barbarism (dreamnoblade)

chapter forty

|||Technoblade|||

‘That was utterly disappointing.’

Technoblade’s eyes scan the forest ahead of them, every now and then his gaze flickers over to Dream. He tries to guess Dream’s mood or thoughts, but the mask had been pulled over his face, hiding his expression. He doesn’t pay any attention to the voice, he already had other things to worry about. Technoblade’s feet chafe against the soil as he drags himself home, scowl plastered on his face as he’s lost deep in thought.

He couldn’t blame Schlatt, could he? Technoblade was worried; his supply had been cut off. But he was also at fault, he let it get to this point.

‘Well you can always use Tommy’s blood.’

“I’m not going to do that… It probably wouldn't even work.” Technoblade mumbles under his breath, he feels Dream’s gaze land on him but he ignores it.

‘You don’t actually need hybrid blood, you’re just too weak to live with me.’

“Technoblade are you okay?” Dream asks and Technoblade looks up, trying his best to put on an unconcerned facade. He kept letting the voice get to him, but there was some truth to the voice’s words. He was only dependent on this because he couldn’t deal with the voice anymore, because he had taken a deal out of spite.

“I’m fine.” He nods and walks faster, Dream having to lightly jog to keep up with him. Technoblade doesn’t bother trying to vocalize the thoughts rushing through his head, he didn’t want to worry Dream anymore, or anyone for that matter.

Dream doesn’t seem to believe him, but doesn’t pressure him into talking. He instead places a hand on his shoulder, looking at Technoblade, he can feel the softness under the mask. It helps take his mind off of the voice.

When they do make it back home, Technoblade takes a deep breath. This information shouldn’t change anything. He shouldn’t care. He had lived without hybrid blood before, he could do it again! Technoblade knew that becoming dependent on it was a bad idea, but that shouldn’t matter anyway.

His hand presses against the cold wood, pushing it open and walking inside. He first notices Tommy sitting at the table, Tubbo’s hand on his shoulder. Technoblade is first confused at why Tommy looks so out of it, until a familiar voice rings out.

“Techie?”

The world slows down. Freezing midstep, Technoblade looks up with quivering eyes, gaze locking in with Philza’s. Dream bumps into him from behind, not noticing that he had stopped moving. But he can’t feel anything outside of the thundering beat of his heart.

“Techie, what’s wrong?” Philza takes a step toward him, and Technoblade takes a step back. His eyes dart to the wing, warm orange light washes over gray feathers, which puff up instinctively once Philza notices his hesitance.

Technoblade opens his mouth to talk, but nothing comes out, the words get stuck in his throat, forming a lump. Tears glisten in his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall, they blur his vision until the world starts to spin. 

Philza doesn’t step forward, but he starts to hush him with comforting words. Technoblade’s ears ring, he can barely hear anything. His eyes sink to the floor, raising shivering hands to his face. Before he can run, he feels strong arms wrap around him, pulling him into a hug. That same wing settles down behind his back, feathers tickling his neck and nestling down on his shoulders.

“It’s alright, Techie. I’m not mad, just breathe.” Philza murmurs in his ear and the words start to spill from Technoblade.

“No no please don’t- w-why are you here?!” Technoblade splutters out, not bothering trying to tear out from the grip. A part of him leans into Philza’s embrace, the tears trailing down his cheeks and seeping into his shirt. It was so familiar: the warmth, the comforting pats in his hair, the way his wing protects him from behind. Remembering causes Technoblade to tear up more, sobs wrenching from his throat.