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Techno leads a pretty normal life. Boring, he might even say.
Which, in and of itself, is kind of a miracle. But he tries not to think about that part.
He’s a year out of college, sharing a place with his three best friends while he tries to find a job. It’s been nearly six years since he last got admitted to the hospital- another miracle, considering. He mostly does the dishes and cleans up around the house while Wilbur and Phil work and Tommy gets through his last year of college.
It’s all so boring, and it’s nothing Techno ever thought he’d get to have.
He still wears high-collared shirts all the time, hiding his throat. He keeps Phil on speed-dial, he’s always on guard for the first sign of something being wrong.
Which is why it’s such a shock when it does happen, and he doesn’t immediately notice.
In Techno’s defense, he hasn’t had a serious episode in four years. So he’s- well, he hasn’t forgotten, because there’s no forgetting it- but he maybe is out of practice noticing what it feels like.
He’s been lethargic for a day or so. Short of breath. There’s maybe a bit of an ache in his chest, but he’s had enough tubes and needles between his ribs that it always aches. It’s just a mild episode, he thinks. It’ll go away on its own.
“Hey, are you okay?” Wilbur asks.
Techno coughs, nodding. “Yeah, of course I am.”
“You’ve seemed off for a couple days, that’s all.”
“I’m fine,” Techno says. “I’m always fine.”
“No, Wil’s right.” Tommy hangs over the back of the couch with a jaw-cracking yawn. “You’ve been fuckin’- out of breath, or something.”
He knows that. Of course he’s noticed.
“I’m fine,” Techno repeats, more firmly. “Or, I would be, if you idiots could learn to clean up after yourselves.”
“Hey! I’m too busy for that shit!” Tommy protests. “Besides, isn’t that why you live here? So you can keep the house clean?”
“Wow,” Techno deadpans. “Is that all you see me as? Just a housekeeper?”
“He didn’t mean that!” Wilbur says, elbowing Tommy away. “You’re our friend, Tech, we like having you here for you.”
It happens two days later, when Techno’s breathing hasn’t improved and he’s getting even more tired.
He’s playing Wii Sports with Wilbur and Tommy- which probably in hindsight was a bad idea anyway, but especially in light of the symptoms he’s been having. They’re in the middle of a round of bowling when his chest pinches, knocking the air out of him.
Techno hears Tommy make some mocking remark about his bad shot, but he doesn’t hear the words. There’s a sudden squeezing, crushing pain in the left side of his chest, making his head spin. He stumbles, listing to the side- he needs- he needs-
“What’s wrong?” he hears someone ask, through the ringing in his ears.
Techno’s vision is quickly overtaken by dark spots. The next thing he knows he’s crumpled on the floor, slumped against the couch. He’s struggling desperately for air, gasping and heaving- a sensation unfortunately all too familiar.
Wilbur and Tommy are hovering over him, but he can’t hear them. He flails out with one hand, managing to grab someone’s clothing, and pulls.
“Ge- get Phil,” he wheezes, and then his eyes roll back and he lapses out of consciousness.
Cursing is what drags him back to tortuous awareness.
“Shit, fuck, fuck- where the fuck is that goddamn ambulance- breathe, Techno. For the love of god, breathe-”
Phil… he’s here now, he came, he’ll know what to do. He- he can handle this-
Techno’s body arches with the effort of trying to pull air into his lungs. Hands scrabble at his chest, pressing him back down- holding him still.
He can’t breathe.
He tries to say Phil’s name, to say anything at all, but he can’t. He can’t breathe.
“We called 999,” Phil is saying, distant and muffled. “You’re gonna be okay.”
He knows. He knows he will. Phil won’t let him stop breathing.
Techno can tell he’s passing out again, but Phil is here, and he knows he’ll be okay.
He wakes up in the hospital.
“Hey.” Phil’s leaning over him before Techno’s fully aware, before he’s registered anything beyond the sharp smell of antiseptic, the feel of hard plastic in his throat. “You’re okay, mate. Just relax.”
He must be under partial sedation, Techno thinks. That’s the only reason he can think why he wouldn’t be fighting the ventilator, why he’s just laying here letting it fill his lungs with air.
“They trached you in the ambulance,” Phil continues. “You’ve been on the ventilator for about a day, they wanted to give your lungs a break. Cause you’ve been walking around with a collapsed lung for days, you idiot.”
Techno makes a weak sound, blinking at Phil. The man shakes his head, sighing.
“They’ve opened your chest tube, too,” he says. “They want you to stay on the vent for a little longer, but you’re doin’ a hell of a lot better already. Your lung is already mostly reinflated.”
That’s good, Techno muses. He can’t really… conscious thought is difficult right now.
His eyelids must be drooping. Phil laughs softly, smoothing one hand over his forehead. “Get some more rest,” he murmurs. “Wil and Tommy will be back to visit soon.”
Techno blinks sheepishly at his roommates. Wilbur looks furious; Tommy looks upset. Phil is just holding his hand, the contact more calming than the drugs.
“What the fuck, man,” Wilbur says at last.
Techno inhales slowly, letting his body pull in extra oxygen through the trach tube that still hasn’t been removed. “In my defense,” he says, raspy and weak, “I didn’t notice anything was wrong.”
“You didn’t- how could you not fucking notice?” Wilbur snaps. He gestures widely with both hands. “You had a collapsed lung. How- how the fuck does that happen, how did we not notice you were hurt?”
Techno doesn’t answer. He’s so fucking tired of all of it.
“He told me,” Phil says hesitantly, “this used to happen a lot when he was younger.”
The last time Techno had any kind of episode, it was a lot milder. He didn’t even end up in the hospital, just stopped in the ER for a bit. So this- the full-on chest tube and ventilator- this is somewhat unexpected.
“What? What the hell-”
Techno exhales, squeezing Phil’s hand. “Yeah,” Phil says, “too much physical activity an’ he just-” He gestures. “Pops a lung.”
“It’s my curse,” Techno rasps.
“What happened?” Tommy asks quietly. “Why- they couldn’t stop it happening?”
Techno shakes his head. His voice is wrecked by the effort needed to talk with a proper tube in, and he glances at Phil to provide answers.
“He’s had a lot of doctors try to find the cause,” Phil says. “And a lot of treatments to try to make it stop. Nothing really worked, so he just…” He shrugs.
Lives with it. And with the reality that if he moves wrong, or overdoes things in any way, he’ll have another episode. Nothing’s ever helped, not the surgeries or the medications or the chest tube he’s had in his side since he was ten.
“That sucks,” Tommy says.
“It’s fucking horrible.” Wilbur looks so upset about it. Which- Techno kind of gets. It is a pretty awful thing to have to live with.
He nods, squeezing Phil’s hand again.
“How long have you had the- the tube in your throat?” Tommy asks.
Techno indicates his trach. “This?” he rasps. At Tommy’s nod, Techno glances at Phil again.
“Since he was- what, eight?” Phil asks. Techno nods. “To streamline the process when he needs to be ventilated.”
“So that- that happens a lot?” Tommy asks.
“Primary treatment for pneumothorax,” Techno rasps. “That an’ the chest tube.”
“They’re both needed pretty often.” Phil rubs Techno’s arm gently.
“How long have you known about this?” Wilbur asks. He sounds kind of annoyed.
“A while.” Phil keeps rubbing Techno’s arm. “He had a bad one, kind of like this, back when we were just starting college. Believe me, it took a lot to get him to tell me anything at all.”
Techno rolls his eyes. “’s been a while since I had an issue,” he rasps.
“Four years, I think?” Phil glances at him. “That one wasn’t even that bad, he just needed a quick needle puncture to decompress his chest, we were able to get it done in the ER and get back out in a few hours.”
Techno nods. He’d been back in class two days later, after some bed rest.
Even after so long without needing it, though, his doctor hadn’t been willing to remove the trach port. Mechanical ventilation has been an integral part of his treatment plan since he was a kid- though, not as important as the tube between his ribs.
“Could always be worse,” Techno whispers.
“You were barely fucking breathing,” Wilbur snaps, and suddenly Techno understands. Wilbur’s not angry- he’s scared, and the way it comes out is as anger. “That seems pretty fucking bad.”
“It could be worse,” Techno repeats. He could be stuck in the hospital for months on end, again. He could be alone, confused and scared, with only the nurses to keep him company. He could be laying here with a chest full of air that refuses to leave, with a lung refusing to reinflate. It’s happened before. It could all happen again.
At least Phil and Wilbur and Tommy are here. At least he’s not laying here hoping maybe, maybe this time, his parents will show up. At least he’s not facing long weeks of recovery and tests and treatments.
Phil squeezes his hand gently. He knows more than anyone else about it- all of it. Even Techno’s parents don’t know as much as Phil does.
The episodes have certainly been easier, but they’ve been far, far worse, too.
“In any case,” Phil says, before Wilbur can go off again, “Techno’s doing better now. He’ll be out of here in another couple of days, and we’ll get back to normal.”
Techno sighs, squeezing Phil’s hand. He is so ready for that.
They release him another two days later, after closing his trach and chest tube again.
The first thing Techno does after Phil helps him inside is beeline to the shower.
At least he didn’t collect any new scars, he contemplates after his shower as he stands in front of the mirror, carefully cleaning the skin around his chest tube. He has fewer on the left side, conversely to the number of collapses he’s had there. Thanks to the permanent tube.
Techno considers, briefly, putting on a regular t-shirt instead of his normal higher-collared attire. Well, why not? They’ve all seen the trach now anyways, why keep hiding it?
Phil glances over the back of the couch as Techno comes into the living room. “Hey,” he says, smile tinged with worry. “Feelin’ better?”
