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Technoblade was roused from sleep at 3am at the sound of a hitched sob.
Blinking his bleary eyes open, he sees his little brother standing at the crack of the opened doorway. Tears were gathered at the edge of his eyelids. Techno clumsily hauls himself up from his bed immediately.
Techno lets out a sad noise and beckons Tommy over. He brushes his blonde hair away from his eyes and pats the empty space beside his mattress.
"Another nightmare?" He croons gently, pulling the kid into his side. He places a kiss on Tommy's curls.
Tommy sniffles, nodding. He leans into Techno's embrace and lets out a weary sigh that makes the Blood God's chest contract painfully.
"Techno... Techie- I dreamt that I died," the ghost whispers, choking on the last word. He sounds every part like the kid he was when he skinned his knee at eight years old. Young and scared.
"Well- Don't be silly. You're not. You're with me right now, aren't you?" The ghost nods reluctantly. "And Technoblade never dies. Neither do you." He promises, pressing a kiss into Tommy's curls.
It feels like love; it feels like an apology full of guilt.
Technoblade feels like vomiting. He feels like crying. He feels like the most awful older brother in the world. With a deep breath, he holds his tears back with everything he has. Swallowing his grief down, he smiles at his little Theseus.
"Well-" he starts. He looks at Tommy's gray eyes and slightly transparent figure, so frail-looking it feels like a wrong word could shatter him.
Techno gathers up his voice again. "Well- that's not true then, is it?" He wipes away the tear tracks that finally spilled over. "Because-" he holds Tommy tighter to his chest like he's the most precious thing in the world, "you're here, by my side. And I never die. And neither do you. Isn't that right?"
Looking foolish but happy, Tommy giggles. "Yeah bitch! Tommyinnit never dies!"
Technoblade can still feel the steaming-hot tears he wiped off Tommy's cheeks, burning his fingers. So unnaturally hot, like lava in the nether.
Like the one outside Dream's prison cell.
"No he doesn't." Technoblade agrees, pressing his forehead against his little brother's. His heart is so heavy and he feels like the world is collapsing in on him as he said those words.
"Technoblade. Don't lie. You know Tommy hates liars."
Technoblade flinches. The ghostly boy beside him now has a disapproving glare. His sad eyes and tears are now gone. There is nothing empathic in his eyes. Nothing about him looks alive.
"Tommy please-" he pleads.
Tommy's ghost scoffs rudely. "Wilbur lied to him. Dream lied to him. I'm Tommy's ghost. I would know how he feels about liars." He starts to get up.
Quick as lightning, Techno pulls on his arm and tugs him back to his chest instead.
"What the fuck!? Oi-"
"You're not dead," Techno reassures desperately, tears flowing out his eyes. "You're not." He holds Tommy out before him and strokes his cheek with his thumb. His tears are blurring his vision so bad he can't see what expression the ghost is making right now. "You're here and alive, dearheart. You're here." He declares too firmly, like it's a fact that the sun rises everyday and the grass is green and he loves him.
Tommy's spirit looks at his older brother with a sorry expression. His chest is filled with pity and bitterness for himself, Technoblade and Tommy.
With a sigh, he melts into Techno's hug and listens to his grateful sob.
No Techno. I dreamt about being alive and happy. About something Tommy could never be. And I will resent him forever that we could never have that.
A real, lava tear trickles down his cheeks as he stares out the window emptily while Techno's sobs rock throughout his strong frame. There's an awful guilt that sits heavy at the bottom of his stomach.
Inside the ghost's body, Tommyinnit--little brother of the Blood God himself, most beloved person of the family--lets out a sob that wrecks his tiny frame. At the sound of that, Techno lets out a sad chuff and squeezes Tommy into his clasp gently.
The boy who would never grow up and the god that would never grow old clings onto each other harder as if they will fall apart into pieces if they loosen their grips even by the slightest.
"I'm dead, Techie," the ghost whispers again. "You've got to let me go."
His older brother presses a kiss to his head of golden curls--the only colour on the translucent ghost--and ignores his desperate pleas with a shake of his head.
He would rather die sooner than do that.