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Phil had to admit that when his best friend and the other half of his very soul had pressed a leather-bound book into his hands while informing him of his plan for his most recent escapade, he had wanted nothing more than to pull him close and scold him for his reckless behavior.
Of course, the man would never have listened. Technoblade, despite being a skilled strategist and warrior, was a stubborn bastard when he had his mind set on something and it was highly unlikely that anything Phil could have said in that moment would have convinced the man not to leave. The two of them both knew the dangers of what his friend was planning to do. Adventuring into a maximum security prison to have a conversation with the most terrifying and unpredictable criminal the server had ever seen was bound to come with its risks, and so Phil had no reason to question when Techno placed what he had labeled to be his will in his hands with a soft, joking taunt and a wide grin. The man had instructed him to read the contents if he did not return within the next 3 months; instructions that Phil had intended to follow. It was clear his friend had a plan, one he was not willing to reveal but a plan none the less, and so Phil had taken the book and watched as his friend rode off on horseback into the distance, standing in the snow long after the sound of galloping hooves had faded into silence.
In the end, he would find himself regretting not begging the man to stay as he found himself close to losing him altogether.
The heels of his boots pounded against the hardwood floor as he sprinted, the sound thunderous in his ears as it mixed with the roaring of his own frantic heartbeat. His head spun, his mind racing from the terror coursing through his veins. His breathing was harsh, his lungs refusing to function on their own accord as fear threatened to choke him. Self-hatred flooded his mind as he crossed the meeting place of the Syndicate, the place where a shimmering ender pearl bobbed inside the stasis chamber that could only belong to one person, left untouched for over three gods damned months—
Reading over the will that Techno had left behind had been a shock, the delicate pages scrawled with his best friend’s messy cursive writing that Phil knew was a habit from back when he had been forced to write formal, professional letters in a land long gone, each word delivering a violent blow to Phil's heart. Before he had even reached the end of the first page, he had found himself racing to the meeting room on feet that carried him faster than his wings ever could’ve when they were still functional. Techno had not asked him to wait three months, had not even asked Phil to wait three weeks, and had most likely spent his time stuck in a dingy cell with only a criminal and the voices in his mind to keep him company. He may have presumed that Phil had abandoned him— you did, his mind whispered cruelly to him, he's been waiting for you to open that book and read that will for months and you left him to rot— or had moved on and forgotten about him entirely.
Before he could allow the guilt to fully consume him, Phil skidded to a halt beside the stasis chamber, wasting no time in slamming down the spruce trapdoor hovering above the ender pearl and watching as it shattered into a million tiny, fragile pieces with a sound akin to the glass of a window breaking apart. He showed no reaction to the loudness of the sound despite the suddenness of it, simply staring transfixed with baited breath as a figure materialized before him.
The first thing he noticed about Technoblade's appearance was the dozens of shallow scrapes and bruise littering the visible areas of his skin, standing out in stark contract to the faded lines of similar origin that had come before them. A particularly nasty cut stretching from the mans chin to his jaw dripped blood steadily, causing his usually unstained white shirt to be marked by bright scarlet. The second thing was the way his hair, usually displayed proudly in an intricate braid, hung loosely down to curtain his face, knotted and tangled in a way that seemed so unfamiliar for someone who usually prided himself on his appearance.
The man’s posture was stiff, curled in on himself ever so slightly. Trembling uncontrollably, as though carrying a weight heavy enough to put such a strain on his muscles. Phil found himself frowning deeply at the sight, worry overtaking him for the briefest of moments until he hid it quickly away under the calm, careful mask he had managed to master over the years. From Techno's injuries to his fear, Phil knew that he would have to keep it together to allow his friend to have a space to fall. And so he wandered forwards, slowly, keeping his steps heavy to alert his friend of his approach. He had no way of knowing the true extent of the damage— internal injuries or mental scars that Techno would usually hide from the outside world to uphold his reputation of being untouchable, unkillable— and he hated to think of his friend suffering even longer for his own mistakes.
Crimson eyes snapped up to stare up at him from where Techno was hunched on the ground, his expression containing the faintest flicker of fear that did not go unnoticed by Phil's keen eyes. His friend barely even moved, his muscles twitching and body trembling but otherwise as still as a statue as he watched Phil move closer, eerily reminiscent of how a cornered animal would look into the eyes of a predator with the knowledge that they had very little chance of making it out alive.
But while Techno may have viewed him with such unfiltered terror, Phil knew better. Every war. Every government taken down as fast as they rose to power. Every country left burned to ashes in the blink of an eye. Every gentle touch and murmured affection after a long battle fought. All of it. Phil remembered, even if in that moment Techno did not, and he would be damned if he would sit back as his friend suffered.
