Chapter Text
Technoblade is no stranger to the foster system. Ever since his parents had been deemed neglectful (which was the understatement of the century) when he was ten and he was dragged away from them, he’d been tossed from house to house. Techno hated all of them, but some were better or worse than others.
For example, the first people he was given to put locks on the cabinets that held food. There had been two other children there, a young girl and a boy who had probably aged out of the system by now. The foster parents didn’t care much about what they did, the only real rules being to not steal food or eat without permission. Once, the older boy had broken the rules by sneaking an extra granola bar to his room. Techno still isn’t sure what they did to him, but he remembers hearing shouts and a door slamming. There had been a red stain on the carpet and shards of glass littering the floor the next morning.
Other places, however, weren’t so bad. When he had been in the system for around a year, he was placed with a kind man. Techno was the only kid in the house, which he was grateful for. The only real downside was that the man placed all of his attention on Techno alone, which had gotten annoying quickly. He didn’t have to fight for food though, which was good.
Techno thinks the worst house he’d ever been in was after a little over four years of placements. The foster parent was a cruel woman with alcohol on her breath. There had been five kids in total, including him. Their ages ranged from seven to sixteen. There was a pair of twins, nine years old. The youngest was a little boy, Carl. He was aloof and didn’t really know what to do with his body, ending in multiple accidents. Techno tried his best to cover them up before anyone noticed. The only girl was sixteen, all legs and shiny blond hair and dark brown eyes. She was no help, always sneaking off to get out of the house. Techno couldn’t really blame her. The twins weren’t really aware of anything bad happening, not unless they were the ones who got caught in the crossfire. Techno tried to prevent that from happening as much as possible.
Once, when Carl had accidentally knocked over a glass cup, Techno was too late to clean it up. She had been so, so angry, and Techno tried his best to shield Carl with his body. He had been mostly successful, except for the glass she’d managed to hit Carl with, resulting in a deep gash across the boy’s arm. Techno hadn’t even noticed his own injuries, ripped skin and a bruise over his eye, until later, after bandaging Carl’s wounds and shooing the twins away, trying to protect them from the sight. The girl barely even cared, but she did offer Carl a piece of chocolate. When he asked where she’d gotten it from, she shrugged ominously.
After that, Techno made it a point to not get attached to any of the homes or kids he came across. So, when he’s placed in a new house at fifteen, he’s immediately suspicious of the warmth.
The man’s name is Phil, and he has two other kids. They’re his own this time. Wilbur is also fifteen and he’s Phil’s biological child. Tommy’s twelve and adopted. It’s not often that Techno gets even that much information on whatever new home he’s shipped off to, but apparently he’d gotten lucky this time.
Techno is welcomed into the house with open arms, but he’s alert the second he steps inside, his nearly empty bag swinging from his shoulders. His eyes shift from side to side, finding unlocked drawers and clean floors. There’s a plate with a half-eaten pancake on the round table in the dining room. The empty cup next to it makes Techno shudder.
Phil is still talking to his caseworker at the door. Techno can see Wilbur awkwardly shuffling near him, glancing back at Techno every few seconds. Tommy, on the other hand, is a bundle of energy, rocking on his feet and fidgeting with his fingers. Techno doesn’t know how he could be so energetic so early in the morning.
When Phil finishes his chat, he turns and greets Techno with a smile. “Hi, mate,” he says. Techno doesn’t answer, looking at him through narrowed eyes. Phil turns towards Wilbur instead of acknowledging it. “Why don’t you show Techno up to his room? Let him get adjusted.” He talks like Techno isn’t even in the room, but it’s honestly better that way.
“Sure,” Wilbur answers, glancing at Techno and tilting his head towards the stairs. Techno follows behind him, eyeing the pictures of the happy family on the
walls.
