Accidental Adoption

The mystery of the ever-present boy.

Not only did the boy show up the next day, but the one after that as well. Then the day after that, and the day after that, and, well, every day... So far, it had been a week and the boy had shown up every afternoon at three-thirty.

After only a couple of days, Phil had grown curious as to what the boy was reading. Phil took note of what book the boy got out, and when Phil accidentally arrived early the next day, he took a look at it. It was frankly very odd. The boy was reading the dictionary. Who on Earth reads the dictionary? A school project, maybe?

Several other workers had noticed as well, but none of them really felt like they were being watched. One worker noted that there was a kid in a pink shirt and since the boy always showed up wearing a shirt in a shade of pink it was easy to keep noticing him. Some had caught him staring at the construction, or, interestingly enough, at Phil.

Phil wasn't too sure about how he should feel. He was a bit flattered and slightly creeped out even though the kid looked young enough that he probably didn't have bad intentions. Some aspects of Phil's, in particular, must have drawn his attention, like his British accent which you didn't see a lot of in L.A., or the fact that he gave most of the orders.

It all came to a head one day. Phil had to stay later and later each day due to unforeseen complications. He packed himself a sandwich that day and prepared to stay past dinner time. True to form, everybody else got to head home at the normal time, while Phil had to stay to see what had gone wrong this time. Then again, maybe it was a good thing because the following events might never have happened otherwise.

When dinner time rolled around Phil was still working. It was no surprise. Phil headed over to the closest table, the table the boy was sitting at, picked an unoccupied seat, sat down, and rolled out the blueprints for one last analysis before he took a dinner break. After only a couple of seconds of studying, the boy's stomach rumbled slightly. Phil ignored it, feeling as if bringing it up would only cause embarrassment. The boy's stomach rumbled loudly.

Phil shot a quick glance at the boy out of the corner of his eye. The boy was steadfastly ignoring him, staring intently at his dictionary. His face was blank. Not a neutral expression, a carefully crafted blank expression that showed no emotion at all. Unless Phil was wrong and the boy just had a resting blank look or something.

The boy's stomach rumbled loudly many times over the course of the following fifteen minutes. Phil would have thought he was hearing things, except that after the most recent, especially loud grumble, the boy's cheeks looked a little pink. Phil decided to take pity on him.

"You heading home soon?" Phil asked as nonchalantly as he could. The boy tensed noticeably. His fingers tightened on the sides of the dictionary he was reading.

"No." The boy said tersely, clearly intending to cut off all conversation. Phil observed the boy closely. He seemed awfully hungry and there really was only one thing to do about that, wasn't there?

"Here," Phil said. He flipped up the top of his lunchbox and offered it to the boy. The boy glanced at it, then at Phil.

"C'mon, it's just PB n' J! Unless you're allergic to peanut butter in which case I apologize," Phil laughed a little.

"Why are you giving me this? What do you want?" The boy asked. Smart of him, actually. Most people didn't take food from strangers.

"Well, you seemed hungry. And I don't want anything from you." Phil said. The boy relaxed.

"Actually," Phil said thoughtfully. The boy's eyes sharpened. "I kind of want your name. I've just been referring to you as 'the boy' in my head. Also, I don't think you should eat that here. This is a library, after all."

"Technoblade. That's my name," The boy, no, Technoblade said. At last, Phil had his name! Phil glanced back at all his blueprints and was struck with a sudden feeling of rebelliousness. Nobody was making him stay this late to make sure installing the elevator went well, he was here of his own volition. Phil decided, right then and there, that he was done for the day. Working out the kinks in the plan could wait until tomorrow. Phil stood up suddenly, his chair screeching behind him, and gathered his blueprints.

"I hope to see you again one day, Technoblade," Phil said, before giving him a genuine smile. Then Phil walked out of the library, got in his car, and started driving home. Three-fourths of the way there Phil realized he left his entire dinner, lunchbox included, with Technoblade instead of just the sandwich. Phil narrowly resisted banging his head into the steering wheel, which would probably set off the horn.

As Phil drove back to work the next day, he worried that he might have scared off Technoblade. Technoblade didn't know what was going on inside of Phil's head, didn't know that Phil had initiated contact after weeks of watching. To Technoblade, Phil was just a random adult who gave him food. As well as idiotically leaving his entire lunchbox behind. It was his favorite lunchbox, too. Phil only had one lunchbox but that was beside the point.

When Phil got to the construction site, Technoblade was sitting in the same seat he always was. Perhaps it was a bit self-centered of Phil to assume that talking to Technoblade, offering his dinner to Technoblade, could cause him to leave. Technoblade had most likely sat at that table reading some ridiculously thick book long before Phil had shown up, and would continue to do so long after Phil finished construction and left.

Hang it all, Phil wants to know Technoblade. Wants to know his favorite food, if he even likes peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He wants to know why Technoblade reads such tedious, thick books. He wants to know how Technoblade's day was. Wants to why Technoblade watched him with such an unnerving gaze. Phil even wants to know why Technoblade tensed up at the mention of home, why he always is at the library, why he didn't have any dinner. Phil can make assumptions, but that's all they are. Assumptions, and he needs to know.

Phil finishes on time that day. He doesn't even need his lunchbox, he can go home and eat there. As Phil closes in on the door out, a hand closes in on his wrist. Phil stills, then spins around to see what it is. Behind him stands Technoblade. Technoblade lets go of his wrist suddenly and extended his other hand, which is holding Phil's lunchbox.

"Thanks, I think?" Phil said nervously, taking the lunchbox. "Well, see you tomorrow then?" Phil phrases his statement as a question. Technoblade gives him a slow nod, an affirmation that he will, indeed, be at the library again tomorrow, as he always is.

As Phil gets in his car, he thinks that maybe this is the first step to answering his questions.