Techno nods, not trusting his voice. His throat is still so sore.
“Got the hospital stink washed off,” he whispers, sinking down beside Phil and letting his friend take his hand again. He’s feeling a lot more relaxed, especially with Phil back beside him. “Could use a nap.”
“Take one, then.” Phil tugs gently at his hand.
Techno doesn’t protest as Phil pulls him down to lay on the couch, his head on a pillow in Phil’s lap. He prefers napping out here, where everyone else is around, than alone in his room. He likes laying here with Phil’s hand running through his hair, working out the tangles.
It’s comfortably warm and quiet, and Techno finally relaxes.
He dozes for a while, drifting in and out of awareness. He’s vaguely conscious of quiet voices, of Phil’s hands in his hair, but it’s all hazy and distant.
After a long time, Techno rouses fully, taking as deep a breath as he can manage. Phil is still stroking his hair, his other hand resting over Techno’s heart.
“Hey,” he murmurs as Techno turns his head. “You feelin’ better?”
Techno tries to hum. It comes out as a weak whistling sound, but it’s good enough.
“Any pain?”
Techno nods slightly, weakly lifting one hand to rest his fingertips on his throat. Phil hums, rubbing a circle on his chest.
“I’m sure it’ll pass,” he murmurs.
Techno knows it will. It’s still rather distracting. Well, that and the ever-present ache up and down both sides of his ribcage.
He’s tired, too. He’s always tired. But a bit less now, after a good social nap.
Wilbur collapses in the chair across from the couch. “You could’ve told us,” he says, somewhat accusingly.
“Oh, lay off him,” Phil says, easily pressing Techno back down when he makes a move to sit up. “It’s personal medical information, Wil. Ever hear of privacy?”
“’sides,” Techno croaks, “I thought I’d mostly outgrown it.”
“Yeah, well, we all see how well that went,” Tommy says. “And now that we know, we can keep your dumb ass from doing it again.”
Techno scoffs, ignoring the slight burn in his throat. “Good luck,” he whispers. “’s gonna keep happening, ‘less I go on permanent bed rest.”
He’s been through bed rest before. And lengthy hospital stays. The hospital was far better, because at least there, there were nurses to take care of him. At home, all he had was the hope that his parents would check on him, and the certainty that the housekeeper would bring him his meals, that his tutors would come by to give him his lessons.
He’s accepted by this point in his life that he’ll just keep having occasional episodes. Complete immobilization is definitely not worth it. He’d rather walk around with a still-healing partial pneumothorax than be stuck in bed- and has done.
“Well, at least we can take care of you when you go and get yourself in trouble again,” Wilbur says.
“And now you know you need to be more careful,” Phil says pointedly.
Techno rolls his eyes. He was being careful. He’s spent his whole life being careful.
“You’ve had this since you were a little kid?”
Techno’s been home for a few days now. His voice works again, at least, even if his throat still aches a bit.
“Yeah,” he says, rubbing absently at the ache in his ribs.
Wilbur seems saddened by his answer. “How old were you?” he asks. “The first time you…”
“Six.” Techno leans back on the couch, inhaling slowly. “It… was bad. I spent a lot of that first year in the hospital. And the second, drugged up to my eyeballs because I wouldn’t stay still and it kept getting worse.”
“That sucks,” Wilbur says quietly.
“Yep.” Techno cups his hand over the tube in his side. “Had my tracheostomy when I was eight. It was planned to make things easier on me, I’ve had it ever since. Got my chest tube when I was ten. Just on the left side, cause that’s the one that goes most often, but my right lung does sometimes too.”
“And they have no idea why?”
He shakes his head. “Best theory, I have a genetic mutation that means I have them frequently. It’s been… an ongoing thing. Like Phil said though, I hadn’t had one in four years, and that was really minor. We were only in the ER for a few hours, they did a quick needle decompression, and we were back out.”
“Huh.” Wilbur tilts his head. “You’re not hiding your trach anymore.”
Techno brings his other hand up to his throat, suddenly self-conscious. “I mean.” He chuckles nervously. “You’ve all seen it now.” He hesitates. “If it bothers you…”
“Of course it doesn’t,” Wilbur says instantly. “It’s just… I’m not used to seeing it, is all.”
“Other kids always poked fun at it,” Techno mutters. “At least, before my parents pulled me out of school and got me tutors.”
“That sucks,” Wilbur says sympathetically.
Techno shrugs. “It was better than having a lung collapse in the hall and having to go to the nurse, who couldn’t even do anything for me. Or all the kids making fun of my trach tube, or being jealous I didn’t have to do gym. Or getting bumped into on purpose to see if they could make me have an episode.”
Wilbur’s expression morphs from sympathetic to outright horrified. “That’s fucking awful.”
“Yep.” Techno pops the ‘p’. “Hence the high collars, and the rotation of tutors, and spending my entire life until college in my parents’ house.”
Wilbur shifts closer, reaching out to rest his hand on Techno’s shoulder, tracing an idle pattern with his thumb. “At least you had your parents, though, right?”
Techno looks away. “You’d really think so, wouldn’t you?” he says tiredly.
“Oh, Techno.”
He shrugs his other shoulder. “It is what it is.”
Wilbur’s got that look on his face. Like he’s suddenly figuring something out. “You’ve been going home with Phil for the holidays and summers.”
“Phil’s parents don’t care about an extra person in the house, as long as all the chores get done.”
“But that means you haven’t gone back to your home in… what, four years?”
“Five,” Techno mutters, looking away.
“Five years?”
He went home, his first Christmas in college. And his first summer. But his parents barely noticed he was there, too preoccupied with themselves and his siblings.
“They don’t want me there,” he says. “I’d rather hang out with Phil anyway. It’s fine.”
Wilbur’s face twists. “But they’re your parents.”
“Yeah, and I have two siblings whose lungs don’t collapse at the slightest provocation.” Techno’s chest aches. He doesn’t like thinking about his siblings. “They don’t need or want me. So.”
Wilbur freezes up again. “That’s… horrible. You- you- you have siblings? You never told us that.”
Techno shrugs. “A brother and a sister, both younger. Twins. My parents just had to have another kid, couldn’t bear the thought of their bloodline stopping with me. You know, me being ‘defective’ or whatever.”
“Is that something they’ve said to you?” Wilbur asks, looking outright horrified again.
And Techno knows- he knows it’s an awful thing to say about a person. He remembers well how Phil reacted when Techno told him.
“…yeah,” he admits. “Once or twice. It’s just- is what it is.”
“It’s fucking awful is what it is.”
“What’s fucking awful?” Phil calls, closing the front door.
“Techno’s parents.”
“Ah.” Phil drops his bag, coming across to lean on the back of the couch and wrap one arm around Techno’s shoulders. It used to be strange- it isn’t anymore- how Techno relaxes into the contact. “Yeah, they’re shit.”
“They could’ve been worse,” Techno protests weakly. “They still paid my college tuition and medical bills an’ shit.”
“Don’t give them that.” Phil squeezes gently and moves away. “They’re still neglectful assholes.”
Techno makes a face. “Fair.”
“Well,” Wilbur says firmly, “you don’t need them anymore. You’ve got us now.”
Techno smiles slightly. “Thanks, Wil.”
“I hear your parents are jerks,” Tommy says.
Techno sighs, glaring at Wilbur. “You had to?”
Wilbur shrugs, looking utterly unrepentant. “Were you going to tell him anything?”
“He definitely wasn’t.” Phil places one hand on Techno’s shoulder. “Still, Wilbur-”
“It’s fine.” Techno cuts him off, sighing again. “Yes, Tommy, my parents are… not great. That’s why I don’t talk to them anymore. See, it’s fine.”
Wilbur’s expression pinches. “You literally told me they said you were ‘defective’ and that they didn’t want you around, that’s a little worse than not great.”
Techno looks away. He really would rather not think about them-
“That’s not even counting all the shit they made you deal with on your own,” Phil says quietly. “They’re assholes, mate.”
Techno shakes his head slightly. “It could’ve been worse, it’s- it’s not like they were abusive.”
Phil sighs heavily. Wilbur scowls.
“That- saying things like that is literal abuse.” Wilbur pinches the bridge of his his nose. “The next thing you’re gonna tell me is that they got you put on drugs to make you stay calm when you were little.”
Phil squeezes his shoulder. Techno grimaces. “Well…”
“No.” Wilbur’s jaw drops. “What the fuck, tell me they didn’t-”
“I mean… I was seven, I didn’t understand why I couldn’t- y’know, do all the shit I used to.” Techno shrugs. “And they didn’t care to explain it to me. It was easier to just, you know-”
“Drug you?” Wilbur looks furious.
“Sedate me.” Techno shrugs again, uncomfortable. “I tell you what though, nothing in my life has ever sucked as much as going through benzo withdrawals when I was eight.”
“What?!” Wilbur yells.
Phil squeezes Techno’s shoulder again, very gently. He feels vaguely like puking. “Yeah? My doctors decided to take me off ‘em, and they did it in the hospital and all, but it was still the worst thing I’ve ever been through.”
“That’s got to be some sort of crime.” Wilbur gets up and starts pacing, hands clasped tightly behind his back. “Drugging a seven-year-old-”
“I mean, they got a prescription.” Techno shifts, leaning a little more into Phil’s hand. “And they gave me the right dosage.” He swallows, glancing away. “….most of the time,” he adds under his breath.
They all hear him, anyway. Phil shifts to hold him closer; Wilbur doesn’t so much flinch as outright recoil, stumbling back. “They what,” he asks coldly.
