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A quiet evening. That's all Techno had wanted; that's all he'd ever dreamed of, honestly. A quiet evening where he could relax back into his chair and pretend as if he was the only person on the planet – an evening where nothing mattered except Techno and his very lovely book.
' The Art of War,' - a novel by one of the greatest.
A quiet evening that had, much to the warrior's never-ending chagrin, dissolved into absolute madness and unbridled fear the moment four, heavy knocks had sounded at Techno's door.
Had somebody come to try and kill him again? (The hybrid instinctively grabbed at his sword.) It was a somewhat plausible explanation for the sudden interruption of Techno's night, but surely not. It wouldn't make sense for somebody to do such a thing, right? Especially not after the way that Technoblade had absolutely fooled the entirety of the whole 'Butcher army' fiasco that he really hadn't wanted to be involved in in the first place.
Techno had done his part to destroy L'Manburg, he was essentially finished with it now. He'd cut off those he didn't need anymore (only the 'favour' keeping himself and Dream reluctantly in ties), and now the hybrid was happily ready to live a quiet life alongside Phil and Ranboo.
Was that so much to ask for?
Why, why did people keep on thinking it was acceptable to bother him and they'd just get off scot-free?
Technoblade's netherite-soaked boots were heavy and sounding as he stomped across the reinforced floorboards, a pink braid made up of healthy and silky hair bouncing against his padded shoulder. Dark eyes full of wisdom and unbridled fury had narrowed considerably, and the voices echoing in the anarchist's head were screaming for blood. Who's blood was up for debate, really.
(The slight and rare mention of a certain blonde's name had the hybrid flinching, but surely not... surely, he wasn't-)
"Tommy?"
Technoblade had swung the door open with a rough grip upon arriving at the entrance to his cabin, half expecting another weakly constructed army there to murder him and half expecting it to just be Ranboo or Phil hovering in his doorway with something to show him. Like another book, perhaps, or another batch of golden carrots to add to his steadily growing collection. That would've been nicer.
A lot nicer than seeing a fever-ridden, stumbling, coughing blonde with blood-stained lips and a scorched body.
A lot nicer than having his little brother, his little Theseus, his little everything looking sickly pale and barely strong enough to hold himself up. The hybrid's heart gave a guttural scream.
(Technoblade honestly didn't know whether or not he wanted to pull the teen into his arms immediately or push Tommy away to deal with his own problems, preferably far away from the anarchist.)
Perhaps he should just shut the door again and pretend as if he was hallucinating; it wouldn't be the first time after all. He'd probably be able to get away with that. Maybe-
"I'm sorry," Tommy hiccupped before Techno could officially decide, his face flushed with raging swirls of blooming pinks and hissing reds, popping up like crimson roses in a flower-field. Torment churned around his blinking gaze, indented cheeks of freckles harshly sucking inwards each time a fresh wave of agony rolled through his thin, quivering body.
"I'm so, so sorry-"
The blonde teen lurched forwards, unable to stop himself from falling limp in his older brother's arms for any longer. Brother. Were they even brothers anymore? Did Technoblade still see Tommy as his little warrior? His little Theseus?
After everything that had happened between them...
A part of the younger wanted to ruthlessly rip away, push away the poison leaking within his pulsing veins and head back to the demolished lands of L'Manburg. Or at least, what used to be L'Manburg. Oh, what he'd give to be able to pretend like none of this was happening.
Like he wasn't currently dying in Technoblade's arms.
"Tommy-"
"Technoblade," He sobbed in return, the brave façade he'd held up for so, so long, finally beginning to crack. Gone was the strong-willed, loud-mouthed teenager, with questionable morals and a love for playful arguments, replaced by the true being he'd kept inside for years and years.
The boy in the Piglin hybrid's arms wasn't Theseus, no, he was just Tommy.
He was the Tommy who had frequently woken up Technoblade at random intervals during the night, demanding between gapped-teeth and sleepy eyes for another duel. He was the Tommy that had spent weeks and weeks perfecting his braiding skills just so he could help with his older brother's delicately done hair. He was the Tommy that Technoblade had grown up with and loved.
He was his little brother again.
"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts-"
Technoblade gently shushed the sobbing, weeping teen, his nimble fingers pressing upwards to begin to thread through Tommy's locks in what Techno could only hope was a soothing manner. (They both determinedly chose to ignore how blonde strands were rapidly falling away from a bleeding, aching scalp.)
"Shh, shh, calm down," Techno whispered as he – as sweetly as he could – pulled the groaning body further into his padded chest. "What happened, Toms? What happened? What-?"
Techno had his hunches. From the unexpected hair loss to the high fever – from the crimson-wet lips to the Nuclear warning that had echoed and sounded around the server just hours earlier. He had his hunches; he just didn't want them to be true.
"I didn't mean to get so close," Tommy admitted around a half-hearted sob, his shoulders shaking and his eyelids drooping. The grip on Techno's shoulders was continuously iron-tight, however. "I just wanted to get some- just wanted to get some wood for Sammy."
"Sammy?"
There was an incoherent mumble of words, a jumbled mess of, 'Nook,' 'Hotel,' 'Niki,' and occasionally a weak whisper of 'Animal Crossing.' Techno didn't get much from it at first and instead took the initiative to wipe away at the tendrils of blood bubbling along the corners of Tommy's mouth as he processed.
"You're building a hotel?" The hybrid finally hummed out, desperately hoping that he'd correctly pieced together what he was able to.
