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Of all the places Phil usually found his best friend: their shared dorm, the library, or out on the football pitch, hurtling a ball at what he would would call terminal velocity and a physics major would have a fit at him for - the rooftop didn't usually make the list.
"Tech, I swear to fuck you have to pick less terrifying brooding places-" Phil muttered as he picked his way across the shingles, determined not to look down. He wasn't exactly scared of heights - he enjoyed them, in fact, when wasn't at risk of plummeting to his death and/or embarrassing injury. He would really just like to pick Techno's brain on flat ground for once.
"I'm not brooding," came the reply, in a tone that said he was definitely brooding.
"You're sitting on a rooftop an hour before the biggest game of your college career so far," Phil pointed out, "When typically you'd be expected to be warming up or doing team bonding exercises or some shit. I dunno, I hate team sports."
Techno rolled his eyes, as Phil carefully lowered himself to sit across from the man, "Yeah, I noticed. You enjoy bein' a wildcard too much."
"Hey! Hold on, was that an insult or-?"
"I dunno man, you tell me."
"You are-" Phil cut himself off, "That wasn't the point. What's up?"
"The sky."
"Techno I am going to strangle you and fix whatever you're worried about via you being too dead to be able to worry anymore."
"Good luck gettin' those scrawny hands round my neck. I'll help you find a garrote."
"Stop deflecting!" Phil jabbed an accusatory finger in Techno's direction, "You only climb up places when you're properly ruminating about something, mate, I'm contractually obligated to work out what's got your head twisted up."
"Ooh, we're pullin' out the big words now, are we Phil?" Techno teased, but it lacked his usual snarky edge. "It's nothing you need to worry about. Just in my head, like you said."
"And usually getting it out your head makes you feel better than stewing alone. I know you, remember? You may have your mystery enigma persona all intact up here but you can't hide from me."
They'd both changed, in a lifetime of knowing one another. Time did strange things, when it trickled by too slow to notice the differences until you cast your mind back. The Techno in Phil's mind was so much smaller, his hair shorter, still that dull brown and not the brilliant pink he'd worn since high school. Lying on Phil's bedroom floor, talking about futures they had no idea how would come to pass, but they were sure would.
And yet at the same time, the man before him was the only one he truly recognised. Shoulders finally broadening out, voice deep and rumbling, a balm to Phil's strung nerves, grin crooked and confident before he barrelled out onto the football pitch.
Techno huffed, making a face at him across the rooftop, "Just pre-game jitters. Coach has been getting on our case, we haven't played these guys before but apparently they're really good."
"You're worried about your scholarship?" Phil guessed, "Tech, you know you're the strongest player on that team. Losing a game isn't a reflection on you, it's just what happens sometimes. They wouldn't kick you out for one shitty performance."
A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of the other's mouth, "Yeah well I know that, but try telling my brain. Been thinking about it all week and it just…" he sighed, dragged a hand through his hair, "It gets to you, you know?"
"Yeah, I know." Phil said quietly, before angling for a cheerier tone, "But cmon, you think Niki would let them kick you out? She'd go on a warpath - I wouldn't want to be the guy who had to deal with that."
Techno laughed, barely a huff of air but real, "See, I appreciate the sentiment but also none of us can afford to bail her out of jail for strangling the Dean. How about: I get over myself, play good, and no one goes on a warpath?"
Phil frowned, like he was thinking it through, "Eh, I could probably work that. Cmon, you want me to braid your hair before you go down and change? You do need to warm up - you're too heavy for me to bridal carry around campus if you tear something. I mean I'd try, but I'd tear something too and Niki doesn't have enough patience to deal with both of us injured."
"Awhh, you'd at least try? So good to me," Techno teased, before pausing, "I do agree with you on the last bit though. She's scary strong but also scary. I've got a hairband - here."
Phil reached out, cursing as he barely caught the tiny tie and glaring at his best friend. Techno grinned back, shuffling across the rooftop and settling himself to sit between Phil's legs.
He'd learnt to do this when they started middle school and Techno's hair was officially too long to have down around his face. They'd started with simple ponytails, and progressed to braids when Techno joined the football, pinning it tightly in place to keep it round his face. Phil had no bobby pins on him right now, but they could do that bit downstairs.
The hairs were soft beneath his fingers, despite years of bleach - Techno took better care of his hair than most people did their body. His haircare routine took longer than Phil's entire night time settling down ritual. Not to mention the skincare. Actually, he was forbidden from mentioning the skincare, mostly because Techno didn't need Niki to have more blackmail on him. Phil very wisely had failed to mention the photo she already had, of Techno in a face mask and cucumbers across his eyes. Really, it was his fault for making it so easy.
Phil's fingers were stiff as ever, but he pulled the strands as tight as he dared, working slow but careful as the braid gradually came together. He shuffled back a little as he neared the end, trailing down Techno's back to get the strands as close to the end as possible before tying it off.
"There you go-" he said finally, flexing his fingers, "Now can we get down? I miss solid ground."
Techno laughed again, standing far too fast given their current situation, "Cmon old man, I'll help you get your creaky knees back inside."
"I am four months older than you!" Phil squawked, scrabbling to follow Techno across the roof and prove the capabilities of his knees, "Next time I'm leaving you to stew, I swear."