Archive of Our Own

Techno has what is considered a normal life: he gets up, showers, has breakfast, brushes his teeth, goes to college, tutors, works, comes back home and goes to sleep. Well, it’s not exactly like that, but it’s close enough and shorter than the actual thing. In just two words: it’s boring. Nothing really eventful happens. He’s just an english major who lives alone in the middle of Brighton, for fuck’s sake.

But it’s not something he’s unhappy about: no, it’s the opposite. It feels good to have a routine and control of things: and he’s not really up to change that - even though Wilbur has been whining in his ears for weeks just to visit and stay for a few days. A pattern is appropriate to have for your mental health; well, that’s what NYCTherapy dot com says. 

And maybe he avoids everything that’s out of his daily life with a little bit too much passion - to the point he almost runs away when he sees someone approaching him, (no, thank you, my routine also says I have to be antisocial). 

(If he’s compared to Saiki Kusuo constantly by Wilbur, that’s something that stays between them).

A routine is good for mental health, being occupied and following patterns is good, even more for him. Without a strict routine or something to do, Technoblade would be a mess. If he’s not working, he’s at college. If he’s not at college, he’s tutoring. If he’s not tutoring, he’s exercising - and it goes on. Standing still, doing nothing it’s practically unbearable for him: an excuse for his anxiety to attack. So, yeah, a routine is really important to him. 

(Yes, Phil, it’s annoying to hear he maybe should leave his house more to do other things then going to college and work. No, Phil, he’s not getting depressed, it’s called a routine, thanks for worrying.)

…Maybe it’s not that good, but Technoblade just started to notice it when a storm is happening outside, seeming like the world is going to end at any moment. 

It’s 9 PM, friday and, - thank God - there’s no college tomorrow, so he can stay late doing his things. The person is following his routine as always: every day, he exercises for an hour or so before going to sleep. Wilbur’s playlist, made just for him, plays as white noise, calming down his nerves after an intense day. Exercising it’s, perchance, the whole reason he remains a sane person. 

Is easy to fall on the repetitive movements, of counting down and focusing on how he feels; on making his breathing even and if he’s doing the correct movements. The rain helps ten fold on unwrapping the frustrations and letting it go - Alanis Morissette’s voice doing wonders to it, too.

Thunder makes the world shake beneath his arms, which shake in unison with the effort. Time is lost between the motions and thoughts and, when he glances at his clock on the wall, it’s already marking 11 PM. A profound sigh escapes: it’s time to stop before he passes out. 

When he starts to gather his things that’s when he hears: a meek meow outside his door.

He fully stops, furrowing brows as he stares at the door, expecting more sounds or, I don’t know, a cat breaking in and slitting his throat or something. After a minute, another meow can be heard, slightly louder and desperate. With a sigh - man, he really is sighing a lot, huh? -, he drops everything and goes to see it.

Well, maybe he’s going delusional. 

Looking around on his porch, there’s no sign of a cat, furrowing more.

A couple of minutes and still nothing. He sighs once more. The human is already considering to enter his house, go to sleep and ignore whatever the fuck happened and live an ordinary life, pretend nothing happened. However, he stays. The thought of leaving a terrified cat alone makes him shiver.

“Meow…?” Techno says hesitantly, his gruff voice almost being drowned by the heavy pouring. That seems to make the trick since, soon, a really meek and scared meow can be heard from behind a vase. There’s two big blue eyes staring with damp orange ears perking up. 

If Wilbur was here, he would probably aww and snap a bunch of photos.

Cautiously, the person lowers to the ground, extending his hand before doing a low ‘pspspsps’ . The cat, slowly, starts to approach, eyes following every rise of his chest with caution. The poor thing is completely terrified, almost making him coo instinctively. 

When the feline sniffs his hand and, right after, rubs his head on it, Technoblade notices that, yep, his routine was damned . His brother is going to be nuts when he hears about it. 

Even though he cherishes his daily life a lot, it’s not to the point of leaving a, clearly, malnourished, wet kitten outside, when thunder roars constantly on top of them. No, geez, he’s not a monster. The poor thing it’s shaking like a leaf, seems to be at least 4 months old, and that’s pushing it. 

Then, with the most caution he ever had, he gathers the kitten on his arms and goes inside. It doesn’t complain, just seeking his body, probably to get warm. 

This is what leads to how he is at the moment: sitting on the floor, texting Wilbur, a few towels thrown around the living room, a bundle of blankets and the remains of some chicken in a bowl. Ah, and the cat sleeps soundly beneath the blankets - at least, the little thing isn’t shivering anymore.

Now, mockingly, his clock stares at him. It marks half past midnight, after saying an hour ago he was going to sleep - and he would, if Wilbur wasn’t a bitch.

Wilbur:

omg youre going soft

i cant believe it

my baby brother <3<3

He sighs.

techie <3:

We’re literally twins.

Wilbur:

baby brother <3 <3

techie <3:

I’m sometimes sad to share a name with you.

Wilbur:

you love me shut up mwa mwa mwa

so!!!!!

do you have any ideas for a name?

techie <3:

Nope.

Not going to stay with it.

Wilbur:

WHAT

STOP YOU ARE. !!!!!!

TECHNOBLADE. YOU ARE. 

techie <3:

Wilbur, I literally don’t have time to take care of animals, imagine a kitten. 

Wilbur: 

NAH YOU DO!!!!!! YOU ARE JUST LAZY I KNOW YOU

techno. PLEASE . 

IM BEGGING YOU.

techie <3:

I can bring it to you, if it makes you happy?

Wilbur:

aaaghh i cant!! my roommate is allergic to cats :((

unfortunately i cant kick him out 

worst day of my life

techie <3:

Would you genuinely kick your roommate out for a cat?

Wilbur:

wdym? :)

techie <3:

Nevermind.

You know I don’t have time for it, Will. It’s probably going to be sad being alone all day. I’m not fit for it.

Wilbur:

firstly it’s HER ok!!!!?? not a it!!

techie <3:

We literally don’t know its gender. 

Wilbur:

SECONDLY

maybe you should shut up and stop being a cunt and stay with the kitten

it’s going to be good for you! !

dont make me go sap >:[

techie <3:

Please don’t.

Still, it’s not being a “cunt”: it’s better for both of us. 

Wilbur:

oh my god im going sap

techno

in the nicest way possible

youre miserable

He rolls his eyes.

techie <3:

Thanks.

Wilbur:

all you do is study and work all day!!! that’s not healthy, you know?

and im getting worried about you :(

maybe it’ll be a good change on the routine having something more to care about

did you know that cats help your mental health a lot just by being themselves??

and and and they are really independent !!!

youll have company all the time!!!

techie <3:

Wilbur…

Wilbur:

please? at least stay with her for a month?

if it’s really not working we can find a new home, i promise

techie <3:

Stop misgendering the cat, Wilbur.

Wilbur:

dONT CHANGE SUBJECT TECHNO. I KNOW YOUR TRICKS

techie <3:

I don’t know why you guys are worried, this routine it’s really good for me. And also I need to work and study, so there’s nothing to do about it.

Wilbur:

sure techno

maybe answer dad, you didnt text him today

Leaving the conversation, he goes to check his father's texts and, as Wilbur said: he didn’t answer the man all day. 

techie <3:

I don’t like when you get “girlboss” with me.

Wilbur:

:)

so? a month?

techie <3:

Two weeks.

Wilbur:

a month

techie <3:

Two weeks and a half.

Wilbur: 

two months :)

techie <3:

Three weeks and two days.

Wilbur: 

three months :)

techie <3:

A month, then.

Wilbur:

LETS GOOOOOOOOOO

oh my god im going to buy so much SHIT FOR THIS GREMLIN TECHNO!!!!!

WAIT FOR ME

The next day, he’s messaging his friend Dream for advice, just to be called right after the other read the message.

“When did you get a cat?” 

“Hello for you too, Dream,” he rolls his eyes, ogling the cat that sleeps on one of the chairs of the kitchen, then going back to look at the eggs he’s making. “Yesterday. Little fella showed up at my porch.”

“Aww, are you finally going soft?” it’s possible to hear the smile in his voice, making Technoblade roll his eyes again. “What do you need?”

“I don’t know? I never got a cat before, what am I supposed to do with it?”

The feline twitches his ears softly, sleepiness clear on his face. Techno snorts. What a lazy.

Putting the phone down on the counter, Technoblade goes around the kitchen, preparing a few toasts to go along with his eggs. The smell of food soon fills the room.

“Well, take care of it? That’s obvious.”

“Geez, thanks for the reminder, ‘didn’t know about that,” soon his eyes are going to be stuck with how much he rolls it. The cat huffs a breath, like it’s laughing. There are some faint grumbling coming from the phone. 

“Have you bought anything yet?”

“Nope.”

“Ok, then, you should take notes,” as soon as Dream said it, Techno was with his notepad in hands, leaning against the counter to write. “ First, you need food. You said it was a baby, yeah?-” an annoyed meow can be heard. The cat it’s looking at his phone with, what it seems, an angry expression. He snorts, going back to note down. “-so try to get something appropriate for its age.”

“‘Kay… What cats like to play with?”

“Well, don’t stress too much about it. Patches is glad with just those balls that make noises, y’know? They are easy to entertain. Maybe get a cardboard box,” he hums under his breath, scribbling it down. “Just make sure to at least get a scratching post, otherwise say bye to your couch.”

If his beloved couch is destroyed, he’s going to make sure to travel it around the country until it arrives at Wilbur’s house - if it’s the couch or the cat, the question stays in the air. 

“Something else?”

“Not really. They are, like, pretty chill- normally. Just be cautious with high shelves and stuff, they like to climb around and explore,” he writes in bold letters: CALL WILBUR IF CAT BREAKS ANYTHING. “Have you already given it a name?”

“Not really… no,” putting the notepad away, Techno gathers his phone and gets near the cat, sitting on a chair.

“Do you at least know the gender?”

“... No,” a big sigh from the other line. “But Wilbur insists it’s a girl. I think it’s a boy.”

“Well, Techno, and if it’s neither, huh? Transphobic,” again, it’s possible to hear the smile on the other’s voice with a few giggles. It’s kinda ironic given the circumstances. Once more, Technoblade rolls his eyes, though this time a smile adorns his features.

“Shut up, will you? I’ll go buy something for it. Talk to you later.”

“‘Kay. Bye, Techno.”

“Bye, Dream-”

“Make sure to take care, drink a lot of water-”

“Ok, ok-”

“And don’t forget to eat and rest! I will punt you into the sun if you don’t!-”

“I want to see you try, loser-”

“I’m serious, Technoblade-”

“Ok, ok, bye,” he finishes the call before the other starts to ramble about how he needs to take more care of himself - stupid talk, really. A loud sigh can be heard from the human, who now stares at the cat.

It just lays its head on top of its paws, closing its eyes. What a cute little fella.

“Let’s get you a few things, lil’ buddy.”

When Phil said to them, way back when they were both 14, that having children - or taking care of any kind of life - it’s exceedingly hard, he didn’t think much about it.

Boy, he wishes he recalled it sooner.  

Technoblade didn’t fathom what happened or what triggered it, yet, when he took notice, there were at least 5 bags on his arms and he was standing before his door, ready to enter home. 

Everything was a blur of checking lists, noting things down and searching for the best. If he’s going to take care of a kitten for a month, he’s going to be the best at it. Now, he’s doomed. There’s no way he can return the 4 different cat foods, multiple balls and strings, and other accessories for the cat - a few that aren’t even necessary (why the hell did he bought a fucking beanie for cats?)

At least the cat, when saw everything, started to jump around excitedly.

Shopping is stressful in so many ways: making decisions is frustrating, interacting with people is scary and, even worse: going out of your house it’s terrible. Just thinking of it makes him shiver. So, when he entered the house, the first thing he did was to place the things down and lay on the couch. At this point, Wilbur’s playlist is the sole reason he’s not clinically insane. 

It was invigorating, at least. His twins’ music taste it’s good - since all Technoblade hears is video game soundtracks. He’s not really a big fan of music. When he was a child, he even played violin and stuff. However, his younger dreams were shattered when he was diagnosed with moderate carpal tunnel syndrome - his hands tingle just thinking about it. Now, most of the time, he likes to hear classical music and that’s it. The music guy title goes for Wilbur.

Peaceful, for the first time of the week. The song sings softly, not too loud nor low, lulling him to calmness. He would easily fall asleep if the cat didn’t start poking his nose. Frowning, he opened his eyes - that he didn’t even notice it was closed - , glaring at the tiny orange ball interrupting his moment. 

“Wha’?”

It hissed, biting lightly on his fingers. The thing’s bites are so weak he doesn’t even feel in his calloused hands. 

“What do you want, buddy? I’m not in the mood,” he grumbled, waving around his indicator, the feline fast to chase it. That causes a smile to appear. “I need to give you a name, huh? Don’t even know one, though.” 

It blinked, stopping.

“Hmm… What about Demeter?” as soon the words left the mouth, the cat started to slap his arm, startling a chuckle. “Okay, sorry- not Demeter, then.”

Cautiously, he approaches his hand, waiting for a reaction. It merely acknowledges, blinking with its big blue eyes. Then, hesitantly, he starts scratching behind its ear, humming in amusement when the kitten almost throws itself on top of his hand. 

“I don’t even want to ask Wilbur. The way he is, he would probably search up ‘unique baby names’ and suggest Brayan,” a smile tugs his face when the cat makes a face in disgust. “Yeah, glad we agree.” 

The music already changed when they both sat in silence again. It’s a slow day: his work hours being later than normal and no tutoring classes to give. Normally, it’s boring; stressful, even. He hates being unproductive, resting or anything like that. Now, astonishingly, solely staring at this weird cat it’s entertaining. 

“I still don’t know your gender, though,” he mumbled, rubbing delicate circles on the cat’s forehead. “Are you a girl?”

He’s automatically bitten.

“Geez, ‘kay, don’t need to get offended-” chuckling, he stopped to pet it. The cat has a frown. “We don’t accept sexists in our household- stop biting!” finally, the little menace stops, glaring at him. “A boy, then,” the cat made a noise on the back of his throat, like a hum, before licking his hand where he bit. 

What a smart cat. 

Without paying much attention, the person went back to caress the animal, who now has his eyes closed. It’s sweet - and also kind of sad. He wishes he knew the cat sooner so he wasn’t so desperate for touch. He’s not an affectionate person, per se, although enough to maybe suffice the little guy’s needs. Wilbur says he’s really clingy, but Techno is proud of himself by saying he’s just exaggerating. 

Technoblade wonders why, though, the cat doesn’t purr. Well, clearly the cat likes it and, normally, they purr when they like things, right? Maybe the little thing doesn’t trust him completely, thing that makes him sad and determined - he’s not attached, shut the fuck up. 

With calm, he starts gathering his thoughts. Techno was in such a frenzy yesterday that he didn’t even notice how bad the kitten looks - in the nicest way possible. Even with a big fur adorning his body, it’s possible to see how skinny the cat is. Dirt, knots and debris are scattered, the orange color being duller and brown-ish than it was supposed to be; squinting, a few scars can be seen, the most notable one is on his face, slashing his nose bridge and finishing near his whiskers.

When passing a hand through it, the matted fur makes his hands have a weird texture, perhaps of how dirty it is. A displeased noise escapes on the back of his throat. The feline looks up with fearful eyes, not understanding why the person is, suddenly, disapproving. Soon, he’s petting him more, trying to reassure.

Humming, he says: “You need a shower, buddy.”

As his words left his mouth, the cat stopped in his tracks, looked at the human and, not even giving 5 seconds, started to run around the house. 

A loud groan can be heard as he gets up from the couch to chase after the little demon.

It takes at least 5 minutes of chasing, 3 more to bring him to the bathroom, and at least 10 to make him chill on the sink full of warm water. At this point, Technoblade is wet and full of scratches around his arms. He would be a little bit annoyed if the cat didn’t look at him with guilty eyes.

The kitty is shivering slightly, even though the temperature is warm. Cautiously, he deposits water on his body, grimacing when the liquid returns brown. Big blue eyes analyze his movements closely, the fear and hesitance practically emanating from his body. Technoblade does his best to try to reassure the little creature, humming a song or petting his head as he washes the dirt away. It works a little.

Man, this cat is filthy. God, he’s pretty sure that he saw a few fleas leave his body. 

As he’s cleaning him up, Techno analyzes if there’s any injuries, being met with, instead, a few scars scattered around. When he touches specific places, the cat would whimper softly, even though the place doesn’t seem hurt, making him coo softly under his breath without noticing. 

Soon, he’s changing the water when it becomes unbearable. At this point, the pink haired gave up on being dry, gathering the kitten on his arms so he’s not freezing as the sink fills in. The animal practically disappears between his arms, once more a coo leaving his body when the feline’s shivers get a little bit worse. 

“It’s okay, kitty. I’m almost finishing.”

Maybe he’s really going soft.

After three changes of water, some safe-cat-shampoo and making sure the baby doesn’t have any serious bruises, Technoblade pays attention to the state of this kitten. It’s possible to see the markings of his ribs, his legs shaking a little after standing from the effort, and a few more scars that weren’t possible to see before because of the immense fur. What stood out was the massive scar around the little thing’s neck. It looks painful, even if it’s totally healed. There’s ragged and furious lines, randomized, seeming like a barbed wire was wrapped around it. 

His breath hitched when he noticed it, receiving a questioning meow. 

Man, he feels so lucky for having the slight trust of this animal, because if Technoblade was him, all the humans would be dead. 

However, when coming back to cleaning the little thing, the vision stayed. It mulls inside his head, wondering who, how and why someone would execute that to any type of defenseless life. He sees this little kitten, with big blue eyes, can barely hurt him, patches of fur plucked out of his tail, and wonders who would do that? He tries not thinking of some random person doing exactly what he thinks the scar means, but it’s almost impossible, making his gut fidget. All the scars, the ribs poking, God, the neck-

He’s snapped out of his thoughts with a raucous meow. The little guy looks at him with an unreadable expression, blinking, touching his hand that grips tightly the marble.

With a deep breath, he remembers to calm down. He closes his eyes, counts to ten and, a little shaken up, tries to smile to reassure the animal - which probably came out strange, but the thought that matters.

“Let’s get you dry and send a photo to Uncle Wilbur,” Uncle Wilbur? Really, Technoblade?

It’s ten minutes later, after drying up the kitten, that he noticed he was already attached. 

techie <3:

*sent you a photo*

[description: a fluffy orange kitten lays on his side on the couch, big blue eyes looking at the camera. It’s possible to see a hand at the corner of the photo, making a gesture to probably catch the cat’s attention]

He took a shower.

Wilbur:

LOOK AT HIM

WHAT A BEAUTIFUL BOY

SO POLITE

techie <3:

My arm is full of scratches.

Wilbur:

well the cat just passed his nails on your arm

god that decided you were going to be scratched

techie <3:

I hate you so much.

Now, marks three days since the kitten is with him.

It’s a rollercoaster. The little animal’s humor is easily affected by things and, sometimes, he barely knows the reasons he’s more closed off than not.

There are times that, before he goes to college, he finds the feline hidden beneath his covers, curled up in himself. When trying to pet, he would hiss and slap his hand - it doesn’t hurt, at least.

Other times he’s restless. He runs around the house like there’s no tomorrow, bites his fingers until he’s giving the cat attention, meows obnoxiously and jumps on top of him at 3 AM while he sleeps - would be annoying if it wasn’t so endearing.  

However, what undoubtedly changed in his routine wasn’t that.

It’s an understanding that this cat is a menace.

Mondays are hard, it doesn't matter who you are and what you do, everyone agrees they are terrible just for existing . Today, unfortunately, was monday.

He was fucking stressed. Everything seemed to go wrong. He burnt his food in the morning, the bus was late, obliging him to walk thirty minutes to college and, to top it all: two of his students canceled, the change in his routine not being accepted nor pleasant. 

(He forgives Ranboo, though. No, he doesn’t have favorites.)

Therefore, when he arrived home at 8 PM, his muscles were aching to exercise. To free all the tension he’s accumulating all day. He didn’t have dinner, going directly to his room to put on some appropriate clothes.