“Well, y’know, if I- if they didn’t have somebody to send to watch me to make sure I behaved, it- it was easier.” Techno curls back into himself, hating how weak it comes out. “They- it was easier.”
“That’s a crime. That is a fucking crime.”
“Can I go and murder your parents?” Tommy asks, a bit too cheerful.
“No?!” Techno glances between them. His hands are starting to shake. “That- I am pretty sure that murder is a worse crime than whatever you think they did to me-”
“Medical fucking child abuse,” Wilbur snaps. “That’s what they did to you, and it is a fucking crime-”
Techno looks away. “They… they didn’t,” he whispers. “They wouldn’t.”
He accidentally meets Phil’s gaze. Phil, who is watching him with eyes full of anger and overwhelming love.
“Mate,” he says softly. “Did… did anyone else know?”
“Probably not.” He shrugs. “They told my nanny I made things up… that it got worse after I went on the sedatives. And nobody else really… nobody else ever checked on me.”
“Your nanny, she wasn’t there all the time?”
“She thought my mother took care of me on her days off,” Techno whispers. “And. I mean, she kind of did. She would give me an extra pill and put me back to bed with a bucket in case I puked.”
He doesn’t remember a lot of that- he’s not sure if it’s because of the sedatives, or just that it was so long ago- but he remembers those days would feel worse than any other. He would be dizzy and sleepy and nauseous, and he couldn’t do anything except lay in bed and watch the room spin around him or lay in bed and sleep.
“That is abuse,” Phil says softly. “That’s basically the definition of medical child abuse.”
Techno shakes his head. They wouldn’t. They wouldn’t.
Phil nods, slowly pulling him closer. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry Tech, but it was. Purposely overdosing your child on medication is- it’s a crime. It was wrong and I’m so, so sorry they did that to you.”
“I- I was a difficult kid-”
“No.”
“I wouldn’t- I didn’t-”
“No,” Phil repeats, pulling Techno close, gently guiding his head down against Phil’s shoulder. “Nothing justifies them doing that to you. Nothing. They should’ve taken care of you.”
“They did,” Techno says weakly. “They tried.”
To his horror, his breath is hitching, tears gathering in his eyes. Phil doesn’t let go, stroking gently down the back of his head.
“They should’ve done better,” he murmurs. “They shouldn’t have hurt you like that.”
“It d- didn’t hurt-”
Techno sobs. Phil shushes him, keeping one hand firm on the back of his head.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “They shouldn’t have done that to you. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Ph- Phil-”
“I know,” he whispers. “I know, Tech.”
He sobs again, barely knowing why. They didn’t- they never hurt him. They just- they-
They didn’t care enough to be there when he was.
It’s shattering and ruining and healing all at the same time. His parents just didn’t care, they’ve never cared, and he’s been excusing it and refusing to see it and pretending in some tiny corner of himself that they were doing their best and they never were, were they? They passed him off to anyone who would take him instead of trying to care themselves, and he- he-
“Why- why di- idn’t they-”
Phil hushes him again. A thin body plasters itself to his back, Tommy making a quiet sound as he starts rubbing Techno’s back. After another second Wilbur comes over, leaning on the back of the couch and resting his hand on Techno’s head.
For what feels like a long time, Techno just sits there and cries. But for once, for once he thinks he’s okay.
His roommates are here. They’re not going to let go of him.
His family is here.
~~~
It happens a few months later.
Everything has been pretty normal. Techno still doesn’t have a job, but Phil keeps reminding him he doesn’t need to get one. He and Wilbur both work, which right now is enough to support the whole household. None of them mind if Techno wants to sit around the house and read.
They don’t always know what causes his episodes. Phil doesn’t know what causes this one. Just that once again, they’re waiting for an ambulance- but this time, Techno’s lips are turning blue as he fights for air.
“I’m here,” Phil says, over and over. “Techno, please keep breathing, oh my god mate, breathe-”
Phil is well and truly panicking by the time the paramedics finally get there. He looks up when the door opens, waving to them.
“He’s over here, he can’t breathe, you have to help him-”
“Okay, we’re going to, but you need to let us work.” They’re pushing Phil away, making him move away- and he goes, because he just needs Techno to breathe-
“He- he has- a chronic condition, spontaneous pneumothorax.” Phil wrings his hands. “He- he has a chest tube, left side, can-”
“Thank you,” one of the paramedics says, “we’ve got it.”
Minutes drag by before he finally sees Techno take a breath. They’re loading him onto a backboard and starting to carry him out, and Phil scrambles to follow.
“Is he-”
“We’re taking him to the hospital. You can come, but we need to get in touch with his family-”
“I’m his family.” Phil can’t breathe, he can’t- “Is he gonna-”
“We’re going to do everything we can.”
Phil sits at Techno’s head, holding him, while they shove a plastic tube down his throat and rip up his shirt to try a needle decompression on the right side. He sits there and panics and prays that Techno isn’t going to die.
It’s not until he’s sitting in a waiting room while they rush Techno into emergency procedures that he remembers he hasn’t called Wilbur or Tommy.
His phone rings as the thought crosses his mind. Phil answers, hands shaking.
“Phil? Where are you guys, is Techno-”
“He-” Phil chokes on a breath- he can’t, he needs to keep breathing, he can’t sit here and panic while Techno is- while he’s- “He couldn’t breathe,” he chokes out. “He can’t, he’s not-”
“Oh, god.” Wilbur’s voice hitches. “Is he- Phil, what’s happening?”
“They took him away, they- they’re trying to get him breathing again.” It’s never been this bad, Phil’s never seen Techno get this bad. “Please- please- please come.”
By the time they’re allowed into Techno’s room in the ICU, Phil has lost track of how many hours they’ve been sitting there, waiting.
Clara is there- one of Techno’s favorite nurses, one of the ones who’s been taking care of him the longest. She’s doing something with the ventilator, but she glances up when Phil comes in.
“How is he?” Phil gets out.
“Sit down,” Clara says gently. “You look like you’re about to collapse.”
Phil does, pulling the chair as close to Techno as he can manage and reaching for his best friend’s hand. Techno’s fingers are cold, nails vaguely blueish. His chest rises and falls in shallow, mechanical breaths. Phil tries not to let his gaze be drawn to the outlines of the chest tubes in both of his sides.
“Please, just- I need to know.” Phil grips his hand. “Is he going to be okay?”
Clara hesitates. “We don’t know,” she says.
“No.” Phil’s breath hitches again.
“We’re having trouble getting his lungs to reinflate,” Clara says quietly. “His oxygenation isn’t very good- he’s above the danger threshold, but barely.”
“So he-” Phil can’t finish the sentence. He grips Techno’s hand tighter, closing his eyes.
“Is he dying?” Wilbur asks, very quietly.
Clara takes a deep breath. “We’re going to do everything we can to keep that from happening.”
It isn’t a no, and Phil nearly sobs. Techno can’t, he can’t be dying-
“Right now, he’s just not improving the way he should be.” Clara pauses. “He’s not improving at all.”
Phil forces himself to breathe. To stay calm, to be as calm as he can about this. “What can you do for him?” he whispers.
“Do you know who his healthcare proxy is?” Clara asks.
Phil’s heart aches. “I am,” he whispers. He has been for a few years, since he and Techno got close. Techno had pointed out that he couldn’t trust his parents to make decisions for him, if he needed that to happen, and he does trust Phil.
But god, he never thought it would get so bad. He never thought it would come to this.
“Do you want them to step out, or…”
Phil shakes his head. “They can stay,” he whispers. He doesn’t look up at Wilbur and Tommy. He doesn’t know what they’re doing, he just- he needs them here. Techno would want them here.
God, Techno is- he could be-
“Right now, both of Techno’s lungs are failing to reinflate properly. We’re not sure if there’s too much air in the pleural space, or if the issue lies in his lungs themselves. We’re doing everything we can, but at the moment, he’s not responding to the oxygen therapy.
“The next option is surgery. We’d considered it before, but at the time, the procedure was considered too risky and intensive to attempt.” Clara sits down. “We’d like to give Techno some more time to see if he starts to improve on his own, but if he doesn’t, we will need to perform a surgery to attempt to manually re-open his lungs.”
Phil clings to Techno’s hand. “How- how long?” he asks, voice shaking. “How much longer are you gonna-”
“As long as we can,” Clara says. “Right now we’re just going to take it as it comes. If he hasn’t started to improve in a day, maximum, or if he starts getting worse, we’ll take him in for surgery.”
Phil stares at Techno’s still face, and he knows- he knows, no matter what happens here, whether or not Techno recovers, this is going to break him. This day is never going to leave his bones.
“Okay,” he whispers. “What- what surgery- what would you need to do?”
“Techno’s already had that discussion with his care team,” Clara says gently. “If it becomes necessary, we’ll perform a procedure called a pleurectomy, where the inner lining of the chest is removed, allowing the lung to stick to the chest wall. We’ve already planned this with Techno, as I said, and the procedure would only be performed on his right lung. It’s likely to produce the best outcome.”
Phil nods, trying to comprehend it. To make sure he understands. “He’ll- he planned this?”
“He has. It’s all in his care plan.” Clara pauses. “We’re going to do everything we possibly can to help him, but you…” She pauses again, meeting Phil’s gaze across Techno’s unconscious body. “You need to be prepared,” she says, very quietly, “for the possibility that you will be asked to make more serious decisions for him.”
Phil closes his eyes. “End-of-life,” he whispers.
“Yes.”
He knows- he knows they can’t promise Techno will pull through this. He knows this means he has to be prepared to lose his best friend.
“I’ll be ready,” he whispers, broken and exhausted and so, so scared. “Just- please, please don’t let it come to that.”
