Technoblade Shorts

Photographs

(I've decided that Mellohi will be a recurring character within these shorts. Enjoy! :D)

It was a quiet day. Like it always was.

Technoblade had gotten used to the silence. He didn't feel like tending to his garden outside- the same routine everyday probably was the torture in itself.

Besides the voices of course. But even still, since he arrived here, they've been dying down, and the speaking seemed like they were talking through a tunnel- or rather far away instead of in his head.

So there he sat, slumped in the middle of his storage closet floor. He can't recount when or how it had gotten so full, but there it was, in all it's overspilling, broken-boxed, messy-papered glory.

He spent a good while sorting through it all. Papers in this ripped-up box, broken stuff in the other torn box. He even found one of his old violins in there, severely out of tune and with a broken string. He couldn't find the bow. It was a shame- it was one of his favourite violins. He supposed it ended up in there when wars on several servers picked up... or several wars on a single server.

And then at the bottom of some old paperwork, he found some old photographs. Some were framed, and others were simply left without- such as the Polaroids. Yet even others seemed to be taken by just a cheap film camera.

He took a look at the framed pictures. They were all of Phil, Wilbur, Tommy, and him. One was from way back during Minecraft Championship. He looked at it- taken after they won. He genuinely looked happy, and Technoblade remembers how he felt. Another one was from Minecraft Monday. He remember those days too. This picture consisted of just him and Phil. It's been a long time since he's seen his old friend.

Mellohi brushed up against his leg, and Technoblade absentmindedly reached down to scratch the little soft place behind the cat's ear.

He took a look at the photos once more, leaving behind his original intent to clean this closet, and instead deciding to focus on something else.

Closing the closet door, he headed upstairs, being mindful as to not trip over Mellohi.

Technoblade entered his room. The ceiling was slanted, since it was also the roof. To the right of the door, against the wall, was his desk. Atop his desk were a two candles, a box of matches, and a wax seal. A bit farther down, to the left of his desk was a window, light streaming in through the clear glass. On that entire wall, really, was two windows, spaced apart from each other, Technoblade's bed set between them, a single nightstand on the right hand side, also known as the side his desk was on, and a fireplace to the left of the bed.

He walked over to his desk and sat down. Mellohi jumped up and settled onto his lap as he struck a match, lighting the candles. Tehcnoblade blew out the match and set it near the matchbox, opening up the drawer to take out a pen. Finding his inkwell, he set it out as well. He took a piece of paper from the loose pile of blank paper inside his drawer. Dipping his pen into the ink, Technoblade started to write.

Dear Phil,

I cleaned out my closet today and stumbled upon some old memories. Makes me miss you, and it's nice to think of back then. It's been a while since we've talked, but I have no doubt that this message will reach you somehow. There's a lot to unpack, my feelings, and I'm not quite sure what to say first. Just that I miss having you around, that I miss Wilbur's idle chatter, and this world feels a bit empty without Tommy's loud commentary.

I wouldn't say that I would give "anything" to have those times back again, but I would say that what had happened could never be remade or replaced. Once must come to eventually accept the events of the past, and though it's hard to handle change, it comes naturally with time, whether big or small. I hope to see you all again, whether it be in a few days, or the next million years. Whenever that is, it could never be too soon.

In Timeless Thought and Existence, Technoblade.

Carefully, Technoblade folded up the letter, handling it as if it were a fragile baby bird. Techno took out an envelope and slid the paper inside. Sliding his drawer open once more, he took out a wax stick, heating it up over the candle he lit earlier, letting the rich crimson wax melt from the heat, slowly turning it so as not for the wax to drip onto the candle instead of the paper.

He finally took the stick of wax away from the burning heat of the candle, and let the rich red colour of the wax drip onto the envelope, before taking his seal and pressing into the wax, letting it cool before he removed the seal. He didn't address the envelope. Instead, he stood up, (after carefully nudging Mellohi off his lap) and opened the window to the left of his desk, and set the letter on the windowsill. He trusted those words to make it to the right person.

He took a look at the bare letter on the windowsill, sitting there. Techno was sure he had something shiny or of the sorts to put alongside the letter. Walking from the window to his nightstand, he rummaged through the drawers, coming across a variety of little shiny things. He decided on a little tiny gold nugget. Sure, there were other options to offer, and he was terribly attached to his gold, but it felt right- to offer the best. A little piece of his heart, a little piece of what he holds dear, materially speaking. This was his best friend we're talking about. Technoblade would give up all the gold in the world for him if he had to. Technoblade doesn't trust a lot of people, but the few he does...

He sighed, yet not in a bad way. A small smile graced his lips as he set the nugget atop the letter.

Technoblade headed downstairs. He really should clean that closet. He heard the muffled whispers of chat picking up once more. He sighed again, still not in a negative way.

When he returned to his room later that night, instead of the letter on the windowsill, was a single feather, black as night.

Mellohi was already cozily curled up on his bed, lazily blinking at him with those lamplike yellow eyes. To some, it might seem haunting, but to Techno, it was just comfort.

Technoblade yawned, starting up the fireplace and closing the window, before retiring to bed as well.

However long it took, in whatever form of thought or comprehension, Technoblade knew his words would reach Philza. Phil might not see or hold the letter, since these worlds work in mysterious ways, but even subconsciously, the thought of Technoblade, and Philza's own identicals to the photographs that Technoblade rediscovered earlier (now sitting on Techno's desk) would be just enough to spark the pink-haired man's regards into definition.

"Goodnight Phil. Goodnight Wil. Goodnight Tommy," came Techno's last thought before he gave in to sleep.

If someone listened close, it felt almost as if they said it back too.

"Goodnight, Techno,"

But that could have just as easily been the rustling of the trees outside.

———

"𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕤, 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕗𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪." -𝕌𝕟𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨𝕟