that tingly feeling throughout his body.
“Is there something else I can offer you to get you to take the deal? An extra dessert, a new blanket…” Phil chuckles, sounding almost nervous. “C’mon, mate, work with me here.”
Techno laughs- exhaling through his nose, lips tilting up at the corners slightly. Phil smiles right back.
After a second he shakes his head. There’s not really anything he wants. And he still doesn’t really want to change things about his routine, but he understands that he has to go to school, and that Phil is trying to help by offering a compromise so he can go and not be miserable the whole time.
“So… no bribe?”
Techno shakes his head again. He can deal. He’s dealt with a lot harder things and managed to not have a complete breakdown about it.
Well. He probably will have a meltdown when he gets home, but he kind of expects those at this point.
“Is that a yes on the crocs, then?”
Techno nods, but he makes a face, so Phil doesn’t get the wrong impression and think he’s happy about it.
“Okay.” Phil sighs. “Crocs it is.” He checks his watch. “You’ve got about five minutes till your bus gets here, better hurry.”
Because Techno’s teachers need to know when he’s had bad days, and because Techno can’t tell anyone today, Phil writes him notes to give to Mr. Skeppy and Ms. Clara.
He lets Techno read it, first- though Techno probably would’ve read it anyways, he’d have time on the bus.
This weekend was rough. Techno had one self-biting episode and a couple meltdowns, and he’s having a bit of trouble communicating verbally today. He would appreciate extra patience and breaks in class today.
Techno knows that his teachers know he used to hurt himself during meltdowns. He knows that they know how bad his meltdowns can get. He knows that Mr. Skeppy understands all of it, because he’s autistic, too. Techno’s never seen him have any issues, not as full-blown as Techno’s, but he’s always patient and gentle with Techno, especially when Techno is having a bad day.
And he appreciates that Phil wrote everything down for him, so that Techno doesn’t have to try to use his whiteboard until he’s ready. Before Phil, no one ever wanted to deal with Techno’s “issues”, let alone bothered to advocate for him.
But Phil does, and on Techno’s first day in this school Mr. Skeppy sat down with him and gently explained that he was here to advocate for Techno too, that he would help to make sure Techno’s needs are met while he’s here.
Riding the bus isn’t that hard. Techno always sits in the same seat- most of the other kids on the bus do, too, actually. That helps. Knowing where everyone is going to sit.
And there’s an aide on the bus, too, who helps everyone get on and off and makes sure they’re always in the right place, always safe and okay. That helps.
Techno gets to school before Jack or Ranboo does. He goes straight to his classroom, where Mr. Skeppy is waiting, like he always is.
“Hey, Techno! How’re you doing this morning?”
Techno ducks his head slightly- he usually doesn’t mind Mr. Skeppy being all upbeat and happy, but today, it’s a bit too much.
“Oh- hey, kiddo, are you having a rough day?” Mr. Skeppy asks quietly, squatting down in front of him.
Techno nods. After a second he holds out the note, a bit crumpled from being in his pocket. Mr. Skeppy takes it, reading over it quickly.
“I see,” he says then, giving Techno a smile. “Well, we don’t have a super busy day planned, but let me know when you need breaks, okay?”
Techno nods again, turning in a circle and shaking his arms at his sides. He points to his favorite beanbag, still shaking his other arm at his side.
“Yeah, you can go sit down, Techno. We’ll get started once Jack and Ranboo get here, just like normal.”
~~~
Watching Techno grow and thrive in his new school environment has been incredibly rewarding.
Phil wasn’t sure about putting him in special education- about him needing to go to a special needs school- but he can’t deny that it’s been so, so much better for him.
Now usually he gets anxious about getting phone calls from his kids’ schools. Usually it’s Tommy got in trouble or Techno had an incident or someone got hurt. Calls from Techno’s teachers are usually pretty welcome, though. They like to personally update him on Techno’s progress at the end of the week, or sometimes, after rougher school days.
So it’s not really a surprise when Skeppy calls him before Techno gets home that day.
“Hey, Phil. Just wanted to let you know how Techno’s day went today.”
Phil exhales shakily, resting his head back against the wall. “So it was a bit rough, then?”
“A bit, yeah. He had a meltdown before lunch, and he still hasn’t been able to use his whiteboard. He’s had plenty of quiet time today, we didn’t really get to any actual school work but that’s fine. He didn’t see Clara today.”
“Thanks for lettin’ me know,” Phil says. “It’s been… he needed new clothes this weekend, so we had to go to the mall, but he… does not do well shopping at all.”