“We aren’t going to let it.” Clara stands, holding out her hand. After a second Phil takes it, letting her squeeze his hand gently. “We’re going to fight like hell to keep him alive.”
He knows this means almost as much to her as it does to him. Techno’s been her patient since he was eight and going through withdrawals.
He knows that no one on Techno’s care team is going to let him go without a fight.
“We’ll be checking on him every half-hour,” Clara says quietly. “One of you should stay with him in case he wakes up. Hit the call button if anything changes- anything at all.”
Phil nods, lifting Techno’s hand to press it into the hollow of his shoulder. “We will,” he whispers.
Clara lingers a moment longer, placing her hand on Techno’s forehead, eyes closed and lips moving silently. Then she leaves, closing the door partway behind her.
Phil says his own silent prayer, lacing his fingers through Techno’s. After a few minutes he finally turns to look at Wilbur and Tommy.
“You should go home,” he whispers. “Get some rest. I’ll- I’ll stay with him.”
“No way.” Wilbur steps closer. “We’re staying.”
Phil shakes his head. “You- there’s nothing you can do,” he says, a bit stronger. “I’ll stay. Go- go get some rest, and I’ll- if something changes, I’ll call you.”
“…okay,” Wilbur says at last. “Stay- don’t leave him. Call us if anything happens.”
“I will.”
They go out, and Phil’s left alone with Techno- with the quiet, the sound of the ventilator whirring its steady rhythm.
He takes a few deep breaths of his own before he dares to lift his head, to truly look at his friend.
Techno looks calm. Peaceful. He’s so, so still.
He looks smaller in this hospital bed, with so much medical equipment connected to him. With the two tubes suctioning air from his chest, the thick tubing connected to his trach.
Phil wonders if this is how he looked when he was little, back when all of this started. How tiny he would’ve been in that hospital bed. How alone and scared.
“Please breathe,” Phil whispers, even though he knows- he knows Techno isn’t breathing for himself right now. “Please keep breathing.”
Phil stays until Wilbur comes back to take his turn. Phil goes home and sleeps restlessly for a few hours. Phil returns to the hospital to sit at Techno’s bedside and wait.
Phil is there when, after twenty-four hours, they take Techno to prep for his surgery.
His lungs still haven’t properly reinflated. He’s still under mild sedation, to keep his body from trying to fight the ventilator. Not that he’s even come close to regaining consciousness.
He still looks so, so small.
Clara lets Phil have a few more minutes alone with him before they take him away. Phil leans over, resting his forehead against Techno’s. Trying to memorize this moment, to commit Techno breathing and alive to his memory- because if he doesn’t make it through this, if the surgery doesn’t work, there’s no knowing what will happen.
“Please,” is all he can manage. “Please, Techno. Don’t do this to me.”
Tommy is in class, but Wilbur comes to sit in the waiting room with Phil.
Wilbur’s not a touchy person, usually, but today he sits and lets Phil hold his hand in a crushing grip. He puts the TV on, playing one of those stupid mindless home improvement shows.
Phil stares blankly at the wall. The only thing he’s really able to process right now is the grasp of the thin fingers laced through his own.
It’s like his mind has just been overwhelmed by anxiety, so fully taken by it, that he can’t feel it anymore. He can’t feel anything anymore. He’s just numb.
“Phil.”
He blinks, realizing where he is and sitting up quickly. Clara is leaning over him, a slight smile on her face.
“Techno.” His chest clenches. “He’s, is he-”
“He came through the surgery just fine,” Clara says quietly. “It’s too soon to say for sure if it was a success, but his right lung is open and his oxygenation is up.”
Phil takes a shaky breath. “Can- can we be with him?” Wilbur asks.
“Yes,” Clara says. “He’s back in the ICU. He probably won’t wake up for a while yet, but it’ll be good for him to have you there.”
Techno doesn’t look better, but he doesn’t look worse either. He’s still so pale; still completely motionless, besides the even rise and fall of his chest. His hand is still so cold.
“He- he is improving?” Phil asks, because he can’t- like this, he can’t believe it. He can’t trust it, he won’t be able to until he sees Techno open his eyes or take a breath on his own.
“He is. We’re hoping he’ll regain consciousness soon, now that he’s breathing better.”
“Is he out of danger, then?” Wilbur asks, sounding calmer than Phil feels.
“Again, it’s too early to say. The procedure went well, but we won’t know for a while if it was completely successful.” Clara moves closer, doing something with the monitors. “His oxygenation is much better, though.”
“His left lung still isn’t-”
“Not yet. He could manage with just the one, but it’s- obviously, it’s not ideal. In any case, we’re doing what we can. And he is improving.”
Phil nods, keeping Techno’s hand held close. “Thank you,” he whispers.
~~~
Darkness.
It’s overwhelming, overpowering. He drifts in it for a long time, content to rest in it.
But something… something is wrong.
He… shouldn’t be in the dark. There’s supposed to be something… more. He’s supposed to be…
He doesn’t feel right.
He struggles against the darkness, fighting his way through it. It clings to his limbs like a miasma, trying to hold him down, keep him under. He won’t let it. He can’t.
Pain is the first thing he becomes aware of.
Radiating through his chest, centered on his right side. In his throat, slotted into place with the plastic thing there.
He hears then, a familiar whir-click-hiss, slow and steady. The sound coming in time with the waves of pain in his chest.
His face scrunches up, without conscious thought. There’s a quiet gasp, a hand squeezing his.
“Hey,” a voice says, soft and quiet. “You’re okay, Techno- it’s me, it’s Wilbur. You’re okay.”
Wilbur. He tries to cling to consciousness, to the feeling of Wilbur’s hand holding his, but it’s too tiring. He slips back into the darkness.
When he manages to open his eyes, he’s met with the sight of worried blue eyes, warm and familiar.
“Hi,” Phil breathes. “Hey, hey Techno.”
He tries to squeeze Phil’s hand, speak, anything. His voice refuses to work, but his lips move, forming Phil’s name.
“No, hey, don’t try to talk.” Phil leans over him, his other hand coming to rest on Techno’s chest. A gentle, warm weight. “Don’t try to move. You’re okay. I’m here, I’ve got you.”
Techno doesn’t know… where he is. What’s happening. He doesn’t feel good.
“You’re okay,” Phil repeats, squeezing his hand. “You’re in the hospital, in the ICU. You’ve been here for- for about three days.”
Hospital… makes sense. Why he feels so bad. ICU isn’t good, though…
“You, ah…” Phil’s voice catches. He looks like he’s going to cry, and he leans closer, pressing Techno’s hand against his shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay,” he whispers. “Keep breathing, Techno. Just- keep breathing. You’re gonna be okay.”
It’s not until later- another two days, they tell him- that Techno is able to fully comprehend all that’s happened.
He remembers, vaguely, asking Phil to call 999. He’d had a full collapse, but he was able to breathe well enough around it that he thought maybe this time- this time, it wouldn’t be quite so bad. Maybe he could make it to the hospital before passing out.
He remembers sitting on the floor against the couch. Remembers a sudden crushing pain. Remembers fighting for even a single gasp of oxygen.
And then, nothing. Nothing, until waking up in the ICU, with Clara’s hand on his head, her voice quietly explaining what had happened.
Both of his lungs fully collapsed. Even the chest tubes and ventilator weren’t working to reinflate them properly, so Phil gave consent for the pleurectomy- the last-ditch surgery Techno was always hoping he’d never need to have. Even now his left lung is refusing to work properly, no matter how much air they suction out of his chest cavity or how much the ventilator forces in.
When Clara finishes explaining and leaves, Phil takes her place. He clasps Techno’s hand in both of his, gazing at him with a shaky smile.
“How’re you feelin’?” he asks after a minute.
Techno’s throat works around the tube. “Better,” he whispers, even that is nearly inaudible. “H- hurts a bit.”
He’s off sedation, off the ventilator. They’re still giving him painkillers- enough to take the edge off, though not to stop the pain entirely, conditional to letting him breathe on his own, just with supplemental oxygen fed directly into his lungs.
“I’m sorry,” Phil murmurs. “They’ve got you on the maximum dose without affecting your breathing.”
Techno squeezes his hand.
“It- was bad,” he whispers. “Right?”
Phil nods shakily. “Yeah, mate, it was-” He stops, looking away. His voice trembles. “You almost died,” he whispers. “You- you weren’t breathing, and your lips turned blue, I thought you were dying.”
Techno weakly squeezes Phil’s hand again. He- logically, he knew it was that bad, but to hear it from Phil- to see-
“’m here,” he whispers. “Ph’l, m’okay.”
“Shut up.” Phil scoffs, smiling and blinking away tears. “I’m supposed to be comforting you, mate.”
He manages to smile, just a weak twitch of his lips. “C’n go both ways.”
Phil laughs softly, leaning closer to rest their heads together for a moment. “Please stop talking,” he says as he sits back. “You’re hurting my throat just listening to you.”
Techno squeezes his hand in response.
“You’re gonna be in the hospital for at least two more weeks,” Phil murmurs. “They’re hopin’ your left lung opens up, but it’s not- right now it’s not really looking good.”
Techno exhales, a bit shakily. He hates the thought- that his lung might not properly reinflate. That they’d probably let him go, have him just live like that. As long as he has one working lung, at least-
“They said the surgery was completely successful. Which- it’s something, at least.” Phil runs his thumb over Techno’s knuckles, over and over again. “I’m here, and Wil and Tommy are gonna be here, and we- we’re gonna get you through this.”
He takes another shaky breath, squeezing Phil’s hand again. He’s going to be okay. Phil is here. He’s going to be okay.
They get him into a room a couple days later. It’s a small improvement, at least, being out of the ICU.