He crouched before the man, close enough to hear the quiet hitching of his breath as he did so, muttering soft and gentle reassurances in an attempt to comfort and pull him out of the panic he was experiencing. Techno's brow furrowed in confusion at the sound of Phil's voice, as if lost in a daze and unable to process that his friend knelt before him. He resisted the urge to reach a hand up to run his hand across the man’s forehead and smooth out the lines, afraid of causing further distress, instead settling on wrapping his hands around the man’s wrists as gently as possible. A small glint of recognition passed over his friend’s face, so familiar that it made Phil's heart ache after months spent away from Techno's side.
"Phil?" The reassurances he had been murmuring died on his lips in an instant at the sound of Techno's voice, rasping and cracking but the best sound he had heard over the past months. Techno seemed lost to his thoughts, seeming to stare straight through Phil instead of truly looking at him, his head tilted to the side as he stared disbelievingly. It was evident just how much the man had longed for him during his time away and Phil would be a liar if he didn't say he felt similarly.
Without thinking, he pulled his friend close, moving one hand to cup the back of his head and burry it in tangled pink strands, using the other to rub steady circles into his back. He listened closely for any sign of discomfort, aware of the injuries that could be hidden beneath Techno's shirt, not wanting to cause any extra pain from running his hands over the scars. While his friend allowed a soft whimper to escape him as Phil's hand drew nearer to the area his tail was— used to be, Phil realized with nauseating horror— he was otherwise silent in his grasp.
Gradually, the tremor running through his friend’s body began to fade as his stiff posture relaxed at the contact, pressing his face into the fur of Phil's cape as if attempting to hide away from whatever monsters could be waiting outside of the comforting embrace. Neither of them spoke for a long while, too caught up in the relief of finally holding the other close. When Techno's breathing began to pick up again when Phil eventually attempted to pull away, he guided him through breathing exercises until he was sure the man could breathe on his own once again.
"Please don't leave me," Techno whispered, the words hesitant as they fell from his lips. Phil forced himself to bite back an apology, knowing that this was not the time to inform him of his hatred for his own mistakes, instead sighing and tightening his grip on the man for a moment.
"I'm not. I swear to you, Technoblade, I will never leave you again. I'm right here."
"M'kay," He muttered, loosening the white-knuckled grip he had obtained on Phil's cloak at the soothing words. Phil shifted slightly, attempting to gain a more comfortable position, wincing when the movement caused Techno to let out a low hiss of pain at the jostling. He was once again reminded of the wounds marking his best friends body, forgotten momentarily as he had simply attempted to comfort and reassure the man broken in his arms rather than healing his pain. He sighed softly, knowing that Techno would be in a lot less pain long term if whatever injuries he had acquired were dealt with quickly.
"As much as I don't want to let you go, mate, I want to sort out those cuts and bruises, okay? They look like they hurt." He forced his voice to stay strong, unwavering despite his own sadness at the thought of his friend being out of his grasp once more. He loosened his grip, waiting a beat for Techno to do the same, pulling back to look him in the eyes. Slowly, he stood, guiding his friend to do the same and winding an arm around his waist without comment when the man stumbled at the movement. Together, they shuffled towards the meeting table in the center of the room, Phil helping Techno settle down into one of the chairs and kneeling before him.
It was something they had done many times, patching each other up after battles that left them too exhausted to tend to their own injuries. It was routine, familiar, and it was clear that a part of Techno was soothed by the normality. He unbuttoned his shirt, fumbling one of them twice due to the persistent yet near unnoticeable shaking in his hands, preparing to show Phil the wounds that had been inflicted upon him by goodness knows who. He seemed to steady himself for a moment, breathing deeply, before shrugging the fabric off his shoulders and allowing him a fully view of the skin beneath.
The majority of the injuries were shallow, barely deep enough to cause bad scarring if treated with a potion, littered across Techno's torso and arms and almost blending in with the rest of the lines already etched into his skin. A few ran deeper, jagged and carved with very little precision. They seemed new, recent, and the thought made Phil's heart turn with revolution. These were barely inconveniences in comparison to the wounds that had been inflicted onto his closest friends body in the past, but Phil couldn't find it in himself to care as his eyes traced Techno's chest.
"Gods, this…who did this to you?" Phil breathed, unable to stop horror and rage alike from slipping into his voice. He longed to give whoever had attempted to cause Techno such pain the same treatment, although the logical part of his mind knew that his friend would not benefit from it and so he forced himself to take a deep breath to put out the raging fire in his chest.
