Ink Stains (MCYT Oneshots)

Never Alone (Wilbur & Techno)

(A/N: ajskajskj not feeling for a req today SO you get this fic based off alone ii by alan walker (which i only discovered existed today?? wild
anyways sentinel & guide au except i have no idea how it works :3)

Here is how this works: Sentinels attack, Guides defend.

It makes sense, on paper. Sentinels have better speed, better strength, more energy; they're perfect for being soldiers, for being the fighters, the front-liners, the tanks and the weapons. Guides, on the other hand, have better agility, are empathetic, and have a special side to their voices that let them calm people down easier. Theoretically, Sentinels will be sent out to fight, and when they get too 'wired up', they are sent back to their Guides, who will then calm them down and make sure they are ready for battle again.

Only on paper, that is.

The system has never accounted for Bonds who break that kind of stereotype.

Everyone's heard of the Boar Boys. And every damn time, they will assume Wilbur to be the Guide, and Techno to be the Sentinel.

They look the part; Wilbur is more slender, like a skinny tree, while Techno is built like a brick wall, sturdy and strong. They act like it, too; Techno doesn't do empathy, and Wilbur's voice is soothing. It makes sense, to assume them for being what they are not.

'Maybe that would've been better,' Wilbur thinks, panting harshly as his sword clatters to the floor. He joins it soon after, sweat dripping down his skin as he simply sits, not making any moves to stand up and head back to his assigned room.

He's never been a 'good Sentinel'. He's not built like all the others, he's not fit for fighting like a tank, for throwing himself into battle and letting his instincts take over. Still, though, the bloodlust in his head can't dissipate that easily, and Wilbur has to force himself to attack the training dummies until they're nothing but a clump of mess.

It would've been better if he and Techno had been switched. At least then, they could've been what they are supposed to be.

"Wilbur," think of the devil, and he shall come. Wilbur turns around and spots Techno walking over, a water bottle in one hand and a cloth in the other.

"You should train too," Wilbur rasps, after taking the water bottle from Techno and chugging it. "You're- ah, you're way better at this then me."

"Only at this style," Techno points out, using the cloth to wipe the sweat off of Wilbur's forehead. He touches his shoulder with a hesitant hand, and Wilbur almost slumps over as all of his strong rage decreases, and he just finds himself feeling tired. "You're good at other things. Why don't you practice those?"

"They won't let me," Wilbur responds bitterly. "They think- they think that I just need to train better, be better, be useful. Then, I'll- I'll be a good and true Sentinel, and I'll be able to- to fuckin' be recognised properly."

Techno doesn't respond, but when Wilbur looks up, he sees his Guide having a small frown on his face. Somehow, that only makes Wilbur want to continue more.

"I'm useless, Techno," he whispers. "They all say it! You've heard what they say- we're both anomalies, Techno, we're fuckin'- well, not you that much, but I'm not fit to be a Sentinel! At least you can fight! I can't! I'm useless!"

"If you're useless, so am I," Techno shoots back, firm and unyielding, and Wilbur wants to laugh. He settles on letting out a small, wheezy breath instead.

"No, you're not," he insists. "You- at least you can be useful as both. I can't even fight properly to save my life!"

"There's more than one way to fight," Techno argues back. "'S like the point you made about me."

The point he had made about Techno is that Wilbur has never understood the people who say that Techno can't communicate. Just because his way of showing empathy, of caring, is different, doesn't mean that it's any less meaningful, that it's any less evident.

Perhaps it's true for him, too.

"It's almost 2 in the morning," Techno suddenly says, and Wilbur blinks. Has it really been that long?

"Oh," he says quietly. "Fuckin' hell, I-"

Wilbur sighs and slumps down into Techno's embrace when he tugs him close. Techno manhandles him until Wilbur finds himself with his head in his lap, eyes already fluttering and closing.

"Sleep," Techno rumbles, in that stupid comforting voice of his, and with a hand carding through his hair, Wilbur does just that.