Things That Need To Pass (passerine!Technoblade x OC) {COMPLETED}

What's This?

 There was nothing else to say, it seemed, and so Wilbur left, leaving his father to the quiet.

(Eryn POV)

I saw Tommy's door was firmly shut by the time Wilbur arrived at his and Tommy's sleeping quarters. Wilbur's own door stood ajar, waiting. Moonlight spilled from the arched windows, painting everything in silver: the bed littered with half-finished books, and the desk bearing scars from Wilbur's manifold frustrations in writing music for the guitar that sat discarded on the floor. I peeked in to see a guitar on the floor.

Apparently, Phil said that his wife had given him that guitar for his tenth birthday. He used to play lullabies (or spooky songs, when he was in the mood for older-brother mischief) for Tommy, before Tommy decided he was a big man, and moved out to the bedroom across the hall.

His body seemed to feel heavy with thoughts. Technoblade—the boy who looked not much older than him, now tasked at tutoring him at... at what? Phil definitely had not been forthcoming with that, amongst other things. I knew, as I was evesdropping

With a sigh, Wilbur grabbed the guitar from the floor and dragged it with him to the window. As he plucked idly at the strings, he gazed out at the horizon beyond the glass: the sprawling lawns of the castle ending at the foreboding gates, and then after that, his kingdom. His birthright.

He played a single discordant chord. Nothing had come easily to him, recently. Music, literature, conversation—everything, all at once, had become taxing. Even laughing with his brother felt like a chore, that was what Phil had told me.

Wilbur's fingers stilled on what was undoubtedly going to be another bad note. Something was moving, down on the lawn. He squinted at the figure until it came into sharper focus. "Technoblade?" I muttered.

Wilbur pressed his face closer to the glass, just to make sure his eyes had not deceived him. There were many people in the kingdom with pink hair, but perhaps fewer who also moved with the lethal grace of a python. That man was a pain to watch.

Technoblade walked across the lawn, and disappeared past the gates without a glance back. It wasn't until his breaths fogged up the window completely that Wilbur realized he was hyperventilating. I stopped myself from helping him.

(Wilbur POV)

I pulled away from the glass and stumbled over my guitar on my way to my bed. I pulled the covers over myself, as if the darkness would dampen my thoughts. Where is he going? followed by Will he come back? Will he come back? Will he come back? Will he—

(Eryn POV)

"You're late. And Eryn, stop spying on the lad. I can see you." Techno said in his usual monotone drawl. Wilbur blinked in the dim sunlight barely breaking through the horizon. "Wha...?" He scanned the area.

He blinked some more until he finally recognized his surroundings: the smooth marble floor, the four columns sculpted like gods bearing up the flat roof, ivy following over the roof's edge like a waterfall, curtaining them off from the rest of the garden. 

This was the training pavilion—Philza's personal training area, where he attempted to teach Wilbur fencing before it became clear that weaponry was not to be Wilbur's forte. Phil had told me this as well.

"It's alright, son," Phil had said, carefully tending to the cut on Wilbur's leg from his own rapier. "Kings don't really need to know how to fight. That's what armies are for." Phil had sounded angry as he said this, but Wilbur somehow knew it wasn't because of him.

"But you know how." Wilbur had pouted, dutifully trying to hold back tears as Phil applied stinging herbs to his wound.

"Well," said Phil, "that's different."