“Understandable, I hate the mall. Fluorescent lights were created by the devil to torture neurodivergent people.”
Phil chuckles. “Yeah, that seems about right. Anyway, yeah, he just… had a really rough weekend. We had a whole fiasco this morning over shoes, he didn’t want to wear his sneakers.”
Skeppy chuckles. “I can certainly relate,” he says. “You know, this is why I became a special ed teacher. I like working with autistic kids who have never had anyone else to understand what their lives are like. I like being the support system, the listening ear I never had growing up.”
“I appreciate that,” Phil says quietly. “I try, but I know that I can never fully understand the way Techno’s brain works. I can learn his coping mechanisms and what I can do to help him, but I can’t understand him the way you can.”
“You’re doing a good job with him,” Skeppy says, also quiet. “He may not express it in ways you would expect, but Techno loves you a lot. I know you’re doing your best to support him, and that’s exactly what he needs- your best.”
Clara calls him every Friday afternoon after her sessions with Techno, to update Phil on his progress in occupational therapy.
He’s been doing better. Techno isn’t having as many meltdowns; he’s better able to care for himself, he’s even able to brush his teeth. Phil hadn’t known early on that Techno couldn’t do that himself- hadn’t known at all until he took him to the dentist for the first time and had to take him back two weeks later to get put under and have five cavities filled.
“Hi, Phil. How are things going at home?”
“Good,” he says. “He’s been doing a lot better now. I don’t know if he explained to you, but I think he was having so much trouble last week because he needed new clothes.”
“He didn’t mention it, but I did notice he was dressed a bit differently. It’s amazing how much of a difference things like that can make.” He hears her shuffling papers around. “I wanted to ask you, have you ever given Techno access to art supplies besides his markers?”
Phil shifts. “I don’t really have anything like that,” he says. “Pencils, pens, but nothing else. Tommy has crayons, but those are his, and Techno’s never asked to use them. Why do you ask?”
“He’s taken quite a liking to drawing recently. I’d recommend getting him some colored pencils to start with- he’s been enjoying those quite a bit.”
He tries not to feel like an utter failure as a parent. “I didn’t even think… Tommy’s not shy about asking for stuff he wants, and Wilbur and Techno haven’t seemed to care.”
“It’s fine, Phil. It’s not necessarily a thing you would think of, especially if they didn’t ask. Like I said, I recommend getting Techno some art supplies and see where he goes with that. Art has been a very calming activity for him, and I think Techno could have a real talent.”
Phil exhales, leaning against the counter. “I’ll definitely do that, yeah. Thank you for telling me, I appreciate you helping me be a better parent to him.”
“Supporting families is part of my job,” Clara says. “Besides, helping you help Techno makes his life better, too.”
Tommy has a sleepover on Saturday, so Phil leaves the twins at home, takes Tommy to Tubbo’s, and then drives to Walmart.
He stares at the display of colored pencils for a long time. He doesn’t know anything about art supplies, doesn’t know what’s best to get-
Well, he can start with paper. That’s easy. He grabs a pack of the paper he usually gets for the printer. Pretty good quality. Then does a google search on his phone, finally settling on a pack of Prismacolor brand colored pencils, the forty-eight pack. Maybe too many, but Techno hasn’t had nice things for most of his life- if this is something he enjoys, something that helps him self-regulate, then he deserves even more to have the best tools Phil can buy.
Wilbur and Techno are sitting on the floor in the living room when he gets back. There’s a movie playing, and Techno is rocking and stimming while Wilbur combs his hair.
“Hey, guys,” Phil says quietly. “How’s it goin’?”
Wilbur looks vaguely nervous, but Techno pops out a marker- cyan- and holds it up. Phil smiles, coming into the living room and sitting down on the couch.
“I got you something,” he says, holding out the plastic bag. “Ms. Clara suggested you might like this?”
Techno doesn’t take the bag. Wilbur does, pulling out the paper and the pencils. Techno recoils from the sound for a second, but then his eyes go wide and he stares at Phil.
Techno fumbles in his bag of markers. “For me?” he writes, trembling, lime.
“Yeah, mate. For you.”
Wilbur gives Phil a shaky smile. “This- this is really cool, Techno. Have you been doing art?”
Techno nods, writing some more with his lime marker. “A little with Ms Clara.” He holds up the cyan marker again.
“Yeah, she said she thought you were enjoying art,” Phil says. “So I thought I’d get you some stuff so you can draw at home, if you want.”
Techno takes the pencils when Wilbur holds them out, hugging the case to his chest and flapping his free hand a few times. He practically trips over himself gathering up all his things and running upstairs, the familiar click of his door closing sounding a second later.
