Chapter Text
Technoblade shook his jacket out over the doormat outside, then quickly stepped in. The snow had started coming down a bit harder now, he noted absentmindedly. He started to take off his gear and hang up his things where they needed to be. Then, routinely walked to the kitchen and grabbed a pot wordlessly, filling it with water and setting it on the burner. Routine was comforting, he was basically on autopilot as he was busy wondering about how Phil's trip was going. However, cooking on a gas stove was a tad hard with no matches, he realized as he held the empty matchbox before tossing it into the bin. Techno, who realized his absence with a slight brow raise, called out for the boy, "Hey Tommy! Can ya bring some matches over here?"
A few beats of no response and Techno sighed, setting down the pot. The damn kid was probably asleep or something. He walked out of the kitchen, a little pang in his stomach. Usually, Tommy refused to sleep when he was home alone, and he knew Phil was set to come home early tomorrow morning so there was no way anyone else was here. The voices hurriedly whispered with worry but he pushed them away, they always worried about Tommy. If anything, it was probably just his body being exhausted from healing, he was in horrible shape when he finally did find him so that would make sense. Techno pretended like he wasn't making a lot of excuses for him to have to be alright.
He walked up the stairs towards the room he had given Tommy, although at night he stayed in Techno's, and knocked on the door. He couldn't help but notice the slight shake in his hands when he rapped his knuckles on the wood, "Hey Tommy did you hear me?"
No response. "Kid come on, not funny," He raised his voice slightly so that if he was asleep, it would definitely wake him up.
After listening for even the sound of movement and hearing none, he sighed, "I'm opening the door, Tommy, okay?"
After a beat of silence, he turned the handle, noticing how cold it felt. His entire body was jolted as his blood froze, the room was silent besides the wind that burst through the window. There was blood covering almost every surface. Feathers were strewn across the floor and his eyes shot around the room quickly, "TOMMY. TOMMY WHERE ARE YOU?"
There was not even a grunt in response as he quickly entered and started looking around, checking for any threats. Quickly he saw a pair of legs on the floor next to the bed and Technoblade rushed over, finally finding his brother. Or what was left of him.
Tommy was laid out on his stomach, his cheek pressed down on the floorboards blankly. His breath came out in shallow, shuttering gasps. A horrifying amount of blood covered the floor around him and Techno stared at the cause of it with his heart in his throat. Tommy's wings were gone.
No, No, he just had to have them vanished right? There's, There's no way. Technoblade felt a panicky tremor in his body and he suddenly swallowed everything down, he had to help Tommy. Quickly Techno pulled off one of the smaller blankets from the bed and gently began to apply pressure. He didn't bother trying to wake Tommy up, it would be easier to work on his wounds with him unconscious and he really didn't want to have to be awake for this. He scooped him up in his arms and quickly rushed downstairs, careful not to jostle the boy around. His body felt so light. Small.
The shapeshifter finally reached the end of the stairs and found the nearest table by his medical supplies, something Phil had always insisted on keeping completely stocked, "Just in case, ya know?" He gently laid down Tommy on his stomach, back up. He used a nearby pillow to hold him up slightly to his side so he was in a low recovery position. Techno grabbed supplies, the voices suddenly hushing as they understood that he needed to focus on the kid's injuries carefully. He grabbed scissors and cautiously cut off Tommy's shirt, peeling it off and discarding it to the side.
He carefully inspected it first, to tell the full extent of the injury, swallowing hard. His wings were gone. Completely. The base of the amputated limbs was not clean, the cut was jagged. It almost made him sick, Technoblade stilled his hands, it took several chops to take off the wings. Meaning someone held Tommy down. Awake. To take several hacks at them, which were already prone to be very sensitive, to get them off. He wasn't sure how well Tommy's body would fare under MORE stress added onto the already existing damage from exile and his journey out in the cold, and that was just the physical damage, let alone what would happen when the boy woke up. He shook his head, not the time yet.
He began to clean the wound and surrounding area, carefully watching Tommy make sure he stayed unconscious. He continued to work until he finished wrapping the wound with individual bandages, then wrapped it around his chest to stabilize it and keep it clean.
Technoblade sighed and stopped to wash his hands again, preparing for more work. This went on for a few smaller injuries, mainly on his left arm which Techno completely wrapped up. He had to take time to carefully remove glass shards from a bunch of cuts on that arm, if he had to guess, something glass was broken across his arm as he defended himself. Finally, with that, he had bandaged all of the physical wounds Tommy had. He quickly went upstairs and returned with an old tank top, gently pulling it on the unconscious boy.
Techno sighed and quickly put all of his supplies back in place before carefully picking the boy up in his arms. He brought the kid up to his own room, where he could watch him and keep him safe. Keep him safe, like he failed to before. He pulled a single blanket over him, enough to keep him warm but not hot or weighed down, to help reduce any panic and to keep his temperature stable so he could monitor it for any fevers. However, Techno decided to take the chance while he knew Tommy was still asleep.
Technoblade quickly began to walk to the boy’s bedroom, where it reeked of iron. He mentally noted to wait for Phil to return to watch him and then clean up the mess. Large, golden feathers were messily stuck to half the room’s surfaces. Blood joined the other half. He paced the room for a moment, no sign of Tommy’s wings anywhere. The man, now with a more pig appearance, leaned and shut the large window. It didn’t take a genius to figure how the attacker got in. As he scanned the room again, he finally saw confirmation. On the side table, there was a small, torn piece of paper held down by a small flowerpot Tommy decorated his room with. Picking it up, it simply read:
Something to remember me by
:)
Technoblade didn’t even notice his hands shaking as he quickly pocketed the note. He knew he couldn’t leave Tommy alone, not like this, so he did what he could, what so few people did for the boy. He stayed. The pigman picked up the small flower pot, it only contained a golden--really more like red and orange, Techno corrected frequently--Chrysanthemum. Tommy was actually quite the gardener, he used to grow lavender and various other flowers and sit with Tubbo to watch the bees. He hadn’t seen the boy with a real flower in a long time, not without a funeral. He realized how long he had just been standing there and shook it off, bringing the pot with him.
He returned to Tommy’s bedside, moving some of Techno’s books off the table next to the headboard to place the flowerpot. Technoblade put up the books on a nearby shelf, all but one then settled in a nearby chair and began reading. It was easier to read than look at the sleeping boy. He didn't know how to deal with Tommy. Maybe everyone said it, maybe the problem was people tried to deal with him instead of accepting him. Maybe. Maybe that's what got the boy into this mess. Kicked out of his home by his best friend, then all alone with nothing but charred flowers and that whisper in his head standing next to him, and then walking through miles of snow to show up half-dead to a door where someone would have rather have seen you dead, and then just to end up half-dead once you got inside that door. A long list for a child, and that's just half of what that kid has gone through. Just half.
So, Technoblade made a mental little letter that he would never share, To the kid clutching a flower. To the kid who once grew a garden so his friend could see his favorite bees. To the kid willing to die for some music. For the kid with no brother. For the kid with barely a father. For the kid all alone. For the kid with no wings. For the kid who lost what he barely had. I'm sorry.