Chapter Text
of course, techno was happy. of course he was, his near and dear friend eret had the guts to come out, to tell everyone that their preferred pronouns are they/them and please use them because they’re non-binary, genderqueer to be exact, and the nerves that must’ve taken impress him to no small extent.
of course, he noticed the way that fundy’s face had lit up when eret told her, and how eret talked to her afterwards, their voices soft and quiet and how confident she seemed that entire week afterwards. he saw how their relationship changed, how they hung out one-on-one a lot more and seemed a lot more close.
and no, techno was not jealous that fundy was close to his friend.
and no, techno didn’t go out of his way to find a pin with the nonbinary flag’s colors when he made a visit to his local goth n emo store. and no, he didn’t grin when eret looked so happy that they glowed when he gave it to them. it was just something he stumbled upon, alright? he wasn’t- he wasn’t soft or anything.
he was just. well.
after eret came out techno felt... different. not in a bad way, in a “my best friend will never be the same” even though that was true because the person he thought his best friend was fake, just a show they put on before they were certain society would be ready to accept them and he’d been a part of that, he’d been fooled and never known how much they’d stiffen when someone called them a he, he never noticed because he just thought that was normal, because when ever someone called him a he it felt- it just didn’t feel the same as it did when they first became friends.
techno didn’t know if that was because of h- him, or because he was just some hidden secret subconscious transphobe.
and that was worrying him, as he laid in his bed in the deep dark of the night.
because what if there was something wrong with him?
because what if he wasn’t really supportive of his closest and longest friend? what if he hated eret, just for being themself? for something they had no control over? what if he was someone who would hurt people like eret for no reason other than the way they identified?
it’s okay, he tried to convince himself, rolling over to press his face into the pillow. it’s not like everything about them is going to change. they’re been out for nearly a month now, they’re not going to start dressing differently or anything super drastic.
it’s fine.
it was NOT fine.
he was wrong he was wrong he was WRONG!
because the next day, eret, god love them, wore the prettiest dress that techno had ever seen to school.
and that was not fine because- because-
because they had come out nearly a month ago now, yes, but techno wasn’t sure if they were out to the whole school and he didn’t want anything bad happening to them.
yes. that’s it.
that was the only reason.
it didn’t matter if he stared at the lace trimming and wondered what it would feel like.
it didn’t matter if he stared at the color and wondered how it would look against his skin.
it didn’t matter if he stared at the form of the dress, elegant and accentuating eret’s curves, and wondered if it could do the same to him.
it didn’t matter at all because eret was h- his best friend and he had to defend him from the transphobes, dammit, not ponder if he was one himself or ponder how heavy that dress must feel, how it would show off his collarbone, how it would swish between his legs because it was ERET’s dress and ERET’s collarbone and ERET’s legs and it was eret’s, not his no matter how much he wished it different
so techno took up his battle station next to them as they walked down the halls, a glare ready to throw at anyone who looked slightly too long at his friend, who bounced down the halls with the glow that he’d only started seeing after they’d come out.
thankfully, his skills were unneeded as eret happily skipped to their class, the smile on their face filling techno with what he could only describe as pride.
why he was proud, he didn’t know, but he just let himself have the feeling as he shoved the others about their dress and the thoughts of skirts and lace and curvature that he knew he didn’t have but couldn’t help feeling himself wanting- down into the small box he kept for this very purpose, cramming them inside and shutting the door before the rest could bubble up and escape.
techno walked to his next class, not caring as the warning bell rand throughout the halls, his head too full from pushing away the pressure he felt behind his eyes.
he got up from his desk after doing the best he could on getting his homework across the finish line, later that day. he’d been unable to focus recently, even more than usual, and his meds weren’t helping the way they used to. it was a struggle to remember he had class, much less do the homework for it. but he’d been managing as much as he could.
which is to say, barely.
he walked over to the bathroom, shutting his door behind him as softly as he could, his footsteps light in an effort to not disturb his family. he didn't know what time it was, but he knew it was dark out, so they were all probably asleep. (except for maybe wilbur, who claims he gets his best song-writing abilities the second it becomes the witching hour)
he flicked the light on, closing the door with a soft click before turning and staring at himself in the mirror. his hair was dirty and tangled, the ends just below his shoulders caught in knots that he knew would be a pain to brush out later. under his eyes were dark circles, his face paler than he knew it was supposed to be.
god, he looked sick. what was wrong with him? i mean, yes, it had been hard to sleep these past few weeks and he hadn't been getting much of it, and he did skip dinner (however accidentally) … was he sick? he didn't feel warm, or nauseous, but he did feel drained and like he could sleep for a week straight.
there was something wrong with him, wasn't there?
he investigated his body further, feeling himself note how flat his chest was and how that bothered him, about how he was lacking hips, or a clear waist, or anything remotely curvy-
what the fuck?
he backtracked those thoughts, trying to find where they came from, and they seemed rooted in one part of him specifically. the same part of him that was jealous over eret's dress, the same part of him that cringed slightly whenever someone called him a-
oh. oh.
techno left the bathroom and went into his room, quickly searching for his phone. it was on the bed, and he grabbed it, typing in the passcode and directing to messages.
he tapped on eret, opening up their contact and hitting the call button.
it was accepted before he could chicken out and end it, eret's voice filtering in through his speakers.
"techno? what's up?"
he took a deep breath.
"what did it- when you figured it- how did you know-" he paused and took another breath. "gender??????"
eret took a second to respond and techno could feel his heart drop.
"are you asking how i knew i was trans?"
"yes."
"oh, well, i really didn't like it when people called me a he, so i did some investigation and i found that i didn't like it much when people called me she either, but i still felt somewhere in-between. my other option at the time was they/them, so i had some friends online try it out and it fit really well. it was just trial and error."
"oh. well, how did you know you were somewhere between?"
"i just felt it, techno."
"oh. that doesn't help at all."
eret laughed, the softness of it punching techno right in the gut and out of his thoughts. this was his best friend. this was safe. this is where he could be the most open, the most honest.
"why do you ask all this, techno?"
but the pit of anxiety was still deep in his stomach.
"no reason."
"techno."
"yes?"
"would you like me to use different pronouns for you?"
yes. "no."
"are you sure?"
please. "i- yeah."
"if you ever want to talk about this, it's okay to reach out, alright?"
"i know."
"okay. now go to sleep, technoblade, it's nearly 1 in the morning."
"oh."
two weeks later, techno stood in front of the mirror again, his skin only paler, his eyes only darker, the bags under them reminding him of how he looked during finals.
my name is technoblade, he thought. and i am a boy.
the mirror disagreed.
my name is technoblade, he thought again, more forcefully. and i am a boy.
his reflection just blinked back at him. the unease in his chest grew.
"my name is technoblade," he tried. "and i am a b-"
his tongue cut himself off, refusing to go any further. his body was protesting.
techno took a shaky breath in, not letting it become a sob as he breathed out.
"my name is techno."
okay.
"and i want to be a girl."
"hey eret," she said, keeping her voice light. "can i ask somethin' of you?"
eret smiled. "of course! what do you need?"
here goes nothing. "can you use she/her for me instead of he/him?"
eret paused, turning towards her, confusion on their face. techno kept herself steady, refusing to let the pit of despair in her gut screaming that he would never be a girl win as she watched eret's face morph into one that was visibly brighter than before.
"oh! oh my gosh, techno, yeah of course!"
she grinned.