He still feels like he can’t catch his breath.
“Clara,” Techno whispers, as she’s checking his vitals. “Is… it’s still not working?”
She pauses, sitting on the side of the bed and taking his hand. It’s still early. Phil’s not here yet.
“We’re doing what we can,” she says gently. “You’re making progress.”
Techno swallows past the trach tube, trying to ignore the burn in his throat. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
“You were at fifty percent pneumothorax two days ago,” Clara says. “You’re already closer to forty-five. It’s not going as quickly as anyone would like, but your lung is improving.”
He can’t shake the fear, though. He can’t stop conflating the now with then, when he was eleven and stuck in the hospital for a month with a lung that wouldn’t reinflate and no one to hold his hand except the nurses, sometimes.
“It’s just-” His voice catches, and he coughs carefully, trying to clear his throat. “I can’t, it hurts. And I can’t- back then, I- I-”
“Shh, shh.” Clara squeezes his hand gently. “You’re all right, dear. You’re improving, and you have your friends coming in later. You’re going to be just fine.”
Techno closes his eyes, quickly squeezing Clara’s hand. He feels small again, he feels like that little scared kid again. Alone and hurting and not understanding what’s wrong with him or why his mom and dad won’t come see him.
When Phil finally comes, Techno’s still shaking. Phil comes right over, barely taking the time to sanitize his hands before he reaches for Techno’s.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, gaze darting over Techno and back up to his face. “Did something happen, are you okay?”
Techno squeezes Phil’s hand, breath hitching. “I-’m okay,” he whispers. “Clara said- m’lung’s improvin’.”
“But that’s good, right?” Phil tries to meet his gaze. Techno can’t quite look at him, half afraid that if he does, Phil will just see that terrified child.
“Yeah.” He looks away. “I… when I was ‘leven. Had one like this. An’ no one…”
“Oh. Oh, mate.” Phil shifts, pressing Techno’s hand against his shoulder. “Your parents didn’t…”
“Why would they?” Techno takes a shaky breath. “S’not… wasn’ dyin’.”
“You say that like they would’ve been there if you were.”
“You were.” Techno squeezes his hand, finally letting his gaze flick up to Phil’s. Taken off guard, as always, by the sheer worry and love in his eyes. “Means a lot.”
“Where else was I going to be?” Phil doesn’t smile, but he does hold Techno’s hand tighter. “You trusted me to take care of you, to make those choices for you. There was never any other option for me.”
It’s still so staggering, so difficult to comprehend. Just how much Phil loves him. Even though Techno’s done nothing to deserve it. There’s no reason Phil should.
No, they just got assigned to room together in college, and Phil just decided to care. In a way no one ever has cared before.
“I don’ get it,” he whispers.
“What?”
“You… lovin’ me.” Techno knows he probably wouldn’t be saying it if not for the drugs. “Doesn’ make sense.”
“That’s life, mate.” Phil laughs. “You’ve just got to learn to live with it.”
~~~
Phil is late getting to the hospital that morning.
He’s prepared to fall all over himself apologizing to Techno. He slept through his alarm- a rare occurrence, but not unknown- and he’s late, and Techno’s been alone for nearly an hour-
Phil steps into the room, and freezes.
There’s a woman standing at the end of Techno’s bed, watching him. Phil’s never met her, but she’s not a stranger.
She’s Techno’s mother.
“Get out,” he hisses, before he can truly process what he’s saying.
She turns to him, expression shocked and annoyed. “What did you say to me?”
“Get out! You’re not welcome here.” Phil moves quickly to Techno’s side, taking his hand. Techno’s still asleep- mercifully. Now Phil just has to get his mother out of the room before he wakes up, and-
“I- how dare you? Who do you think you are?” she demands, looking plain outraged now. “I’m his mother-”
“I know who you are.” With his free hand, Phil points to the door. “Get. Out. Now. You’re not wanted here.”
“The hospital called me,” she says. “They said he was-”
They must not have taken Techno’s parents off his emergency contacts list. They must have called when it looked like he was…
“And you didn’t come for seven fucking days?” Rage burns in his chest. “He could’ve died. If I hadn’t been here he could’ve died alone and you would never have known or cared if-”
“Mm… Ph’l?”
He turns instantly, anger forgotten in needing to comfort Techno. He squeezes Techno’s hand gently as his friend’s eyelids flicker open. “I’m here,” he says softly. “Right here mate.”
Techno blinks, looking past him. “…Mom?” he whispers, raspy and painful-sounding.
“Yes, I’m here-” she says, taking a step closer.
Techno shakes his head, hissing in pain. “G- go ‘way,” he whimpers. “Phil, make her go ‘way…”
“You heard him,” Phil snaps. “Get the hell out before I call security and make you.”
“He’s my son,” she snaps right back. “I have every right to be here-”
“Phil.” Techno all but sobs, pulling weakly on his hand.
“You’re upsetting him,” Phil says coldly. “Get out.”
She tries to say something else. Phil reaches over Techno, smacking the call button. He doesn’t care what else they have to do to get her out of here- Techno is crying, clinging to Phil’s hand with all his strength. Techno’s crying, and Phil needs his mother out of here, now.
Clara is there almost immediately. She takes one look at the room and comes to stand between Techno and his mother. “Mrs. Blade,” she says, icy tone rivaling Phil’s, “you’re not supposed to be here.”
Phil holds Techno’s hand as tightly as he can and thanks whatever gods might exist for Clara.
“The hospital called me,” Techno’s mother snaps. “I’m still one of his emergency contacts-”
“A mistake I’m sure will soon be remedied.” Clara presses a button on her pager. “Security is on the way. If you don’t want to be escorted out, I suggest you leave now.”
Phil watches the woman bluster for another minute before finally turning on her heel and leaving. He’s finally able to turn, to give Techno his full attention.
“Shh, shh shh shh, you’re okay. You’re okay.” He leans down over Techno, letting him cling to Phil with both hands. “You’re okay,” he murmurs, cupping the back of Techno’s head with one hand and pulling him gently closer.
“Techno,” Clara says, “you need to calm down. Take some deep breaths.”
Phil holds him steady, but Techno’s breathing isn’t evening out. He’s trembling, heaving for air, and Phil knows this is bad.
Phil knows what’s coming next, as Clara goes out and comes back with a syringe and a little vial. He knows it’s necessary- he knows Techno has to breathe more steadily, or his lungs could get worse. He still hates that they have to sedate Techno, drug him into calmness.
“Shh, shh.” He rubs gently at the base of Techno’s skull with his fingers, meeting Clara’s gaze as she reaches for Techno’s IV.
“I’m just going to give you something to help you calm down,” Clara says gently. “You’ll feel better soon, Techno.”
Phil’s not sure Techno even hears, he’s crying too hard. The sedative takes effect quickly, thankfully, and Techno’s breathing slows, evening out.
He whines, painful and rasping, as Phil lays him back. His expression is twisted up in confusion, and Phil’s heart skips a beat at the sight. The dose must’ve been hefty enough to muddle his brain- though it’s necessary, he knows. Techno needs to be calm.
“You’re okay,” he murmurs, smoothing Techno’s hair back. “Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.”
“I need to suction his trach,” Clara says gently.
Phil starts to move away, but she stops him with a hand on his arm. “You can hold his hands. It’ll help him stay calm.”
Phil sits down. Techno’s still crying a bit- seeming more confused than panicked now- and he grasps weakly at Phil’s hands.
“I’m here,” Phil says softly. “I’m right here, you’re okay.”
He holds Techno’s hands, watching Clara go through the familiar process of suctioning the tube. Phil knows every step by heart- he’s been helping Techno with it, or just doing it for him, for the better part of the six years they’ve known each other. Phil’s almost as familiar with all the things Techno does to hide his condition and appear normal as the man himself.
There’s a reason he only accepts half-hugs, from the right side. There’s a reason he’s worn high collars or scarves since before Phil knew him. There’s a reason he never goes anywhere without a black bag (which Phil now knows is full of the equipment needed to care for his trach and chest tube).
There’s a reason people call them clingy, or Phil overprotective.
When Clara’s finished, she replaces the inner tube and reconnects the supplemental oxygen. Techno’s eyelids are nearly closed, eyes tracking her movement lazily, like he can’t quite muster the energy to try to move.
Phil knows he hates the feeling of sedation, how slow and listless it makes him. Techno spent nearly a year of his early childhood strung out on benzodiazepines, too drugged to play or even move.
Even worse, he knows how much it scares him- that he might be given too much and have to go through withdrawals again. All the time Techno’s spent in the hospital, on a ventilator, all the surgeries he’s had- and withdrawal was the worst thing he’s ever experienced.
They’re careful with his dosages, Phil knows. They give the minimum amount, just enough to keep him calm and only when it’s medically necessary. It’s a different drug than the one he was on as a kid, to hopefully keep his body from becoming dependent on it again.
It doesn’t make it any easier to see him like this.
“You’re okay,” Phil murmurs, stroking through Techno’s hair gently. “I’m right here. You’re safe.”
Techno’s gaze returns to Phil’s, slow and sluggish, before he sighs and closes his eyes completely. Phil keeps smoothing his hair, hoping he’ll just sleep through it until the sedation wears off. It’ll be easier that way.
Clara finishes checking his vitals and gathers up the equipment she’d brought in with her, pausing to gently touch Techno’s hand. “Call someone if anything changes,” she says quietly. “I go off shift in twenty minutes, but Niki should be in by then.”
Phil nods. “I’m not leaving this room until I know his parents won’t be allowed back into it,” he says, glancing up at Clara.
“Of course,” she says. “I’ll see about getting someone to come in to help you change that information.”
