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Wilbur did not consider himself privileged. He thought that he was pretty average, maybe even a bit lower than the rest of his peers. Not necessarily money wise, though his family was pretty average there as well, but in a more personal familial aspect. He did not envy the kids at school that didn’t have a mum or dad, and he did not want to be the kids that dreaded going home everyday, but he would be lying if he said that there was not a hole carved in his family that no one could fix.
Rightfully, it was selfish of Wilbur to make the kidnapping about himself. But the reality of it was that Tommy and Techno were dead in a ditch somewhere, so someone had to feel bad because of it. It wasn’t like they were going to.
Wilbur’s mum and dad did feel bad about it, just not in the same way Wilbur did.
Sometimes, on nights where dinner had been too quiet and he could see the wet rims of his parents’ eyes, Wilbur would find his mother asleep in Techno’s bed. Other times, from up on the landing, he'd see his father watching TV too late, holding one of Tommy’s stuffies and muttering to himself.
They’d buried two empty caskets a year back, and had had a wake. For the life of him, Wilbur could only remember a sense of emptiness, tossing dirt, and hearing his parents wailing once everyone was gone. The rest wasn’t there.
Phil and Kristin were sad, that was how they felt bad.
Wilbur just felt… angry.
He couldn’t explain it. Why did he have to lose two brothers? Why did he have to live with a fractured family? Make no mistake, he didn’t envy his twin at all, but sometimes he wished he hadn’t had any brothers in the first place.
It often led to dinners like these, burning up under the orange lights of the kitchen. They were just boring, the TV playing something that no one was paying attention to. Wilbur poked at his meatloaf, that feeling of dread creeping up on him again. His parents had once sat him down and asked if he needed to talk to a therapist or someone similar, but Wilbur had just said no. Maybe with all the fear and stress that seemed to burrow its way inside of him whenever it wanted, Wilbur should’ve said yes.
Just as the episode began to reach an interesting plot point, finally rapturing some interest, the kitchen phone rang. Kristin stood and made her way to the counter, reaching for the phone. Wilbur and Phil paid her no mind until she paused and answered, a bit surprising considering the only calls they got were normally just spam or scams. Maybe it was a friend or a number they knew, but either way, Kristin motioned for Phil who stopped the show and hurried to her side.
“Yes, yes, this is her.” Kristin said, pulling the phone away and tapping a button, letting her husband and son listen in.
“Ma’am, I’m calling about an inactive kidnapping case involving your two sons.”
Wilbur’s stomach dropped. Phil and Kristin shared a nervous glance as the poorly covered exhaustion they’d all felt just moments ago was unmasked and set out on display. No more hiding under a bad TV show and rushed dinner.
“Has there been an update?” Phil asked slowly.
“Yes, sir; we’ve just received a call from a detective in Washington. They believe they’ve found Technoblade.”
And there went any desire to eat.
The house fell silent for a few moments, only the soft breathing of the three holding them together.
“Ma’am, sir?”
“Yes—yes—uh, do you need us to… identify the body?” Kristin asked, a shake in her voice that made Wilbur cringe.
A pause.
“I’m sorry, there’s been a misunderstanding. They found him alive, he’s in the hospital.”
Wilbur had blanked at that.
Technoblade was not like Wilbur remembered. He was quiet and really reserved, despite how much he'd cried admitting to the fact that Tommy was not with him.
That fact was, on its own, difficult to accept. Tommy had been very small, Wilbur remembered that. He couldn’t imagine something that small getting hurt. If Wilbur had cried along with his parents at the realization, well, that didn’t matter. What did matter was that he had his twin back, and that Techno did not act the same as he used to.
The flight back to Nevada had been awkward, Wilbur constantly looking across the aisle to where Techno was sitting next to Phil by the window. His brother had fallen asleep early into the flight and Wilbur had this strange urge to keep him within his sights. It felt kind of like when they'd been at the hospital, and for the life of him, Wilbur hadn't been able to let go of Techno.
It was weird. It was like Wilbur physically couldn’t let him go. He had wanted to, especially when Techno had started crying and their parents had been trying to comfort him, but Wilbur's entire body had become locked. Phil had had to pick him up and carry him out of the room just so Kristin could calm Techno down without someone clinging to him.
Wilbur had never felt particularly protective over his brothers, but from the hospital to the plane ride to the drive back from the airport, Wilbur couldn't tear his eyes away from his twin. Every time he saw Techno's chest rise and fall, he felt a little bit better.
Then a few days had passed, and Wilbur's opinions changed with them. The novelty of having his brother back wore off and the childish fantasies of what that meant were kicked out of his mind. They didn’t have any celebration, nothing felt better. If anything, Wilbur dreaded going downstairs now more than ever, afraid of having to face Techno.
