Chapter Text
"I just got off the phone with your parents."
Techno had just settled back onto the couch in Ms. Puffy's office when she spoke. He pulled his legs up under himself and frowned at her.
"They're not my parents," he huffed, rolling his eyes. "And I don't care what they say."
"You'll care about this," Puffy said, setting the phone reciever down on its hook. "They have… opted to give up their care of you."
The words slammed into him with more force than he was expecting, and instead of reacting with the anger that twisted in his stomach, he narrowed his eyes at the social worker.
"What does that mean?" he demanded.
"Given your recent…" She hesitated, the corners of her mouth turning down. "transgressions, we'll say, they don't feel safe keeping you in their care."
"I didn't even do anything!"
"Techno, you pulled a knife on your father," Puffy responded, keeping her voice level in that irritating way she never seemed to stop doing. "You've committed a series of petty thefts, you threatened to steal their car, need I go on?"
"Alright, alright," Techno cut in. "Do you want me to apologize?"
"I would want you to mean it if you did."
"So that's a no."
Puffy sighed, leaning back in her desk chair with a soft creak and bringing one hand up to rub at her temple.
"I've been working with you for a long time, Techno," she began. "You know you're a troubled kid-"
"I'm not a kid."
"Fine. You're a troubled teenager — don't even try to argue with me on that, you're 15. You've been from placement to placement more than almost any of my other kids. What do you need from me? How can I help you?"
Techno hesitated. His first instinct was to bite back, to dodge the question or snipe at the social worker. Instead of going on the offensive, though, he shrank back into his seat, curling his spine to press further into the crease of the couch he was sitting on.
"I don't know," he eventually admitted. "I just-"
The words caught in his throat, and he had to pause and clear it before he could continue.
"I want to go home," he said softly.
The look on Puffy's face was almost unbearable. Something between pity and sorrow that made Techno's chest ache.
"…I know," she sighed. "I wish I could make that happen for you."
The tears pricking at the backs of Techno's eyes were an unwelcome intrusion, and he brushed the back of a hand harshly across his face to banish them. In the three years he had been working with Puffy, he had only cried in front of her three times. He didn't intend to allow a fourth time to enter the rankings.
"So where am I going?" he asked, breaking the unsteady silence. "Do I even get to go get my stuff?"
Puffy hesitated, then shook her head apologetically.
"You'll have a roof over your head tonight, I promise. As for your things…"
She didn't need to finish the sentence for Techno to know the answer. Really, he had known it before he even voiced the question, but he'd had a sliver of hope. It was quickly dashed.
"…my books?" he asked in a small voice.
"I'm going to get in contact with them to see about getting your belongings returned to you. In the meantime, I have a contact in the next town over that's on my roster as an emergency placement. I'm going to call him in a few minutes. I really think you two will be a good fit together."
"That's what you said about the last ones," Techno pointed out. "Doesn't the fake optimism ever get boring?"
"Most people find it reassuring," Puffy hummed.
"Then most people are lying to you."
For the second time in the last few minutes, Puffy sighed and leaned back in her chair. It was an expression that Techno was used to. He usually wasn't trying to stress her out, but his tendencies for sarcasm and pragmatism alongside the blunt irritation he often found himself expressing meant that he had a knack for getting under Puffy's skin.
"His name is Phil," Puffy moved on, ignoring Techno's jab. "Phil Craft. He's only taken on a couple of my kids, but he's got an incredibly high success rate. Usually his placements last until a kid ages out of the system."
"Is there anyone else at his house right now?" Techno asked warily.
He had gotten into fights — both verbal and physical — with other kids at his placements. Usually it was easier and drove a better point home if he resolved disputes with his fists, and a lot of the other people he got placed with seemed to agree.
"No, you'll be the only one there. He prefers to only foster one or two kids at a time, says it gives him a better opportunity to connect with them."
Techno nodded, pulling his knees up to his chest and sliding down in his seat again. Something about this office always made him wish he could disappear into the couch. It was all the clinicality of a doctor's office with a thin layer of homey paint pasted over the top. There was a shelf off to the left of the couch with a varied assortment of children's toys and books, which always depressed Techno if he thought about it for too long.