“Thank you.” Phil’s hit with a sudden wave of tiredness, and he squeezes Techno’s hand gently. “I just… he doesn’t want them here, so…”
“I understand.” Clara pauses, hand on the door. “Phil?”
“Yeah.” He glances at her again. She looks so tired.
“I didn’t know, either,” she says quietly. “If I had… his mother would never have gotten in here.”
Phil swallows past the lump in his throat, gazing at Techno’s face- still and calm once again. “I know,” he whispers.
There’s one nurse at least, who cares about Techno almost as much as Phil does. Who’s just as hell-bent on protecting him from the two people in his life who care the least.
He sits there in silence for a while, holding Techno’s hand and watching him sleep. Niki comes to check on Techno; someone else comes to talk about changing the emergency contacts and visitors lists, but Techno’s not conscious and Phil’s not allowed.
He calls Wilbur, while he’s sitting there, still watching over Techno. Tommy will be in class. They can tell him later.
“What’s wrong?” Wilbur asks, voice tired and tense.
“Techno’s okay.” Phil gently squeezes his hand again, hoping Techno can still feel it, even in his drugged sleep. “His mom showed up.”
There are about five seconds of silence before Wilbur spits out, “What the fuck.”
“His parents are still on his emergency contacts list, somehow.” Phil wonders if Techno never got around to taking them off- or if, perhaps, he thought that maybe someday they would come. Maybe if something happened and they were called, they would show up. “His mom was in the room when I got here.”
“Did she-”
“She didn’t do anything, barely even spoke to him. Got him plenty worked up though, Clara had to sedate him.” Phil exhales shakily. “I can’t change anything until he wakes up, so- so one of us needs to be here every minute to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Fuck. Yeah, of course, do- do you need me to come now?”
“No, he- he’s sleeping right now. Just- someone needs to be here up to the end of visiting hours, and first thing in the morning, and just- he really needs to not be alone right now.”
“Yeah. We can figure that out.” Wilbur sounds like he’s scowling when he says, “I hope you gave that woman a piece of your mind.”
“I was too preoccupied with getting her away from Techno.”
“Hm.” Wilbur’s voice sharpens. “I hope she comes back while I’m there.”
“Wil…”
“Oh, don’t use your fuckin’ dad voice on me. You know as well as I do how shitty she is.”
Phil gazes at Techno. He knows better than Wilbur does, knows more. He knows how conflicted Techno’s been about his parents, his family in general. He doesn’t know if Techno would’ve thrown his mother out if he’d been in a more stable frame of mind.
Techno might have let her stay, and that- that makes Phil worry.
“Yeah,” is all he says. “Just… not in front of him, Wil. Not where he can hear.”
“…yeah,” Wilbur says quietly. “Yeah, I’ll- how, how is he? Besides the sedation.”
“’bout the same.” Phil glances at the monitors. “His oxygenation is up a bit from yesterday. They haven’t checked his lung yet as far as I know but it- it does seem like it might be improving.”
“That’s good.” Wilbur pauses. “So, you want me to come at the usual time?”
“Yeah. Just- plan to not leave until they tell you you have to go.”
“Of course.”
It’s the next day- when Techno’s fully come around from the sedatives and his emergency contacts list has been updated- when a nurse comes to tell Phil there’s someone here to visit Techno.
He’s sleeping again. Phil doesn’t wake him up, because Techno needs the sleep and Phil thinks he can judge pretty well who Techno will and won’t want to visit.
He leans over, resting his forehead against Techno’s for a moment and murmuring, “I’ll be back.” Then straightens, preparing to chew out one of Techno’s parents.
The person waiting near the nurse’s desk isn’t either of them. If not for the fact that she resembles Techno, Phil would say he doesn’t know her at all.
“You’re Rylee,” Phil says, stopping a few feet away.
She meets his gaze. “Are you one of Techno’s friends?”
“I’m his family,” he says. “Phil.”
“Phil. It’s- I mean, I don’t know if this is a situation where I should say it’s nice to meet you.” She chuckles nervously.
Phil nods to the empty waiting area. “Let’s sit down.”
They do. Techno’s sister twists the loose end of her backpack strap around her fingers.
“What brings you here?” Phil asks, calm and quiet. Because Techno’s never had anything much to say about his siblings- positive or negative- and he has no reason to think Rylee is like her parents. Besides which, she’s sixteen.
“I heard Mom and Dad talking yesterday,” she says. “They said Techno was in the hospital, and it- I got worried.” She exhales another nervous chuckle. “It sounded really serious.”
“It is serious,” Phil says. “He’s doin’ better now.”
“Is it… they were talking like he might be dying,” Rylee says, hushed and-
Phil might not recognize that look if he wasn’t so familiar with seeing it on Techno’s face. She’s worried, and scared. He exhales quietly, nodding.
“Yeah, when they were called, it… it looked like he might’ve been,” Phil says. “He’s not now.”
“That’s good.” Her shoulders slump, and she stares at her lap. “I… I totally understand if the answer is no, but I wanted to ask if- if I can see him.”
Phil bites his lip. “I’ll have to ask him,” he says.
She nods. “I don’t know him very well,” she says abruptly. “Our parents… they didn’t really like for Braxton and me to talk to him. And Techno, he mostly just stayed in his room when we were growing up. We didn’t see him much.”
It’s more fuel on the fire of Phil’s disdain and hatred for Techno’s parents. There can’t have been any valid reason to keep him and his siblings apart.
It does suddenly make sense why Techno never has much to say about his siblings.
“I’ll talk to him,” is what he says in answer. “If you don’t mind waiting.”
“I’m cutting school anyway,” Rylee says with another nervous chuckle. “Yeah. I’ll wait. And it’s… I understand if he doesn’t want to see me.”
Phil smiles tightly. “I’ll be back.”
He goes back down the hall, back into the room. Techno is still sleeping- and Phil doesn’t want to wake him up, but he has to at least ask.
“Techno.” He squeezes his shoulder gently, not shaking him- not willing to risk that. “Wake up.”
Techno blinks, taking a deeper breath. “Phil?”
“Your sister’s here,” Phil says softly.
Techno blinks a couple more times, staring at him. “Rylee?” he asks after a few seconds. “Here?”
“Yeah. She wanted to check on you, make sure you’re okay.” Phil rubs his shoulder gently. “You don’t have to see her if you don’t want to.”
“I-” Techno pauses, face twisting up. “I don’t know,” he whispers.
Phil waits, sitting on the side of the bed and rubbing his hand gently up and down Techno’s arm. Waiting patiently while he makes up his mind.
Finally Techno looks at him, breathing a bit shaky. “I- I want to see her,” he says, raspy and quiet. “Just- stay?”
“Yeah,” Phil murmurs. “Of course I will.”
He goes and gets Rylee. She hesitates near the door while Phil goes right over, sitting down and taking Techno’s hand.
“…hi,” Rylee says at last.
Techno inhales slowly. “Hi,” he whispers.
He’s still having trouble talking. He always does when he has a tube in, his voice will get better once that’s removed. Phil glances at Rylee, and has the sudden realization that it’s very likely she didn’t know any details of Techno’s condition until now.
“I overheard Mom and Dad talking about you yesterday,” she says, twisting her backpack straps around her hands. “Um, they… they were talking like you might be dying. And I got worried. So I wanted to come check on you.”
“Oh.” Techno glances at Phil. “Well, I’m not.”
You were in danger of it, Phil wants to say, but he doesn’t. He just squeezes Techno’s hand gently.
“I’m sorry if this is, like- a huge invasion of privacy or whatever.” Rylee shuffles in place, looking at the floor. “I know we don’t, like… don’t really know each other. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Techno’s expression does something odd. “…thanks, I guess?”
They sit there in awkward silence for a few minutes. Finally Rylee shuffles closer.
“I… I didn’t know you were so sick,” she whispers.
Techno’s hand tightens around Phil’s. “Always have been,” he mutters.
“What, um… you don’t have to answer. It’s just Mom and Dad never told us anything about…”
“About my condition?” he whispers.
“Yeah.” Rylee shifts. “Like I said, it’s- I get it if you don’t want to tell me.”
Techno squeezes Phil’s hand again. “I have a genetic condition, makes my lungs collapse if I overdo things. Or just randomly, sometimes.”
“That’s awful,” Rylee says quietly.
“Yep.” Techno coughs weakly. “’s not usually this bad, but both of ‘em went at the same time an’ it’s not really… not gettin’ better.”
“That really sucks, I’m sorry.” She shifts. “You… your voice sounds really bad.”
“Yeah, it-” Techno coughs again, grimacing and glancing at Phil.
“It’s the trach tube,” Phil supplies, knowing that particular look means Techno wants Phil to answer for him. “He usually has a closed tube in, but with this kind it takes more force to get air over his vocal cords. It can be pretty painful, I think.”
Techno nods weakly. He’s starting to look utterly worn out again.
“Oh.” Rylee grimaces sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”
Techno shrugs one shoulder. “’s just life,” he whispers.
Phil sighs. Before he can say anything, though, Techno clears his throat.
“Did Braxton not want to come?” he asks.
“You shouldn’t be talking if it’s hurting you,” Rylee says. Phil suppresses a smile. “But no, he… I tried to get him to, but he had a baseball game today. Mom and Dad-” She pauses. Phil gently squeezes Techno’s hand, suspecting he might know what she’s going to say.
“They, they never miss one of his games,” she says quietly. “They would’ve noticed if he wasn’t there. He might come next time, though. If- if it’s okay for us to visit again?”
Techno looks over at Phil, blinking rapidly. “I…”
“It’s up to you, mate,” he says softly.
