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

Have Faith

(Eryn POV)

I left silently as well. I felt this was a more...personal matter. I thought back to those carefree days. Was I ever gonna experience this again?

(3rd person POV)

Techno struggled to his feet when it was clear Wilbur was not listening to him. His legs threatened to collapse under his own weight, and he caught himself on the edge of the planning table, where carved wooden soldiers still stood at attention for a war that was already over. 

It's all over.

"We need to fix him up, Wilbur," Techno said, his words coming out ragged.

He staggered towards Wilbur, hand outstretched. Wilbur's head snapped up at the sudden motion, his eyes wide and furious.

"Get away from us," he growled, pressing Tommy closer against himself. The movement made Tommy's head loll to the side, allowing Techno to truly see his face in the candlelight for the first time.

Techno's breath hitched in his throat. Tommy looked so... peaceful. As if he was simply sleeping. As if any moment now, his eyes would flutter open and he'd grin up at the both of them, easily diffusing the tension as only Tommy could.

Wake up, Techno begged, prayed, wished. Please wake up.

But he never would again.

"You can't hold him forever," Techno spat. "For gods' sake, Wilbur, there's still a dagger in his chest."

Wilbur looked down at the still bundle in his arms, noticing the state of his brother for the first time. Absently, mechanically, he reached out to wipe a streak of dirt from Tommy's cheek. His expression grew incensed as the stubborn soil clung ferociously to his brother's skin, and Techno feared he might just wipe Tommy's flesh down to the bone.

"Are you trying to peel him?" Techno demanded angrily.

Wilbur looked up at him with a look of unbridled wrath, but did not reply.

With a scoff, Techno took a stray piece of cloth hanging off the table and marched to the tent flaps. He drew them open and leaned out into the rain, catching the cold raindrops with the cloth until it was damp. 

Cold water slipped down his wrist, but it was a distant feeling, felt by another man, in another time.

When he turned back to them, Wilbur was still clinging to Tommy like a lifeline.

"Let him go," Techno ordered.

Wilbur shook his head silently, his shoulders trembling. "I can't."

"Wilbur—"

"I said, I can't."

Techno stomped towards him until he was standing over Wilbur. "Of course you can. It's easy. Just open your damn arms and put him on the bed."

Wilbur glared. "It would be easy for you, wouldn't it?"

Techno narrowed his eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Cold. Everything was cold. Cold in his lungs, cold in his heart, cold in the very depths of his soul—if he still had one. Cold from the rain, cold from the Tommy's skin, cold from Wilbur's damning eyes.

Thunder cracked in the distance. It was going to be a long night.

It's easy, he'd said. Just open your damn arms.

Wilbur didn't know if he wanted to laugh or wail at Techno's words. There was nothing easy about anything anymore. Every breath left like inhaling broken glass, every thought was a raging shriek. 

There was blood in his mouth from where he'd bitten the inside of his cheek just to keep himself from screaming. And by gods did he want to scream. He wanted to tear the whole world apart with his bare hands—burn and salt it, leave nothing behind, not even one whisper of what once was. It did not deserve even the memory of Tommy.

"You heard me," Wilbur hissed at the man standing before him, both of them glowering but not truly seeing each other. "Everything comes easy to you, doesn't it, blood god?"

Techno's brows drew together in anger. "You don't get to throw that back in my face. Not tonight. Not after everything I did for you."

Wilbur's arms trembled. He looked down at his brother's sleeping face—sleeping? Sleeping? He isn't sleeping. He's dead. Dead. With a rattling breath, Wilbur traced the curve of Tommy's cheek, stopping where it used to dimple when he smiled. 

And then Wilbur looked down, at where a knife still jutted out of his chest like a violent reminder. Fresh tears stung his eyes, and he tried desperately to blink them away before they could fall. And still a rebel tear found its way down his face, carving his dirty cheek in half.

Death. Such a small word for such a big thing.

Wilbur hadn't even wanted Tommy on the battlefield in the first place. He had planned to leave Tommy at the castle, where he would be safe behind walls and his own personal army of guards. But Techno—godsdamned Techno—had talked him out of it.

"Tommy is stronger than you'd like to admit," Techno had said. "And smarter than anyone gives him credit for. And if you leave him behind, you will not only lose an irreplaceable asset, you will also lose your brother's love. 

Don't stand there and tell me that Tommy will allow you to fight this war without him. What will you do when he inevitably protests? Lock him in his bedroom? Shackle him to the wall? You tried to protect him once before, and look where that got you."

And so Wilbur had taken his brother to the frontlines, ordered the tailors to make him a uniform that Wilbur would have killed to never see him wear, and then he'd sent his brother—his baby brother, his Tommy—off to the slaughter.

And now he was dead. Dead in the red-and-blue colors of the family that failed him one last time.

No, the voices hissed, not your family.

Wilbur met Techno's eyes once more. "This is your fault."

And Techno was right, in the end. It was damnably easy for Wilbur to stand, open his arms and place Tommy down on the cot. Before, his body had moved on its own, but this time, every action was deliberate. 

Deliberately, he shrugged of his torn and bloody coat and put it over Tommy, to keep him warm—if warmth was something dead bodies still felt. Deliberately, he tucked a loose strand of Tommy's hair behind his ear. Deliberately, Wilbur let his brother go. 

Deliberately, he turned and faced Technoblade.

Anger, it seemed, was a stronger emotion than sorrow.

Technoblade's eyes were gleaming in the flickering candlelight. He still held a wet cloth in his hand, but he clutched it so fiercely Wilbur would not be surprised if it was merely shreds by now.

"Be very careful," Techno drawled, "of what you're about to say to me, Wilbur."

"You told me to bring him here." Wilbur flung the accusation like an arrow from a bow, watching it strike its mark. "And you were their target. We're all just collateral fucking damage for all the shit you've done. The past caught up to you, Technoblade. "

"Why the hell did you have to bring us all down with you?"

Thunder crashed around them like vicious war drums, followed by a flash of lightning that bathed everything in a ghastly glow. Technoblade and Wilbur stared at each other across the flower-strewn gap that grew between them with every word. 

They were two ghosts in limbo. Twin stars drawn to each other's collapsing gravities.

a/n

im gonna die frm rushed chaps but okay-

sacrifices must be made ig-

okayyyyyyyyy

have a good day, afternoon or night wherever you are!

byeeeeeeeeeeee mah bootyful muffins!!