Puffy went about dialing a number into her phone, keeping one eye on Techno as she turned her focus elsewhere. As she spoke into the reciever, Techno fidgeted with his hands, picking at the skin on the sides of his nails and letting the rest of the world fall away into a sort of mid-focus.
When Puffy spoke again, she had to say Techno's name several times to get his attention.
"Techno, hey, are you with me?" she asked.
"Ye- yeah, sorry," Techno responded, snapped out of his reverie. "What were you saying?"
"Phil is going to be here in twenty minutes to pick you up," she said with a smile. "Lucky for you, I have time in my schedule, so you can stay in here until he gets here."
"Lucky me," Techno mumbled, curling further into himself.
The twenty minutes passed by in relative monotony. Techno busied himself with studying his nails, then with tying a small braid into his faded pink hair. He had dyed it on a whim months ago and hadn't had the opportunity to touch it up, so it had faded, and his roots were far past grown out.
Eventually, the light on Puffy's office phone flashed, indicating that the front desk of the office was paging her.
"That must be Phil," she hummed, getting to her feet. "Stay here."
"It's not like I have anywhere-" Techno started to say, but cut himself off as the door clicked shut behind Puffy before he could finish the sentence.
The silence that seemed to fill the space was deafening. As irritating as Puffy could be, Techno always felt a bit hollow after she left the room. The social worker had a way of filling a space with her relentless energy and determination to break through his shell, even if she hadn't succeeded quite yet.
Before long, the ever-present murmuring of the voices picked up in intensity and urgency, filling the still air in the room with erratic mumbling that seemed to echo in Techno's ears. It was something Techno had grown more or less used to over the years — he had been hearing voices since… well, since everything that had led to him being placed in the foster system. They ebbed and flowed, as did many things in his life; some days they were barely present, save for the odd whisper, and some days he couldn't focus on anything but the shouting that nobody else seemed to hear.
It was rare anymore that he told anyone about the voices. When he had first started hearing them, he had found it almost impossible to not talk about them; he'd told his foster parents, Puffy, at least two school counselors, really anyone who would listen. After getting disregarded most of those times and called crazy on more than one occasion, though, he had learned to keep it under wraps. The only person who had met him with even a modicum of understanding had been Puffy, and even she didn't really seem to get it. It was just her job to put on a kind face and accept what was thrown at her.
When the door to the room opened again, Techno's head snapped up. There was an unfamiliar man following behind Puffy, who Techno presumed to be Phil. He had blond hair that fell just past his chin, and kind eyes that crinkled into crow's feet when he smiled; which he was currently doing in Techno's direction.
Techno gave a short nod of greeting, eyes darting over the man's figure. He had a fairly average build, and couldn't be that much taller than Techno. The outer layer of his outfit consisted of an emerald green robe which swallowed most of the nuances of his silhouette.
After a few seconds of assessing the man — Phil — Techno realized that he was also sizing him up; trying to figure out if he could best him in a fight should it become necessary.
"So, this is Technoblade," Puffy said into the uneasy silence.
Right, she was still here.
"Don't call me-"
"He prefers to be called Techno," she continued decisively.
"It's nice to meet you, Techno," Phil said pleasantly, taking a seat at the opposite end of the couch and entirely disregarding the tension bubbling in the room. "Ms. Puffy probably already told you, but my name's Phil."
Another small nod was the only response Techno could bring himself to give. Introductions — especially introductions to new foster parents — always gave him a headache, and he had already been nursing one from the volume of the voices before Phil had entered the room.
The conversation quickly turned to logistics, something that pained Techno as much as it bored him. Now that there wasn't anything being said that he particularly cared about, he allowed himself to drift back into his thoughts once more. The voices hadn't quieted down since Phil had entered the room; currently, most of them were commentating on the newcomer, assessing him, and trying to pick holes in the front he may or may not have been putting up.
"He's probably (a hack) faking (acting it up) it all," one voice hissed, circling Techno's head like a snake. "There's nothing (Nothing!) in his eyes. No kindness (no compassion) to spare (to give the likes of you)."
