Chapter Text
Techno had had a pretty good life. Not a perfect one—probably such a thing didn’t even exist—but he had been happy.
He had two loving parents and a twin brother he got along with wonderfully.
Wilbur was more than just his brother. He was Techno’s better half, his best friend, and someone Techno could always talk to, anytime, anywhere.
One day, Wilbur wanted to go out with their mom to buy a new guitar, and for once, Techno didn’t insist on sticking to his brother like a shadow. The trip wouldn’t take long, and he wouldn’t have been much help anyway. He didn’t know anything about music.
“See you later, Tech!” his twin called with a wide grin.
Techno just rolled his eyes at Wilbur’s buzzing excitement. It was just a guitar. He didn’t get the hype. Then again, maybe Wilbur felt the same when Techno got a new book on Greek mythology.
“Yeah, yeah. See you soon, Wil,” he grumbled with an uninterested wave.
Wilbur—laughing excitedly—ran out the door, following their mom.
Looking back, Techno wished he had savored that moment more. That he had given his brother’s smile one last ounce of his full attention, just to burn it into his memory. But instead, he’d waved it away without a thought.
Shortly after, someone called the house, and Techno watched as his father—who had just been smiling—picked up the phone, and all traces of joy drained from his face.
Less than two hours later, Techno was sitting in a hospital, watching his father fall apart, sobbing uncontrollably, while his own brain still tried to process that their mother was gone forever and that he’d never again see his twin smile or laugh.
It couldn’t possibly get any worse, right?
Wrong.
Without the income from Techno’s mom, the mounting bills and expenses overwhelmed his dad, and they could no longer afford the rent on their house.
They moved. Far away from their old home. Far from Techno’s school, his friends, all the memories of Wilbur and their mother—away from his old life.
And with the move came a new school.
That would be awful. He wasn’t someone who made friends easily. Wilbur had always been the one to handle social situations, pulling Techno along and making friends Techno eventually hung out with too.
Wil—No. He couldn’t think about him now. That hurt too much.
God. Well. Hopefully the other students would just stare or, ideally, just ignore him.
When Techno woke up that morning, it wasn’t his alarm that woke him—it was a loud crash from downstairs.
He sighed and allowed himself a few minutes to just stare at the ceiling, ignoring the chaos that no doubt awaited him below.
But once his alarm finally did go off, he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer.
He forced himself—like he’d done far too often lately—out of bed, got ready in record time, and crept downstairs.
As expected, a mess awaited him.
There, in the living room, his dad lay on the floor, either asleep or unconscious. Scattered around him were shards of broken glass—probably the remains of yet another beer bottle he’d downed recently.
The lack of spilled liquid on the floor told Techno that his father had probably emptied it completely and was now passed out drunk. Again.
Techno cautiously approached and nudged him gently.
“Dad...? Hey, you need to wake up. I—You should at least lie down on the couch.”
He gave him a firmer push, and finally, his father’s eyes opened.
“Hnhh. Wilbur?”
He swallowed the painful lump in his throat. “N-No. It’s me, Techno. Come on, you… really should get up.”
With great effort, he managed to lift his father—who felt like dead weight—onto his shoulder.
Somehow, he dragged him over to the couch, cleaned up the glass, and made food for both of them.
Afterward, he forced himself to wake his dad again.
“Dad. I’m leaving now. Food’s ready in the kitchen.”
All he got was a groan in response.
“Will you make it to work?” he asked gently. That was a sensitive subject.
This time, his father looked at him with a bit more focus. “Shut up,” he growled.
Techno wanted to. But if he didn’t push, nothing would happen. And they desperately needed the money.
“Please. At least try. We need the money—”
Slap!
Techno’s mouth snapped shut and he fell silent as his father—still with his hand raised—glared at him.
“I said shut up! If we need money so badly, get a job yourself! Or are you planning to stay useless forever?!” he shouted, and Techno instinctively took a few steps back to avoid another hit.
He lowered his head and swallowed hard.
“I-…”
There was so much he wanted to say.
I have school and homework.
I’m too young.
I’m just as heartbroken as you are.
I don’t want this.
I can’t.
“…I’ll try to find a job.”
“Finally, you come to your senses.”
The cold—once so loving—look in his father’s eyes hurt.
Too much.
So Techno shut his own eyes, turned, and bolted out the door. He vaguely registered the sound of his father collapsing back onto the couch and knew he’d stay there until Techno came back. Just like the past few days.
If things kept going like this, he really would have to find a job. But that was easier said than done. He was too young.
He pushed down the panicked desperation rising in his chest and forced himself to focus on the next problem: school.
One thing at a time. He could handle it somehow. Like always.
“Technoblade never dies,” Wilbur’s proud, encouraging voice echoed in his head.