Icing Those Hurts (NOT MY STORY. READ DISC)

Part 9

Techno raises an eyebrow when his door's lock unlatches, and Wilbur pokes his head in like he could ever sneak inside without alerting him.

"Wilbur," he greets calmly, just to save them both the trouble, turning another page in the book he's been reading. Wilbur nearly jumps a foot in the air.

"Je sus, Techno, what the fuck?"

Techno rolls his eyes. "You're literally coming in at eleven and you're expecting me to be asleep? Come on Wilbur, you know me better than that."

Wilbur sighs, kicks his door closed and drops his gym bag down tiredly. "Yeah, I do. That was stupid, I guess."

Technoblade squints at the despondent note in his voice. He doesn't like hearing that. Not at all. He debates himself internally for a moment before he closes his book and sets it aside.

"What's going on, Wil?" He asks, swinging his legs off the bed and leaning forward. Taking a good look at Wilbur, who's unlacing his sneakers and kicking them off tiredly. "Something's been on your mind lately."

"And I've got to tell you what it is?" He asks, glaring a bit. Techno doesn't take the bait.

"I'm offering my ear, Wilbur. You know I'd never not hear you out." Patience and care. And of course, upon hearing that, Wilbur melts.

He stops, looking down at his socks, damp from the cold and sweat, and for a moment he looks so tired, that Techno worries it's a problem that's much bigger that he realized. He worries that it's a problem he can't fix with one conversation. Something that's been building and building since before they got on the plane and the bus and came here.

"I just finished getting off the ice," Wilbur admits quietly. "I was there with Tommy, learning some figure skating."

Hearing that makes Techno sigh, both relief and exasperation falling from his lips. "Wil, please don't adopt a stray at the Olympics. I mean, don't you remember what happened in Sochi?"

"This is nothing like that," Wilbur protests. Techno continues looking unimpressed. "I promise! This is different. Really. I mean, even Phil said that he'd look out for the kid."

That makes Techno stop. He trusts Phil's judgment more than anything. The last time he'd watched out for a kid... "Look out?" He asks. "What's going on? What's wrong with him?"

Wilbur's head hangs low, his bangs covering his eyes. Techno can't see his expression, but he can hear the way his voice rings with an ache. "What isn't? Just two conversations and I could see almost everything, Tech- bad coach, solo sport, no team. He's got zero support system. Zero." Wilbur pauses, looking for words, and he must find them because he looks up, urgent to make Techno understand. "Have you ever seen a kid at the Olympics not smile? I haven't, but don't think he's smiled once."

"He's focused," Techno tries, but it sounds uncertain even to his ears. Wilbur glares half heartedly.

"Come on, Tech. You know better than that." He pauses again, swallowing, and as always, Techno waits patiently for him to get his thoughts in order. When he does speak, it's quiet. "He reminds me of me way back when, man, before you and Phil got me out, and I don't-"

He stops again, his throat working and Techno takes a deep breath.

He remembers Wilbur way back when- what feels like a million years ago, another ice rink, another competition. They weren't on the same team, which now feels like a grave offense. But Wilbur was under different management, and whatever that was made him walk around with his eyes low and made him second guess his words and made him throw himself into fights out on the ice. Techno remembers thinking something is rotten about that team, that kid is drowning, and telling Phil to keep an eye out. And of course, over the course of the week, Wilbur grew closer and closer with them, until eventually, it all spilled out- the verbal abuse, the never-ending practices, the way he was made to feel like fighting was the only entertainment he'd ever be able to provide on a hockey rink.

Of course, not true, as evidenced by the fact that he's an Olympic level ice hockey player now and he hasn't gotten into an ice fight in years, but being told that over and over and over by someone who gives you instruction... it really twisted up something inside of Wilbur. Even today, he still shoulders guilt like it's his job. He still thinks and thinks and thinks about things that should be simple, but have been made to feel like tests.

So if this is Wilbur- his Wilbur- taking notice and insisting that something is urgent? If this is Wilbur coming to Techno with a problem and trusting that he'll have his back? Techno is going to support him. Of course he is.

"I hear you," he says soothingly, relieving Wilbur. "I hear you, Wil. I believe you. He needs some help. Alright, so what's the play? This is all your call."

Wilbur blinks, then smiles slowly- that great big grin of relief stretching across his cheeks. He's still surprised at being listened to, even now. It makes Techno burn distantly. "He's teaching me figure skating moves," He laughs. "It's actually kind of insane."

"He's teaching you figure skating? On...hockey skates." Techno says slowly. "You know that's a lost cause, right?"

Wilbur's smile dims a bit. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. I think he knows it too. I think...God, I think he's lonely, Tech. I think he just needs some company. Badly."

Techno doesn't even know the kid and already his stomach is in knots at the thought. He hums, taking a breath. "Alright. Well. Let's give him some company then, Wil. You're on."