Techno grimaced, fighting the urge to swat at the air next to his ears, where it felt like the voice was whispering from. He did not need to be asked questions about this right now.
"He's going to leave (abandon) you like the rest of them," another voice warned. "Maybe you should (could) (must) hurt him first?"
"Shut up," Techno muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing as the voices jeered ever louder in response.
"Techno, are you alright?" a voice cut through the murmuring.
"Y- yeah," Techno said quickly, ducking his head as he felt Phil and Puffy's gazes burning into him. "Sorry."
"Did you have something to add?" Puffy asked, brow furrowing in concern. "It sounded like you said-"
"Nothing, I didn't say anything," Techno insisted. "I was just… clearing my throat."
Puffy hummed an acknowledgement and turned her attention back to the papers littered across her desk. Phil's attention, though, remained on Techno for several seconds longer. Concern and confusion mixed in his eyes, and Techno could feel the weight of his gaze crushing down on him, making his chest feel tight.
"Like I was saying, Phil," Puffy's voice sliced through the rising tension, making Techno wilt back into his spot with relief, "if you just read through and sign these, you can take him with you tonight."
"I'm not a dog," Techno huffed, indignation flaring in his chest and making his head feel hot.
"Would you rather spend the night in my office?" Puffy asked, leveling a raised eyebrow at Techno.
Techno frowned back at her. Point taken.
"I have a dog at home," Phil remarked idly, clearly trying to diffuse the one-sided animosity building on Techno's end of the couch.
Much to Techno's irritation, the attempt at friendliness worked, and the mention of the dog piqued his interest. He tried not to look too interested, quickly busying himself looking at his torn nails again instead of looking at Phil.
"His name is Steve," Phil carried on, completely unfazed by Techno's avoidance. "He's… a Samoyed, I think. Big fluffy beast of a dog. Loves meeting new people."
It was actually becoming difficult to look disinterested. Techno forced his face to stay a level neutral as he avoided looking back at the man talking to him.
"Phil?" Puffy prompted, pushing one of the documents across the desk towards the man. "You were going to sign these?"
"Right, of course!" Phil nodded, turning his attention back to Puffy and picking up the pen that she rolled across the surface of the desk.
As Phil read and rifled through the papers, Techno let himself once again relax into a foggy mid-ground, one that existed somewhere between focusing entirely on the voices and focusing on the people who were actually in front of him.
The voices were, of course, a different matter. They had quieted down slightly since he'd told them off, but several of them were jeering at him, taunting and trying to light a fuse in the apparent hopes that Techno would explode. It had happened before. On multiple occcasions, he had gotten into fights with caretakers or other foster kids because he had snapped at the voices outwardly. It didn't happen often, but when it did happen, he felt notably like a caged animal; trapped, with no good out that wouldn't result in some sort of harm coming to him. So he always chose to fight his way out. At least that way, it was on his terms.
"Your world (livelihood) (cage…) is closing in again, Blade (BLADE!)," a particularly insistent voice spat. "He's going to trap you (imprison you), contain you, smother (suffocate) you… can you really let that happen (again) (not again!)?"
It took a concentrated effort for Techno not to press his hands over his ears. It wouldn't help — the voices existed exclusively inside of his head, as far as he could tell, and any external interference short of doing what they wanted him to do had little to no effect on them.
"Techno?" Puffy's voice rang in his ears. "You're a space cadet today, huh?"
"Yeah…" Techno agreed, shaking his head to clear it and only really succeeding in shaking a few loose strands of hair into his face. "What were you saying?"
"Phil's just finishing up signing the papers. You're good to go in just a few minutes. Did you bring a bag with you today?"
Techno nodded, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the beat up leather backpack that he had brought into the office with him. He brought the bag everywhere — it was where he kept his most valuable possessions, somewhere he knew nobody could take them while he wasn't looking. The backpack itself was one of the few things he had from before being put into foster care.
"Aaaand, that's the last of them!" Phil chirped, finishing off his signature with a little flourish.
Techno couldn't decide if this man was going to entertain him or be annoying to no end. Maybe both.
"Great!" Puffy turned her attention back to Phil, steepling her fingers in front of her face and smiling. "Phil, if you could just step out into the hallway for a few minutes, I want to talk to Techno really quickly before you both leave for the day."