A slight pause between the two, and then Tommy's head was moving up and down against Technoblade's shoulder with jolted (and slightly jittery) movements. "G'nna be a good hotel. Sam Nook said I should- should-… sh'ld invite y'."
"So that's why you're here then? To invite me to your hotel?"
Despite the nonchalant and similarly monotone tone of voice that Technoblade clutched onto, panic was whirling within his aching chest – quite quickly accompanying the anxious beating of his rabid heart. Tommy wasn't well. He wasn't doing good whatsoever, that was painstakingly obvious, but Techno... he didn't know what to do.
Would his brother even accept Technoblade's help at this point? Sure, Tommy was here, right in front of him – most likely having traversed the snowy terrain and harsh conditions just to make it to the cabin – but that didn't mean Tommy explicitly wanted Techno's help anymore.
He wouldn't have betrayed Technoblade for no reason after all, right? -
"No."
"Heh- no?"
Tommy shook his head, grip slipping a little from the hybrid's shoulders. He only appeared to slump further, leaving Techno carrying most of Tommy's weight (as light and as bony as he was, these days.)
"Wanted to," A weak groan, "Wanted to say s'rry. Wanted you to- to forgive me."
Technoblade physically felt the iron bars and jagged icicles around his guarded heart shatter right then and there. He swallowed lightly, mouth feeling like sandpaper and tongue unnecessarily heavy while doing his best to keep any sappy, mushy emotions at bay. He rubbed soothing circles into Tommy's lower back.
"You don't have anything to apologise for, Tommy. You didn't... you-"
"I betrayed you," The teen responded rather adamantly despite somebody who was quite clearly slipping. "S' my fault, n' I'm sorry."
Techno's nostrils flared around a harsh burst of air. "Tommy, please," He tried, taking a step back into the heat of his cabin and desperately urging the blonde to cooperate and move with him. "Why don't we get inside, okay? You don't need to apologise right now, let's just go inside, and we can get you some healing potions, and-"
"I'm gonna die, Techie."
Tommy had resigned to keeping his face pressed deep into the warm crook of his older brother's neck, soft (though labored) breaths leaving his crimson-sticky lips once every while or so.
He wasn't doing well, not with the radiation spiraling around his collapsing body – infecting each and every part with its venomous touches; he wasn't doing well, not with the immense feelings of screaming guilt and unadulterated regret plaguing his scorching mind; he wasn't doing well, not with the heavy weight of the world on his shoulders and the very fact that he was about to lose his last life.
This would be the last time Tommyinnit was alive. He wouldn't be back – couldn't be back. After all, Wilbur had only returned as a ghost due to his whole 'unfinished symphony' of L'Manburg.
But Tommy didn't have an unfinished symphony. He didn't have his very own revolution, nor did he have a son and an army at the singular tips of his fingers. He just had... himself. He had his fair share of pains and regrets, but his story didn't need a continuation, did it?
Maybe, just maybe, Tommy's 'never-ending' story was finally, finally coming to a stop.
"M' gonna die, Techie, and I just- I wanted y' to know that, that'm sorry, that I didn't mean it, n'- n'- I'm sorry."
Denial spread like wildfire over the hybrid's clammy skin.
Technoblade swallowed roughly, shaking his head and gripping the younger just a smidge tighter. "Don't talk like that, Tommy. You're not going to die. You're not going to die. We just need to get you inside, to the couch where you can warm up, and-"
"No! Please, please jus' listen to me-"
"I can't lose you too, Tommy! I can't- I- you're my little brother! I lost Wilbur, I lost him, and I can't lose you too! No matter how much we fight, no matter the different sides we'll be on, I can't lose you, I can't!"
Lifting his head, Tommy offered up a weak, red-tinted smile, his face flushed pink with fever, and his eyes filled to the brim with raging waves of tears.
"You- you'll move on, eventually. You'll be 'kay, won't you? You're the- the 'Blade,' after all, right?"
They both knew that the title had only been spoiled and soured, leaving a horrible aftertaste on the tongue. They both knew that Technoblade wouldn't be able to move on so easily, that his mind would whirr and wail about the loss of another brother, screaming about revenge and sacrifice.
But they could pretend as if everything was fine, couldn't they?
Technoblade's hands gripped onto the younger with a trembling grip – so unlike the taunting anarchist, he usually liked to portray himself as.
He didn't really know how to feel. Pain, sadness, anger – they were all there, all available and present, murmuring and whispering, caressing at the hybrid's scarred cheeks as he tried to process that his brother was dying. That he was losing another brother. But Techno couldn't figure out an emotion to stick with and front with.
Perhaps he'd just have to go for nothing at all – instead, offer up a blank nonchalance and act as if he was just dreaming (or suffering through a terrible nightmare.) Perhaps if Technoblade tried hard enough, he could convince himself that he wasn't going to have to explain to his father that another one of his sons had died.
Techno inhaled sharply with his last, wandering thought. "Please." He whispered. "Please. I don't want to lose you too, Tommy."
There was quiet following the hybrid's words; a dull silence matched only by the low whistling of the arctic wind and the distant murmur of jumbled mobs. The tone stretched on and on, spiraling and ducking between different symphonies, until-
"I love y', Techie. G'nna miss y'."
A breath.
"I love you too, Tommy. Sleep well. I'll- I'll be here when you wake up. We all will be."
The scorching rage was nothing compared to the hollowed sinking that had filled Technoblade the moment Tommy's body had gone limp, and his lips had parted for their final breath.
Technoblade laid his brother down, his sixteen-year-old brother, down and
screamed.