Technoblade was different and it made Wilbur angry once more. He wasn't, like, angry at Techno. He wasn't stupid, he understood that Techno went through horrible, horrible things—he felt empty each time he heard his parents mumble about it under their breaths, kind of like he had at the funeral or whenever something had reminded him of Techno. Still, though, something bothered him.
Technoblade was… ungrateful. That felt like a good word for it. He didn't do anything. The first day, maybe, he'd been excited to be home and he had eaten dinner with them and watched a movie and taken things easy, but he just as soon crashed. Barely five days later, Techno didn't eat with them. He barely left his room, he slept only four or five hours a night if any, and he didn't speak. It was like Wilbur hadn't gotten his brother back, he'd just summoned a poorly made ghost of him.
The most reactive he'd been was on the fourth day, when he'd stumbled down the stairs in tears at lunch time, his hair an utter failure of an attempt to cut it short. Well, it was short, but it was lopsided and uneven. He'd cried about it to their mum who was able to make it look like a real haircut with some effort. Wilbur didn't get why he was crying about it, he looked better with short hair. It'd been longer than their mum's by proportion when they'd first found him.
Once it was cut and Kristin managed to get some food in him, Techno had gone back to his room. Wilbur was pretty sure he hadn’t showered in at least a month.
That was all Techno did. He hid in his room and didn't speak to any of them.
It shouldn't have frustrated Wilbur, but it did. Why couldn't he just… Wilbur didn't know what he wanted. He wanted his brother back and this was not his brother. No one was happier with him around, on the contrary, Phil and Kristin seemed so much sadder. It was more than just missing Tommy, Techno made them feel bad.
It was another dinner like the ones before they'd found Techno that Wilbur finally expressed these thoughts. He couldn't even remember how it had gotten to a discussion about Techno, but Wilbur took his chance and just asked to know why his brother refused to eat with them.
"All he does is stay in his room," Wilbur grumbled, pushing his peas around. "It's like he doesn't even want to be here."
Kristin sighed heavily, resting her cheek in her palm as she stared down at the table cloth. "Techno is going through something very difficult. He needs time to—to rest and to heal."
"Well he could at least grace us with his presence!" Wilbur rolled his eyes, slumping back in his chair.
It felt like Techno didn't want them. Like he'd be happier elsewhere. Like he wasn't even able to understand that he was safe now. How could Techno act like this when their parents were being so kind to him? It made Wilbur angry—and surely if it made him mad, he must've been mad at Techno, right?
"Wilbur, it's only been a few days and we need to be patient." Phil said.
"He can't even look me in the eyes. And he’s always crying! It’s like he doesn’t even care that he’s home, he’s being rude.”
That only got him angry looks from both his parents. Thankfully his mother took charge, since Phil appeared completely baffled and offended by Wilbur’s words.
“He is not being rude, he’s struggling. He needs support right now and he does not need you saying things like that.”
Wilbur was still angry. He couldn’t help it, it had to come out somehow.
“He’s just pissy that he left Tommy.”
Kristin gaped. “Wilbur!”
“What, like I’m wrong? Techno’s throwing a tantrum and you two aren’t doing anything! You might as well be rewarding him. All he ever does is hide away and he acts like he isn’t even happy to be home!” Wilbur shoved his plate away, standing up at the table as he scowled. “He could at least pretend he likes it here more than with his fucking kidnapper!”
“Wilbur, that is enough!” Phil shouted. He wasn’t one for raising his voice, and it did manage to kill some of the fire in Wilbur, but he kept up his angry glare. Phil stood as well, pointing out at the staircase. “Go to your room, right now.”
Wilbur rolled his eyes and stormed off, leaving his half eaten plate of food behind. “Might as well go see what all the fuss is about, seeing as that’s all Techno wants to do.”
Phil and Kristin didn’t outright comment on his outburst as he marched away, but he did hear his mother sigh as he rushed into his room and slammed his door.
Maybe Wilbur just couldn’t understand Techno. Maybe he just never would; they’d had such different lives and while Wilbur was left sick by the mention of what Techno had gone through, Techno had lived it. Still, though, that didn’t excuse Techno being so self-destructive and rude, acting like he wasn’t being treated well.
Wilbur slunk into bed that night with a heavy ache in his bones. He was twelve, but he could’ve sworn he was a lot older in that moment.
He never really would understand why Techno acted the way he did.
Until hours later, when a shrill scream echoed through the house.