"Oh, yeah, no problem." Phil nodded and stood, flashing Techno a small smile and a nod before heading towards the door. "I'll be in the hallway."
Techno frowned at Puffy as she stood up from her chair and rounded the desk.
"This is weird. You're being weird," he pointed out, jutting his chin forward slightly as she approached.
"I know, I just… wanted to talk to you for a minute."
A frown settled itself on Techno's face, and he turned to the side to face Puffy as she sat down on the couch next to him.
"I really think Phil is going to be different. Honestly," Puffy said gently, with a caution in her tone that made Techno feel ill.
"What makes you think that?"
"He's got a really good success rate, Techno. Every kid I've had work with him has had almost no complaints, and he has a history in social work so he really does know what he's doing."
"Almost?" Techno prodded.
"Well… nobody's without their faults," Puffy hummed, tipping her head to the side and biting at her lip.
"Yeah, but in your line of work there can be some pretty fucking big faults."
"Language," Puffy scolded lightly. "And… yeah. I know. But the only complaint I've gotten is that sometimes Phil can be a little overbearing. And I haven't heard that in a long time."
"Overbearing or controlling?"
Puffy sighed, leaning back slightly and folding her hands in her lap.
"Techno, why can't you just trust me on this?" she asked, sounding slightly defeated.
At that, Techno huffed a noise that was almost a laugh, eyebrows shooting up.
"Really? In this line of work?"
"Good point. I just…" Puffy paused, seeming to study Techno for a few seconds before continuing. "I really do want the best for you."
"I know," Techno mumbled, looking down at his knees again.
"I know you have a hard time trusting. It makes sense, given everything you've been through."
"Where is this going?" Techno asked.
"I don't know. I just wanted to reassure you, genuinely, that I think Phil has your best interests in mind," Puffy sighed. "I truly do think this time is going to be different."
Techno let the words hang in the air between them for several seconds, turning them over in his mind and trying to decide if he wanted to take Puffy at her word.
"…okay," he eventually said, quietly. "I'll trust you. If this comes back to bite me, though-"
"You'll never let me hear the end of it," Puffy said with a soft laugh. "I know. Go talk to Phil, okay? Give him a real chance. You might not regret it."
Techno hesitated for a beat, chewing at the inside of his mouth as he considered whether or not to say anything in exchange. He settled for giving a quick nod, then got to his feet, slinging his bag over one shoulder in a fluid motion as he stood.
"…thanks, Puffy," he said quietly, obscuring the words under his breath.
With that, he turned and quickly left the room, closing the door carefully behind him.
Phil was waiting in the hallway, idly scrolling through something on his phone. When he heard Techno exit the office, he looked up and flashed another bright smile, slipping his phone into his pocket.
"Hey! Are you ready to go?" he asked, taking a step closer but minding Techno's space.
Techno nodded, looking down at his feet as he began to follow Phil down the hallway towards the exit.
This office had always annoyed Techno. The hallways were long and confusing, winding in odd directions that he could never quite make sense of. Even after years of being in Puffy's care, he hadn't managed to memorize the path from her office to the waiting room. Phil, it seemed, had it down to a science.
The man walked with one shoulder slightly brushing the wall on his left side, and as Techno studied his gait, he realized that he also walked with a very slight limp. It piqued his interest, though he had no intention of bringing it up anytime soon. The side that he favored was also the side that he kept facing the open air. Interesting.
Phil made quick work of navigating the two out of the office and into the cold winter air. At some point while Techno had been in the building, it had apparently started snowing, and he shot a glare up at the sun. He immediately regretted his decision and winced, looking back down at his feet and trying to ignore the stinging in his eyes.
"My car is just over here," Phil said, nodding to the left side of the parking lot. "It's nothing special, but it's mine."
It became quickly clear that Phil was walking towards a beat up Beetle. It was painted a chipped dark green, not too far off of the colour of Phil's robe.
When they got to the car, Phil stepped forward to unlock it, then opened the passenger side door with a grandiose gesture for Techno to get in.