He almost forgot about the cat, feeling apologetic when he puts down the mat with rather force and waking him up. Offering a meek smile, the feline huffs a breath and observes.

Something Technoblade likes about exercising is how simple it is to fall through the repetitive movements. It’s calming, straightforward to understand and to appreciate. Promptly, his mind is just a blank of counting down and conducting his own breath, the world around being easily forgotten. The feeling of his muscles stretching every time he does a push-up, the little tremble-

His peace is cut short when something lays on his back.

It’s not heavy, although it startles so much to the point his arms give out. Looking behind the shoulder, the cat stares with an unbothered expression. 

“Excuse me, I’m exercising,” Technoblade drawls out, frowning slightly.

The cat blinks.

He sighs, starting to do push-ups again.

After a few minutes, he goes back to the same headspace, completely blank and existing rather than living. The weight on his back is easily forgotten. It’s not for long, though, because the menace starts to play with a loose strand of his hair. 

“Cat, c’mon,” he lightly prods it away, receiving a weak bite on the fingers, causing a giggle.

Techno tries doing other things, however, it doesn't matter what he does: the animal starts to jump around like a gremlin, slapping and biting weakly. Everytime he lowered to the ground, the cat would jump at him, or slap his face. God, it’s infuriating, mostly because he should be annoyed or mad at him. His routine, his endearing exercises that makes him sane, being interrupted by a little devil. No one, with a sane mind, would mess around with his routine and stay there to see Technoblade’s wrath. 

And it doesn’t matter, because Techno laughs and has fun. 

When he tries to perform his second round of push-ups though, the cat starts biting his nose, and it’s not painful, but his breath. Ugh.

Instantly, he flops down to the floor, laughing and pushing the orange fluff away from him.

Soon, they start wrestling: a full on mock fight. Every time the cat was shoved off, he would come back, jumping with everything on him, sometimes taking away his breath. The cat bites, slaps, and Technoblade returns with shoving him off or poking. It’s fun. It’s the most fun he genuinely had this whole week.

It finishes when he’s tired like he would normally feel when exercising. Whilst it’s not the same as exercising, of a blank mind and peace, it’s still good. It leaves him with goosebumps around his arms, signs of well trained muscles, a feeling of tiredness but, at least, accomplished.

He can get used to this for a month.

Ok, maybe sometimes it is annoying. It’s not like he possesses the heart to scold the little guy, though. Look at his eyes! He just has to blink with them and, puff! All the anger is gone.

It’s still annoying, though.

He’s afraid of snapping at the feline on a bad day, when he’s interrupted while exercising, all the progress going out the window. Look, it’s something he cherishes a lot and, some days, he’s not in the mood for being interrupted and start fighting for his life. Sometimes, he wholly wants peace, to go away from reality just for a few minutes and cope with it.

The cat doesn’t have any blame for him feeling like shit. It’s unnecessary to snap at him for just wanting to play, something they’re doing literally every day. Technoblade understands he’s a kitten, so, he needs to let out the energy and instincts, he gets it.

That’s why, near the end of the week, he bought a metal fence, designed to not let domestic animals in certain rooms. Though, the moment he walks in and the feline notices it, he starts running away desperately, taking refuge in his room.

Well, that was… something. 

“Kitty?” the human called tentatively, putting the things down. There was no response - and if he had one it would be odd. He walks cautiously to his bedroom, looking around attentively.

When entering it, his heart skips a beat when he doesn’t see any orange.

“Buddy? Where are you?” he ignored how his voice wavered, starting to look inside his wardrobes, drawers, beneath the furniture, any signal of the animal.

A relieved breath escaped from his mouth when he recognized two big blue eyes below the bed. The kitten is curled up on himself, in a protective stance. It’s possible to see him shaking a little. When trying to get a little closer, he receives a harsh hiss and growling.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” with a gentle voice, he lied on his side, still looking beneath the bed. The cat stares at him too, growling. “It’s not really comfortable laying on the ground, isn’t it?”

A hiss. Well, the try of lighting the mood didn’t work. 

He waits a few minutes, just staring at him, trying to comprehend why, so suddenly, the orange ball is so stressed. Fear is clear in his eyes, glancing around like he’s searching for a route to escape at any moment. It pains his heart, feeling guilty, even though he doesn’t know the cause of this reaction.

Then, it came to his mind.

The fence.

“Hey, buddy, are you scared of the fence?” cautiously, he approximates his hand, receiving slaps. Some actually scratched and hurt, yet not enough to make him go away. He ignores the blood in favor of not scaring the cat. “I swear it’s not a cage or something to trap you, ok?”

The cat growls more loudly, nearing the wall. He coos softly. 

“It’s just- well,” he starts, fumbling with his words. He’s really talking to a cat, wow. “ Sometimes I want to exercise alone, so I was planning to actually… trap myself,” he chuckles softly. Slowly, the growling starts to tune down. “I enjoy playing, don’t get me wrong- I just… I don’t wanna… hurt your feelings if I snap.”

Yup, he’s really talking to a cat. The worst of it? It works. The animal looks like he’s understanding and, slowly, calming down. 

My God, he didn’t know cats were so intelligent! 

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, little guy. Or- or feeling unsafe. I want you to trust me, ‘kay?” he tries petting the animal again, this time, he lets it, laying his head on his hand. The poor thing is still shaking like hell. “Do you wanna come out? I can give you some pasty food.”

Automatically, the cat’s ears perked up to that, a laugh leaving his mouth. 

“C’mon, then. Let’s eat and then play a little, eh?”

Slowly, the cat moves, letting himself be picked up and cuddled.

The fence didn’t work.

Look, look- Technoblade didn’t know that cat’s would jump so high, ok?! So, when the fence was around himself while he exercised and, suddenly, the little thing was playing with his hair, he realized: it’s going to take way more to stop the little shit.

That’s how the war started.

To this point, the defenses weren’t because he didn’t want to hurt the cat's feelings, no- it was a test. He wanted to see how far the feline would go just to annoy him.

He discovered that he would go pretty far.

Firstly, he tried making the fence taller. Didn’t work, the cat just climbed instead of jumping around it. 

Secondly, he tried making the landing place harder. He was so focused that he forgot to close a little part, the cat just passing through it.

Thirdly, he tried making the fence taller and the landing place harder. At first, it worked, however, the cat made some parkour shit with the wall and then there was more pounds than it should on his back.

Fourthly, he searched for things cats didn’t like the texture of. He tried putting tape - it worked, the tape stuck at his paws and made him walk around awkwardly (he never laughed that hard). The second time, the cat just ripped off with his teeth. 

Fifthly and lastly, he tried to simply lock himself in another room. 

The cat learned how to open it.

So, yeah. It was clear who won the war. The satisfied expression the cat has as he lays on top of his back says a lot about himself.

Tommy didn’t know how he got in this situation. Even now, a whole week and a few days that went through, he doesn’t know how he’s inside this house and why the fuck this pink haired bitch it’s taking care of him.

Look, he just needed somewhere to stay during the night, ok? It was pouring really hard, his cardboard box, unfortunately, didn’t survive, obliging him to chase shelter, and that was it! He would be gone and no attachments were going to be made!

At that night, though, after the ninth house that shooed him away, he was hopeless. He was actually being forced to stay outside, in the storm and somehow survive through it. 

It was the last house he would try, the smallest in the neighborhood. The porch was welcoming enough, having two upholstered chairs, a little table between and a bunch of plants scattered around. If he wasn’t able to enter the house, the chairs would, at least, be enough. 

Firstly, giving up on being dry, he gave a lap around the house, searching for entries. There are no back doors and, unsurprisingly, open windows. He comes back to the porch, looking at it.

The house seems old, but it doesn’t look bad. There are many plants around, every window having a vase, vines traveling through the walls and making random patterns. The color seems duller than it probably should’ve been, being a really light yellow. There are also patches of paint peeling off and, apparently, the owner noticed and put greenery on top of it to hide.

It’s really welcoming. There’s even a wind chime, which’s constantly being disturbed because of the harsh wind. 

Secondly, he tried opening the front windows. They’re locked and the curtain doesn’t give him the view from inside, however it’s possible to hear shuffling. He huffs a breath. 

So, the last thing to do it’s his least favorite one. 

Hesitantly, he meowed at the door, the shuffling inside seeming to stop. When silence proceeded, a more desperate plea escaped his mouth, making him instantly cover his mouth and hide behind a vase. Stupid, stupid, stupid-

Seconds later, a huge man goes outside and, the already fearful and clouded mind could only see the furrowed brows as anger. My man, he’s going to die today. That’s it. Uhum. It was a good run, though. He ignores how he started to shake more.

Tommy was already dreading his death, thinking of the multiple ways that the person would kill him, when the stupidest thing happened.

This- oh my God, this huge human fucking meowed.

He meowed.

If Tommy wasn’t so fucking scared, he would be cackling like a mad man. Man, this person, with the deepest voice he ever got to know, meowed! At him! Definitely one of the best things that happened in his life.

After that, it’s just downhill - all because he meowed back.

Look, really, he was supposed to leave before the human woke up. When the pink haired finally fell asleep on the floor of the living room, he explored the house. The catshifter searched for any entry, anything that he could use to escape tomorrow morning that wasn't the front door.

There was nothing, zero, nada!

Not even a little breach he can maybe try to expand, or something to destroy. All the doors and windows were shut tight, no holes through the walls nor behind the furniture! 

So, Tommy was stuck. He couldn’t sleep that night, full of terror, afraid of what might happen tomorrow: if he’s going to survive or simply be killed after he abused of the other’s kindness. There was no way of telling and goddamnit how much he wanted to shift-

However, it was… ok, to say at least.

This “Technoblade” person was a strange human.

He isn’t someone that talks much, even more with a cat. Yet, sometimes, he would ramble about greek mythology, or a new book he’s reading and how pissed he is about it. It’s funny to see this grown ass person rambling around about some guy called Sherlock, explaining furiously a case that he unwrapped.

(“Oh my God! I can’t believe Maura did that!” Technoblade screeched out of nowhere, making him jump high from where he was resting. That didn’t stop the person from rambling.

“I knew Isaac wasn’t real, I called it! It’s just frustrating that I’m still surprised about it!” 

The book is abandoned by the middle table.

“Kitty, you understand me, do you? We can agree that Isaac not being real was clear from the start, right?”

He huffs out a breath and lays his head on the cushion.

“Glad we are on the same page.”)

There were times this “Wilbur” man - apparently his twin brother, who’s an independent musician that lives far, far away from here - would call him and they would bicker a lot. Mostly about Tommy, how they hated each other and the fact that Techno’s life is boring.

(He doesn’t understand why, when Technoblade is clearly saying he hates his brother, he has a smile on his face, a total fond expression and voice laced with love.

A strange feeling of wanting pricks his heart. He decides to sleep until it’s gone.)

And it’s strange. 

Somehow, he now is fed, receiving scratches behind his ear, taken care of and played with every day. And it’s so, so strange.

He’s a stray cat by heart. Even though he’s used to humans - since, well, part of him is human -, he always preferred to live in pure freedom and survival instincts.

That was what he thought, though.

Having the luxury of an indoor cat it’s a dramatic change, to the point it’s overwhelming. Sometimes he stays below the covers all day, hiding from these sensations. Now, he’s constantly pampered, doesn’t need to hunt his own food nor hope to find a good place to sleep at night. No, no more of that. He feels safe. He doesn’t fear for his life every time he goes to sleep.

And, again, it’s so strange.

Because one day he’s alone and looked like he was going to be like that for the rest of his life, until he wasn’t. Until Technoblade decided it was a good idea to let an orange cat invade his house and make a ruckus.

Man, and a ruckus he did. He made sure to at least push, every time the remote was on the table, to the floor, watching the human take it and put it on the table again - and he would do it again and again, to the point Techno would start to poke him.

Or to open up cloth drawers and sleep inside it, the human’s clothes being full of fur the next day. The worst and favorite thing he does is to sleep on top of his phone, Techno not hearing the alarm and getting late to college.

(And if Techno looks a little bit healthier the first days of a few more hours slept, it’s something he cherishes in silence).

He was going to make sure to make his life an absolute inferno and reconsider his choices.

(His efforts seem futile, though. Technoblade normally looks at him with a deadpan expression or does this “bruuh” sound. Not even once he seems genuinely annoyed by it - if not, he seems amused).  

One week later, purely of making sure Technoblade was going to regret letting him in, a bitch man he never saw enters the house. 

Apparently, it’s the Wilbur guy.

The first this stupid ass looking human does is to charge at him. Tommy doesn’t hesitate to hiss and hide below the middle table of the living room, growling loudly. It’s not enough to scare him away, though, because all he can hear after is: “aww! Techno, look! He's a little gremlin!”

After that, they sit in the kitchen, Techno cooking something while his brother rambles about music, tours and his routine. 

Looking at them, he can’t understand how they are brothers; hell, twins, even. The differences are so abundant. Technoblade is buff, muscular with wide shoulders, tall, strong jawline and fluffy, long and pink hair.

But Wilbur? He’s scrawny, really, really tall, brown hair, round glasses and softer features. A complete different person 

Maybe he’s exaggerating, but- the only thing they seem to share is the massive height, fluffy hair, narrow eyes, deep voice and- that’s it. Yep. Voilà, they are twins. Good job, God - no, it’s not him that doesn’t have a good eye, shut the fuck up.

Man, where did he get himself into?

Bored and with cautious steps, he approaches the room. Wilbur seems to be fidgeting with a funny looking cube, while Techno puts plates, cutlery and pans on the table. A faint smell of pancakes fills the air.

“-for how long are you staying?” it’s the sentence he tunes in. Instantly, Will opens a sheepish smile, swinging his feet like little girls in the movies. 

There’s no response other than that.

Technoblade, in the middle of putting a pan on the table, stops to look at his brother's features. Still, no answer, the smiling opening more

“... Wilbur, how long are you staying?”

“How’s college?-”

“Wilbur, please, don’t tell me you’re going to stay until the end of the month.”

The taller one starts to eat his food in silence, giggling. 

“Have any ideas for names for the little guy?-”

“And you’re staying here for the cat!-”

“I thought it was obvious-”

Then, a deep sigh and a chair rattling as the pink haired sits on it can be heard. Wilbur cackles, seeming unbothered by his twin’s antics. Tommy judged it as the perfect time to rub himself against Technoblade’s legs, simply to gain food. 

Soon, the other lowers his hand to caress his body, a small grin on his face. It’s better to not acknowledge it, otherwise, he’s going to be attached to making him smile. 

“I was thinking of Theseus,” he said, finally. His ears perked up. Theseus, huh? Well, it’s not Tommy, the best name, but at least starts with a T. Close enough. Trying to show his contentment, he starts rubbing his head against the other’s leg.

Ok, no, this name is badass. It’s a fucking good name. Oh my God, he would be so cool and popular. The number of women he could get with that! Theseus, the Wife Haver. Theseus, the King of Pussies. Theseus, the Catshifter. Tommy, the Theseus. 

Holy shit, that’s actually so cool!

Soon, he’s jumping around, excited. He starts to bite the other’s trousers, trying to claim his attention. Man, he needs to play, to let his energy out now, otherwise he will combust! 

“What? Did you like the name, Theseus?”

Yes! Yes! Yes!

“Oh my God, he actually liked it,” Wilbur’s exasperated voice can be heard. Fuck him, all he’s paying attention to is Technoblade. The person has a little smile on his face and, when he makes a move to pull him to his lap, Tommy - or Theseus!! - let it go without a fight.

“I've never seen him so excited-”

“Aww, Techie! Is that a smile? Are you smiling? Aw, little bro is happy,” Wilbur singsonged, starting to mock him with a high-pitched voice. Technoblade responds with loud groans. Soon, they are kicking each other beneath the table. 

Tommy makes sure to bite the human’s hand to stop shifting too much. He wants to stay on his lap unbothered, ok? If he’s going to shift so much it better be when he’s playing with him. He hears a low “ouch” and, finally, stops moving. A pleasant hum leaves his throat.

Soon, he’s being petted and, fuck, he automatically melts. All the energy is gone, now he just wants to sleep forever. It’s so warm and comfy - safe, even.

For the first time, he lets himself purr and show his contentment. 

He doesn’t stay awake to see their reactions, yet he’s pretty sure that Techno’s breath hitched at some point. 

Wilbur is a bitch.

Unfortunately, being an independent musician means that he does whatever the fuck he wants. Basically: he stays most of the day inside the house. It’s annoying, it’s terrible, he hates this.

He hates him.

The first day that Technoblade left both of them alone, it was like a mother talking to her sons.

(“Wilbur, be good to the cat-”

“Ok-”

“Don’t pester him much. He’s easily stressed-”

“Ok-”

“Remember to feed him and clean the sandbox-”

“Yeah, yeah-”

“Do not let him go out or eat anything that isn’t food-”

“Yuup-”

“Don’t do your crazy shits while playing, he’s a kitten-”

“Oh my God, Technoblade, just go to college already!-”)

So, he thought that, after 10 minutes of Techno explaining where everything is, the routine he gave to Tommy and how much he must be fed at the specific hours, he would be okay. Wilbur wouldn’t bother him much and that was it. 

The first hours were good. When he woke up, Techno was already with his go-out-clothes and tidying up the bed while Tommy slept on top of it. Grumbling for being woken up, he follows the person through the house.

When he was leaving for college, Wilbur woke up. After explaining everything, Tommy went to his room - no, it’s not Techno’s, it’s his, thank you very much - and slept the rest of the morning.

It was noon when he saw the man’s face again. 

For the first time, he was sleeping on his own bed when Wilbur thought it was a good idea to enter the room and try to interact. His steps were insignificant at first, but when he remembered that, wait, Techno isn’t home, he opened his eyes instantly, jolting awake.

That seemed to scare Wilbur, jumping briefly.

“Hey, little guy- what a scare you gave me,” he chuckled nervously. Tommy huffs a breath, giving him his back. “Do you wanna play, buddy?”

He closes his eyes, ignoring. Better go back to sleep.

“Theseus, c’mon, pspspspsps…”

His ear actually twitched at that. Look, he’s a catshifter, he knows this trick and definitely understands when humans try to lure him. Nothing is new to him when talking about the human ways to lure a cat. But, look- instincts. No matter how much he tried, to think rationally, his instincts always make him interested.

So, the ignoring act ended soon as it started, turning around to see the lanky bitch. He was crouched near him, making movements with his fingers. The moment he turns around, a smile appears. Ew.

“Hey, do you wanna play? I brought a ball and string!” he shows both, swinging around the string. Automatically, his instincts get louder and reach with his paw to try to get the string. Wilbur’s smile opens with that. “Yeah! C’mon, little guy!”

When he notices, he’s running around the man like crazy, trying to get the goddamn string. He hates how fun is and how much the other laughs when he jumps or refuses to let the string go. It’s annoying, he doesn’t like new people and being succinct to them.

Tommy hates how easily he trusts in people and, God, he’s so afraid of trusting the twins too - Technoblade has been anything but bad, he’s so good, making and remembering him to eat, playing and letting him sleep in a comfortable and warm place. It’s so perfect it’s almost painful. There’s no way he actually got this lucky, that this is true, that finally he has someone to love and be loved. 

He’s afraid that, at some point, he’s going to disappoint himself, and the fault is going to be solely his - for trusting too much, too fast. 

Yet, he’s here, laughing internally, jumping, running and actually having fun while playing with this man he met the day before yesterday. It shouldn’t be that way. He should be hiding, biting, attacking-

What’s the guarantee that this isn’t ending anytime soon? That Technoblade will notice how much a fuss is to take care of a cat and shoo him away? If he gets attached, if he loves them, just to be abandoned again, what is he gonna do?

His breath started to get ragged and, exhausted - both mentally and physically -, he flops down. Wilbur seems to think his uneven breath it’s from playing, because he’s cooing with a soft smile on his face.

“Are you tired already? I’ll bring you some water.”

The cat doesn’t even notice for how long the other’s away, his mind a mile per second, jumping around the thoughts. He’s so overwhelmed, it was too much, too much-

He hides below the covers, shaking. The heavy weight of the blanket it’s comforting, making him safe and warm. A whimper leaves his throat unconsciously. It’s so good that it hurts, it’s everything he asked for years. After so much time alone, it’s all he wanted. And now- 

Now he can’t even bear the feeling of it. 