Wilbur's eyes shot open all too fast, his body recognizing the sound long before he did. His blood ran cold as his heart stopped for what could've been a good few seconds, the sound of the yell dying out as it dissolved into cries. His heart began to pound, heavy in his chest as his breathing picked up, and Wilbur froze. Desperately, he wanted to lock his door and hide, but he was stuck half sitting up in his bed.
What was in his house, screaming? It had been so loud, it might as well have come from inside his room.
The silence of the house and the warmth of his room were so prevalent that beside the soft shouts from somewhere down the hall, Wilbur could’ve sworn everything was humming.
Just outside his door was another sound, one more familiar. Two sets of footsteps rushed down the hall, and as reality began to settle, Wilbur finally began to hear the cries for what they were—panicked shouts for mercy.
Techno was screaming for someone to stop, to leave him alone.
Wilbur dug his nails into his comforter, his autonomy returning slowly. Wilbur took a moment before stepping out of his bed, opening his door as silently as he could. The hall was dark and empty, but at the very end along the same wall as his was Technoblade’s bedroom, where the door was open and the light was on and Wilbur could hear two hushed voices between the restrained shouts.
For a reason he couldn’t quite place, Wilbur didn’t turn and close his door. He started walking on the balls of his feet, traipsing through the carpeted hall, doing what he could to move quietly over to the bedroom of his twin brother.
Techno’s room wasn’t that big. It wasn’t any bigger than Wilbur’s, with soft blue wallpaper and grey highlights, a desk and a dresser next to a bookshelf filled to the brim with stories that hadn’t been touched in years. The light was old and dim compared to the one in Wilbur’s room. Across from the door and against the wall was Techno’s bed, where he was currently trashing as Kristin and Phil lingered at his side. They looked genuinely afraid as they uncertainly tried to help Techno.
“Please—I’m sorry—I’m sorry!” The boy whimpered, arms moving seemingly against his will as he accidentally smacked himself in the shoulder. Phil winced as if he was the one who’d been hit and reached out, grabbing Techno and beginning to restrain his arms. Even Wilbur could see that that only made things worse, as Techno’s slurred words suddenly jumped into screams once more.
Phil let go of him within an instant and shared a glance with Kristin. They didn’t know what they were doing.
Wilbur didn’t understand. Why didn’t they just wake him up or shock him out of whatever was happening somehow?
With a careful touch, Kristin did what she could to lift Techno higher, setting his back against the headboard. Techno learned forward and hung his head between his legs as his sobs worsened. The sound made Wilbur cringe. He couldn’t see the tears and sweat and drivel dripping from his brother’s face, but he could see how his face shone against the white light. Techno’s face was red too, and he was hyperventilating.
All of it made Wilbur feel sick. As though he were the one in the bed, it was suddenly hard to breathe. He ran his tongue over his lips, trying to get some moisture back into his mouth.
Phil pushed back the hair sticking to Techno’s sweat-covered forehead with one hand, rubbing the other over Techno’s back as he quietly tried to coax him into a calmer state. Phil’s honeyed whisper of words did nothing at all.
Time seemed to stand still for just a moment as Techno’s head raised slightly. With his head turned at an odd angle, he managed to catch Wilbur’s eyes. A chill ran through Wilbur as Techno’s stared at him for a beat. Despite the fact that he was looking right at Wilbur, he didn’t seem to see him. Techno was looking through him, as though in his head, Wilbur wasn't even there. Or maybe, more accurately, as though Techno was somewhere else.
And he looked away and grabbed his knees, bucking his head forward with a sob before his body seemed to catch up with him. Techno choked, for half a moment, then threw up.
That seemed to be a more understandable reaction to Phil and Kristin—or at least they seemed to understand how to deal with it.
Quickly, Phil had hooked one arm under Techno’s legs and the other around his back, picking up the twelve year old with relative ease. Wilbur was shocked back into himself as he saw Phil begin to turn, and he took off towards his bedroom as fast as he could.
He didn’t know if Phil heard him run or close the door, but it didn’t seem to matter as Phil footsteps continued past Wilbur’s room and down the hall to the master bedroom.
In the darkness of his room, distant sounds of lessened crying, Wilbur didn’t think. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but his mind once more blanked. He wasn’t ready to think about seeing Techno in such a state of panic. He wasn’t ready to ask the question of why Techno had been so upset that he’d woken up in the middle of the night to cry until he threw up.
The house felt much cooler now, and Wilbur grabbed his bare upper arms nervously, wishing he had worn a long-sleeve shirt to bed. Wilbur once more peeked out from his room, nervously checking to see where his mother was as he tiptoed across the hall to his parents’ room. Strangely, he felt as though he would be in trouble if someone found out what he’d seen, as though he was intruding.
He was. They all were.