"If you're cold, there's a blanket in the back. I have pretty much any music you can think of downloaded, or you can play music from your phone if you have an aux jack," he rambled, getting incrementally louder as he rounded the car to the driver's side and got further away.
Techno slid into the passenger seat, running his fingertips over the cracked and torn leather. The inside of the car wasn't in much better condition than the outside. There was a fast food drink cup in the cupholder, and at least two empty shopping bags drifting around the back seat. The surfaces were all pretty rough, torn where there was fabric and cracked and worn away where the material was more solid. All in all, it looked like a well-loved car. Well-cared for, too; there wasn't much trash or debris cluttering the car, it just looked old.
As Phil got into the car on the other side and started it up, Techno's attention caught on the little basket of cassette tapes tucked into the hollow next to his legs. Interest thoroughly piqued, he leaned down to pick up the basket, careful not to jostle the tapes — he had no idea if they were organized specifically or not, and he didn't want to find out by ruining the organization.
"Feel free to take any of those out or look at them," Phil said, answering the unasked question. "There's not much new music in there, but I think most of it is pretty good, even if it's a little dated."
Techno actually had to bite down on a laugh at that. He was still trying to maintain some sort of image in front of Phil, something indifferent to his efforts to interact. It was getting harder with every minute he spent with the man, though; as much as he wanted to be irritated by Phil's apparently-relentless cheeriness, he was finding himself intrigued by the demeanour.
As he looked through the cassettes, he found that he recognized most, but not all, of the artists. There were at least three self-titled albums by Led Zeppelin, and he found four different instances of Let It Be by The Beatles.
Eventually, Techno picked out one of the Let It Be tapes and pushed it into the tape deck. The music filled the car quickly, and Techno felt his shoulders relax incrementally. In addition to making the car ride a little less awkward, the music had the added benefit of somewhat drowning out the voices for the first time since they had kicked up in the stifling quiet of Puffy's office.
"So, how old are you?" Phil asked idly as he turned the car onto a side street.
"15. Didn't Puffy tell you that?" Techno spoke pointedly, raising one eyebrow at the man.
"You got me there. She gave me a little bit of background information in the paperwork, but honestly not very much."
"Okaaaay…" Techno said, drawing out the word. "What do you know about me? Start there."
Phil sighed, glancing at Techno and reaching out to turn down the music a little bit. He turned it to 11, and Techno grimaced at the number. Seeing that reaction, Phil clicked the volume down to 10, to which Techno gave a small nod.
"I know your name is Techno, and you don't like going by your full name. You're 15 years old and you've been in foster care for… 7 years, yeah?"
Techno hesitated, then nodded to confirm the information.
"I don't know why you're in foster care or how many previous placements you've had," Phil went on.
"Why? Doesn't she include that in the paperwork?"
"I… glossed over that part," Phil admitted with a slightly awkward smile. "I like giving kids the opportunity to open up to me themselves. Doesn't feel right if it doesn't come naturally. I know I wouldn't want my life story to come from a couple paragraphs written by some social worker."
"Huh. Never heard that one before," Techno hummed.
"You don't believe me?" Phil turned to look sideways at Techno, keeping one eye on the road but also raising one eyebrow at the teen.
"Everyone in this industry is full of platitudes to get me to stop asking questions."
"Industry, huh?"
"Yeah," Techno said firmly, turning sideways in his seat and ignoring the disapproving noise Phil made. "It's an industry. Anyone who tells you they're doing this shit out of the goodness of their heart is lying to you."
Phil hummed in acknowledgement, nodding slowly as he processed the thinly veiled accusation.
"I can see how you came to that conclusion." He paused, clearly considering his words carefully. "I also think there are more good people in the world than you've been able to experience so far."
Techno huffed, rolling his eyes and sliding down further in his seat.
"I know you don't believe me," Phil sighed. "You don't have to. I'm not here to convince you of any sunshine-y endings. Right now, I just want to get you through the night."
"Okay," Techno said quietly.
"Okay?"
"Yeah, okay. Ever heard an acknowledgement before?" Techno sniped, frowning over at Phil.
"Alright, alright. Okay."
