Far Beyond Fixing (Dark SBI)

Chapter Four

A/N

WE ARE BACK LETS GOOO

new chapter :DD i have some important questions in the end notes, so if you could take the time to leave a quick comment as an answer, I would really appreciate it after the chapter <3

thank you guys so much for the support on this fic so far! hope you enjoy this new chapter <3

TWs: mentions of syringes (not graphically used), derealization (induced by drugs), and implications of panic attacks (if you see anything else, please lmk!!)

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"Where the fuck is Tommy?" Wilbur huffed as he scrolled through his phone. "He was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. I swear, if that child chooses today to be late-" His eyebrows furrowed as he angrily taped on the screen, as though his aggression would help the messaging app open faster. Techno watched with faint amusement from his place on the couch, tying off the bottom of a helium balloon with a snap.

"I'm sure he's just talking to Tubbo for a bit after work," Techno lazily assured. "You know that child will be trying to give him half the bakery for his birthday. I'd give them maybe five more minutes before Tommy gets home."

He gestured to the balloons around him. "Besides. It gives us more time to prepare. Weren't you stressed about that too just a few seconds ago?"

Wilbur pointedly ignored the jab, flipping him off with his free hand–he knew better than to argue, especially when Techno was using logic to combat his nonsensical stressing. "Whatever, smartass."

His brother finally set his phone down on the table, taking a moment to take in a deep breath before turning back to Techno. "But if it takes longer than five minutes I will drag him home myself. The ice cream could melt and I will not allow it to go to waste."

"And we can't just put it...back in the freezer?"

Wilbur shot him a glare. "Shut. Let me panic."

Techno snorted but listened, grabbing another uninflated balloon–this one cheery red with tiny white stars that spanned across the shape. Tommy's favorite color.

"Whatever you say, Wil."

He grabbed the helium tank and shoved the balloon onto the top with minimal struggling–it was surprisingly difficult to inflate balloons, especially if you were a traumatized orphan who'd never even realized they were made of helium until now– and turned on the knob. It inflated scarily fast, but Techno was swift to pull it off before it could expand too far and pop. It quickly joined the pile around him, and the cycle continued.

Within the last hour of his work, Techno had begun to call himself a pro at decorating.

Balloons were scattered across the living room like it had been converted into a cheap party store. They were hung from streamers that nearly reached the ceiling, wrapping around doorways as garlands, and tied into bunches of eight that were put in corners where faux plants had once been. Techno absentmindedly grabbed a bunch that hung near his head and tied them together, creating a strange, messy cluster that would certainly hit someone later when they least expected it.

Wilbur, on the other side of the room, was surrounded by a mix of ice cream, cupcakes, and cheesy emoji paper plates. His anxious expression did not match the cheery party hat Techno had insisted on tying over his head, no doubt a mark already left behind from where it dug into his chin, but he continued tidying the already-clean area nonetheless.