A Faithful Memory

Flashbacks and Comfort

Technoblade strode almost blindly into the forest. Images and memories flashed and pounded in his head and he could hardly breathe. He could not stop remembering. It was only when he smacked into a tree that he realized he actually could not tell where he was going. Techno stopped and held out his hands, utterly lost. Fists slamming against glass, thick fluid vibrating as he screamed, the face of his dead brother on the floor. Dream stumbling into the cave, the sound of his bitter voice calling for "pig", one whole bottle among many smashed against the wall. Orphans staring at him, lying to him, laughing at his confusion and pain.

"Phil!" Techno put his hands to his head. "Phil! I-I can't see. Philza!"

The Voices were also bewildered, their words jumbling and mixing into a conglomeration of sounds that he couldn't make sense of. Techno stumbled backward, realizing with a jolt that he could hear nothing beyond their incomprehensible shouting. "Phil!"

Arms wrapped around him from behind and he screamed, twisting frantically to escape the trap. It was only when he felt feathers encircle him that he understood it was Philza. He collapsed in relief, holding on to the angel as tightly as he could. He could feel himself shaking, could feel the awful, humiliating throb in his head and chest as he sobbed with terror and old scars. Philza's hands stroked his back and hair, soft and loving, over and over and over. "Philza," Techno choked, "I can't-I can't-" He struggled to breathe.

Phil's hand rested on his head. He tapped once, twice, thrice, then paused. Then he did it again. Techno counted the number of times aloud, focusing on the simple pattern. Meantime, Phil's other hand kept caressing his back and shoulders. Eventually, Techno found himself mimicking Phil, tapping the angel's arm whenever Phil tapped his head. He began to hear an indistinct murmur that gradually resolved itself into words. Phil's voice talking calmly to him, soothing and gentle, all about nothing in particular. Techno grabbed Phil's shoulder. The angel stopped, and Techno felt him shift as Phil looked down at him.

"Phil. Phil, ask me somethin', please. The memories won't stop comin', Phil, I have to let some of it out, please."

"Tell me about Dream." Philza's wings closed around Techno's shivering body, warming and comforting his terrified nerves. The feathers rustled into place, covering the hybrid entirely. "Tell me about his plan."

At the mention of Dream, the flow of recollection changed, bringing Techno pieces of a set of memories he'd long since buried. The vividness of them surprised him, and he clung to Phil so he wouldn't get lost again. He could only tell the angel what he saw.

He was in a cave, somewhere at the back of it. Crouching. Waiting. Outside he could hear pebbles being kicked as someone staggered up the path towards his refuge. Techno sniffed, a growl vibrating through his spine. Dream smelled different.

The man appeared at last, coming around the cave mouth. He had no mask yet. He leaned heavily against the wall, his right hand clutching the neck of a bottle. Techno's growl intensified. He did not like the smell coming from that thing. "Oh, be quiet." Dream told him, coming further into the cave. "Little animal." He sat down rather suddenly against the cave wall and took off the lid of the bottle. "Here's to idiots!" He cried, and drank. Techno shifted in his corner, nervous and uncertain of Dream's mood.

"I'm..." Dream hiccuped, "I'm not mad at you, little pig. Don't you worry." He stared glumly at the opposite wall. "Oh, I'm pissed off, though. 'What's the matter, Dream?' Well, pig, I..." His large green eyes locked into Techno still crouching where he was, "get over here and stop cowering in that corner like a child. Get over here, pig."

Techno narrowed his eyes. He didn't like being told what to do. He stayed where he was.

"Fiiiiiine, don't then." Dream shrugged. "I'll just drink all this myself. You know what the problem is, pig? Parents are the problem." He drank again. "Yeah, parents. They don't understand anything beyond their four-walled lives. Nothing of consequence. Do you know what that means, pig?" With sudden rapidity, Dream rose and approached the small table he'd shoved in there some days ago. He stumbled halfway there. "Nice table." He muttered. "Good table. Does what it's supposed to. Stupid obedient table." He kicked it savagely and cursed as his boot was apparently too thin to withstand the blow.