Tears are already falling from his eyes when Wilbur is back. It’s possible to hear a confused noise, some shuffling, and then a bit of light entering the cocoon he made. Automatically, a wobbly hiss leaves. 

“Aw, what’s wrong? Why are you crying, Theseus?” God, why is his voice so fond? Why does he sound like he’s the one crying? He hates Wilbur. He hates Technoblade and, mostly, he hates Sam for everything-

If he was in his human form, he would be sobbing pathetically, however, like everything in his life, his shifting simply doesn’t work. It’s been months since the last time and, holy cow, he’s scared. So, so scared.

He wants Techno, and he hates how this thought brings so much comfort, safeness. Of how much he wants, wants and wants.

Tommy isn’t listening to what Will is saying, but he’s fairly sure he’s talking with Technoblade through the phone. He can hear the worry, the glances being thrown at him, the anxious pacing. 

“Hey, little guy. I need to see if you’re hurt somewhere, ‘kay?” a broken meow leaves him, voice wavering. “Shh, shh, I know… It’s going to be okay, I’m so sorry-” he makes a movement to move the blankets, instantly being rewarded with a scratch and loud growling.

Faintly, he can hear Techno in the phone:

“Wilbur, are you sure he didn’t hurt himself while playing? It says here that if he’s crying that hard means he’s in a lot of pain-”

“Ouch, fuck- Techno, I already told you, he was okay. He wasn’t moving strangely or, or- he was normal,” he answered frustrated, messing with his hair anxiously. 

Oh.

They think he’s hurt - physically.

Whimpering, he shrinks on himself, trying to gather courage to leave the cocoon and at least reassure them he’s not hurt. It’s difficult. His brain screams at him to stay hidden, basking in this comforting weight, or he might die. The thought makes him shake.

“Buddy? It’s ok, please- Let me see if you’re hurt. I’m sorry if I hurt you-”

Tommy wants to laugh and cry more. Laugh because this human is actually apologizing to a cat, regret clear in his voice, even though he did nothing. Cry because this love- this sweet voice- it’s all he wanted. He searched for years for this care again and he can’t bear how it feels.  

Hesitantly, he meows meekly, scared.

“Aw, bud- I’m so sorry- It’s ok, you can leave, I’ll not hurt you-”

He peeks, putting his snout out, being able to see Wilbur’s worried countenance: eyebrows pinched, lips tugging down and sadness emanating from his irises. When he notices the cat, though, a reassuring smile grace his face.

“Hey, little guy. It’s ok, see? You can come out, I promise.”

Shaking, he leaves the safe cocoon he made. He growls, even though he doesn’t mean to, in a stupid attempt to make the man go away. Wilbur merely coos and, cautiously, approximates his hand to pet. Tommy lets him.

“Yeah, that’s it- so proud of you, buddy. I need to see if you’re hurt, ‘kay?” whimpering, the cat lets the man gather him on his arms - painstakingly - , putting down on his lap. With feather light touches, he starts to poke around his body, searching for something.

Tommy can’t stop shaking, though. He’s ready to run back beneath the covers and stay there all day. However, unfortunately, he can’t communicate to this human and say to them he’s not hurt - he has to bear this. 

“Techno, he got out- Yeah, there are no apparent bruises. He just seems to shake a little-” silence, the other man’s voice being too faint to understand what’s being said. “You said he does that sometimes, didn’t you? Yeah- I think he just got stressed, then. Poor thing.”

Wilbur gives his hand, offering to sniff it. He does, eyeing him constantly, afraid of what he might do. Nothing happens, he just keeps talking to his twin on the phone. Tommy lays his head on the other’s palm.

Almost instantly, the man coos. 

“Awww, Techno- he laid his head on my hand! Oh my God-” a giggle comes out of the man, while he gently scratches behind the cat’s ear. “He’s alright, it seems,” hums of agreement, then: “Yeah, I’ll let you know. ‘Kay, good work. Love you.”

Wilbur sighs, putting away his phone, not stopping to pet Tommy - who is already a puddle of how much he loves the scratches. His eyes are closed, denying to see the man’s face - and probably come across with a fond expression he’s not prepared to see.

He refuses to get attached. 

When Wilbur decides it’s best to give him space, he goes back to hiding below the blankets, curling up around it. He’s like a burrito.

That actually makes him giggle a little.

Later, after Wilbur constantly checking if he was alright, bringing food and water and trying to make him play a little, Technoblade is home. 

It was a shit day.

But it’s okay, because, at the end, Techno comes at him and says: “Hey buddy, what’s up? Not a good day?” and then, he’s laying on top of the person’s body, receiving pets and even little kisses - God, Techno kisses are a goddamn rare occurrence. It’s good and, for a moment, he puts his scared thoughts to the back of his mind, enjoying the moment.

That’s a problem for Tomorrow Tommy.

Wilbur is still a bitch - in a fond way.

No, he says: I’m not attached, shut the fuck up. 

After what seems a week, for the first time, he’s alone in the house after Wilbur got in town. Apparently, he’s going to sleep in a friend’s house and, yes, Techno, I’ll message you when I get there, you know Niki is pretty chill-

So, he’s alone. 

It’s not that terrible as it sounds. It’s actually good, because now, he can finally relax properly. There’s no Wilbur trying to annoy or play with him, or Techno to cling into him. He can maybe scratch a few of Wilbur’s clothes, put some fur on them, and maybe drop some water from his pot so the twins have to clean up. 

So, the first thing he does is to destroy the toilet paper - it wasn’t on his plans, however, his instincts spoke louder and when he came to himself, there was paper scattered around him. After that, he opens up Wilbur’s drawers, scratches the clothes a little bit, then lays on them. He smiles when he sees they’re full of fur.

He’s going to push the remote to the floor when the door entrance door opens.

He freezes.

No one is supposed to be in the house at this hour- hell, Technoblade just comes back at 7 PM today- 

Something is being dropped to the ground and, soon, he can hear someone breath heavily, like they’re trying to get their air back. Cautiously, he approaches the entrance, fearing for the worst.

Then, he sees.

There’s a backpack thrown on the ground, a few books sticking out, shoes messily thrown out too, and then, Techno, sitting against the door, looking like he’s going to pass out at any moment. His face is hidden between his knees, shaking.

Uh oh.

He’s running before he comes to himself, meowing loudly. That seems to get the person’s attention, because he looks up. He looks like shit: more tired than usual, face slightly wet and eyes holding back tears. Tommy whimpers, rubbing himself against his legs, biting his fingers, licking, anything, to make the human fucking breath.

After some time it starts to slow down, but it’s not enough. So he climbs his lap and starts licking his face, biting his nose, giving weak slaps, trying to say to him that, please, I’m here, just breathe, you weak bitch. 

A wheeze, sounding like a faint laugh, can be heard. He feels hands cradling his body, petting with shaking hands. That makes him meow more loudly, rubbing his face against the person’s face. 

That makes Techno actually laugh.

“Your fur- ugh, Theseus-” then a chuckle. He continues rubbing himself against the human’s face, even if he complains with fur being on his nose and mouth. If it’s the only way of making him remember to breathe, then be it.

He licks, bites, slaps and rubs, and just stops when he feels Techno’s hands not shaking so much, his breath even and heart beating like it should beat. He’s ready to flop down on top of the body, to nap and maybe spend the rest of the day in bed with him.

Until Technoblade starts to cry. 

At first, it’s just sniffles, then a weird wet feeling on his neck and when he notices it, he’s looking up, like he’s trying to stop crying. It’s possible to see his lips quivering, brows furrowed and fat tears being constantly wiped away.

He meows, questioningly. 

“I- I’m sorry, kitty. I feel so guilty to make you- make you stress with my problems because I can’t bring myself to-” a big sigh “-to pull my things together. I’m so sorry.”

A whimper goes out without wanting to. Tommy wants to say that, no, please, I’m doing this because I care! It’s okay to not feel okay and I want to be with you through it- but all he can do is meow, bumping his head against the other’s cheek. Techno smiles slightly.

“You’re just a baby and, here I am,  needing you to calm me down from a panic attack, fucking hell,” he laughs pitily, hiding his face with his hands with, what it seems, frustration. “I’m so sorry.”

Tommy bites his finger and now with force. That makes the pink haired complain lightly, pulling his hand away instinctively. He tries his best to shoot a glare at the human, hoping his intentions are clear. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop- just, ugh-” he messes with his hair, then flapping his hand a little in what it seems distress, before settling in. “Sorry.”

The cat sighs, yet gives him a little lick in the cheek. 

Tommy decides to lay his head on the human’s shoulder, sighing contently when Techno involves him with his arms. It’s safe, warm and so comfortable, he can’t hold back the hesitant purrs that leave his body. That must make the other happy, because he sighs contently too and starts to pet his head.

“Is it strange of me to start to ramble?” he questions after minutes of silence. Tommy just peeks one of his eyes open, observing. “I’m already doing, there’s no coming back, might as well let…”

He doesn’t finish.

They stay a few more minutes like this, the cat constantly dozing off and waking up, wanting to be there if he starts talking about what the fuck stressed him so much to just, drop everything and come home. It’s not something he does, this man loves his routine too much to pull something like that - it just took two days of staying here to notice it.

“College is not being… very fun, lately,” finally, starts, shuffling a little to get himself more comfortable on the floor. “My ADHD just- I know my meds are correct, they are working and- I don’t know what is happening that I simply can’t focus or do things. I feel so, so stupid.”

If his voice wavers near the end of the phrase, both don’t acknowledge it. 

“I’m not being able to do exams, essays- everything is piling up and oh my God, ” he lets out a pitiful sound, sounding near a whimper. Tommy licks his fingers lightly, biting weakly sometimes. “What is Wilbur going to think? God- what is dad going to think?” 

After that, he didn’t speak again. 

Technoblade stayed there, petting, hugging, hiding his face on his massive fur and even giving a few kisses. It’s like he’s trying to comfort the cat more than himself. Sometimes he sniffles and sputters when he inhales the fur, making Tommy laugh internally. 

They stayed there for several minutes. It’s probably uncomfortable, by the way Techno complains sometimes. But, God, it’s good. He never thought he would love so much hugs, or this massive person, who calls himself Technoblade, would be the biggest softie and clingy bitch he ever met - even if he denies with passion. It’s so good to be cared for like this.

If every day he receives this kind of care, he wants to forever be here.

He remembers, after minutes of both of them on the floor, being picked up and laid at his bed on the floor. He remembers seeing Technoblade enter the bathroom and come back with comfier clothes, then laying in bed. 

He remembers walking and climbing the bed, sneaking in between the human’s arms - he chuckled, opening them and pulling a blanket on top of him too. He remembers hearing the low and calm heartbeat against his ear, making him sigh in relief.

And they slept for the rest of the day. 

If Wilbur comes back the next morning, calling out for his twin and not receiving an answer, just to come across with them cuddling and sleeping, it’s just between the three. 

(And if he took a photo and sent it to dad, saying “I think the cat is doing good to him,” it’s something that stays between the two, too).

Dad:

Good morning, Techno!

Did you remember to eat breakfast today?

Don’t forget to drink a lot of water

Love you 💘

Techno 💞:

Hey, Phil.

Yup, I did. Don’t need to worry, old man.

Love you too.

Dad: 

Good 👀

Wilbur is letting me know if you’re taking care of yourself

How’s little Theseus?

Techno 💞:

I’m starting to think that he just came here because you told him to.

Dad: 

I would never 🥰

Techno 💞:

Sure.

He’s okay. Still adapting. 

Doesn’t hate Wilbur so much, now.

Dad:

Lol

That’s good to hear!! 

Remember to send a picture of him later, I want to put as profile picture

Techno 💞:

Are you really changing your photo, that is me, Wilbur and you, for the cat?

Dad:

He’s a chunky boy 🥰 💞

Techno 💞:

You and Will are actually insane.

Dad:

Lmao

Don’t need to get jealous, you’re still my favorite son

Techno 💞:

I’m sending that to Wilbur.

Dad:

HAHAHA

Don’t need rivalry, boys

You’re both papa’s boys

Techno 💞:

Never say that again.

Dad:

LMAO

It’s when they are entering the third week of the cat staying with him that he notices: maybe what he’s doing it’s not… Really healthy.

His brother is in town and he can see him solely during breakfast and dinner. Before and after that, he’s too busy with college, work and tutoring. Unfortunately, Wilbur isn’t a cat that’s satisfied with staying on your lap all day. 

Hell, Wilbur doesn’t even wake up at 5 AM. He discovered he’s doing that just for them to eat together and have a moment - because that’s why he’s here, to see him, it doesn't matter how many times he tries to convince himself otherwise. The amount of guilt that submerges his heart is painful. 

When did he  start not having time for things? For reading books, playing Minecraft? For staying with his family, shooting a message to his dad or just inviting Wilbur to watch a series?

When his life turned from dreaming of going to college to mindlessly working? To wear himself out just to have something to eat and make his family proud? When did he turn on a lifeless shell? 

He’s too stubborn to do something about it - it’s too late.

“Y’know, maybe we could try to make Theseus go out for a walk.”

Wilbur said, one day, during breakfast, watching the kitten sleep peacefully on top of Techno’s foot. 

“With what?”

“With a leash, duh,” a bite on the toast, watching his brother slowly eat his food. When he notices it, he kicks him on the shin lightly. The only signal he felt it it’s him rolling his eyes.

“They do that?” 

“Yeah- what, you thought it was just for dogs?” the pink haired shrugged, chomping a grand part of the toast before he’s kicked again for not eating enough. A pleased hum can be heard.

“Don’t know. With what leash, then?” 

“We can go to the pet shop today, if you can.”

Silence.

“I refuse to interact with people, Wilbur.”

Wilbur groaned loudly, waking up the feline. 

“Fine! I’ll go then, you little shit,” he kicked again just for good measure.

Soon, they start fighting beneath the table, kicking each other constantly. They just stop when Theseus bites Wilbur’s shin with rather force.

The moment he saw the leash, the cat ran away. Wilbur sighed loudly.

“C’mon, Theseus! It’s just a leash, I swear. We can have a nice walk around the neighborhood, maybe go to a park, I don’t know,” grumbling the last part, he took off his shoes, starting to look around.

Wilbur finds the cat on top of Techno’s wardrobe.

“How the fuck did you get there?!” he exclaimed, shocked. Looking around, he sees a few things knocked over, probably from the parkour the cat had to do just to be the nearest as possible to the ceiling. A small smile tugs his face. The cat meows angrily at him. “C’mon, stop being Techno’s kid! Like, literally, you both are so antisocial, I’ll actually believe you’re his biological son at this point-”

While he talked, he got Techno’s chair, putting it in front of the wardrobe, going on top of it and, easily, scooping up the feline. Theseus is fast to try wriggle his way out, slapping him constantly. Wilbur doesn’t falter, landing on the floor with a clean thud.

“Let’s go, you need a sun bath, little guy.”

It takes some time to put the leash on and, when he does, he sends his twin a photo.

Wilbur:

*sent you a photo*

[description: a fluffy orange cat flopped on the ground, an angry expression on his face. He looked like he was growling when the photo was taken. There’s straps around his body, leading to a long lace, where it’s possible to see a hand holding the end of it]

look at him

look at him go

techie <3:

Wilbur, what are you doing with my cat.

Wilbur:

our cat

techie <3:

My cat, Wilbur.

Wilbur:

youre so boringggggggg

techie <3:

Thank you, people (you) say that a lot.

Wilbur:

AAAAAGHHH SHUTUPPPPPP

imagine writing correctly on texts what a nerd LMAOOO

techie <3:

Imagine being a musician who doesn’t even know music theory, what a loser, L. 

Wilbur:

i hate you

i hate you

i hate you

i hate you

techie <3:

Say it one more time and I might believe it.

Wilbur:

oh mY GOD JUST SAY HOW THESEUS LOOKS GOOD TECHNBOLADDE!!

techie <3:

Theseus looks good, Wilbur. He’s a beautiful kitten because he’s MY cat.

Wilbur:

i swear.

i swear to god.

i swear to god ill make sure to take the massivest shit you ever seen in front of your door.

techie <3:

You’re disgusting.

Wilbur:

we’re twins so that means we’re disgusting <33333

techie <3:

I refuse.

Wilbur:

what?? are you just saying “no” to biology when it says that we’re twins?

techie <3:

Yup.

Did it already when I came out.

Wilbur:

why did that make me laugh

techie <3:

I’m funny, Wilbur. Don’t need to be shy about it.

Wilbur:

i actually hate you so much

i’ll swear to god to make you blind with the most disgusting thing you ever seen

techie <3:

Yourself?

Wilbur:

I. SWEAR. TO. GOD.

techie <3:

You make it too easy.

Wilbur:

never talk to me again

Putting the leash on the cat was, well… Moving on. But the real problem was walking with him.

It’s not really a surprise that, the moment they leave the house, the cat just flops down and simply refuses to get up. He tugs the leash, drags him around the neighborhood, and Theseus doesn’t. Get. Up.

He would actually believe he was dead if it wasn’t the constant upset growling and big blue eyes frowning at him. 

At some point, Wilbur just started to ignore it. He doesn’t care if people are staring, it’s not him that’s going to embarrass himself, is this goddamn cat who refuses to walk like a normal cat- 

Like, for what cost? He can already see how much grime the cat’s fur will gather. The streets are disgusting and the feline is willingly letting himself be dragged around it. It’s a Theseus-problem, though, because Wilbur is a smart guy and walks, differently from other cats.

He sighs. If the cat is not going to enjoy the walk, he will. 

“I’m worried,” Wilbur started, Theseus’ ear perking up. 

They continue to walk, the destination being unknown for the feline. Wilbur seems to have a pensive expression, worrying his lip. Well, that’s his destiny now, innit? He's a people's therapist. 

“Techno, he- uh. He’s not the best at caring about himself,” Theseus glances, listening carefully. “Most of the time he’s worried about college, work and stuff…”

A long and pitiful sigh.

“I wanted to see if maybe having you could break this a little. Make him more flexible to his routine, not working so much and actually doing something that isn’t related to college or money, y’know?” he actually doesn’t know, but he pretends he does. “It’s painful, man. Dad and I try not showing too much because then he puts us away, but- it’s hard, innit?”

A few seconds pass in silence. The rustle of the leaves, the soft sound of car’s engines and people talking when they go through a particularly busy shop fill their ears. It’s calming. The sun hits softly their skins, not being too cold nor too hot, the perfect balance. 

“I’m afraid he doesn’t tell me things because of, uh- well. How can I say this without being too blunt or mysterious?” Wilbur murmured the last part, chuckling nervously. “Because of… the incident. I know he’s just- being the protective bitch he is, but I’m not made of glass, y’know?” he sighs, kicking the air mindlessly. “I know I went through some bad things and stuff, but sometimes I feel like a kid. I’m never told the bad things because he’s afraid of- I don’t know, triggering something.”

Tommy is not the best to understand mental health - that being said, he has no idea if he’s mentally healthy and can’t say if the others are or aren’t. He’s a dumbass with these things, with feelings and processing shit. 

However, these two brothers- they talk about it so much, mostly Wilbur. He didn’t know really well what ADHD was, for example. He now knows because they sometimes mention it briefly, being it about medication, therapy and stuff.

Even though he’s no therapist and will never be, it feels good to at least be trusted enough to be able to hear these things. He knows that, for them, he’s just a domestic kitten, and nothing else - that he has no rational thought behind his eyes. They wouldn’t probably say these things if they knew he was an average scrawny teenager. 

Still- he feels like he belongs here. Belongs to the point to know a little bit about the familiar problems, about their personal lifes, their friends and works. In Wilbur’s case, know his upcoming songs or ideas for them; in Techno’s, know his projects and essays, new readings and frustrations about them.

It’s good.

Though he can’t resolve their problems, he’s happy just to be an ear sometimes.

