꧁sbi family oneshots꧂

💐House is not a home pt. 13💐

Techno hadn't slept. Not really. He had closed his eyes and tried multiple time but it wasn't really working. Eventually, he stopped trying. He hauled the treadmill into the living room around four in the morning and ran.

It was quiet, the kind of quiet that made your ears ring. The pounding of his feet was a comfort, a rhythm he could rely on.

He didn't even notice Wilbur standing there until he heard the faint sound of yawning.

"You're gonna wake up the kid," Wilbur muttered, rubbing sleep from his eyes and leaning against the doorway in boxers and a hoodie that wasn't his.

Techno didn't stop running. "Had to do something. Couldn't sleep."

Wilbur squinted at the glowing treadmill screen. "You ran five miles."

"Six now," Techno corrected.

Wilbur sighed and wandered into the kitchen, probably to make coffee that would go cold before he touched it. Wilbur never liked drinking his coffee or tea hot. He claimed it burned his insides.

Techno only slowed down when he heard the soft thump of socked feet behind him.

Tommy blinked up at him from the couch, hair a blond nest and hoodie half-off his shoulder. "Why are you running?" he mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. He rubbed at his blue eyes and looked at Technoblade with concern.

Techno turned off the treadmill. "Just had energy to burn."

"Liar," Wilbur said flatly from the kitchen, and Techno shot him a glare. He didn't need to worry Tommy. He didn't want to worry Tommy.

"Don't you have a song to write?" he snapped.

"Don't you have a therapist to avoid?" Wilbur shot back.

Tommy didn't seem to notice the tension.

-

Tommy was currently retelling some ridiculous story about a substitute teacher and the time he accidentally locked himself in a supply closet. His voice filled the space easily, animated and endearing. Techno found himself focusing on the way Tommy's eyes lit up when he talked.

He admired his younger brother. He'd been through so much and yet found a way to brighten up the room anyway.

Later, at the diner, everything felt off. The lights too bright, the seats too stiff. The eggs too yellow, like paint. Wilbur sat across from him, not eating, not talking—just watching.

"You're spiraling, I can tell." Wilbur said eventually, voice low. Techno didn't respond. Tommy was busy trying to make a butter tower with the little foil packets, giggling to himself.

Wilbur kicked him under the table.

"Im fine," Techno muttered.

"You're not eating."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're never hungry."

Techno shoved a piece of toast in his mouth just to shut him up.

-

The day dragged. Tommy dozed off on the couch the minute they got home. His little body exhausted from all the events of today. Techno didn't blame him. Techno was tired too.

Techno watched him sleep for a long time, the rise and fall of his chest, the little twitch his fingers made like he was dreaming.

He couldn't lose him. Not after knowing. Not after finally getting him in a place where he felt safe and loved.