Phil was sitting on the bed facing away from Wilbur, only the soft light of the bedside table’s lamp illuminating him. Techno was laying on the bed with his head in Phil’s lap, significantly quieter than before. It seemed his physical reaction had shocked him out of his fear. Wilbur couldn’t see his face, hidden behind Phil.
“In… and out.” Phil murmured, tracing a hand over Techno’s shoulder. Techno seemed to follow his breathing, though with much effort to keep it as steady.
In some attempt to be comforting, Phil reached out and grabbed Techno’s hand gently. Techno instantly yanked it back with a yelp and his breathing cut off into erratic patterns like before.
“I’m sorry,” Phil said softly, “I’m sorry.”
Techno sniffled, and Wilbur saw how he shuffled closer to Phil. Wilbur could hear the hesitance in his voice as he spoke. “Please don’t touch my hand…”
“I won’t, mate, I won’t. I’m… I’m never going to hurt you, Tech.”
Were it not for the hitch in his voice, catching his heavy and hurt tone, Wilbur never would’ve realized his father was crying.
“Wil?”
Wilbur turned and found his mother standing a foot away, a collection of sheets and blankets in her arms. She looked exhausted, her brow furrowed and a deep sadness Wilbur had grown familiar to present in her tight lipped expression.
She glanced into the bedroom where Phil was still doing what he could to soothe Techno, for a moment trying to step away only for Techno to grow worse, forcing Phil to stay at his side.
As she looked back down at her son, Kristin spoke quietly, no more than a whisper. “Wilbur, you should be in bed.”
He wasn’t sure he even heard her. “Is Techno okay?”
“He—he has a fever and he’s very upset right now, but you don’t have to worry. Just go back to bed, Wil.” With that, Kristin hurried past him and down the stairs.
Wilbur did as he was told.
A gentle hand pushed his shoulder back and forth, breaking Wilbur’s mostly asleep state. Though it was pitch black in his room, Wilbur knew instantly that it was his father sitting on the bed next to him, one hand holding him up and the other carefully shaking Wilbur awake.
“Mate?”
“Yea’?” Wilbur mumbled, blinking slowly. He spared a glance at his clock on the bedside table, the dim green light reading four-something in the morning; Wilbur couldn’t see it properly without his glasses. It’d been about an hour since he’d fallen asleep.
“Mum ‘n I are gonna bring Techno to the hospital, okay? His fever is getting pretty high.”
Wilbur hummed in response, unsure what else to say in his stuporous state of warmth under his blankets.
“Okay, just don’t want you getting worried when you wake up and we’re gone. Should be back by noon.”
“M’kay.”
Phil moved his hand into Wilbur’s hair, brushing through his curls for just a moment. It was very quiet in the house, Wilbur noticed. He couldn’t hear Techno anymore.
“Why don’t you just give Techno some cold medicine?” He asked through a mumble, his face pressed against his pillow.
Phil sighed softly. It didn’t sound angry, just tired.
“It’s not that kind of fever, mate. He’s very stressed and—and he can’t quite get his breathing right. Just for the best we get him to a doctor.”
An hour and they couldn’t get him to breathe properly? Maybe Techno had, like, asthma or something.
After another moment of silence in the dark of the room, Phil pressed a kiss to Wilbur’s temple and stood, walking over to the door. Wilbur was about to let his father leave when he was bombarded with his very recent memories, fully waking up for the first time of the night.
“Dad?”
Phil turned, still barely visible in the darkness as Wilbur’s eyes adjusted. “Yeah, mate?”
“Did Techno hurt his hand?” Wilbur asked, and when Phil didn’t seem to understand, he continued. “He didn’t want you grabbing it, and… he was crying like he broke a bone.”
Phil shook his head after a moment, taking a deep breath as he moved back towards Wilbur. “No, I think—he hurt his hand in the past and he’s scared of it getting hurt again.”
“Oh,” was all Wilbur managed to say.
Another beat of silence, and Phil turned back around. “We’ll be back soon. Just be nice when we are, okay? We don’t need anything upsetting him again.”
“Okay.”
And Phil left the room.
Wilbur didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to think about how he’d never seen someone look more afraid than Techno had in the moment the two had locked eyes. He didn’t want to imagine what could have possibly happened for Techno to be so scared.
Never again did he want to see Techno like that, and if that meant being nice and letting him be alone in his room all day, then so be it. Wilbur vowed to be nicer. Maybe he could distract Techno with movies and shows that he liked so that Techno would have no time to get scared.
That was something, maybe.
Wilbur didn’t know what to do, but he wasn’t angry at Techno anymore. There was no fire in his heart. He felt sick, now, thinking about his twin.
Wilbur fell into a dreamless sleep that night.