“It’s admirable but, at the same time, I just want to punch him in the face really hard,” Wilbur laughs softly, messing around with a pebble. Then, a sad sigh. “Man, I miss watching something with him, or- just we having a moment. It’s been so long since he moved near college and doesn't have any time. It’s been years since he visited dad!” a pout can be seen on the person’s face. “I feel so egoistic, though. What if we’re interpreting things wrong? What if it’s actually doing good to him?”

Believe me, you’re not, even me noticed.

“I-I don’t know… I’m afraid of upsetting him when all I want to do is help,” he eyes the kitten, who maintains his careful stare. “Do you understand, don’t you? Y’know, when you care so much about someone that you’re afraid of pushing things too far?”

He thinks of Sam. He thinks of Technoblade. He even thinks of Wilbur. A defeated sigh leaves his lungs when he notices that, yes, I do understand. 

Wilbur seems to understand too, a sad smile adorning his face. 

It’s after 5 minutes of walking that they got to the park. Theseus still refuses to get up, it doesn't matter the heartfelt talk. He’s going to be so fucking dirty for being dragged around the roads. Thank God the child isn’t his, Techno is the one who’ll bathe the menace later and, no, he’ll not help, not even a little bit.

The park is small, an arch on top of the entrance announcing its name. It’s full of tall grass, wooden benches and a wooden playground that seems more abandoned than used. There are a few people scattered around, laying on the ground, kids playing, dogs barking: it’s pretty empty for a park, still. 

Suddenly, he feels a little tug on the leash. Glancing at it, the cat, finally, got up. His big blue eyes stare intently at a butterfly flying nearby. It has beautiful wings, warm colors adorning it, flapping graciously through the air.

It’s almost too late when he notices.

“Theseus, no!-” he scooped up the cat seconds before he jumped on the poor insect, which flew away, scared. “You demon, you menace!- You were actually trying to kill a little butterfly-” Theseus bites his fingers, furrowing. “Don’t give me that shit, it’s a butterfly, they’re just existing, you cunt-”

The animal starts to wriggle on his arms and, with a huff of a breath, he lets go. Unlike the other time, he actually stays up. Theseus glances around, having to stand on two legs to see through the tall grass, eyes wide and attentive. Then, tugging the leash harshly, he starts to jump around, playing with the grass. Wilbur laughs, following. 

Soon, he has to run a little, since the cat has the sudden urge to explore everything. He sniffles, jumps and sometimes stays still, staring. It’s really endearing. Wilbur can easily forget all the times the cat slapped or annoyed him like that.

“I told you you were gonna have fun,” he says, satisfied, preferring to sit on the floor at some point. Theseus glares, trying to be intimidating. It just looks really cute, Wilbur not missing a beat to coo at the feline. 

Instantly, he receives a slap on the cheek. A smile tugs his cheeks.

“Y’know, you’re so smart that I wouldn’t be surprised if you were actually a human,” he commented offhandedly, looking at the horizon with no particular thoughts in mind. 

He doesn’t notice the cat freezing. After a few minutes, with no leash getting tugged, the man glances at him with a questioning look. The cat still stares.

“What? You’re not human, are you?”

The cat scoffs, looking away.

Wilbur shrugs. Nothing strange, just a new normal day.

(Tommy, mentally, screams at how dumbasses humans are).

Wilbur:

*sent you a photo*

[description: an orange fluffy kitten looks at the horizon, the golden hour adorning his features. Big blue eyes stare. The cat looks like he was scowling when the photo was taken.]

he’s sun bathing

such a beautiful boy

techie <3:

That’s actually a really good photo.

Wilbur:

I KNOW HES SO PHOTOGENIC!!!!

i think he's adopted techno hate to break it to you

techie <3: 

I will literally kick you. 

Wilbur:

hihiihi

techie <3:

To this day I question myself how we are twins. 

Wilbur:

do you really want me to explain it or?

techie <3:

Don’t you dare. I’ll revoke your Theseus rights.

Wilbur: 

NOT MY THESEUS RIGHTS

techie <3:

Good.

Send it to Phil. He wanted a good picture of him to put as a profile picture.

Wilbur: 

is he actually changing it.

techie <3:

Wilbur, you know that your chaos had to come from somewhere.

Wilbur:

i hate him /affectionately 

techie <3:

Is Theseus behaving?

Wilbur:

he tried to kill a butterfly but other than that he’s just playing with the tall grass

jumping around

and shit

techie <3:

So proud of him, trying to commit murder. 

He will be big in the future

Don’t let him eat anything. And try not to pull the leash too hard.

Wilbur: 

yup 

techie <3:

Don’t stay late, it’s dangerous and Theseus has to eat at 6 PM.

Be careful with thorns and ticks. If he comes back dirty, I’ll make you bathe him.

Wilbur:

okay techno please let me go 

techie <3:

Say to him that I said hi. And to behave.

“Techno said hi and to behave,” Theseus looked at him, a tranquil expression on his face. He’s laying on his side on the grass, while Wilbur lays by his side, texting his brother. The cat stretches and, after, meows softly. 

Wilbur:

he meowed

techie <3:

:D !!

Wilbur:

youre going soft

techie <3:

Shut up. I’m not.

New client, have to go. 

Have fun. 

Wilbur:

kay!!!!!

take care!!!

ill be updating you and taking a bunch of photos

theseus photoshoot 

he's going to be more famous than every kpop group with his photoshoot

he will conquer the world and laugh at all the garfield fan’s faces

everything his piss touches it’s his

he’s going to imagine death so much that's going to feel like a memory

he's so powerful techno

techie <3:

You’re actually insane.

“Techno said I’m insane.”

It’s possible to hear Theseus huffing a breath, like he’s snorting. 

Wilbur wants to believe he’s not agreeing with his brother.

“Wilbur, why is my cat so dirty?” it’s the first thing Technoblade utters as he enters the house and scoops up the animal. The cat in question is filthy, fur full of grime, ticks, grass and debris. His big blue eyes stare intently at the person’s face.

“Look, it’s not my fault that this menace just laid on the road most of the time, ok? I had to drag him around like a rag doll,” Wilbur huffs annoyed, grumbling incoherent things under his breath.

Techno looks at Theseus’ face, being reciprocated.

“Theseus, did you?”

A few seconds pass, then, the cat presses a paw on his cheek. The pink haired smiles fondly, his twin still grumbling.

“He says he didn’t. You’re slandering poor Theseus.”

“No, you’re not actually- Technoblade, you massive bitch, the cat can’t even speak-”

“He can, he just did, Wilbur. He said:” Techno coughs softly, high pitching his voice: “Technoblade, he’s lying. I would never ever do that, because I’m a good and pretty boy. Wilbur is a bitch-”

“I hate you so much, so, so much- He’s manipulating you, it’s his evil plan. He has you wrapped around his little paw-”

“Nah, he would never. We would CGGG: conquer, gaslight, girlboss and gatekeep the world together-”

“You actually did say that unironically, Technoblade- I can’t believe you. I will have to put you down, I’m so sorry-” 

“I want to see you try, Will-I-Am. What are you gonna do? Diss track me?-”

“I’ll beat you in the Wilbur way, you’ll see. One day you’re going to wake up and all your socks are going to be soggy, wet and disgusting-”

“Heh, like you: soggy, wet and disgusting-”

“Shut the fuck up-”

Internally, Tommy smiles.

He knew the day wasn’t going to be a good one the moment his eyes opened in the morning. 

Tommy woke up when the alarm played at 5 AM, as usual. Technoblade didn’t sleep. He spent the night writing an essay. Apparently, he didn’t notice the time until the alarm screamed for him to “wake up”.

The human grumbled under his breath, dark and profound circles beneath his eyes, chapped lips from long hours without drinking water and a really, really tired countenance. Like, really tired. Almost looking like a zombie. He complains softly about his hands as he moves around.

Routine stays the same: shower, arrange things for college and work, make breakfast, eat, then college. The breakfast was more simple than normal: just scrambled eggs with some toast. Constantly, Techno is groaning about his hands. Observing, he can see them trembling and sometimes dropping things. However, the person doesn’t acknowledge it, continuing to cook. Tommy’s own breakfast is served as well: some homemade cat food - which is good as fuck. He doesn’t have any idea if his human food tastes as good, but God, Technoblade is an example in the kitchen. When the human sat by the table, eating more sluggishly and messily than normal, Wilbur entered the room, looking tired too.

“Good mornin’,” proffered, flopping down the chair. Techno grumbles a “good morning” back. 

Tommy finished eating and, with sleepy steps, he walks to Techno’s foot and lays on top of them - it’s not really comfortable, but at least he’ll know when he’s leaving, so he gets to say goodbye. 

It’s silent, peaceful. The sun hasn’t risen yet, darkness surrounding the house. Outside is cold and there's a slight fog covering up the neighborhood. His stomach is full after eating like a mad man, completely satisfied. 

“Did you sleep?” Wilbur finally asked, eating slowly. Now, he looks more awake, probably from analyzing his brother and noticing that, wait, he seems way more tired than usual, what the hell happened? 

The twin stays a few seconds in silence, probably mulling his answer in his head. It’ll not help at all if he says that yes, he did; however, it’s going to be way worse if he says that, no, he didn’t. 

He sticks with silence, humming an indifferent noise. That wasn’t the right answer, by the look the other sends, exasperated. 

“Techno, that’s- that’s not good to you. You’ll just come back home and sleep at, like, 1 AM?” there’s frustration dripping from his voice, eating furiously his eggs. The one in question maintains silent. A frustrated sigh. 

Now, the silence is uncomfortable. It’s palpable how frustrated Wilbur is with his brother and, Techno, not knowing how to deal with feelings, pretends he’s oblivious to it. The cutlery against the plates seems louder than it should. 

“You’re destroying yourself,” the taller one finally said after a long period of discomfort. Techno stops, looking up, eyebrows slightly scrunched. 

“What do you mean?”

“This routine, Techno, you- You don’t even have time to eat properly. You’re so focused on college and work all the time. We always had to remind you-”

“You don’t need to, I can set an alarm for that, if you want-”

Will sighed loudly, throwing himself a little backwards, passing a hand through his face, clear distress. Techno automatically stops, confusion clear on his features. 

“It’s not that, Tech- it’s the fact you don’t have the time. It’s not that you forget, because we know that even if we remember you, sometimes you don’t eat,” as he was talking, the man gesticulated with his hands anxiously. Tommy notices that this probably feeds Techno’s anxiety, because his leg starts bouncing incessantly.  

“Wilbur, I eat, don’t exaggerate-”

“You do not, Technoblade. Don’t try making me believe it because we both know that will not work.”

Silence stretches again. 

It’s suffocating. It’s possible to feel both of them frustrated in their own ways: Wilbur constantly fixes his hair, bouncing his leg or fidgeting with his PJs. Techno’s abnormally neutral expression, while his leg also bounces constantly. 

Unnerving, is the word for this moment. 

Tommy whimpers lowly, rubbing himself against the pink haired leg and, after, his twin’s - at least he receives scratches behind his ears from both.

“What do you want me to say, Willbur?”

The mentioned one groaned, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes in frustration.

“Techno, please, don’t you see how this isn’t healthy?” Wilbur looks up, coming across Technoblade trying desperately to avoid eye contact. A sigh again. “Maybe it was in the first days, when you weren’t so busy with everything and could actually eat like a normal person. But now? You don’t even have time to sit on the couch for 2 minutes!” Wilbur sounds in pain when he speaks, searching for his twin’s eye contact, just to be denied. 

Tommy can feel how uncomfortable both of them are, mostly Technoblade. The latter looks like on the verge of a breakdown just from mentioning this: seeing him in so much distress makes the catshifter's heart hurt. 

“You’re exaggerating-”

“I. Am. Not,” he slapped the table, getting up. The other two winced. “It’s been three weeks since I started staying here, and not even once we actually sat and talked. Just talked. Not on breakfast, not on dinner- just- stayed there because you weren’t obliged to.”

Finally, Technoblade stared at his brother’s eyes, the slight signal of pain and guilt being able to see through in his eyes. 

“Wilbur, no- please, don’t say like I hang out with you as obligation-”

“What do you want me to do, Techno?! Because it seems like it!” his voice wavered. Techno’s legs start to bounce more, hands fidgeting  constantly, lips worrying between his teeth. “Fuck, I feel so egoistic and guilty but- it’s literally so clear, Technoblade. What was the last time you actually left the house to do something that wasn’t work, tutor or go to college?”

Silence.

Wilbur’s eyes glisten, seeming to cry at any moment. His thumb finds his mouth, starting to chew. 

“You see, don’t you?” he says softly. Looking at the twin again, he notices how much he’s trying to make himself unnoticeable. Like he wants to hide in the corner of the room and never go out. “We just talk through the day because you need to eat, other than that, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t even bat an eye at me-”

“Wilbur, no, please- I’m sorry. I swear it’s not like this. You’re so important to me, but you have to understand that I fought and I’m still fighting so hard for this-”

“I know, I know- I’m not saying that it isn’t, Techno,” his voice softened again. He walks up to Techno, putting his hands on his shoulders - the other doesn’t look up. “But you’re not being able to do it in a healthy way. You’re putting these things as more important than your basic needs. It’s okay to care about it, but in a healthy way-”

“Stop- Stop trying to ruin my life, Wilbur!” Technoblade snapped, voice thick with emotion. His eyebrows are scrunched up and it’s possible to see little tears gathering at the borders, sniffing loudly. “I’m perfectly fine, it’s just your anxiety seeing things-”

Wilbur sighed loudly, starting to get impatient.

“For the last time, Technoblade, we both know it’s not. Why are you trying so hard to prove me to the contrary? Is it because of the incident?” upon hearing it, Technoblade freezes. Wilbur notices it, a dry and humorless laugh leaving the taller one’s lips. 

Uh oh.

“I knew it- stop treating me as if I was made of glass, Techno! I’m better, you don’t have to treat me like a little kid and protect me. It’s been years-”

Technoblade pushed his brother slightly to the side to get out of the chair, hugging himself. Then, he started gathering his things nervously, getting ready to go out. Desperate to leave, to never talk or think about this ever again. 

“I need to go-”

“No, you’re not leaving, Technoblade- we’re sitting down and talking about this like two adults.”

The pink haired groaned, tapping his feet incessantly on the floor, stopping slightly just to see what his twin had to say.

“We’re not kids or teenagers anymore. I never had thoughts about it and I have a therapist. You know you can talk to me. If not me, maybe dad, or let me contact Shelby again-”

“I don’t need therapy, I’m fine-” he goes back to getting himself ready again. 

It’s clear that, little by little, Technoblade is getting more worked up, nearing the damn breakdown that Tommy fears the most. His hands flap and twitch by his sides even more, a perturbed expression and eyes shining from probably unshed tears. 

He meows softly, trying to calm him down - it works for a little, by the glance he’s sent. Wilbur seems in such an anxious frenzy that he probably didn’t notice the other’s state. Both are not good right now to have this talk and, unfortunately, Tommy can’t do anything to stop.

“Then please just let me know how to help you,” the tallest one gathers his hands around the other’s face, making him look at his eyes. “Please, talk to me. I’m so worried about you,” Wilbur’s voice wavers, embargoed with the need to cry. Techno averts his eyes, pressing his lips in a thin line with force. 

He walks away, scrunching his eyes shut, little tears escaping at the corners. Again, he tries leaving the house, Will sighing softly. Silence surrounds them for a bit.

“Techno, please-”

“Stop- Stop trying to ruin my life because you ruined yours, Willbur!” 

The silence is deafening, Tommy wincing automatically. Sheesh, low blow, Techno. 

It’s like Technoblade gave himself a slap: his eyes are fixated on the ground, small tears that were gathered for too long, finally, encountering the floor. 

And Wilbur gives a profound sigh, probably trying to calm himself, even if his hands are shaking by his sides. He closes his eyes, counting to ten mentally, then opening them, pushing away the tears. He looks wrecked.

“You don’t mean that,” he whispered brokenly, hopeful.

The pink haired doesn’t answer. Guilt flashes his eyes, averting with all his strength the contact as he moves to the door with rapid steps. Tommy meows, following.

“Techno-” he murmurs softly, trying again, just to be interrupted by the door closing with a loud thud. Silence stretches for what seems hours - however, it’s probably a couple of minutes. Wilbur stays there, paralyzed, staring at the door. Hands still shake by his sides. Distressed with the other’s state, Tommy meows softly, getting closer and rubbing himself against his shin.

Like in a daze, Wilbur ignores and goes to one of the kitchen table’s chairs, throwing himself to it.

Then, he breaks. 

He breaks hard.

The cry is painful, murmuring to himself ‘I knew it- I shouldn’t have said anything-’ like a mantra. It looks like every sob that escapes hurts his throat, shaking his body completely. He trembles and, desperately, trying to find some comfort, he props his arms on his legs and hides his face. 

Tommy's heart breaks as well, feeling impotent to do anything. He can’t say anything. Maybe try to reassure him that no, you know Techno doesn’t actually think that. He’s so proud of you. Yet, again, he can’t. So, he obliges Wilbur to stop hiding his face with his palms just so he can climb on his lap. With shaking hands, he feels his fur being petted hesitantly. 

Every time Wilbur took a big breath, he made sure to rub himself against the man’s stomach and meow loudly, gaining even more pets. Every time a strong sob cuts his throat, he licks his face, cleaning the tears and purring.

If he can’t say anything, then he tries his best to be there. To show these people how much they are loved.

He doesn’t know how long both stay there. The food was already cold by the time Wilbur scooped him up and stood. He’s put on his shoulder, something common that they do, and he starts to store the leftovers and clean the dishes. Sniffles can be heard constantly.

The house stays quiet for the rest of the day - something so uncommon when Will is around. When Wilbur finishes cleaning, pacing around anxiously, he goes to bed. Tommy, for the first time, goes without complaining. 

Normally, the human would go back to sleep and just wake up at 1 PM. Tommy knows today is not the same by the few sniffles and harsh intakes of breath he periodically hears. He does his best to sometimes lick the man’s face, purr loudly and just stay there.

“It’s okay,” Wilbur whispers, kissing his forehead. He doesn’t know if he’s trying to comfort Tommy or himself, but he appreciates the few kisses and effort.

“I’m home,” Techno proclaims as always, more softly than ordinary. The telly serves as white noise, but, other than that, he’s answered with silence. It’s not really surprising. Putting down his things, he heads to the living room. Wilbur is sprawled on the couch, rolled by a fluffy blanket, eyes fixated on the electronic. Theseus lays on top of him, unbothered. It’s playing Brooklyn 99 - it’s his comfort series.

It’s easy to remember: every time Wilbur was in a bad mood, they would normally find him in the living room, watching Brooklyn 99, even if he knew all the lines by heart and instinct. They would sit together to laugh from jokes they already heard before, let their emotions unwrap and bask in each other’s companies. 

(At the same time it gives him a warm feeling of saudade¹, it also breaks his heart a little, knowing that he’s the cause of this).

On top of the table, there are plates with sushi leftovers scattered around. A brief sigh of relief leaves his nostrils. Good, at least he ate.

Since he’s not in the mood to exercise, he goes directly to the kitchen to cook dinner. He cooks two portions just in case, maybe if Wilbur senses the smell of food and gets up to eat with him.

Techno just noticed he made pancakes by the time he’s putting them on the table. 

It’s Wilbur’s favorite food. 

A shaky sigh leaves his mouth, dividing them in two plates, putting one more cup and cutlery on the table. He didn’t notice how empty and off-putting it felt eating alone. It’s been years since he does that: eating alone, living solely by himself. Now, his house is loud every minute of the day. If it’s not by guitar’s strings being played, then it’s by loud and obnoxious meows. If not by someone jumping around, then it’s by some pop song playing and laughter.

He starts to dread Wilbur’s leaving. Dreading to leave behind this routine that he didn’t think how much he loved - and missed, deep down.

When he finishes, he puts his twin’s part in the fridge, puts the unused cup and cutlery back to their places. It’s still empty, silent. It’s unnerving and he hates it. As he walks to his bedroom, he stops in the hallway, eyeing his brother. 

Wilbur didn’t move. In this angle, he can see his face more clearly. There are tear tracks, nose seems a little irritated and cheeks slightly swollen, probably from crying. It’s been so long since he saw him like that. He has to gulp down a lump in his throat. 