Wilbur gives him another shaky smile. “That’s- it’s really generous, Phil-”
“It’s not much at all,” Phil says. He slips off the couch to sit beside Wilbur, gratified that the teen doesn’t shift away. “Is there anything you want? Any games or stuff you like?”
“I-” He looks away, mouth twisting. “I don’t want to impose,” he mutters.
“Mate.” Phil rests one hand on Wilbur’s shoulder, light and gentle. “You’re not imposing. You’re one of my sons, too, even if it’s not official yet. I want you to have good things, too. I would’ve gotten Techno this stuff sooner, but I only found out from Clara yesterday about him liking art. And I should’ve asked both of you sooner.”
“Still.” Wilbur goes quiet for a minute. “I… don’t belong.”
“You do.” Phil’s heart aches. “Wilbur, you do belong here, with us. With Techno. And I want to give you things that you want, because I care about you.”
Wilbur’s shoulders hitch with a sob, and Phil pulls him gently into a hug. Wilbur doesn’t struggle away, only leaning into his side.
Finally he wipes his nose on his sleeve. “I… I had a games console, a DS I think, at one of my foster homes. It wasn’t mine, though, and the foster dad broke it.”
Phil nods, gazing at the wall. “I could get you a DS, if you’d like that. What games do you like?”
“I… I dunno. I only had a Pokemon game.”
“Pokemon, got it. I’ll see what else I can get, yeah?”
“You don’t have to,” Wilbur whispers.
“Yeah, I do.” Phil glances at him, meeting Wilbur’s gaze. “Wilbur, I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to listen. You are my son, just as much as Techno and Tommy are. It’s my responsibility to provide for you, and that includes giving you things you want, not just things you need. You deserve to have nice things, mate.”
Techno doesn’t come out of his room again until Wilbur gets him for dinner. He spends the whole next day in his room with the door closed, only coming out to eat briefly, when Wilbur gets him.
Finally on Monday morning, Techno hesitantly places a sheet of paper on the table, covered in colors. Phil thinks it’s meant to be a nature scene, though he doesn’t know where, and the somewhat crudely drawn flowers covering half the page make it harder to identify.
“It’s beautiful, mate,” he says softly, because it is. “I’m glad you like the pencils. Is there anything else you need?”
Techno rocks on his feet a bit, finally pulling out his whiteboard. “Eraser?”
“Ah, right.” Phil gives him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, mate, shoulda thought about that myself. You need any other pencils, different colors?”
Techno shakes his head, flapping his hands slightly and sitting down.
~~~
Ms. Clara gave Techno colored pencils for the first time last week. He didn’t really know what to do with them, but then she gave him a coloring page and got out one herself. He sat there and filled in the lines and it was like something just clicked into place in his head and he couldn’t stop.
It makes his brain quiet. Almost nothing makes his brain quiet. He can just sit in his room and lose himself in the colors and lines and not have to think.
Wilbur gets him for meals. Techno eats as quickly as he can and goes back to his room and keeps drawing. His carpet is covered in paper, papers covered in color. The pencils are kind of a strange texture, but they feel good. The things he makes with them feels better.
He draws in school, too. Uses his pencils to sketch faces and flowers in the margins of his worksheets. He knows he’s supposed to be focusing, but he can’t. He’s trying, but he has to draw and he can’t stop.
Mr. Skeppy is nice about it, anyway. Techno thinks maybe Mr. Skeppy understands what it feels like, because Mr. Skeppy is autistic too. He understands a lot of things, like how Techno can’t touch weird textures or touch people’s skin. Like how noises hurt him and making eye contact hurts worse.
Mr. Skeppy is nice, and he doesn’t try to make Techno stop drawing. Just asks him to try to finish his work, too.
Techno prefers to draw in his room, but sometimes he sits in Wilbur’s or in the living room. It makes his brain feel quieter to be with Wilbur, too, especially after all the years they were apart.
Wilbur is playing a game today when Techno sits down on the floor in his room with his pencils and a sheet of paper on a clipboard.
“Hey,” Wilbur says. “Drawing?”
Techno hums, pulling his legs up so he can rest his clipboard on them. He tugs on Wilbur’s sleeve, pointing at the thing in his hand that he can’t quite look at because of the bright screen.
“Oh, this?” Wilbur shifts, showing Techno the back of it. “It’s a game system, like what Tommy has but older. It’s called a DS. I… I had one in another foster home once,” he says quietly.
Techno frowns a little, picking out a brown pencil to start sketching a tree trunk. He doesn’t like thinking about other foster homes.