The drive fell into relative silence after that, save for the humming of the car and the occasional clatter of gravel kicked up from the road. Techno busied himself pretending to look through the cassettes, until he realized he was actually interested in what there was in the selection, and found himself actually looking at the titles.
It was hard to say how long the rest of the drive was. Techno hadn't looked at the clock when they had gotten into the car, and he hadn't been paying attention to it in the time since. When Phil pulled the car into a driveway, though, he looked up from the basket and glanced at the clock. 2:46PM.
"We're home!" Phil announced brightly.
Techno sat up a bit to see better over the dashboard of the car. The house they were idling next to wasn't far off from what he had expected. There was a garden that looked more like a miniature overrun jungle in front of the sagging porch. The house itself was paneled, paint chipping off around the doorframes and window ledges. Vines crept up from the garden and snaked around the pillars supporting the porch roof, and some climbed bravely further up the house, petering out around the second story.
Phil turned off the car and got out, circling around it to open the door for Techno again. When Techno realized Phil was going to open the door for him, he grabbed for the door handle to do it before the man could, but he realized a moment too late, and Phil was already tugging the door open.
With no small amount of trepidation, Techno followed Phil up the pathway to the steps and onto the porch. The wood creaked under their feet, already dented and worn from years of people passing over it.
As the door swung open, Techno was met with the clean scent of laundry detergent and something that smelled vaguely like cinnamon. It was pleasant, and he took a deep breath before crossing the threshold after Phil. The entry hallway was narrow, but not cramped, a shoe rack and coat hooks installed neatly by the door. Phil slipped off his loafers and kicked them into the shoe rack, and Techno followed suit, crouching to untie his sneakers.
Just as he pulled the second sneaker off, Techno was startled by a fluffy projectile of a dog bounding towards him and nosing at his face and shoulders, giving him a thorough once-over. He had to rapidly adjust from crouching to sitting fully on the floor as the dog got closer to him and tried to press against him.
"Oi, Steve, give him a second," Phil scolded, though there was a smile on his face. "He just got here."
"No, it's okay," Techno said, a smile breaking through the demeanor he had been trying to force. "I- I like dogs."
The dog was all white and incredibly fluffy, with dark brown eyes that seemed almost kind. He sniffed Techno all over before giving a soft wuff and laying down on his legs.
"You're trapped now, mate," Phil observed, clearly amused. "He likes you."
Techno was too busy rubbing at the dog's ears and neck to respond. Steve was shaking slightly from the force of his tail wagging, and he was trying to roll over onto his back while still on Techno's lap.
"If you want me to move him, let me know," Phil hummed. "He's pretty well trained, so I can call him off if you need a breather."
"I haven't lived with a dog in so long…" Techno breathed, leaning down to bury his face in Steve's fur. "My parents had one when I was a kid, until…"
He trailed off there, grimacing into the soft mass of fluff. Steve smelled clean, like soap and lavender. Something about the scent pulled at a memory buried somewhere in his mind, but he couldn't find it in him to bring the thought close enough to the forefront to properly remember it.
After a few minutes of excited rolling around on Techno's lap, Steve got up and bounded off down the hallway.
"So, that's Steve," Phil said with a laugh. "As you can tell, he's pretty friendly. He'll settle down once he gets used to you, he's just excitable around new faces."
Techno nodded as he got to his feet, nudging his shoes into the shoe rack with one foot. Now that Steve had wandered off to elsewhere in the house, he had a moment to look more closely at the hallway he stood in. There was a plant at the far end of the hallway, next to a doorway that looked like it led to a living room. The walls of the hall were painted a dark, warm brown. It was a soothing colour, though not something he was well-acquainted with. Most of the households he had been buffeted between had been big on open space concepts and irritating whites and beiges, so the dark, inviting air in this house was something of a novelty to him.
Phil nodded towards the end of the hall, indicating for Techno to follow him towards the living room. Techno obliged and followed, socked feet making next to no noise on the wooden floors. The living room was similarly inviting. It smelled more strongly of cinnamon in here, like a candle was lit somewhere. A brief scan of the room revealed a candle settled on the mantle above an unlit fireplace; that must have been the source of the smell.