He shifts his weight between his feet, wanting to say something, before sticking with: 

“There’s pancakes in the fridge if… you want it.”

Silence.

He waits a few more, watching Jake Peralta crack some jokes at Captain Holt. Watches Theseus stretch a little, before turning around and laying with his belly up. Watches Will stay the same, like he’s dead.

Silent treatment is harsh coming from Wilbur - he’s a talkative man, he soaks human interaction and seeks for constant praises. Receiving silence from Wilbur it’s worse than actively knowing he hates you. Techno doesn’t complain, just walking to his room, leaving the door with a crack open - hoping that at some point he’ll enter.

So, working it is. 

Technoblade sits on his chair, opening up the laptop and starting his essay. Time goes quickly, not noticing it, the concentration so high that the sounds outside start to blend in. The only sign the time is moving it’s the loud and happy intro from the series every time a new 20 minutes episode starts. 

He never knew Jake Peralta’s voice could be so soothing - he understands a little the feeling of watching the series when you’re feeling down. 

Suddenly, he hears the hinges of the door complaining softly, a sign that it’s opening. He instantly glances at it, hoping it’s Wilbur, maybe coming to talk or- or just stay here and hang out- anything-

It’s Theseus. He meows, announcing his arrival, like Technoblade wasn’t looking at him. What an egocentric little boy.

“Hey, little guy,” he made a hand gesture to the cat to come closer; it works and, soon, he’s scratching behind the feline’s ear. He pats his lap, hoping the little guy is going to hop on. He ignores, starting to lick his paw, making a “ mrrp” sound.

Okay, then.

He goes back to work. 

It’s peaceful, silent. It’s something common and that he always loved - but right now, for some reason, it’s so unnerving not hearing Wilbur’s laugh as he plays with Theseus or sees a funny TikTok. Silence it’s the way he works through things, the way he can focus and live without killing someone from stress. 

Silence is good - and suddenly, it isn’t anymore.

Something interrupts him by tugging the hem of his trousers.

Looking down, Theseus it’s biting, tugging. He stares with a deadpan expression.

“What is it? You’re going to screw up my pants,” he, softly, pushes the cat away. Theseus looks at him with big, blue and innocent eyes, still. Technoblade sighs, going back to work.

Almost instantly, the tugging on his trousers came back.

“What do you want, Theseus? I’m not in the mood,” the menace growls, slapping his shin. He rolls his eyes. “Do you want to eat?” he just stays there, staring, blinking. 

The pink haired sighs, then gets up. It’s not the time yet, but it doesn’t hurt giving him a little treat just to let him work. 

Leaving the room, the cat follows quickly in his step. It’s still dark, the telly illuminating the room softly. When he passes through the living room, though, the cat starts to tug the hem of his pants hard, almost making him stumble backwards and kill the goddamn cat. 

He glares at the cat, receiving the same treatment.

“What?” he whispers, frowning. 

The cat looks at the couch, specifically at Wilbur, who doesn’t look at them. Then, he makes a gesture with his paw and, after, looking back at Techno, who makes a confused face. 

If Theseus could, he would probably facepalm right now. 

Again, he does the same thing. Techno mouths “Wilbur” questioningly. Theseus seems to nod.

Oh no. The cat wants him to process his feelings and be healthy about it.

He starts to walk to the kitchen, run away from this damned fate, just to Theseus jump on his thigh and, God, his nails- Fuuuck-

Long story short: he gave in and, awkwardly, went to sit by the other couch. Finally, Wilbur shows a sign that he knows Technoblade is in the room, because he glances at him, surprised, before noticing what he’s doing and going back to watch the telly. 

For a few minutes, they just stay like that: silently watching Brooklyn 99. Apparently it’s one of the Halloween ones, by the way Jake’s planning around to rob something from Captain Holt. Yet, it’s uncomfortable as hell. Wilbur refuses to look at him again and, Techno, who's emotionally constipated, stays unnervingly neutral.

Tommy, who went back to lay on top of Wilbur, huffs a breath. These two idiots.

Technoblade looks at Theseus who seems to sense it and opens one of his eyes. Then, he sends a little nod, like he’s saying “go for it, king”.

He inhales a shaky breath.

“I-I’m sorry. You were just trying to help and I was a dickhead,” he says softly. Not the best, but a start.

A few minutes pass. Jake is now entering Captain Holt’s office by the ceiling.  

“I know that I pushed too far, I’m sorry too,” his voice is so small, God, Techno feels like they are kids again after Wilbur scraped his knee trying to climb a tree. “And I know you’re scared, I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little too- and that you’re afraid to receive help. But- it doesn’t justify saying things like that just to make me go away.”

He looks at his lap, ashamed. 

“I know.”

“I know you’re hurting, but it doesn’t mean it’s right to hurt me,” Wilbur emphasizes, voice a little bit wobbly at the end. Soon, Technoblade starts to worry his lip between his teeth. “I’m sorry to break it to you, but- even if you try to hurt my feelings a lot, I’m not leaving you alone. We’re literally twins,” that actually makes his eyes glisten a bit, heart panging inside his chest.

There’s silence again: and it’s still uncomfortable. Mostly because of Technoblade’s guilt irradiating every atom of the room. Knowing that his brother thinks that he’s still worthy of being his twin, hurts. Hurts that he still holds him so high, even if Techno doesn’t deserve it - he feels like he doesn’t. God, he wants to sob and, at the same time, hug his brother and apologize profusely for being obliged to have him as family. 

Wilbur shifts a little beneath his blanket cocoon, staring at his sibling.

“Do you really think that?-”

“God, Wilbur, no-” he instantly said, holding himself to not run at him and hug, hug forever and protect him from the whole world and himself. “I think- I think it’s just as you said: I was… scared,” he squeezes his hands together in apprehension. “I just wanted you to leave me alone. Maybe see that I’m not…” he sighs, fidgeting with his fingers.

“You’re not…?”

“I’m not- I’m not worth it,” it’s almost automatic: Wilbur sits up, faintly hearing Theseus complain before he’s laying on Wilbur’s lap. He averts eye contact - he always breaks when Wilbur looks at him like that.

“Techno…”

“I’m sorry, I’m making about me- it doesn’t matter how I felt or- or my intentions, it doesn’t justify what I did to you, and I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate that,” Will smiles softly, a tint of sadness on it. “I really appreciate that- But, it’s not a problem making it about you for a little. It’s been about me for a long time, you also need time to feel.” 

A breath he didn’t know he was holding it’s released, feeling like he just sneezed after a long time without being able to. He sighs slightly, pushing away all the tears that may want to go to his eyes, gulping down the lump on his throat.

Man, he feels so fucking guilty, at the same time relieved. It’s every time he’s on the spot when talking about feelings: he feels guilty acknowledging, feels selfish . How could he, be a human feeling, and not give people space to feel? Always stealing the spotlight, attention starved-

(And he hates that just himself makes him believe that. Because no one, no one, ever said something like this to him. His dad always made sure to talk with him, to listen and say how important he is. Wilbur always made sure that, even if he’s having the worst day of his life, he asks how he is doing, offering an ear to listen.

It’s unfair.)

Wilbur stands up, walking at him, then, sitting by his side. His expression is conturbed, like there’s too many thoughts inside his head to process. He puts a hand on his back, the weight being heavier than it should.

“Look, I forgive you, even though it hurts a little thinking that you would say something like that at me,” he admits softly, averting eye contact too. “It’s going to take a while, but I always knew you didn’t mean it,” a little relieved breath leaves again and Will shoots him a reassuring smile. “You’re worth it, Tech. You’re no burden- I think I know how you feel. God, I was- so scared back then, y’know? I thought that maybe-”

He gulps loudly.

“That maybe me not existing was easier for you and dad,” his breath hitches. Techno looks at him, hurt clear as day in his eyes. Awkwardly, because of the angle, he gets the hand that’s behind, intertwining their fingers. “It’s harsh to think you’re more wanted dead than not,” Wilbur glances at him, eyes glistening. “After everything happened, recovering was so hard, man. This feeling got so worse, all because- because you were worrying all the time.”

A sigh and, hesitantly, he lays his head on the pink haired shoulder. He lets it, squeezing their hands. 

“I thought you shouldn’t focus on me, that I was a waste of time, I don’t know-” the man sighs heavily, body trembling. “And it was scary,” he admits softly, wobbly, lip quivering a little. “It was very scary. I thought everything would stay the same, no matter my efforts. Trust me I- I know how scary getting help and going out of your comfort zone is. For me, I was so used to thinking like that- that I didn’t realize it wasn’t normal. And it was the worst thing: getting out of this habit, accepting I’m not all of those things. That you love me, no matter what,” again, he makes eye contact, and Techno retributes, eyes a little glistened too. 

Little tears, finally, leave the tallest one's eyes - always the emotional one (he loves him so much for it).

“It’s hard, innit?”

Even if he tries telling himself that he doesn’t need help, he nods - just this time he will relent, just to make him happy. 

“It doesn’t matter how scared you may be, I’ll be there with you like you were with me. Even if you think I ruined my life-”

“Wilbur-”

“Sorry, too soon?” he nodded softly with furrowed eyebrows. “But- you don’t really think that, do you?-”

“No, Wilbur,” he said with certainty, no waver in his voice nor hesitancy. He will say it a hundred times if necessary. “I wish I was more like you, Will. You never ruined your life just because you stopped doing something it hurt- I’m proud of it. I’ll always be proud of you.”

Silence, then, a soft chuckle can be heard. Technoblade hums questioningly. 

“It’s just- I thought about that too: that I wanted to be like you,” a soft smile it’s on his face. “I always looked up to you,” no matter how hard he fought, redness came to his cheeks and ears. Wilbur seems to sense it, because he looks up and instantly coos. “Aw, is little Techie embarrassed?-”

“Shut up-” he pushes him softly, earning a laugh from Will. He also smiles a little. 

Cautiously, Wilbur bonks their foreheads together, both wincing a little from the slight pain, even though it’s almost a ritual at this point. He should be expecting, too: every time they fought or were simply sad, they would bonk foreheads - a few times it would bleed, mostly because Wilbur’s a massive thick head (and dickhead). 

“Can you maybe try to fit in Wilbur’s hours in your routine?” it’s asked softly, with slight hesitancy in his voice. Techno grins.

“You know that, if you want to, every hour is Wilbur’s hours-”

“I know, stupid- just… a time where we actually just hang out? When you’re not working or studying or whatever the fuck you do-” it startles a chuckle from Technoblade, infecting a smile to Wilbur. “Just the two of us against the world.”

“Sure.” 

“Good,” he hums under his breath, their foreheads still pressed together. They stay for a little more like this, in silence, before Will breaks the silence: “Can we go back to watching Brooklyn 99? I want to know if Jake’s heist worked-”

Techno cackles loudly, moving away just to punch lightly the other’s arms - he still complains, though. 

“You literally watched this series at least 8 times-”

“Shut up, didn’t ask, your mom, plus ratio, plus L-”

After that, they poked each other constantly, irritating, cracking jokes, while sharing a blanket and having legs draped over each other. Like they would do when they were kids.

Tommy smiles on his fake-sleep.

The next day, when Techno made coffee for Wilbur’s hours, two mugs in his hands, Tommy was on the back of the couch, waiting for the perfect moment.

It’s like Techno sensed it because, the instant he meowed, he stopped.

“Theseus, don’t you dare-” the cat smiles, menacingly “I know I’m stronger than average-” he starts to search desperately for the nearest place where he can put both of the steaming mugs down. “-and Will says I’m a big softie on the heart, even with my scary looks, but I’m no lieutenant Terry, don’t you dare. I’ll let you fall-”

Tommy jumps in his direction.

Automatically, Techno drops down the two mugs and catches the cat, the sound of shattering filling their ears. 

“Theseus!”

Wilbur cackles like a mad man on the couch, while Tommy seems to smile widely at Technoblade.

(He can’t believe how much his heart softened for a cat.)

“Techno?” he knocked softly on the door, before opening it.

He comes across with the orange ball sleeping on top of the bed, curled on himself, while his twin sits in front of his laptop, writing with a splint in the wrist. His eyes don’t leave the screen. 

“Hm?”

“Are you going to sleep?” 

“Uh-” finally, he stares at Wilbur, eyeing the clock - it’s already midnight. The man wears his PJs, a loose sweater and sweatpants, with fluffy and unmatching socks on his feet. His glasses are on top of his head, brow furrowed and a tired expression. “Yeah- soon.”

“Ok.”

He lingers on the doorway, shifting his weight on his feet. Techno knows he just does that when he wants to say something - he’s fairly sure that he does the same. Finally, he sighs and puts on a smile that doesn’t really reach his eyes.

“Goodnight, then,” he closes the door before hearing the faint “goodnight” coming from his twin.

Technoblade goes back to work. 

He hears a knock again after, what it seems, ten minutes. He hums faintly, a confirmation to let the other enter.

“Techno?” his voice is more tired than before. He doesn’t look at him, he really needs to finish this essay for today.

“Yeah, Will?"

“Are- Are you not going to sleep? I can hear you typing.”

“Yeah, soon, just- give me more twenty minutes-”

“Technoblade, it’s- it’s 4 AM, for fuck’s sake,” he exasperated, sounding almost in pain. 

When he looks at the clock again, it’s just like his brother said: 4 AM. 

Then, it hit him: the ten minutes were 4 hours.  

4 hours of mindlessly typing, probably annoying his poor brother. Of being hunched up in front of his laptop, of simply- existing. Of losing his sleep in sake of his grades, of ignoring everything just to get this shit done - ignoring how much his stomach complaints after hours and hours without eating.

With wide eyes, Technoblade stares at his brother. God- he looks exhausted. There’s little dark circles beneath his eyes, a furrow on his brows and his lips tugged in what seems a sad expression. He doesn’t even wanna bet how difficult it must be sleeping with the typing noise.

He stares at his hands, seeing how they shake a little from effort and starvation, how he feels light headed and at the same time throbbing like hell. 

His lips quiver - he says to himself it’s from exhaustion, not from wanting to cry. He shuts down his laptop and closes it, the silence impregnating every single atom of the room. When he sits down on his bed, heart thudding on his chest, breath being way more louder than it should- he breaks. 

He breaks hard. His sobs shake his whole body, hurting his throat, feeling like he’s throwing up the sobs rather than crying them out. Tears fall incessantly, fat, and the human doesn’t bother to try wiping it away, simply squeezing his hands together. 

The sentiment it’s so strong it leaves him breathless. Of guilt, exhaustion and grief. Guilt for every moment he ignored the ones he loved for work; exhaustion for every hour he had to skip basic needs just because of an essay, of every hour not sleeping; and grief for the life he seems to be throwing away in the trash. Grief for all the moments he could have lived if he just- didn’t drown himself in work.

Grief of the person he once was.

Then, warm and loving arms pull him to a shoulder to cry on. Desperately, Techno holds on to dear life the cloth beneath his fingers. He can feel his tears and snot wetting up the clothes rapidly, being disgusted by it in the back of his head. God, he feels so embarrassed for crying like a little kid in his brother's arms - he promised long ago he would be strong to both of them. However, it’s so good. It’s been so long since he felt someone hug him so dearly, to cradle his head and pass fingers through his hair-

He misses his dad so much. He missed his touch, he missed simply seeing him. 

“I am, so, so sorry, Will-” every word he spoke a sob came too, racking him completely. “I’m so sorry-”

Wilbur soon shushes him, the arms around him squeezing his body. God, he doesn’t deserve this. This love, the care, the fondness- after making everyone go away with how obsessed he was- He shouldn’t be loved. His brother shouldn’t be happy to see him. To take care and put his arms around his body when he’s stressed. His father shouldn’t bother to text him every day, just to make sure he ate, having the chance that he will not even see his message. It’s not fair, it’s not fair. 

It’s not fair when Wilbur murmurs how much he loves him, that it’s okay, big bro is here now, it’s not fair. It’s not fair when he’s almost on his lap, wheezing sobs, wetting his sleep shirt completely, and he just lets him - he should be the one comforting, how selfish of him-

It’s not fair when little Theseus bumps his head against his arm and lays on his lap. It’s not fair when, every day, the cat sleeps on his foot just to know when he’s leaving, so he can say goodbye. It’s not fair that this cat chooses him, out of everyone, when he’s such a terrible person.

It’s simply not fair.

And it’s not fair that, after what it seems an hour of being cradled like he’s the most precious thing the world, just to say:

“I want to drop out.”

He doesn’t deserve this.

Doesn’t deserve the love and effort they bring themselves just for him. Doesn’t deserve the hour Wilbur gave him just to hug and say how much he’s loved, that it’s okay and they’ll figure it out. 

He’s such a selfish person. He doesn’t deserve any happiness when Wilbur and Phil are there, needing way more.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not something you and Phil were expecting to, it’s totally okay to be mad and disappointed about it, believe me, I’m too-”

“Techno- Techno, no,” his tone it’s in so much pain that he instantly shuts up, wanting to stop making the other hurt. He feels his brother’s calloused hands cradling his face, making him look at his eyes. It’s possible to see tear tracks and, Jesus, he hates seeing him suffer. All Technoblade wants it’s to hug him and protect, protect and protect . “Gosh, I-I don’t care if you drop out or not, Techno. I just want you here, alive, well and healthy.”

Techno closes his eyes with force, not handling the amount of love it’s being directed at him. He lets out a shaky sob when his brother’s thumb caresses his cheek softly. 

“It hurts me so much to see you in pain, you don’t know how much I was- I’m worried about you. If college it’s what makes you sad and stressed, it’s the least thing I’ll care about, then. Because it’s you that matters,” he emphasizes it by squeezing his cheek a little. “My twin is not a goddamn major or grades, Tech. It’s you, it’s Technoblade, my twin, my favorite nerd in the world.” 

A small smile tugs his face, hearing a wet laugh from the other.

“It’s this- fucking nerd who loves mythology. Who plays Minecraft and actually listens to dad when he starts to ramble about Gordon Ramsay's grilled cheese, or when I’m hating on anteaters,” both of his hands start to caress his cheeks and, hesitantly, Technoblade opens his eyes. He’s automatically overwhelmed by all the love Wilbur’s expression emanates. All the care he has on his eyes, directed at him solely. He wants to close his eyes again, to say, no, it’s not for you, you don’t deserve it- but it’s so good. So good to be cared for. “It’s you, and everything that defines you . And, God, it doesn't matter what the hell you do, we’ll always be proud of you.”

He feels tears gathering up on his eyes again, lips trembling and shoulders slightly shaking, too. Technoblade doesn’t need to worry, though: because his brother is there to hug him tightly. His face is met with Wilbur’s neck, now fully on the man's lap, shrinking on himself and on his arms. It’s so safe, warm, everything he asked for during these years. He should be embarrassed to be literally on his brother’s lap; yet, it’s so comfortable. He feels protected and that, maybe, things are going to be actually alright.

It’s so good that, soon, sobs leave his body again. 

“Mark my words because I’m never saying them again: I’m so lucky to be your twin, Techno. Me and dad are so lucky to have you. I’m so lucky for you helping me discover how we could conquer the world when we were young. Dad’s so lucky for you taking care of the garden when he’s so shit doing it,” that rips off a laugh from him, it’s possible to sense Wilbur smiling too just because of his voice. “I love you, please, never forget that. I know we bicker a lot but- I love you so much, man.”

And it’s everything he ever asked for.

Maybe he doesn’t feel alright right now. Even if he’s in his brother's arms, Theseus sleeping on his lap and tomorrow just by the corner, he breathes. For the first time, he breathes without feeling constricted with the weight of responsibilities, of the peer pressure of himself. 

A free breath leaves after feeling so selfish, too afraid to reach out, to ask. 

But, it’s not the end of the world. He has people by his side - if not people, cats -, and he’s not alone on this journey. 

One more big breath comes out of his mouth, relieved.

Tomorrow is a new day.

The next day is marked as the start of the fourth week. 

When Technoblade wakes up at 5 AM, he simply stops his alarm, turns around, and goes back to sleep. By noon, Theseus starts slapping him in the face. There's a faint smell of pancakes coming outside his bedroom. 