"Quackity. He would…stop by sometimes to visit Dream in the prison. Let’s just say that when he realized that he could kill two birds with one stone if he tortured the both of us, he began visiting a lot more frequently," Techno's voice trembled at his next words, barely there, hidden with practiced expertise that only Phil would ever be able to see through, "He was there when you activated the stasis chamber, said something about repayment. He…he had a pickaxe, Phil."
"Oh mate…" Phil stood, crossing the room to the small cabinet of supplies the syndicate kept fully stocked at all times in a few quick strides. He rummaged through bandages, gauze and various other medical supplies until the cool glass of a bottle brushed against his hand. He wrapped his hand around it and raised it into the light, the distinct swirling magic and scarlet color of the liquid inside betraying it to be a healing potion. While Phil knew that Techno's wounds were not nearly severe enough for such a thing, he found himself unable to care as he returned to his friends side and pressed the rim of the bottle against his lips, sighing internally in relief as he watched Techno's throat bob with the first swallow and his skin began to knit itself together again, "You're safe. You're okay now."
Techno swallowed one last gulp of the potion, wincing at the uncomfortable sensation that Phil knew was hauntingly familiar to both of them by now, before pulling away with a slight shake of his head. Phil suppressed an affectionate roll of his eyes at the realization that the bottle was only half empty, but he supposed that Techno had only been willing to consume if as much as possible was left untouched. Phil made no comment, gently pulling the bottle from the mans hands and setting it aside after putting in the cork. Techno shuddered with a grimace, buttoning his shirt up again with barely any less of a struggle, wrapping his arms around himself and bowing his head slightly.
"He was gonna— if you didn't activate the chamber when you did—"
"I know, I know." Phil cut him off before the panicked thoughts could spiral. While he wanted to know the detail of everything that went on in that god forsaken place down to every last scar on his friend’s skin, he knew that Techno would need time to recover enough to be ready to discuss what he went through and he certainly didn't want him to push himself to discuss it now, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I left you there for so long. I could've sworn you said 3 months, mate. All that time you were in there getting tortured and it was all my fault. I should've just read that damned book as soon as you had left, then I at least would have known when you wanted me to pull you out of there. I'm sorry, Tech."
"No. No, Phil, It's not your fault. You didn't know." Phil shook his head slowly, his vision blurring and cheeks burning with both guilt and shame. Techno exhaled softly, delicate fingers wrapping around Phil's wrist and guiding his hand to rest over Techno's steadily beating heart, "I'm alright, see? You saved me."
"Sap." Phil teased with a watery laugh, running his free hand over his eyes and blinking hard to stop the tears from falling. All of his emotions— the worry, the panic, the soul-crushing fear— jumbling together into something messy and finally bubbling over as the rush of adrenaline he had first felt began to slow. Techno laughed, slightly raspy with a strained but genuine smile, the sound causing Phil's chest to flicker with a joy that temporarily overrode everything else.
"Yeah, well forgive a guy that's been locked away behind bars for months for getting sentimental when he sees his best friend again for the first time. And besides, you love me for it really."
Phil did roll his eyes at that, although his expression grew more solemn at the reminder. When he next spoke, his voice was filled with raw and unfiltered honesty.
"Yeah, I do. I've missed you, Tech." He admitted, his voice a shaky whisper that almost blended in with the quietness of the room. He knew he would not be judged for such vulnerability, not here, not with Techno, and so he allowed himself to falter.
"I know. I've missed you too." Techno replied quietly, meeting Phil's gaze with care and relief as his eyes too grew damp. Their admissions hung in the air, a brief moment of silence serving to comfort them both as the very universe seemed to await their next words. In the end, it was Techno that broke it, speaking with a desperation in his tone that he very rarely displayed. Somehow, now, it was a welcomed sound.
"Phil?"
"Yeah, mate?"
"I wanna go home."
"Okay, we can go home. You can get some rest, I'll stay with you, I can make you some potato soup if you want. No offense, mate, but you look like you need it." That earned him another rasping chuckle as he jabbed a finger against Techno's ribs, able to feel the bones resting beneath his skin from the amount of weight he had lost. It was clear that the Warden had been either sending him and his cellmate very little to eat or starving them altogether for short periods of time, perhaps as a form of punishment. It wasn't an unlikely thought, unfortunately. Phil chose to push it to the back of his mind as Techno smiled.
"Yeah, I'd like that." He said gently, standing from his chair. Phil wrapped an arm around him as they walked towards the exit to the syndicate base, knowing that Techno most definitely no longer needed the extra support but would accept it without complaint.
It would be okay, he thought, as Techno leaned closer into him with fluttering eyelashes. They would be okay.