The furnishing was cluttered, but neat. It seemed like everything had a place, even though there were a lot of things. There was a stack of board games on top of a shelf that appeared to contain more board games, and both of the end tables were littered with mismatched coasters. There was a shallow dish on the coffee table full of fidgets, and Techno felt an itch to reach for one.
On the left side of the room was another, wider doorway that opened into a dining room and kitchen. A dark wood table stood in the center of the room, with matching chairs that had cushions of various colours surrounding it. The kitchen was further beyond the doorway, separated from the dining room by an island that ran halfway the length of the room.
"Your room is upstairs," Phil said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled in place. "I can show you to it, if you want to put your bag up there. You can also put your shoes up there if you'd be more comfortable with them there."
Techno hesitated, then nodded. He considered the shoes offer for a few seconds, then decided against it and followed Phil to the stairs. Steve trotted out of the kitchen and circled Techno's legs once before following closely behind him up the stairs.
The stairs were steep, but not unsafely so. There was a rug running down the center of the staircase, making it far less of a slipping hazard and adding a bit of colour.
"I like to change this rug out season to season," Phil remarked as he climbed the staircase. "It's due for a change, actually, maybe you can help me pick the next one."
Techno hummed an acknowledgement, glancing around at the various framed pictures and paintings on the walls. There was one near the top of the staircase that caught his eye, a winter scenery with twin wooden cabins. He made a mental note to come back and look closer at the paintings when he had some free time.
Phil took a left and led Techno to the last door in the hallway.
"This is your room." He pushed the door open with a creak and stepped aside for Techno to pass him.
The room was surprisingly nice. The bed looked comfortable, with several pillows and a plush comforter tucked neatly around the mattress. There was a wardrobe standing opposite the foot of the bed, and a desk on another wall. All of the furniture was made out of the same dark wood that Techno had noticed in the dining room, pairing nicely with the deep red that the walls were painted.
"I like the… colour of the walls," Techno said, cringing internally at his choice of commentary.
Phil nodded, stepping inside after Techno and letting the door fall shut. It swung hard into the doorframe, slamming shut with a notable thud and startling Steve.
"Ah, shit- that's a good note, be careful with that door. It slams if you aren't careful with it," Phil noted, wincing at the sound.
Techno forced his shoulders to relax from where they had shot up to just under his ears, and unclenched his jaw, forcing a deep breath.
"Sorry," Phil said, seeming genuinely apologetic.
"It's okay," Techno mumbled, looking at the floor.
On the wooden floor — was everything wood in this house? — was a rug, checked in black and red tartan. Techno could feel how soft it was even through his socks.
Another scan of the room revealed several more details. There was a journal in the center of the desk's surface, with a few pens and a mechanical pencil in a cup holder next to it.
"Is that supposed to be in here?" Techno queried, pointing at the notebook.
"Oh, yeah." Phil nodded, walking over to the desk and picking up the journal to offer it to Techno. "I like to give all my kids a journal. It's something easy that can really be yours if you want it, and you can pretty much do whatever you want with it. Later this week I'll take you to the mall so we can get you some basics."
Techno reached out, hesitating with his hands a few inches away from the journal before taking it. He flipped it open, not sure what he was expecting, but met with the blank lined pages that offered an almost daunting amount of potential.
"Do you like to write?" Phil asked.
"Uhh…" Techno hesitated, eyes darting to the side. "Ye- yeah. Sometimes. I like, uh. Poetry?"
"Oh, neat!" Phil exclaimed. "I used to dabble in poetry, but I haven't written any since I was a teenager. Must have been about your age."
"I've been writing it for a couple years… I think I started when I was 10?" Techno hummed uncertainly.
"You must be pretty good by now, then, huh?"
Techno felt his face burn with embarrassment, and he looked down at the floor. Luckily, Steve was circling his feet again, and provided something to focus on that wasn't the compliments he was being given.
"I'm- I'm okay at it…"
"Alright, alright, I'll stop teasing you," Phil said lightly, smiling at Techno.
Techno gave a short nod, and he stepped past Phil to set the journal back on the desk, neatly in line with the center where it had been before.