Grumbling, instead of getting up, he starts to cuddle with the menace, procrastinating the leaving of his warm and comfortable bed to live a new day. Theseus is easily distracted by it, because instantly, he’s melting on his arms, laying his full weight on his chest.

He already dozed off when Wilbur practically kicked the door open, the cat flying away from his grasp of how high he jumps - he almost jumped with him too. 

“What the fuck, Wilbur!-”

“C’mon, bitch, wake up,” he opens the curtains, the sun blinding his eyes. Soon, the warmth is gone too: his blanket was ripped out of him. He just starts to complain seriously when Will goes to scoop up the poor cat. “Theseus, you traitor, I said to you to go wake him up-”

“Let us sleep, Wilbur,” grumbling, he tries to kick his twin blindly, while turning around with the cat. It’s possible to hear the animal making a sound, like he’s sputtering in indignation. 

“Nope, today is a beautiful day. Yesterday was a sleepy day, today is Wilbur’s day, c’mon-” he gets his hand and starts to pull, obliging him to sit.

“Nooo, I don’t want to-”

“I don’t care, it’s better you leave the bed before I call dad.”

Technoblade groans loudly.

“I hate you so much. I swear to God I’ll put so much syrup in your pancakes that it’s going to be a fucking soup, Wilbur Soot. Mark my words-”

“I wish to see you try, cunt. I’ll make sure to hide at least one pair of your socks so you have to use two different ones-”

“I will literally kill your axolotl-”

“In a video game-”

“In a video game, IRL I’ll kill you-”

“I’m too powerful, Technoblade. God doesn’t have the boldness to kill me-”

“Thank God I’m not him-”

“Yeah, because you were gonna be a lame ass God-”

“I would be the best God, Will-I-Am. I would be the Blood God and I would make sure to kill your entire family of axolotls in our Minecraft world-”

“Don’t you dare-”

“Oh, I will. And after I’ll sell you for a Starbucks coupon that doesn’t even work-”

“You don’t even drink coffee-”

“Theseus, my beloved, might want it, Will-I-Am. Thought about that?-”

“I can’t believe you actually have fallen so far for this cat, Techno-”

“Shut up-”

“‘I’ll never stay with it, Will. I don’t have time, Wilbur. I’m Technoblade and I’m a clingy soft bitch-’”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up-”

“Techiesoft, awww. Is little brother Techie wanting a hug? Do little Techie want kisses?-”

“I’ll sell you both, I swear, I swear, Wilbur-”

As insults are constantly thrown at each other, Tommy sleeps peacefully between them. 

The first time he shifts after months of not being able to, Technoblade is in the middle of dropping out of college while, too, enjoying a week of vacation from work. Wilbur decided they should leave and go to the mall to enjoy themselves.

It didn’t matter how much Techno complained or groaned about it, his twin ignored all of it and, by 2 PM, the house was quiet with a promise that they would be back at 6 PM. 

Being alone now is strange for him. Wilbur, if he’s leaving, always leaves with him, being on a leash, in his arms or in a cage - that he hates a lot. Doesn’t matter the cause, even if it’s groceries being bought from the market around the corner, Wilbur always brought him together.

And it’s funny how most of the things that were normal for him aren't anymore. Hunting for his food, finding a warm place to sleep, being alone and depraved from any contact: at that point, it was common sense to him, something he would always “cherish”. Now? He may be alone in the room, but never inside this house. Or Wilbur is home pestering him, or is Techno, the clingy bitch, chasing him for cuddles while he works.

It’s funnier because he misses it. He misses the company, the light kisses he receives and how Technoblade looks dumb when he high pitches his voice to talk to him. It’s been ten minutes and he’s already missing annoying the twins, just to, after, wrestle for his life - Wilbur, you bitch -, or receive a bunch of kisses - Techno, you prick (he doesn’t hate them, actually. But this bitch doesn’t kiss him normally in these moments: he almost sucks his face away. It’s disgusting).

At the same time he misses, he’s bored as hell. 

What triggers his shifting it’s the thought of eating one of Wilbur’s pancake leftovers. When he notices, his limbs are stretching abnormally, he’s growing and, slowly, his fur goes away, giving place to human skin. 

Tommy is, certainly, baffled. 

He looks at his hands, gaping and, the first thing he does, is scream. 

“Holy shit, holy shit-” he murmurs, voice hoarse and wide eyes full of glee. Excitedly, he starts wriggling around, jumping, clapping briefly, even flapping his hands a little. Holy shit! It’s him! His sweater is still there, his shorts too, his beloved spiderman’s socks are here and his, almost, ripped apart tennis too! Tommy beamed, squeaking in happiness. But- God, his clothes are smelly and looking like trash, holy shit- Man, he forgot how disgusting he’s looking in human form, holy shit, the smell, eugh-

Running at the nearest mirror he can find, he beamed when he comes face to face with himself. His hello kitty band-aid it’s still plastered on his cheek, his golden hair dull with the amount of dirt and clothes full of holes and dirt patches. Yet! It’s him! Complete, no parts missing - ignoring the blank space that his teeth greet with!

He smiles, nevertheless. Mostly because he’s not so scrawny, cheeks actually looking healthy for the first time and skin in a normal color than the sickening paleness he had before. 

After so long, he seems like a normal 13 and a half years old teenager! 

Tommy can’t contain it. He starts to flap his hands, jump around, kick his feet excitedly, shoes squeaking and complaining all of the time. Delighted laughter can be heard filling the house. 

Then, he stops.

How the fuck is he going to come back to the cat form?

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- 

Before he starts to panic, he’s going to take care of his human self, because if Technoblade and Wilbur actually discover him like this, at least he needs to look presentable . Give a good impression. 

So, there’s a slight problem - other than the fact he’s a secretive catshifter, a species that nobody knows, and his current caretakers don’t have any idea about it. 

There are no clothes that both of these 24 years old bitches have that will actually fit him. Look, he’s proud to say that he's a little bit taller than average, and he’s pretty sure that, when puberty actually hits fully, he’s going to be huge - but right now? His puberty, unfortunately, didn’t hit fully.  

He still looks like a 10 years old kid, but way more taller than he should.

The clothes that are going to fit closer in him are Techno’s: both of them are huge, however, Technoblade is a little bit shorter than Wilbur - like two or three inches (he’s still too tall for his liking). So, the person’s clothes are going to be. 

Like everything in his life: it didn’t work. 

It’s already 3 PM and the closest clothes he got it’s still ginormous. He almost throws a tantrum in the middle of the human’s room, frustrated with his life. Look, Techno’s shorts it’s almost fucking trousers for him, and shirts? Dresses! He doesn’t have any problem with dresses, really, they are beautiful and stuff, but it’s not his style!

I hate this, I hate this, I’m going to kill myself-

He goes to take a shower before he has a full breakdown. 

His hair is so bad he takes the brush to the shower and, slowly, dividing it in parts, he brushes it painstakingly - otherwise he’ll start crying, it hurts a lot, oh my God. It’s full of knots, leaves and he’s pretty sure that he felt gum stuck on it. It’s terrible, disgusting.

(If he sees a few lices falling off his hair, he ignores for the good of his sanity). 

After three times of shampoo and conditioner, he’s finished. It’s not the best: he’s not a hairstyler, duh, but! It’s cleaner than it was before! Maybe a little shorter too, since the gum was impossible to go through. The only thing that it’s bad it’s how itchy his hair is. One day he discovers how to go past that, though.

He puts on the giant's clothes and- ok, he complains a lot, but they are really comfortable. It’s big, warm and fluffy. Easy to curl up on yourself and have a nap - he doesn’t comment on the smell because it’s creepy! Yet, he’s still comforted by it. He put on, what it seems, a band shirt, and black shorts. He also robs socks, taking one with cherries. 

Even if his cheek is already healed, he makes sure to put the band-aid back - yes, he had to lick it and slap himself in the face so it sticks. 

Now, he can say with certainty that he looks like a normal teenager. He smiles at himself in the mirror, a little blank space greeting him back between his teeth. The scars, unfortunately, still lingers. However, the bruises that weren’t normally apparent on the cat form, but in the human form, were gone. For the first time, his skin is clean of everything: no more cuts, smudged dirt or debris. He’s a clean man.

It’s time to panic about his cat form. 

He glances at the clock: 5 PM. He has, what he prays to, an hour to figure it out. 

Firstly, he sighs profoundly, closes his eyes and starts to concentrate. The usual feeling of shifting travels through his limbs and, excited that finally he can control it, he squeaks, making him stop midway the shifting. 

Looking at himself in the mirror, he’s still human, but now orange cat-ears are poking out, whiskers on his cheek and a tail trailing behind him.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck! Even his nails are sharper! Opening his mouth, he’s greeted by sharp canines, making him gasp loudly.

Ok, Tommy doesn’t know if he’s excited by this or completely disgusted. Probably disgusted. No, yeah, he’s definitely disgusted. Looks like a thing that would come out from Tumblr.

It doesn’t matter what he thinks, because the door is opening and two voices are filtering in. He has to shift, NOW. 

“Fuck, fuck- shift, shift, shift-” he murmurs under his breath, hands shaking by his sides. There are footsteps getting closer to the bathroom door, faintly hearing someone calling one of his names. 

Someone touches the doorknob and calls him when he, finally, feels his limbs shrinking. At this point, he’s screaming internally, urging himself to fucking shift or he’s going to throw himself off the nearest cliff, PLEASE-

“Oh- Hi Theseus!”

He meows back.

Later that day, when they’re having Wilbur’s hours, sitting on the sofa and watching Sherlock Holmes, Techno gasps. 

“Oh my God, Wilbur, the cat has fleas,” he feels constant shuffling around his fur, mostly around the neck. Tommy doesn’t miss a chance to complain, being automatically shushed. Bitches. He tries leaving the human’s lap, just for Technoblade to catch him and put on his lap again. 

He groans again, feeling the psychopath actually catching and killing the things with his fingers. Disgusting. 

“No way-” stopping the series, the other comes closer. “Techno- that’s lices.”

“How the hell do you know the difference?” he stops midtrack, Wilbur searching too. 

“Because they aren’t even fast! Fleas are like, a mile per second, man,” he gets one between his fingers, squishing. Ugh, disgusting. “But why does a cat have lices?” 

It’s here, right now- I’m getting discovered. That’s it. They’ll finally figure it out. What should I do? Do I make a mad dash to the door? Or for the window? If window, I can fall if I’m not careful enough, but the door can be locked too-

“Probably got from the streets? I don’t know.”

“Probably, yeah.”

They move on.

(Tommy screams mentally, again).

After that day, he finally got in control of his shifting. 

Instead of shifting when he thinks of human foods or human hobbies, he shifts when he wants to - and when he’s scared.

(He’ll forever deny that he discovered this when, out of nowhere, a huge moth started to flap its wing at him. No, he didn’t have to put a hand on his mouth to stop the shriek. No, he’s a big man who isn’t scared by insects, okay?)

Tommy just shifts or in the middle of the night, or when he’s alone in the house. There had been a lot of close calls, of seconds before they opened the door he shifts back; or when, one time, he thought about sushi while he was laying on Techno’s bed. Man, this day was terrible. The amount of panic that he felt at that moment is indescribable. Even to this day he doesn’t know how Techno didn’t notice anything.

The problem is: he’s hungrier than he was before. When he finishes a homemade meal, he’s already by Techno’s feet begging for more. Every time he shifts to the human form, he’s hungry as hell. 

So, Tommy has to do the obvious: when he can, he steals leftovers. It’s like a routine now. Every morning, Wilbur or Technoblade complain to the other to stop eating their leftovers.

(“Wilbur, what did I say about my salad?”

“To not eat it.”

“Then why has my salad been eaten?”

“Don’t look at me like that! I didn’t eat, Techno! I don’t even like salad!”

“Who could have been then, Wilbur?! The cat?!”

“Maybe? I don’t know-”

“Even if it was Theseus, he’s too much a good boy to eat my salad. Isn’t that right, little guy?”

He smirks mentally.)

No one seems to suspect him of anything, or pass through their minds that maybe, maybe, this cat isn’t normal. Like, he gave so many signs! They don’t think it’s strange how he understands everything with ease?

The twins are so dense to the point that surprises him - it actually looks like a fucking prank, to be honest. However, it’s chill. He eats and Techno, thinking that is Wilbur stealing his food, starts to cook way more than normal.

He can live like that: nobody knows, shifting during midnight, stealing leftovers and probably creating a rivalry between the twins about food. It’s not something he’s really worried about. Sometimes it’s a problem when Technoblade, this clingy bitch, doesn’t let him go during the night. Or when Wilbur refuses to get the fuck out - but, he can solve it around, not too many worries.

It starts to be a genuine problem when, alone in the house, the doorknob starts to wiggle around. 

(In a panic, he starts shifting. 

The door opens and he comes across a boy he never saw. His hair is divided in two colors, heterochromia, too much tall for his liking - even if he looks like he is his age - and a bicolored mask on his face.

The boy gapes at him. 

He’s in that state again: cat ears, whiskers on his face and tail behind him. 

“No one will ever believe you,” then he’s shifting completely to the cat form. 

Soon, Techno’s voice filters in.

“-boo? Is everything alright?” entering the house, the person looks around. Noticing how fixated the boy is looking at something, he follows the gaze, just to see Theseus sitting on the floor innocently. “Are you scared of cats?”

The boy flinches, turning around. There’s a nervous smile plastered on his face, stimming constantly with his fingers.

“A-Ah! N-No! Lovely animals, haha! I love felines, kittens, cats, haha. I-I love them.”

Technoblade stops, furrowing his eyebrows, clearly not believing him.

“Ok…”

The rest of the day, this Ranboo-boy looks at him suspiciously.)

It would be okay if it was just that: this kid seeing him shift and never appearing in Techno's house ever again. The problem is, for some fucking reason, he always comes back. Every time, every fucking time, when Techno leaves after lunch to do something he doesn’t know, he comes back with this kid, backpack thrown over his shoulders and anxious pacing around. Then, they move to the kitchen so Technoblade can tutor him for an hour or so. 

It’s annoying! It’s boring! Now, his play hours are filled with watching both of them talk about nerd shit and: Theseus, I’ll play with you later, I’m tutoring. Go do something else. 

He’s not jealous, ok? Maybe he’s upset that the time they would play, or sit by the telly before Techno has to work, it’s being occupied by this boob-boy. But that’s it! He’s a big man. He doesn’t feel jealousy. That’s for pussies. Also, there’s nothing to be jealous about this boy, too: he’s everything he hates!

Tall, annoying, talk too much, too tall and really annoying!

So, he’s not jealous - yet, the only way to gain the human’s attention is to flop down on top of their books. Techno seems to notice, though, because before he starts to annoy him to stop explaining the fucking least common multiple, he’s scooped up and shushed on his lap.

At least he receives scratches behind his ear for the entire hour - BUT THE RANBOO-BOY IS STILL THERE!

Even if his growls are constantly shushed, Ranboo passes through the phase of denial pretty fast, even skipping the anger, depression and bargaining ones, directly to acceptance. It’s way faster than Sam, who went through it for a month.

Maybe because Ranboo is kind of a kid, with an open mind and maybe a little bit dumb? Maybe. But he’s impressed! 

It’s a normal day like the others: suspicious stares are still thrown in his direction, nothing new. It’s when Technoblade leaves for a few minutes to get some new books that Tommy takes the chance to sit on the chair that was formerly occupied, that they “bond”. He stares fixedly at the boy, being reciprocated, both not blinking. 

When his eyes start to twitch and tears flood in and, finally, he blinks, Ranboo celebrates silently. He growls loudly. 

“Now that I’ve won, I think you should answer me a question!” he whispered, looking around to check if someone was nearby. Tommy makes a questioning noise - how and why the fuck this bitch thinks just because he “won,” he’ll answer something? It wasn’t in the rules!

Ranboo stays silent a few seconds, humming softly, lost in thoughts. Tommy, huffs a breath, grumbling non-intelligent irritated noises. Finally, the other boy perked up, eyes crinkling from probably smiling behind the mask.

“Here, wait-” leafing through a book, he stops at a page full of words. “Do you know how to read?” he makes a face. Obviously he knows how to read! Who does he think Tommy is?! The catshifter nods. “‘Kay! Can you point out the letters of your names?”

Tommy huffs out a breath. 

(He stares for a few seconds, looking through, having difficulty finding the letters and discovering how to write his name properly. Ranboo, thankfully, doesn’t comment on it).

Slowly, he starts putting his paw on top of the letters of his name, in order.

“T-O-M-M-Y… Tommy?” excitedly, the catshifter nods. “I’m Ranboo! Does Techno know?” he shakes his head. “Okay! How old are you? I’m 14!”

He growls and slaps his arm. Fucking hell, how the fuck is he older too?! 

“Ouch! Why did you hit me?!” he whispered-screamed, pouting while looking at the beaten spot. It didn’t even scratch, dramatic bitch! “What?”

Tommy turns around, tail moving harshly, a sign he’s angry. Silence fills the room.

“...Are you younger than m-”

Before Ranboo could finish, Tommy started slapping his face constantly. Unfortunately for him, Techno arrives at the same time and is fast to scoop him up. He growls loudly, wriggling, meowing loudly like he’s screaming: SAY THAT AGAIN! I DARE YOU SAY IT, YOU BITCH!

“Theseus! No attacking my students!” Techno’s voice is a little harsh, not to the point of being scary - thank God. Setting the feline in his arms, they head to Wilbur’s room, who’s laying in bed, watching TikToks. Unceremoniously, he puts Tommy on top of him, stealing his breath. Then, the pink-haired points a finger at him. “Behave, you little demon.”

Then, he closes the door. Tommy frowns, grumbling and growling, while he starts massaging Wilbur’s ribs furiously - ignoring the complaints of pain. 

Fine, fine! Fucking prick, I didn’t want to be friends with Ranboob, anyway! Motherfucking pussy- You’ll see next time, you pink-haired bitch! I’ll make sure to eat all of your food and shit on all of your clothes, you massive prick! I swear, Technobitch- 

Wilbur stares at the cat, who meows angrily at the door, still massaging his body. The amusement was clear on his face. 

“It’s been four weeks,” Wilbur comments offhandedly. Techno’s laying on the couch, cuddling with Theseus while he reads a book - “The last time we say goodbye,” by Cynthia Hand. It’s Wilbur’s hours , but this time, they are just basking on each other’s companies. Techno has surprise in his countenance.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Then, Wilbur smiles knowingly. 

“You know, dad and I didn’t even bet because we knew-”

“Shut up-”

Every time Techno asks him - knowing he’ll not receive a verbal answer: do you like Ranboo, Theseus? He growls really loudly to make his point across. 

No, he doesn’t like this massive prick. He’s annoying, too tall for his liking and- he would say ugly, but knowing how the boy is insecure, he sticks with not ugly (that doesn’t mean he thinks Ranboo is good looking, shut up). 

Wilbur always calls him a hypocrite, which is really offensive since he’s a minor - Techno taught him this one. Look, he maybe makes Ranboo stay for another hour just for them to play, but it doesn’t mean he likes him! He’s not being hypocritical, it’s just facts. Maybe they do laugh a lot, and maybe he complains when Techno has to take him home, and maybe he misses him a little-

But he’s not attached. He’s a big man who doesn’t trust people easily, mostly the ones who have literally boobs in their names. 

However, Tommy can’t lie that he appreciates when Ranboo tucks him beneath his arm and locks both in the bathroom, just for him to shift. If Tommy wasn’t so excited to shift and talk to someone in a human form, he would think that's kinda suspicious in the others eyes: they are literally locking themselves in the bathroom and not leaving for an hour - but hey! It’s fun! 

Now, he knows Ranboo is autistic, loves Minecraft, really likes this Bo Burnham guy and has a bunch of friends - he commented a lot about a Tubbo, Aimsey, even a Crumb one. 

Tommy also talks about how much he likes Hamilton - a musical the twins watched on Wilbur’s hours -, how he used to play piano and sing to the church on Sundays and have a few friends - like Freddie, Eryn and Rue. 