They head upstairs until they reach two rooms, placed side by side. There’s another one just across that looks like a bathroom. Wilbur points towards the end of the hall. “That’s Phil’s room,” he says. “These two are mine and Tommy’s. The guest room,” he makes a vague gesture past the corner, “is yours.” Techno mutters his thanks and steps inside, only glancing back for a moment to see the shadow of a smile on Wilbur’s face as he leaves Techno alone.
Techno looks around the room, and it’s plain like usual. The walls are a faint gray, a dingy and worn fan hanging above. The floor is carpet, and the bed is neatly made with plain white pillows and sheets. The blanket, however, is a light blue.
Techno drops his bag onto the floor and then sits down on the bed, staring absently at the wall. So far, this house isn’t much different from the others. But, he supposes, if it comes down to it, he could always fight his way out. He’s not the same scrawny kid he once was, not after learning to fight and protect himself. He had to, otherwise he probably wouldn’t have gotten to this day.
He wonders if he’ll be put into school again. Some of his past homes had given up on it, deterred by the frequent fights he got into, either by reading his file or witnessing the aftermath firsthand. Part of Techno wants to go back to school. He had always enjoyed learning, but some things seemed useless, and he learned about a lot of stuff all on his own. Some of his teachers also weren’t the greatest, one of them even hitting Techno after a particularly bad tussle in the classroom. Thinking back on it, Techno might've brought that upon himself.
He sighs, tilting his head. He spots a window, and it doesn’t look like one of those reinforced ones. An escape route, then. The thought calms him a little.
He startles a little when a small head pokes into the doorway. Tommy’s hair is full of loose blond waves, and his eyes are a bright blue that match Phil’s lighter pair. In fact, Tommy looks more like Phil’s real kid than Wilbur does. Techno would laugh if he didn’t have an audience.
“Dadza says to come down. He wants to go over the rules,” Tommy states without prompting. Techno can appreciate that.
“Okay,” is all Techno replies with. He’s a little confused over the name Tommy used for Phil, but he doesn’t question it.
Tommy bolts out of the room then, leaving Techno to groan and stand up on stiff legs.
Once he’s downstairs, he sees Phil waiting in the dining room. Both the plate and cup are gone, which Techno is grateful for.
“First things first,” Phil begins once Techno’s sat down across from him. “No leaving the house without permission. It might seem a little silly, especially at your age, but it’s necessary. I’ve lost count of how many times I had to drag Tommy and Wilbur home from the park, terrified I’d lost them.” The last part is said so sweetly that Techno thinks he might throw up. Techno hums his agreement. It sounds reasonable enough.
“Secondly, don’t be afraid to take food or anything like that whenever you need it.” This is a new one. Most of the time, even if no one’s really keeping food away, permission is always needed. Techno should hide extra food in his room, just in case. He tucks the thought away when Phil begins to speak again. “I read your file, so I don’t know how you feel about school, but if that’s something you want to start again, I’m open to it. In that same vein, I don’t care how late you stay up, but I suggest sleeping at a decent time, although I’m sure you think that’s just some dumb rule. I find it important either way, especially when Tommy’s up at eight in the morning bouncing off the walls.” Phil really does ramble on, but maybe Techno’s just not used to this sort of undivided attention. The rules in the past were given quickly or not at all.
Lastly, he says, “I’m sure other rules will come up throughout your stay here, but that’s it for now. Does that seem okay to you?”
“I don’t have much of a choice either way,” Techno jokes, finally deciding to speak. It doesn’t seem like he’ll get in too much trouble for saying the wrong thing. “But yeah, it does.”
Phil sighs, a wonky smile crossing his lips. “You do, Techno. I wouldn’t push this on you if you didn’t want me to. I’m sure there’s something else we could come up with.” It’s the wording he chooses, the we. As if Techno has ever gotten to choose anything for himself.
Techno shrugs, an almost exhausted look on his face, but they both know it’s not from a long day. A long life, maybe. He excuses himself from the table and heads for his room, even if it doesn’t really feel like his. Nothing does anymore.
He falls into bed, face pressed into the soft pillows, and ignores the world for a while