Techno takes a shaky deep breath, finally looking back at his sister. “I’d like that,” he whispers.
Rylee nods. “It’ll probably be another school day,” she says. “They- Mom and Dad would notice if-”
Techno takes another shaky breath. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Th- thanks for- for comin’.”
“He should get some rest,” Phil says, squeezing Techno’s hand and moving away. “I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, and Techno nods.
“I’m sorry,” Rylee says, when they’re standing in the hall. “I- I didn’t mean to upset him.”
“It’s not you,” Phil says tiredly. Even now, even as exasperated as he is with Techno’s parents- it’s not her fault. “They just… your parents weren’t around for him, even when he was in the hospital. Even when he was little. He had to deal with a lot of it by himself.”
Rylee ducks her head. “I figured,” she says quietly. “I know… they’re not the greatest. To him, especially.”
“They’re not.” Phil thinks about all the things he knows, everything Techno’s parents did to him- or didn’t do for him. “That’s not your fault, though.”
She nods. “Can I give you my number? To- to give to him, maybe, or at least so I can get in touch if I have to?”
“Yeah.” Phil lets her take his phone and put her contact information in. “Thanks for coming,” he says, as she’s turning away. “I think he’s glad you came, it’s just… he’s going through a lot right now.”
“I get it. Thanks.” She smiles, and walks away.
Phil goes back into Techno’s room. He’s crying, silently, tears slipping down his cheeks to dampen his pillow.
“Oh, Techno.” Phil hurries back to him, taking his hand. “I know, mate. I know.”
“Th- they never- they didn’-” Techno sobs, reaching for Phil’s other hand. “Why didn’t they want me?”
Phil doesn’t have an answer for him. There’s no reason why Techno’s parents should love his siblings, and not even have the time of day for him. Why they’d ignore him, drug him to make their lives easier, leave him alone and scared in the hospital. Why they make an effort to go to every single one of his siblings’ baseball games- and every other school function, Phil would bet.
There’s no reason at all, except for Techno’s parents being utter assholes.
“I know,” Phil murmurs. “Hey, you need to breathe, Tech. You need to calm down, so they don’t have to sedate you again.”
Techno hiccups, clinging to Phil’s hands. “’m try-ying.”
Phil squeezes Techno’s hands gently, guiding him to take even, deep breaths. It takes several minutes for him to calm down properly, but finally, he’s breathing right again.
“How’re you feelin’?” Phil murmurs.
Techno blinks at him tiredly. He doesn’t speak- Phil suspects he’s worn himself out too completely.
“I’m gonna call a nurse to come suction your trach again,” Phil murmurs. “Just breathe, okay?”
Techno nods slightly. Phil squeezes his hands gently and lets go, and goes to get a nurse.
It’s a few days later, when Techno’s left lung still hasn’t improved, that his doctor sits them down for a talk.
Techno’s hand trembles in Phil’s. “It’s serious, then,” he whispers.
He’s been facing this for a long time, Phil knows. He doesn’t know when, exactly, Techno had made the plans for that surgery; just that it was a last resort, that he never thought he would get that bad. All of this has been more serious than any of them thought it ever would be.
“It is,” Sam says. “Techno, we’re still siphoning air from your chest, but it just hasn’t been successful in getting your lung to reinflate. Your pleurectomy was successful, and your right lung is functioning at full capacity, so we have a couple of options.”
Techno grips Phil’s hand tighter. “Okay…”
“Your oxygenation is good, and as I said your right lung is functioning well, so we can wait and see if it improves on its own.”
Techno makes a face. “Would I need to stay on the oxygen?” he whispers.
“It’s likely. We’d do a breathing trial first, to see how you do without it, but it’s very possible you’d need oxygen, overnight at least.”
Techno glances at Phil. “I- I could go home though.”
“Yes. You still have at least a few more days of in-hospital recovery for your surgery, but it’s possible we could discharge you after that.”
Techno glances between Sam and Phil again. “I… I dunno.”
“What’s the other option?” Phil asks.
“We perform an exploratory surgery to try to find the leak and repair it,” Sam says. “There’s no guarantee it would work, but-”
“But it could,” Techno rasps.
“There’s a possibility.”
“Techno,” Phil says, squeezing his hand, “let’s- let’s think about this, mate.”
“Phil, I want it over,” Techno whimpers, meeting his gaze. “I j- just wan’ it done.”
“I know. I know you do.” Phil holds Techno’s hand against his shoulder. “But another surgery…”
“I can’t talk.” Techno takes a shaky breath. “I jus’ wanna go home. I wan’ all of it done.”
“I know. I know.” He leans a bit more on the bed. “But Techno, another surgery- it seems extreme, is all.”
Techno looks back at Sam. “Which- which one has a- a better outcome?” he rasps.
Sam hesitates. “Neither option guarantees results,” he says after a second. “The surgery would be risky, and if we can’t find a leak, we would’ve put you through a major procedure for nothing. Simply waiting would be very uncomfortable- and I can completely understand why you wouldn’t want that- but it is the safer option.”
“We should think about this-”
Techno shakes his head. “I want the surgery,” he whispers. “I want to get it over with.”
“I need to make sure you understand the risks,” Sam is saying, the words ringing in Phil’s ears. He can’t- god, he can’t do this. Techno is willingly putting himself through another surgery, one he doesn’t need, on the chance that it’ll fix things-
He can’t bear it, but he has to. Techno needs him. Techno needs Phil to be here, holding his hand.
He listens, half in a daze, as Sam explains everything that could go wrong. Runs through the pros and cons of the procedure- far more potential cons than pros.
Watches Techno nod, hears him say yes, I want the surgery.
“I’ll arrange it,” Sam says. “We can probably get you on the schedule for tomorrow, is that okay?”
“Yes.” Techno exhales shakily. “I jus’- just wanna get it over with.”
Phil wants to ask him to change his mind. He doesn’t want Techno to risk his life going through a surgery that probably won’t fix anything. He doesn’t want to lose him.
Phil knows, if he asked, Techno wouldn’t go through with it. Which is precisely why Phil keeps his mouth shut and holds Techno’s hand and doesn’t plead with him please, please don’t do this to me.
As soon as the door closes behind Sam, Techno blinks up at Phil, tears gathering in his eyes.
“You… you mad at me?” he whimpers.
Phil’s immediate response is what the fuck, of course I’m not but he forces himself to take a breath. Phrase it differently.
Techno must mistake his hesitation for anger, because his grip on Phil’s hand tightens. “Pl- please don’ leave me,” he begs.
“Of course not,” Phil breathes. “Tech, I’m not mad at you, of course I’m not.”
“Don’ go.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Phil vows. “I’m right here, and I’ll be right here as long as you want me to be.”
“I c- can’t do it alone, please Phil, I can’t be alone-”
Phil gives up on just holding Techno’s hands and moves to hug him, bringing one hand up to the back of his head to hold Techno’s head against his shoulder. Techno’s hands close weakly in the back of his shirt- his breathing is shaky, but still measured, still more or less even.
“You’re not alone,” Phil murmurs. “I’m here, and later Wilbur will be here, and Tommy will come when he can- you’re not alone, Techno.”
This surgery is no less stressful than the last- except that this time, it’s basically guaranteed that Techno will wake up afterwards. They couldn’t promise that last time.
Afterwards, Phil sits with Techno in the ICU, holding his hand and waiting.
“It was a tricky surgery,” Sam says, “but we were able to locate the main source of the damage and repair it.”
“The… the main source?” Phil grips Techno’s hand tighter.
Sam nods. “We can’t be sure yet if the procedure was completely successful. The drain is still siphoning air from his chest, so it seems there may still be a leak. But we are doing everything we can.”
Phil nods, gazing at Techno’s still face again. He’s getting all too used to seeing him like this, trapped in a drug-induced sleep while a machine works his lungs for him. He’s calm, at least- more than can be said for him at any point in the last week and a half.
“He- he will wake up this time, though.”
“Yes. It’s the sedatives keeping him under right now, we’ll wean him off them gradually over the next twenty-four hours. He should be out of the ICU by then, too.”
Phil nods, wrapping his other hand around Techno’s. He just wants him to wake up- he just wants to bring Techno home.
“Phil.”
He twists to lean on the bed, catching Techno’s hand. “Right here,” he says softly. “Hi, mate.”
Techno forces another whistling sound out of his throat, lips forming a word Phil can’t make out.
“Shh, shh, don’t try to talk yet.” Phil smooths his hair, keeping his hand rested on Techno’s head. “You’re okay. The surgery worked.”
Techno blinks, the corners of his mouth twitching up slightly. His fingers close weakly around Phil’s hand.
“Your lung is mostly reinflated, you’re at about fifteen percent and improving.” Phil smiles. “They said you might be out of here in another week or so.”
Techno squeezes his hand again, eyes closing. Phil smiles at how his eyelids flutter as if he’s trying to open them again.
“Go to sleep,” he says softly. “You need to rest to heal, mate. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Techno stops trying to move then, hand going limp. Phil’s smile softens, and he starts running his fingers over Techno’s hair again, in a steady pattern he knows will help him drop off.
Techno’s been sleeping for a while when there’s a quiet knock on the door. Phil carefully sets his hand down, waiting a few seconds to be sure Techno isn’t waking up before he goes to the door.
“He has a couple of visitors,” the nurse says. “They’re waiting at the desk.”
“Thanks.” Phil gives Techno another glance, then steps out of the room.
Techno’s siblings are waiting. Braxton looks even more like him than their sister does, and Phil wonders for a second if this is what Techno looked like when he was sixteen.
“Hi,” Rylee says. “This, this is Braxton. B, this is Techno’s friend, Phil.”