"There are some basics in the closet," Phil went on, gesturing at the wardrobe. "Easy stuff, sweatpants and hoodies, some t-shirts, I think there's still at least one pair of jeans in there. Some of it should be your size, and if it isn't, let me know and we'll figure something else out. Those should hold you over until we can get to the mall."
"That's… really kind of you. Thank you," Techno said awkwardly, looking at the floor again.
As Steve circled insistently around his legs, threatening to trip him, Techno decided to crouch down on the rug next to him. Immediately, the dog tried to climb in his lap, and Techno couldn't bite back a soft huff of laughter; though he did try to hide the small smile behind a hand.
"I'll leave you to get settled in," Phil said, walking towards the door. "Oh, and there's a lock on the door; no rules around that for now, but if you prove that it's a safety issue we'll have to talk about it."
Techno nodded again, attention still mostly focused on Steve as Phil left the room. He held the door open for a few seconds, offering for the dog to leave with him, but he seemed content to roll around on the rug for now, so he let the door fall carefully shut.
Once he was alone, Techno got to his feet again to poke around the room more thoroughly. There was a bedside table with a lamp on it, and poking around in the drawers revealed a similar, smaller dish of fidgets to the one in the living room. Techno pulled out one that looked like a light switch and clicked it experimentally a few times. Satisfied with the feel of it, he closed the drawer, still fiddling with it in his hand.
The lock on the door gave him pause. The last time he had had a lock on his door that wasn't forbidden or entirely broken had been at the first foster home he had been in, and there had been pretty strict rules around his usage of it even there. But here, it seemed like such a non-issue. Phil had been completely calm when he brought it up, almost like it was an afterthought, something that didn't really matter.
To Techno, though, it was everything. Even the smallest scrap of trust like this felt almost overwhelming.
The next thing he investigated was the wardrobe. Just as Phil had said, there were miscellaneous clothes hanging up and folded in the drawers; fairly sparse and all very basic in colour and design, but they seemed comfortable and at least kind of his size. After a brief hesitation, he reached out and pulled a dark red hoodie out of the wardrobe, slipping it on and zipping it up halfway.
There was one last thing he wanted to look into, and it sent a flicker of anxiety buzzing through his chest and down into his stomach. This would make or break his trust of Phil, at least for the first few days. Cameras.
In several of his previous homes, there had been hidden cameras set up to monitor him at literally all hours; one of them had had a blatant security camera installed in the corner of the room he had shared with another teenager.
It was a slow, methodical process. Techno did a sweep of the room, checking in the frames of the two paintings that were hung up, in the curtains, in the fibers of any fabric in the room. He squinted into any knots in the wooden furniture and shined his phone flashlight against the mirror before sweeping it over the entire room.
By the time he was satisfied with the apparent lack of recording devices — after at least three thorough sweeps of the room — he was exhausted. The bed was looking more and more inviting by the minute, even as he forced himself to circle the room and inspect the corners one last time.
Finally, he crossed to the door of the room. As he reached out towards the lock, he faltered, hand hovering a couple inches away from it. Phil had said he was allowed to use the lock. Logically, he knew there would be no consequences to using it — unless Phil went against his own word, and so far he didn't seem like someone who would do that.
After a few beats of hesitation, he carefully turned the lock, listening to the satisfying click as it slipped into place. Immediately, he felt his shoulders relax, and a heavy wave of exhaustion crashed into him as a significant amount of the tension that haunted him drained out of his body.
It was getting difficult to fight the fatigue tugging at him. Techno felt like gravity had managed to become stronger, dragging him down and towards the bed that looked so very inviting. Satisfied with the security in the room, and put at ease by the newly locked door, he let himself collapse backwards onto the bed, not bothering with anything like changing clothes.
The bed was softer than he expected. The mattress curved under his weight to support him, and the comforter felt downy, soft as he ran his fingertips over the stitched lines. Incrementally, his body started to relax. For the first time in weeks, he actually felt something akin to safe.
As his eyes grew heavy, he only struggled against the pull of exhaustion for a few minutes. In passing he found himself hoping that the next few days would prove him right about Phil — he really didn't want to be wrong about this one. Eventually, satisfied, he let his eyelids slip shut, and he allowed himself to fade into the embrace of sleep.