It’s fun. He appreciates a lot what the twins have done to him, but- he can’t lie that it’s overwhelming not having someone to actually talk to. To share things, not just sit there and hear. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t like to hear! The contrary, actually: he loves, mostly when the twins poke each other with embarrassing stories in their childhood. 

Yet… He wants to share his childhood memories too! To talk about Sam, how they used to shift and make the humans give them food for free for just pretending to look miserable. Or how their friend group would have a gamer night, where they would get together in their houses - sometimes Tommy’s, other times Freddie’s, so on - and spend the night playing games. Normally it was Nintendo’s games, screaming at the top of their lungs while eating pizza until they exploded. 

That’s when Ranboo enters: at this point, they can be considered each other’s therapists, of how much they talk about their routine, past and a few insecurities. It’s even timed! The only thing they don’t have is the money - it’s okay, though, they stole Wilbur’s Monopoly money for that.

Even if he denies a lot to everyone, he can say that… Ugh… Ranboo is his friend… Maybe best, since, well, he’s the only one. 

(“Are you going to tell them one day?” Ranboo whispers to him, like they normally do.

Tommy has his back pressed against one wall, while Ranboo has his pressed against the other. Since Ranboo has big legs, they have to put them against their chests, otherwise they would be all tangled. Tommy normally stares at his eyes and doesn’t mind when his friend doesn’t do the same. 

The catshifter hums under his breath, thinking. 

“I need to, innit?”

“Well, kinda-”

“So yeah.”

Silence.

“Are you not… scared?” 

He swallows dry, worrying his lip between his teeth a little. 

“I am. A little,” he stares at his hands, a few scrapes from them playing outside being visible. “What if they think I’m disgusting? That I’m a monster? Where am I going to go? What am I going to do?”

“But what if they accept you? Because they love you, doesn't matter what?” 

Tommy is the one to avoid eye contact this time.

“I think I’m more scared of that.”)

A few days, when they are a little overwhelmed, Ranboo would ask Techno to read something for them. Other times, they would sit in silence in the bathroom, basking in each other’s companies. 

It’s even sweet when Ranboo brings a book with him to try his best to teach him how to read. 

And maybe, even if he tries to deny a lot, he’s attached. 

Ranboo is the first one to know of his discovery.

“He what?!” the boy exclaimed, Tommy being fast to cover his mouth, shushing softly. “Sorry…” 

“It’s ok- I’m surprised too,” he grumbles, hearing shuffling outside. 

Their meeting it’s not for a pleasant reason this time. Tommy, last night, when he looked at Techno’s laptop while he was showering, he saw his last search in Google: “is my cat a shapeshifter?”

It’s not a surprise that he panicked - a lot.

“What are we gonna do?”

“I-I don’t know, big man…”

Tommy should be expecting this: at some point, they would stop being oblivious to the things he does, but- he didn’t think it was going to be so soon. Maybe one more month? If they are so dumbasses like he thought they were, even a year? 

However, now, he feels like his world is falling apart. He doesn’t have any idea what to do, if he tells them, or if he asks Ranboo to tell, or- 

It’s overwhelming, it’s too much. He feels like he’s being drowned and can’t get up- can’t catch air- like someone is holding him down to die. Feels like a bunch of people are poking and poking, incessantly, doesn’t matter what he does. Feels like there’s a bunch of ants walking around his body and they don’t stop, don’t go away. 

Too much, it’s too much-

“Tommy, you need to breathe, man-” there’s a tap tap on his back, Tommy delaying to notice it's Ranboo's finger. It feels like it burns and at the same time it comforts him immensely. God, he wants to cry. “Here- try playing with this, ‘kay?” the other boy’s voice seems a little desperate. Soon, there’s a strange worm-toy in front of him. Shakily, he grasps it and starts to fidget with it.

It makes a funny sound, like a crack. It’s strange, but it makes his brain feel gooey - it’s not bad, more addicting. 

The cotton that seemed to fill his brain, slowly, melts - he didn’t even notice how everything seemed fuzzy, disconnected from his body, existence and understanding. The feeling that he was going to die at any moment, even if lingering, decreased. A shaky sigh escapes his lips, trembling a little, holding back the want to cry. 

“What- What was that?” 

“Um,” Ranboo starts awkwardly. He tries to give a comforting smile, but it leaves strange. “W-Well, a panic attack? Or maybe a sensory overload? I don’t know.”

He stays a few seconds in silence, processing. 

“It’s this- from neurodivergent shit?”

“Not- Not really, no. Everyone can have them.”

“Oh, ok. Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” the silence is a little bit awkward. Just now Tommy notices that Ranboo is sitting by his side, close, but not touching. “Can I do something for you?”

Like a big man he is, he asks: “Can you hold my hand?” 

Soon, their fingers are intertwined. The other’s hand is cold, different from his sweaty one. It’s grounding. A squeeze is shared, a thumb drawing random patterns on his knuckles, making him focus on the touch more than everything else. Than his thoughts, that go a mile per second; than the trembling that shocks all his body; than the fear of tomorrow. 

They stay in silence. It’s possible to hear Wilbur laughing at something, being followed by Techno’s high pitched giggles. 

He doesn’t want to lose this. Lose Wilbur’s songs and geography lessons, even his stories from college, when he was studying psychology. Lose Techno’s reading-and-cuddling sessions, when they would spend hours in silence, the only sound heard is his purrs and the pages being turned. He doesn’t want to lose the teasing the twins do, if not with him, with each other; nor Wilbur’s rambles about his dark facts or insane discussions, like if ketchup and mustard are smoothies or not. Man, he doesn’t want to lose Technoblade’s clinginess, of every day being searched just to lay on the couch and cuddle.

He’s scared. He’s so fucking scared. 

After Sam- after everything- this is all he wanted. To be loved and cared, to be accepted and never be left alone again. To be wanted and cherished. God, to be there and also have someone. 

It’s been a month. It’s too soon to lose these already. 

With a shaky voice, tears gathering up in the brim of his eyes, he squeezes their intertwined hands and says: “I’m scared.”

The boy lays his head on his shoulder hesitantly. He lets him. 

“I know it’s kind of stupid, but I’m more scared of them accepting me than not. Does that make sense?” 

“Not really,” the boy confesses. A wet laugh leaves Tommy’s lips. “But I think I understand why you feel like it.”

Humming under his breath, the blonde haired lays his head on top of the other’s.

“What if they accept me and after I lose them?”

“You’ll not lose them.”

“You know it’s kinda of stupid to think like that when death exists-”

“I know- but, if you let them live, you’ll never lose them.” 

He stays in silence, processing. He stares at Ranboo.

“Wha’?”

The other sighs loudly.

“Like- You don’t need to lose someone if you have memories of them, if you still love them,” the boy explains carefully. “I know the way of losing them you’re thinking it’s not death, but-”

He sighs again, now, softly. 

“I’m pretty sure they love you and… you love them back,” he holds for a few seconds eye contact, just to avert it after - it’s still comforting. “I think that’s a big sign that they’ll not lose you and vice versa.” 

He thinks of Sam. It hits home too closely.

Tommy's lower lip trembles and what should be a laugh and a sob together leaves him.

“Does that make sense?” Ranboo asks softly. 

“Not really,” Tommy confesses, a little smile on his face. “But I understand,” then, a squeeze on the other’s hand. “And I hope you’re right.”

“When I’m not?”

“Most of the times, big man-”

“Oh, really, now?-”

When Techno goes to check if his leftovers are in the fridge, instead of complaining to Wilbur for him eating them again, he stares at Theseus.

The cat averts eye contact.

Huh.

“how do i know if my cat is a shapeshifter?”

“catshifters”

“can my cat be human?”

“am i going crazy?”

“how to know if someone is living inside your walls”

“wikihow how do you know if your cat is half human”

“cat shifter tag ao3”

“cathybrid on wattpad”

His Google’s history is a mess. Techno actually considering he’s going clinically insane. It never crossed his mind that these would exist: people who can shift to animals, and apparently, no one seems to know about them too. Just conspiracy theories, like the Avril Lavigne’s ones. 

It’s strange how chill he’s about this. He should be more panicked that his fucking cat may be a human. That he listened to everything they talked like a little spy from the FBI. He should be scared.

But- It’s Theseus. This cat would be the worst FBI spy - no offense, little guy. It’s a kitten who really likes scratches behind his ear, melts easily to any contact, likes attention and being talked to with a soft voice. He’s a sweetheart. There’s no way he is dangerous.

Now that the thought of the feline being part human crossed his mind, the signs start to be more clear. Like that time, when Wilbur and Techno fought - man, this one was really obvious, how he didn’t notice?! Or how he always seems to know what they want, when they want. Or how he reacts to things like he understands what is being told.

It’s so clear, how the fuck he was so oblivious to this? 

The problem is he doesn’t have any idea how to ask to your fucking cat if they are part human - if he isn’t, it’s going to be way more embarrassing. Like, he should be, right? He’s pretty sure he heard a second voice inside the bathroom one day, when Ranboo, for some reason, hides inside of it with Theseus.

It-It should be, right?

Not having any idea how to approach this, he tries with Ranboo, since the boy seems to know about it first than him - he’s not jealous, it’s okay, it’s understandable, shut up, brain. 

“Ranboo?” he asks, after the tutoring is finished. The boy hums, drawing on his notepad, distracted. Techno looks around, searching for the orange ball. Nothing. Good. “What do you know about Theseus?”

The boy stops automatically. 

Touché.

“What- What do you mean?” he comes back to draw, his feet swinging incessantly, a sign he’s nervous. He almost feels bad for making the boy anxious, but he really needs to know just a little about the supposed catshifter. 

“You know what I mean, Ranboo.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know anything. It’s just a cat.” 

Huh. Normally he’s easy to crack, Ranboo isn’t good with pressure nor lies - like him, to be honest. The boy looks around, seeming to search for something. 

“...Ranboo, I heard you in the ba-”

“Oh, Tommy! Bye, Techno!” he almost screams, scooping the cat up in his arms and running to the bathroom.

Huh.

Tommy, huh? Close enough to Theseus, at least. 

If he hears two rushed voices inside the bathroom, this time he prefers to ignore it to plan. 

So, now it’s confirmed: this motherfucking cat has a human half and, apparently, his name is Tommy. With a name like that, he’s probably a kid, maybe Ranboo’s age - it’s also clear from the unknown voice inside his bathroom. 

The thing is, what does he do? At this point, the two kids already got it that he knows, so that’s also a problem. If they are doing plans to Tommy escape the country he’s damned, because he knows how goddamn unhinged Ranboo can be with his plans. This boy is chaotic, it’s surprising.

For the rest of the day, Tommy avoided him with strength. The cat probably hid himself in a really good spot, maybe inside the couch, he doesn’t know: but, unfortunately, he doesn’t find the catshifter. When he called him to eat, he didn’t show up. Coming back to the pot later, though, he found it empty. 

(It’s a little bit funny how down he feels from not having the kitty to cuddle with him. Yeah, maybe he can admit he’s clingy - but just for Tommy).

Techno goes to sleep.

When he wakes up the next day, Tommy is there, laying by his side. A smile adorns his features, happy that the little guy, at least, came to sleep with him - and didn’t find a way to run away.

So, for the sake of his anxiety, he gets up cautiously and starts to pace around, planning.

Should he really say something? If Tommy didn’t come to him to say something, maybe he isn’t comfortable talking about it, so he shouldn’t push. But- if it’s hurting him? If he’s so hungry constantly, to the point the leftovers are wiped out the next morning, shouldn’t he say something? But again, if Tommy didn’t come at him, maybe things are controlled.

Should he say something or let the catshifter come at his time? 

Man, it’s hard. Maybe he could try to send little signals that he knows and that it’s okay, but if it overwhelms him? If he appreciates it more being direct? Ranboo hates signals, for example. There’s Wilbur too, that doesn’t like things just thrown at his face, so maybe he shouldn’t consider they likings-

He’s going insane.

What if he talks to Ranboo, maybe? Nah, poor kid is already traumatized with yesterday, probably. He doesn’t like putting him in these situations. Maybe Wilbur could try talking to him? He might word better, but- then it’s going to be three people knowing about this, Tommy would not appreciate it-

Why is he thinking and making decisions for the fucking cat?!  

For his blessing - or not -, the cat starts to stretch, yawning silently. Blue eyes blink constantly, trying to get around his surroundings. Techno has a soft smile on his face.

However, before he could greet him, the cat stares  wide eyed and, a bigger blur that it definitely wasn’t a cat, runs away. 

The bathroom door closes loudly. 

Well, shit.  

“Tommy?” Technoblade tries softly, approaching the door. There’s pure silence inside the room. “Can we talk?” 

A soft and muffled sniffle can be heard.

“Leave me alone,” the voice is a little bit broken, childish, like he thought it was. The pink haired sighs softly, sitting on the floor and pressing his back against the door’s jamb. 

Now, what should he do? Leave him alone? Call Ranboo? Or try coaxing him out?

They stay in silence for a few minutes, sniffles being heard here and there. It breaks the person’s heart piece by piece as the time goes. Technoblade sighs, shifting. 

“I’m not- I’m not angry, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“And what do you know, bitch?”

Oh, obviously this gremlin knows swear words. It really fits him. He can’t even contain the smile that comes to his face, finding it amusing. 

“Well…” he starts awkwardly, looking at random spots while he thinks about what he’s going to say. “I know that you’re a catshifter, that Ranboo knows about it, and… Your name is, unfortunately, Tommy, and not Theseus.” 

Silence. 

“I like you better when you’re not speaking.”

“Thanks, Wilbur says that a lot.” 

A snort can be heard, making Technoblade smile a little bit more. 

“Look, I can say to you that I’m surprised, but not much,” shuffling can be heard from inside, making him expectant. Nothing else happens. “And I also should be, I don’t know- maybe scared? Terrified that you’re working for a secret organization, ready to rob my identity? Maybe.”

His heart goes all fuzzy and warm when, again, he hears a little snort from inside. Man, he’s already attached to making the boy laugh, what a nerd.

“Wilbur says I’m not normal. Normally, I would say that’s ableist, but in this scenario- I think I agree with him,” the human sighs softly, worrying his lip while he thinks. The other side is silent. “It’s ok to be scared, I can’t blame you. You probably went through a lot, but-”

The door’s hinges complain softly, Techno smiling softly when big blue eyes peek outside. 

“But if you could, can you trust in Wilbur and me?”

Tommy stays staring at him, even looking around to see if, probably, Wilbur is near. Then, the door closes. Instantly, Techno thought: well, maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. He’s already opening his mouth to apologize, maybe offer him some food-

He’s being tackled by a child - said child is crying. 

A relieved sigh leaves his body and he’s fast to retribute the hug, cradling the boy’s head delicately. Man, is like Rosa in that episode when she gains a puppy: I’ve only had Tommy for a day, but if anything happened to him I would kill everyone in this room and then myself. 

It makes him happy that, at least, the boy isn’t skinny as he thought he would be. He seems healthy, making his heart flutter a little when he notices that he helped. That this- this kid isn’t starving because he did it. He actually helped someone.

And now, he has the trust and love of him. 

“It’s ok, kiddo- Don’t cry, please. I don’t know how to handle it-” he says nervously, thank God pulling out a giggle from Tommy. Said boy is hiding his face on his chest, gripping his shirt with white knuckles. There’s a little bit of wetness near his shoulder, yet, to be honest? Techno couldn’t care less. He pulls away slightly and Technoblade doesn’t hesitate to wipe out the boy’s tears, letting his hands cradle his face. “It’s ok, we’re gonna figure it out, yeah?”

Tommy nods, leaning into the touch while fluttering his eyes close. A small smile adorns the human’s face, thumb caressing his cheek. 

God, he’s really a sap, huh?

“I- ummm-” it’s not the time to be emotionally constipated, Technoblade! “I still love you,” he practically whispers, cheeks warming up a bit. It’s worth it, because Tommy opens his eyes and beams. Smile so bright that it almost blinds him. Soon, he’s being tackled again, a laugh leaving his lips. “Don’t get used to it-”

“You’re getting soft, Blade-”

“Not you too-”

Tommy laughs loudly. 

It should change something, now that he knows his supposed cat is part human.

It should. But it doesn’t.

(“Wait, are you wearing my clothes?” Techno asked, after the kid finally stopped crying in his arms. Tommy moves away briefly, a sheepish smile on his face.

“Well- It’s a long story-”

“Wait- The socks too?! I’ve been looking for them for so long!-”

“No, you weren’t-”

“I was!-”

“You literally weren’t. You’re trying to guilt trip me, this poor, poor boy-”

“Oh my God, I want Theseus back-”

“Oh my Gosh, Technoblade! You’re so mean! You guilt trip me, and now you’re wishing I was dead?!-”

“I never said that!-”

“I sensed it, Tech-no-blade- I’m an empath-”

“I hope you sense you’ll be a dead kid soon-”

“See?! What I said!-”

“That’s it, come here-”)

“Wilbur, I need to tell you something and I need you to not freak out,” Technoblade starts, standing in the middle of the living room with Theseus in his arms. Wilbur, who was lying on the sofa while watching TikToks, sits up, worried.

“The last time you said that, you had broken a kid’s arm because of a war of farming potatoes in Minecraft-”

“I didn’t break any kid’s arms this time,” a relieved sigh leaves Wilbur’s lips. “But maybe this is worse? Not really worse, more surprising-”

“Techno, I’m not helping you hide the body-”

“So, I want to introduce to you someone,” he puts Theseus on the ground and, suddenly, the cat starts to get his limbs stretched abnormally, shifting and, finally, transforming into a human teen.

“Hi! I’m Tommy!”

Wilbur shrieked.

(“Oh my God! Now it makes so much sense!” Wilbur exclaimed, holding the teen’s hands and swinging their arms together in excitement. “You were human, actually!”

“Yes. Your dumbness hurted me.” 

“Oi, how could I know that catshifters exist? I thought they were just real on Tumblr-”

“You’re actually offending me so much right now-”

“What? But it’s true!-”

“It’s not, it’s actually not, never compare me to Tumblr ever again-”

“How do you even know what Tumblr is? Are you not, like, 9 years old?-”

“That’s it. I’m bulging your eyes out, come here-”)

One day, Wilbur is woken up by screams and loud laughter. An exhausted sigh escapes his body, obliging himself to leave his warm bed to see who they are killing this time. 

“Tommy, you’re not a cat!- You’re going to hurt yourself, child, for God’s sake-”  

When he gets to the kitchen Tommy, in his human form, is apparently climbing Techno while said one is cooking breakfast. Soon, the gremlin sets behind the person’s back, cackling loudly. Technoblade, with no surprises, has a fond smile on his face. 

“You’re a menace, a little demon. You’re getting yourself hurt next time if you do that-”

“Technoblade, my climbing abilities are beyond your understanding. I’m a God of climbing. I’m so good at it that I’m omnipresent, climbing every mountain at the same time-”

“You’re actually insane, it’s too early for this-”

“Mount Everest could never beat me-”

“How can a literal mountain beat you in climbing, Tommy?-”

“It’s trying, Tech-no-blade. Key word is trying, because big man Tommy is way better than Everest-”

“It’s a mountain, Tommy. A mountain-”

“Well, maybe mountains can climb too, never thought of that, Tech-no-blade? They’re always the climbed ones, maybe they want to climb too-”

Wilbur sighs loudly, making his existence notable. Both of them stop bickering.

“You're just not hospitalized in a psychiatric clinic because they didn't find you,” he deadpanned and Tommy cackled loudly, glee apparent in his eyes. Wilbur, even if he’s tired of being woken up by their antics, smiles. He goes to the kitchen table, sitting on a chair. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Human flesh!-”

“Omelette-”

The pink haired flicked the boy’s forehead, making him groan softly. The kid is still on his back, watching Technoblade cook breakfast with attentive eyes, a little pout in his face. It’s funny how much he looks like a little kid, wanting to glue himself on the person he’s imprinting. It’s also endearing.

“Tommy, it’s not uncomfortable being on his back?” silently, Wilbur took a photo of both of them and, since their dad still doesn’t know about it, he sends it to Ranboo. 

“Kind of.”