“Anyway!” Wilbur says, a little too brightly- Techno has to scrunch up his shoulders and twist his head away for a second. “Phil got it for me. And some games, too. I can show you some pictures sometime, if you want. I’m not as good at drawing as you, but I can try.”
Techno hums, adding some lines for branches. He taps the back of his hand against Wilbur’s leg in acknowledgment.
Wilbur’s game keeps making noises, but Techno just focuses on his drawing. It’s going to be a forest, he thinks, lots of greens and browns and maybe a little bit of purple to make the shadows look just right.
It’s quiet. Techno’s pencils scratch on the paper, and the buttons of Wilbur’s game click under the music and other sounds. Tommy and his friends are yelling downstairs. He feels good, sitting in the quiet with Wilbur. Phil got him a new case for his pencils a couple days ago so he could organize them by color and find what he wants easily without having to dig through them.
“This is nice,” Wilbur says at last, quietly.
Techno hums, picking out a yellow pencil to add some little flowers to the ground.
“It’s just… we haven’t really spent a lot of time together. Just us.” Wilbur lightly touches Techno’s arm with his ankle. “It’s nice.”
It is. Sometimes it doesn’t feel real that Wilbur is here. That he’s been here for a couple of months already. That Phil is adopting him so they can stay together for the rest of their lives. Or, well, at least until Wilbur turns eighteen and inevitably decides to go to college.
Techno knows he’s not going. He couldn’t even handle regular school, what would he do at college?
Besides, he- he’s happier here. He gets to do what he wants and no one gets mad at him for existing the wrong way. He doesn’t feel bad all the time, he doesn’t have screaming meltdowns or have to bite his hands or hit himself to make the feelings manageable.
He hums, briefly lifting his pencil away from the page to tap his arm against Wilbur’s leg. Wilbur bumps his shoulder again.
“You look happy,” he says.
Techno gives him a flat look. He’s pretty sure he looks the same way he always does.
Wilbur actually laughs at him. “You know what I mean! You…” He goes quiet, glancing back at his game for a second. “I guess, you seem content. And that’s… different. You weren’t before.”
Techno hums again, sketching in another flower, a pink one. He is content, he thinks. He is happy.
He picks a yellow pencil out of the case and holds it out to Wilbur. His twin smiles slightly, nodding. Then Techno points at him with it, tilting his head.
“I…” Wilbur glances away briefly. “I think I’m happy,” he says quietly. “It’s harder for me. I haven’t been here as long as you have.”
Techno puts the pencil back, twisting his head to the side again. It’s not… he still doesn’t entirely get it. He trusts Phil, so Wilbur should, too. It just makes sense. Phil is a good person. He gives them things they want, even though Techno didn’t ask for his art supplies.
“I know that bugs you,” Wilbur says after a second. “I’m trying, Techno. I really am.”
He just colors the pink flower. He knows Wilbur is trying. He knows that.
It’s just not right, though. Wilbur is supposed to be happy here, too.
“I think I just need more time,” Wilbur says after another minute. “I know you’re happy here, and you’re doing really well with school and stuff, and that’s good. I’m trying, it’s just… hard for me. I’m not used to this. You were here for months before me, so it’s- it’s just taking more time for me. Yeah?”
Techno starts on a blue flower. He doesn’t like the thought of Wilbur not being happy, but it’s fine, he supposes. It just… takes time.
It did take a long time for Techno to feel safe here. It helped when Phil moved him into his new school and he started getting better. He actually gets good grades now, and his sessions with Ms. Clara have been helping him with taking showers and brushing his teeth and doing his hair.
“Hey.” Wilbur bumps his shoulder again. “I’m still gonna be here. We’ll still be together. And eventually I think I’ll be okay. I just need some time, Tech.”
He blows out a breath, twisting his head to the side again and filling in one of the petals of the blue flower. It’s- fine. It’s not really his problem. It’s fine.
He’ll still be safe. And so will Wilbur, because Phil is going to adopt him. Phil wants to adopt him so that they can stay together.
They sit in the quiet for a while, then. Techno keeps drawing. The music in Wilbur’s game keeps changing. Tommy’s friends must leave, because they stop making so much noise.
After a long time, Phil calls up the stairs that it’s dinner time. Wilbur puts his game down, and Techno finishes filling in another flower petal and puts his pencil back in place, just so.
He grabs Wilbur’s shirt as they go out of the room. Not trying to stop him, just wanting to hold on. It’s easier this way- easier to remember that he’s real. That he’s here, and they’re together.
That they always will be, now.