“Nice to meet you,” Phil says. “Unfortunately, he’s not- he can’t see anyone today.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“No, it’s not-” Phil sighs tiredly. “He had surgery yesterday. He’s barely conscious, let alone up for seeing anyone.”
“Oh.” Rylee adjusts the strap of her backpack. “Okay. Do… when can we come back?”
“Ry, let’s just go,” Braxton mutters. “I didn’t want to come in the first place.”
“He’s our brother,” she hisses.
“Yeah, and he’s never spoken two words to us in our lives. I told you I didn’t wanna cut class.”
Phil turns away, trying to look as though he’s not listening.
“Ugh, I can’t- whatever.” Rylee huffs. “I don’t care. You don’t have to be here.” She turns back to Phil, pulling her backpack around in front of her and unzipping it. “Will you give Techno this?” she says, sounding suddenly younger, unsure. She holds out a worn plushie, a very round, very pink pig.
Phil takes it. “Gift shop?” he guesses.
“It was mine.” Rylee shuffles awkwardly. “When I was little. I just… I wanted him to have something from one of us, you know?”
Phil can appreciate the sentiment. He rubs his thumb gently over the soft fabric, smiling at Rylee. “I’ll give it to him,” he murmurs.
“Ry, come on,” Braxton groans. “I’m not missing trig for this.”
“Why do you have to be a jerk about everything?” She huffs. “Phil, can I still come back to see him?”
“Yeah, just- maybe text first. Like I said, he just got done with a pretty big surgery, so.” Phil shrugs slightly. “He is doin’ better, though.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah, he- the doctors finally fixed his left lung, got him breathin’ better again.” Phil nods. “It was a pretty big surgery, though, so it- it’s gonna take some time for him to recover.”
“Rylee,” Braxton snaps.
“Okay, fine, I’m coming.” Rylee starts down the hall after her brother, walking backwards for a few steps. “Bye, Phil, tell Techno I’m sorry I didn’t get to see him.”
He watches the twins go, standing in the middle of the hall holding a pink pig stuffie, and doesn’t quite know how to feel.
Techno’s still sleeping when Phil slips back into the room. He sets the plush on the nightstand, taking Techno’s hand again.
He’s probably in for another long wait, but Phil could not care less. He’d sit here for the rest of his life if it helped Techno feel a little less alone.
~~~
Techno takes a deep breath, sighing. His ribcage hurts. He’s tired.
“Hey.” Phil squeezes his hand. “Doin’ okay?”
Techno blinks. Phil looks absolutely exhausted, he realizes, dark circles under his eyes and too many lines of tiredness on his face.
“Y’look like shit,” Techno rasps- god his throat hurts.
Phil laughs, swiping at his eyes. “Mate, one of us is laid out in a hospital bed, and I’m pretty sure it’s not me.”
“Maybe y’should be.” Techno smiles when it makes Phil chuckle again. “Wha’s the good word?”
“Your surgery was a success.” Phil rests his other hand over Techno’s heart, a comforting warm weight. “You’re at about fifteen percent, creeping towards ten.”
He closes his eyes for a second, squeezing Phil’s hand. “’s good.”
“It is.” Phil rubs his chest gently. “Sam said they want you to stay for at least four or five days, but you’re doin’ really well, they might be able to get you out of bed tomorrow.”
“’bout time.” Techno glances around, gaze catching on the obnoxiously pink thing on the bedside table. “Whazzat?” he mumbles.
Phil follows his gaze. “Oh, this.” He picks it up, setting it lightly on Techno’s chest. It’s a plushie- a very rotund pig that looks a bit worn in spots. “Rylee brought it for you.”
Techno frowns slightly, fumbling his free hand up to hold it. “Sh- she was back?” he rasps.
“Yesterday, while you were still really out of it.” Phil hesitates. “She and Braxton were both here. They didn’t… I talked to them in the hall, they didn’t come in.”
Techno’s lips form an oh, but he doesn’t force the sound. He rubs his thumb over the plushie, marveling a bit at the softness and the little worn spots, how well-loved it seems. It’s not new, that much is plain to see.
Phil hesitates some more. “Rylee wants to come back to see you again,” he says. “Braxton… he didn’t seem too thrilled to be here.”
That… doesn’t really surprise him, unfortunately. Certainly much less than Rylee wanting to see him.
“Was this hers?” Techno rasps.
“Yeah.” Phil keeps his own hand beside Techno’s on the plush. “She said she wanted you to have something, y’know?”
Techno blinks back sudden tears, toying with one of the floppy ears. He hasn’t had a stuffed animal since he was… ten or eleven, he thinks. When his nanny at the time took him out to the park and he couldn’t find it when he got home. One of the nurses had given him that bear when he was in the hospital going through withdrawals, and Techno had been heartbroken when it disappeared.
This was his sister’s. His sister, who he doesn’t know and who doesn’t know him, but who somehow cares anyway.
“’s nice,” he whispers.
“Yeah.” Phil squeezes his hand gently. “I think she really wants to try to have a relationship with you.”
And isn’t that everything Techno wanted for his entire fucking childhood? For someone in his family to notice him, for one person to want him. He chased his parents’ love with the kind of desperation only a child can, until he finally realized he was never going to get it. He’d never really had much hope his siblings would care- they were too little, and Techno was sequestered away in his own rooms. And then they were growing up, and Techno was still kept shut away like some kind of shameful secret.
And then he left, and he met Phil, and suddenly his family didn’t seem so important anymore.
Things are better now, and Techno has people who genuinely care and want him around, but he’s never been able to shed the little-kid part of him that just wants his mom and dad to notice him.
Isn’t that why he’d left them as emergency contacts? Hoping against all reason that they might come, if it was truly dire?
And then his mother did come, and Techno cried like a baby and asked Phil to make her leave.
That probably says something about how he feels about his parents, doesn’t it.
“I think I want that, too,” Techno whispers.
Because Rylee has never said or done anything to hurt him. Because she brought him one of her own plushies so he could have something from her to hold on to.
When Techno is finally released from the hospital, all he wants to do is go home and take a shower.
“I want you on bed rest for a week,” Sam says, as Phil helps Techno into a wheelchair. “Minimal activity only. Keep up with your stretches, and wear your compression socks as usual. Wear your pulse oximeter overnight and make sure someone else will be woken up if it goes off.”
Techno gives a thumbs-up. His vocal cords feel like they’re on fire from how much effort he’s had to make to talk, this last few weeks. It’ll be easier now that he’s back to the closed tube, at least.
“Phil, I trust you can enforce his activity restrictions.”
“Yep.” Phil squeezes his shoulders.
Techno rolls his eyes. He’d behave anyway, he’s not that much of an idiot that he would ignore his doctor’s instructions and risk collapsing his lung right after getting it fixed.
“Alright, Techno, you’re good to go. Don’t forget to keep an eye on those incisions, and come back in if you have any signs of infection or any pain that’s out of the ordinary.”
He nods, taking the sheaf of papers Sam holds out. “Thank you,” he rasps.
“Keep yourself out of trouble.”
Techno shakes his head, rolling his eyes again. Phil pats his shoulder again. “I’ll make sure he does.”
The fussing is a bit annoying, but also- well, nobody ever did when he was younger. So Techno puts up with it and pretends it isn’t one of his favorite things in the world.
When they get home, Wilbur and Tommy are waiting practically in the driveway. They hurry over as soon as Phil stops the car.
“How are you?” Tommy demands, flinging the door open. “You’re okay right? You’re better now?”
Techno glances at Phil, raising his eyebrows. “He’s fine,” Phil supplies. “Bed rest for a week. Otherwise, business as usual, pretty much. His voice is gone to shit right now though.”
Techno nods. Phil gets out of the car and comes around to the passenger side, holding out his hands.
Techno wants to gripe that he could walk on his own, damnit, but he doesn’t. He takes Phil’s hands and lets the other man help him out of the car- and, well, it’s actually probably a very good thing he’s got Phil to lean on. He’s wobbly, off-balance- if Phil wasn’t holding on to him, he’d probably fall right over. Besides which he’s not supposed to be moving around very much right now.
Wilbur comes up behind him, placing one hand on Techno’s back. Not actually supporting him, but it’s nice. Tommy hurries ahead of them to hold the door open.
They help him to the couch. Tommy frowns, continuing around in front of them.
“I thought he was supposed to be in bed-”
“He’d rather be out here,” Phil says, meeting Techno’s gaze with a smile. Techno tries to nod, but he is maybe a bit too focused on not falling over. It’s fine, though. Phil knows him well enough to know what he wants.
Phil sits down beside him. Techno really just wants a shower, or hell he’d settle for a sponge bath at this point, but he is also ridiculously exhausted.
“I’m gonna hang out here,” Phil says. “Keep an eye on him.”
Techno rolls his eyes, but he lets Phil wrap an arm around his chest and pull him down to lie across the couch. Head on the pillow in Phil’s lap, hands already starting to work tangles out of his hair.
“You need a shower,” Phil murmurs.
Techno hums, whistling and thin. Wilbur stands watching them for a few more seconds before moving away, presumably to sit down if the creaking sound is any indication.
“Can I put the TV on?” Tommy asks.
Techno gives a thumbs-up. “Yeah,” Phil says, “just keep the volume down, he’s gonna be asleep any second.”
Techno huffs weakly, but he can’t exactly deny it. That’s the point of being out here on the couch- he sleeps better both with Phil holding him, and with other people around.
He’s not sure what show Tommy puts on, it all just kind of melts together into a buzz of background noise, but it doesn’t matter. He’s home, he’s with his family again. He can rest now.
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