Lessons

It's not your fault (it never was)

TW: PTSD, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, derogatory term used (sl#t), mentioned drugs, implied drunk, swearing (like, a lot) physical abuse,
Please let me know if I missed any

Wilbur watched with a sigh as Tommy and Techno sparred. They liked sparring, and Wilbur did not, but he liked watching. So it was a win win win.

That was, if they weren't where they were right now.

"Are you sure he's not from a gang William?" Pop asked from his spot on the porch.

Wilbur bit down a sigh. "It's Wilbur, and yes, I'm sure he is not from a gang."

"Bah, Wilbur is such an inferior name to William. And how do you know, he looks like you picked him up off the street, all scarred up and mean."

The brunette bristled, "I quite like my name, and would appreciate you calling me my proper name, and Techno is a very kind person." He would not hand them any leverage against Techno. Not the way his own mother and father did to him.

"It does seem like something your parents would do though, pick up someone off the street?" He continued, bulldozing over Wilbur's voice.

He might be older, stronger and smarter, but he's never felt so small and weak.

He called up what Techno had said, countering it, making things seem like their fault. "I wouldn't think, you of all people to bad mouth your son and daughter in-law. But who am I to judge? Clearly you no longer know who you're talking about." He said pittyingly.

"How dare you say such a thing? You have no right to talk about this kind of thing you little mistake."

Ah the mandra he's heard thousands of times over.

"You used to be so good, so quiet, your parents obviously raised you wrong William, they should've left you in our care. But your mother was a sl#t and had to have another child. Whisked you away, and now you're like this. At least you were tolerable when you were younger."

Wilbur clenched his fists from where they were held behind his back. "You do not call my mother that." He snarled through gritted teeth.

Techno sauntered up with a polite, "Good afternoon." And began chatting up Pop while Wilbur seethed.

Something that was said made Pop laugh, and that drew Wilbur back.

"Technoblade is such a stupid name. If you wanted to cover up that you were in a gang, you should've picked a more normal name."

Wilbur saw the strawberry blond wring his hand out behind his back, but he kept his voice level, even, and his face blank as ever.

"Well, I'm not interested in having a monotonous name like you do, or the monotonous life that you have."

He said it so perfectly, it could've passed as a statement. But soon enough, Pop was scowling at him. "Least I don't do drugs and mug innocent people."

"At least I don't make assumptions on people based on what they look like." Techno was very odd, he didn't play into the argument, keeping everything very monotoned.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Pop challenged.

"It means you're a judgemental old man who would rather make assumptions about people than actually learn what the fuck happened in their lives that left scars on them."

"Well, if you're so inclined, tell me, what happened to you?" The former leered.

"I will not tell you, because it won't matter, and you are not entitled to anything about me or my past." Techno countered.