“Then why-”

“Because he wants to annoy me,” Techno answers. Tommy doesn’t counteract; in fact, he just giggles and shuffles a little to get more comfortable. Thank God his twin is strong and has actual balance because, if it was Wilbur, he would probably burn both of them. 

At some point, silence fills the air, mostly because Tommy dozes off - otherwise, he would make sure to make a lot of noise. It’s funny how Technoblade moves around like there’s not a child on his back, completely unbothered by him. The twin doesn’t even express effort nor uncomfortableness. It’s surprising. He crouches to get utensils, stretches to get something on the cupboard, walks around, and not even once he demonstrates an uncomfortable expression.

Tommy has his arms wrapped weakly around the person’s neck, cheek squished on his shoulder. There’s drool leaving his mouth as he snores softly, sometimes snorting. Wilbur almost throws up with cuteness when, from time to time, Techno eyes the blonde kid with loving eyes.

God, he’s such a sap.

Soon, Techno is waking up the kid who, when isn’t annoying them, actually looks cute. He sits on a chair between the twins, feet up in the chair and, loudly, starts to talk about the dream he had - not even bothering to chew.

The addition of a chair and a person isn’t strange; in fact, appreciated. It’s like he was always there.

Maybe he already was.

Later that day, when Ranboo came to be tutored, the instant he stepped in the house, he was tackled by a child. A loud screech and cackles could be heard echoing through the house. And, in Tommy fashion, he started to climb Ranboo like a cat, gluing himself against the other like a koala for the rest of the day - fuck you, Technoblade. 

“Techno?” Wilbur asked hesitantly. The one in question is reading, finishing Cynthia Hand’s book. Sprawled on top of him, Tommy sleeps, drooling the human’s shirt. Techno stops reading and closes the book, noting the uncertain tone as something important.

“Yeah?” 

Wilbur fidgets with his fingers, swinging and shifting his weight between his feet. His look seems a little far away, head probably full of thoughts. 

“Um.”

“Is everything ok?” 

“Yeah, yeah- Just-” he sighed, frustrated. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and, finally: “I’ll leave in two days.”

“Oh.”

Silence.

It’s, ironically, deafening. Wilbur observes his twin attentively, searching for any answer in his expression. At first, it’s completely unreadable, neutral - which is a bad sign - and, after, morphs into something more sad and uncertain. 

“Already?” he makes eye contact, voice weak. Wilbur nods.

He shifts his weight to another foot again and, finally, sighs, making his mind.

“Maybe… You could come with me?” 

Techno seems to have a delayed thought process because it takes a couple of seconds for him to seem to understand what was said. Soon, his eyes are a little bit wider. Wilbur fidgets with his fingers again, a little bit embarrassed with the lack of response. 

“Since, well, you dropped out of college, you don’t need to live here anymore and, maybe, we could go together to Newcastle? You can stay with me for a few days, my roommate already moved out, and- Sorry, I’m rambling. But- the offer is in the air.”

A couple more seconds in silence.

“Your roommate moved out?”

“Yeah, he, uh- before I came here, actually. I didn’t want to be alone so, um, I came here to stay until I found another roommate,” he smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, still embarrassed. Then: “Of everything I said, that’s really the only thing you registered?”

“I mean- the sole reason Tommy wasn’t in your house was because your supposed roommate was allergic to cats,” Techno drawled out and grinned when Wilbur sputtered. 

“Well, he was-”

“Really, now?-”

“Yup. Now answer me. Don’t try to deflect the question, I know your tricks.”

Son of a bitch. That’s the downside of having a twin. 

It’s not that he didn't want to live with Wilbur. On the contrary, actually: he likes his presence, the noise, the company. But, the thoughts of being a burden, even if he tries pushing them away, lingers. Of making him disappointed, God - maybe he’s a praise seeker. Everyone he holds so high the opinion lives there: Wilbur, Phil, Dream, TapL, all of his friends, basically-

His entire childhood is there, left behind. What if it’s not going to be like before? If they don’t like the way he is right now? It’s not something he can bear - not right now, anyway. 

Wilbur seems to sense his mulling over, because he gets closer, sitting on top of the couch’s arm. 

“What is in your mind, lil’ bro?” 

He rolls his eyes. 

“Just- What are they going to think?” 

Will hums, pensive, while Techno fidgets with the book’s pages. 

“Maybe: ‘If you wish to defeat the Blade, train for another 1000 years?’”

That startles a laugh from the pink haired, containing himself when he hears the child on top of him shuffle and grumble in his sleep. Wilbur has a smile on his face too. 

“They certainly don’t think that to this day.”

“Oh, Blade, they do-”

“Shut up-” he punches his brother lightly, smiling. “Seriously. I still didn’t tell Phil about it.”

“Techno, do you want me to be completely honest?” the other asks, his brother’s face morphing to an apprehensive expression. The mentioned one gulps down a little but nods. “They literally treat the ground you stepped on as sacred. They adore you- there’s nothing you could do that would disappoint them.”

He sighs loudly, gulping down the urge to cry. He blinks harshly, scaring the tears away and, shakily, he gives a smile to his twin. 

“Ok?”

“Ok.”

“So? What do you think?” 

Techno hums, closing his eyes while he thinks through it. 

“I have to ask Tommy what he thinks.”  

Wilbur beams.

“Then start with saying that Ranboo is from Newcastle too, otherwise he’ll refuse to his death.” 

“Wha’ about Ranboo?” a sleepy voice asks, Techno and Wilbur giggling softly. 

“‘I hate Ranboo, he’s not my best friend, Wilbur-’”

“Shut up!-”

It takes a lot of candies, an entire day spent with Ranboo and promises that Tommy, Ranboo is really from Newcastle, I promise, but he’ll be back there just next month, to get the boy to go with them . It works, that’s what matters.

After a full day of babysitting two unhinged demons with candy on their system, the twins and the catshifter are hopping on a train, ready for the 5 hours travel. Ranboo and his aunt came to say goodbye to them, both boys crying while they hugged - when pointed out, Tommy started to scream, stating he didn’t, while Ranboo clinged to his arm.

Then, they enter the train, leaving behind for some time these bad memories.

Tommy is a pool of nervousness and fascination - apparently, the kid never traveled in a train before -, swinging his feet, standing up and sitting down constantly, simply not being able to stay still. Techno can’t even blame him, he would be the same if he didn’t have his meds. However, the pink haired leg bounces constantly, trying to distract himself with his phone.

Wilbur, differently from the two, is completely chill - lucky fuck. 

After the fifth time of him standing up and flopping down, Tommy groans loudly, sprawling on the seat. He looks at the corner of his eye, seeing Technoblade fiddling with his phone. Without a care, he invades Technoblade’s personal space now, instead, lounging on top of the human. A common day with Tommy. 

“I’m bored,” he grumbled, a ‘Sweet’ can be heard from the phone, where he’s playing Candy Crush. Techno hums, not paying attention. 

The boy, noting he still doesn’t have the full attention of the other, stretches himself, now all his body is on top of him. He knocks out the other’s phone with this movement. Techno sighs.

“Do you want to play Minecraft?” 

Tommy beams, sitting properly besides the older. Technoblade purposely loses on the game, just to close it and open Minecraft, handing his phone to the unstoppable kid. With an excited squeak, Tommy opens his own world. When the screen loads in, he’s in front of his house, a three block tall cube with a few flowers in the front. Oh! He was doing a farm, he remembers!

Wilbur, who has been silent this entire time, snorts. 

“Soft,” he murmurs. Instantly, he receives a punch in the arm.

Like usual, Tommy stays totally focused in the game, eyebrows scrunched up in concentration, tongue peeking out when he’s killing a mob. Occasionally, he tugs Techno’s sleeve to read a word he doesn’t understand or doesn’t know. 

Surprisingly, when the kid calmed down, Techno did, too. Both are completely focused on the screen, like the two nerds they are. At some point - he doesn’t know when -, Tommy laid his head on his shoulder, pressing his legs against his chest.

Feels like routine, pretending that a week before they still thought they owned a normal cat instead of a catshifter. It isn’t strange having the kid’s weight against his side, or his little sounds when specific things occur in the game. This whole presence seems like something they always had. 

Technoblade smiles, hiding his smile on the kid’s hair. 

For a moment, he doesn’t fear for the reactions he’s going to receive when he comes back.

“Aw, man,” Tommy complains. On the screen, a message of “You died!” popped, with two options. The boy huffs, putting the electronic down, tucking himself in Techno’s arm. It’s comforting, mostly because he’s a living furnace. 

Silence fills in for a few minutes. Wilbur has earbuds on, looking at the window while constantly dozing off, the golden hour adorning his features. On the other seat, the youngest has a pout while he fidgets with the pink haired hand. He just lets him, observing. 

There’s scars, fingers strong and calloused. When squeezing, it feels like a brick. He passes a finger through a nasty scar that starts on the base of the thumb and finishes at the wrist. A hiss leaves his mouth unintentionally. Even if curious, Tommy doesn’t ask about it.

“Is your dad cool?” he asks meekly, passing a finger through the scarred knuckles.

“Yeah. Why?”

Silence, again. The person respects it, letting the boy gather his thoughts. Sometimes he wiggles his fingers, the blonde haired snorting. 

“Do you think he’s going to like me?” 

Techno hums, pensive. Looking out the window, a bunch of trees pass past, the train going through the more natural part. It’s possible to see a few lakes, sometimes some horses and he’s pretty sure that at one point he saw cows. It’s something he missed, noticing it now. Even if he hates public transports, he loves traveling. There’s a lull on the way the wind beats his face softly, the carriage making a few metallic noises. 

(He almost punches himself when he thinks of traveling with Tommy so he feels it, too).

“Phil is a sweetheart, Toms,” he starts, a little smile on his face. Hesitantly, he lays his head on top of the others, Tommy seeming to hum happily. “He’s famous in the neighborhood for taking care of all the kids. I remember, during school, everyone thought I had, like, six brothers,” the teen snorts. 

Man, he misses his father.

“He’ll love you, no matter what. Y’know, he’s chaotic too, you guys will stick,” Tommy lifts his head softly, beaming. Techno snorts, fondly. “It’s gonna be alright, promise. I’m pretty sure the only reason he’s not going to kidnap you because you’re my ki- uuuuuuuuh-”

Tommy, noticing his slip up, sits up straight, as Techno averts eye contact, cheeks red. 

“I’m your what?” he asked, a smile clear on his voice. This demon. “ Techiee , what were you gonna sayy?”

“Shut up-” he locks his arm around the kid’s neck, starting to mess up his hair. Tommy cackles, trying to get away, squirming and punching lightly his arm. “You should sleep, otherwise I swear to God I’ll throw you out the window.” 

Giggling, the boy shuffles around, until he’s comfortable again against Techno’s body. He obliges him to sling an arm around his shoulders, humming happily. Tommy closes his eyes, hugging his legs against his chest.

“Love you, Techno.”

“Yup.”

A snort.

When Phil saw a pink head leaving the uber, he didn’t hesitate to gasp loudly and rush to hug him.

It’s been, approximately, two years since the last time they saw each other. Obviously, he’s going to rush to hug his son, and maybe cry a little bit. He’s a clingy father, for God’s sake. He’s the type that will make a reason to fill your face with kisses. Or scream at you in public saying how much he loves you.

It’s obvious he’ll make his kids embarrass themselves, because that’s his love language. And that’s exactly what he does.

With rather force, he holds the human’s face, squishing a little his cheeks and aggressively starts to kiss every inch he can. Techno groans loudly, something among “bruuh” and “my reputation”. 

“Phil, Phil- Dad- Stop, enough!” he laughs, putting a hand in front of the older’s face, pushing it away. A muffled laugh can be heard, glee clear in the blue eyes. 

“Oh, the favoritism,” Wilbur grumbled dramatically and Phil, rolling his eyes with a fond smile, hugs his other son.

A fond and muffled “You little shit” is possible to hear. 

After hugging his sons and shedding a few tears, Phil smiles brightly at them, searching for something - rather, someone.

“So, where’s little Theseus?”

“About that-”

A blonde head and blue eyes peek behind the wall Technoblade is, acting like a shy kid meeting strangers. The man’s smile doesn’t falter, even if he’s really confused now. Well, that’s… unexpecting.

“When you said you adopted a cat, I thought it was an actual cat, Techno-”

“I think… It’s better we have this talk inside,” Wilbur smiles nervously, putting a hand on his father’s shoulder. The man, still confused, goes inside without questioning, leaving behind Tommy and Techno. 

“You okay, kid?” he murmured, turning his head a little to see the boy. The one in question is tugging his shirt, looking up with a fearful countenance - that he tries, unsuccessfully, to hide. He nods anxiously, squeezing the hold on the shirt. 

Techno holds himself to not coo. Slowly, he shifts around, putting an arm around the teen’s shoulder, tucking him against his body. Tommy makes a happy noise, hugging back.

“Everything is going to be alright, yeah?” the teen nods, sighing.

With that, they walk inside. 

Technoblade sighs softly, making sure to close the door behind him and see if any window has vision of them is closed. When he checks that everything is alright, he clears his throat.

“Dad, I need to tell you something and I need you to not freak out-”

“Techno, last time you said that, an hour after Kristin called me saying you broke a kid’s arm over Minecraft-”

“I know! I know!” Tommy giggled behind him and Wilbur put a hand over his mouth to muffle his own laugh. “It’s- well, complicated-”

“It’s worse, dad,” Wilbur adds, not helping.

“Oh God, did you murder someone?-”

“Why do you- Why is it the second time someone thought I murdered someone?” he exasperated under his breath, hearing Tommy giggling again. At least someone is having fun. “Just- see it for yourself.”

He gives a little bit of space between him and Tommy. The kid looks at both of the twins questioningly, receiving conforming nods. With a profound sigh, he flutters his eyes close, concentrating.  

Slowly, he shifts, limbs shrinking, fur, teeth and nails growing. When he finishes, he meows.

Phil, unsurprisingly, screamed.

(“Oh, God, Techno, how the fuck do you always get yourself into these situations?” Phil exasperated, petting the cat on top of his lap.

“What do you mean?!” 

“You adopted a cat just to be part human!” 

“He’s living in a mexican soap opera,” Wilbur commented on the other side of the room, snorting. “There’s always the weird twin in those ones-”

“That’s so ableist, Wilbur-”

“There’s nothing to do with your ADHD, Techno!” he gesticulated widely with his arms. “It’s just facts, there’s always the evil twin, the emo twin, the weird twin-”

“So, so ableist, Wilbur. Say it to him, Phil-”

“Stop, you little shits.”

“Look, dadza agrees with me!” Wilbur smirked.

“I never said that-”

“Oh, so now you’re picking favorites, Phil? Cool, that’s cool, then-”

“Oh my God-”)

The first day in Newcastle, they spent the night at their father’s house. At night, they did a marathon of movies, at which point everyone fell asleep. In the morning, when he woke up, with a kid between his arms and laying his head on his brother’s shoulders, he smiled. 

Slowly, things started to set up - at their own pace.

Phil was nothing but kind when he told him about the whole dropout thing. The man solely embraced him, kissed the crown of his head and murmured “it’s ok, son” - if he cried, no one needs to know. Dream, when he saw him, gaped and started to jump around excitedly, saying a million things per minute. The kids (Tubbo, Crumb and Aimsey) all run up to him to ask how Ranboo was doing and when he was back, with awe in their eyes. He took the opportunity to push Tommy to them and introduce him - ignoring the sputtered swears the boy directed at him.

(It was worth it when he looked out the window and they were playing hide n’ seek around the neighborhood).

With a lot of insistence of Wilbur, he started seeing Shelby again: his late therapist, the one who referred him to get an ADHD diagnosis. It’s good to see her face once more, her warm smile making him chill during the sessions. It’s still stressful talking about his problems and feelings without feeling completely selfish about it, but- they are getting there. He can say it’s better, with the way he sometimes talks about a frustrating thing about his day, or how intense some things were to him. It’s not to the point of him simply venting about his deep problems, yet, it’s close enough.

(The first time he admitted his day was bad because he forgot to take his meds without anyone asking, it could be possible to see glee in Wilbur’s eyes as he indulged his twin to talk more). 

Getting used to the new routine is strange: even now that he’s living again in his childhood town and a new child/cat to take care of. Not having to wake up at 5 AM every day it’s, probably, the most unnerving change. His body still wakes him up close to this time, just for him to fall back asleep right after. Since he still doesn’t have a new job, he’s completely free all day - which makes him feel really guilty. 

It’s monotonous, a harsh change from how things were in Brighton. There was no time to rest, his mind was always full of to-do thoughts and responsibilities. Presently, he doesn’t have a job, and his sole responsibility at the moment is making sure that Tommy will not shove a fork at the plug because ‘it would be funny’. 

Currently, every time he tried to wake up and start his day, Tommy would whine and, if feeling up to it, follow him around the house whimpering like an abandoned dog. That’s it until Techno’s back to bed to sleep for another couple of hours. Then, they would sleep past noon, and wake up because Wilbur barged in to demand attention.

It’s so strange. 

Nothing really changed like he thought it would: people don’t look at him differently, in fact, the kids still treated him as something mystical. Whispering around about how good his PvP skills on Minecraft are, and how he won Dream in exchange for a rare coin that doesn’t even have value anymore. The whole thing that actually changed is that Tommy is called the so-called ‘Blade’s kid’.

(The first time Tommy heard it he barged inside, a beam on his face.

“Techno, oh my God. You’ll not believe what just happened.” 

The other hums, arching an eyebrow.

“Someone just called me ‘The Blade’s kid’ like I’m a mystical thing!” he laughs loudly, happiness in his eyes. Techno smiles. “Man, oh my God- that’s so strange, holy shit.”

“I hope you don’t ruin my reputation, Tommy-”

“Oh, Blade, I’m doing worse -”)

At least, he has Niki’s letter of recommendation after working for her in an art gallery for 2 years with an exemplary history - and if God hears his pleadings, soon, he’ll have a job (ignoring the fact he’s an atheist). 

Slowly, the fact that Technoblade is able to talk to his cat finally sinks in, making him realize how strange it is - and, apparently, it’s strange for Tommy, too. 

(“If I’m gonna be honest, I wish we had met with me being in my human half,” the boy commented, laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Technoblade is lying right by his side, glancing at the younger. 

He hums softly, staring at the ceiling too. 

“Not being able to talk to you for a month was strange.” 

“And why is that?”

Tommy shrugged.

“I can’t exactly pinpoint what. I think it’s mostly because I couldn’t say the things I wished to,” he confesses sofly, turning to lay on his side.

“And what would you say?” 

“Bitch,” it’s said instantly. 

Technoblade snorted, while Tommy cackled like an absolute gremlin he is. 

“I wouldn’t change how it went,” Techno said when the other calmed down, turning to lay on his side too, being face-to-face with the kid. “I’m happy. Maybe because it wasn’t me who was unable to say things, but- I’m happy.”

Tommy hummed, silence filling the room.  

Then-

“Sap.”

Techno pushed him out of the bed.)

Even if sometimes he has to pause and think: “holy shit, I can talk with my cat,” nothing really changed - and probably there’s another thing he should be really concerned about. Actually, everyone that knows about Tommy’s situation seems unbothered by it, acting like it’s a normal thing. Phil almost said to the kids that the sole reason they weren’t finding Tommy was because he probably shifted - all because it’s so normal to them. 

And my God, it’s funny. It’s unbelievable, even for him - he can’t even imagine how it is for Tommy. 

He doesn’t get scared when he sleeps cuddling with a human and wakes up with a cat beneath his arms. Or when Tommy would climb things as a cat and jump at him, just for Techno to catch a kid instead of a feline - he actually gets scared, but not for the reasons that this scene is being mentioned. 

It’s like everyone has a catshifter in their family or encountered one. Technoblade is pretty sure that his family would be completely open about it if there wasn’t any risk of the government hunting down the species.

And slowly, things set in. He starts to tutor the other kids again as his temporary job, while teaching Tommy how to read and write. Wilbur, after Techno bought his new flat - being next-door-neighbors to him -, enters his house every day demanding Wilbur’s hours. Philza, the absolute chaotic shit he is, makes sure to embarrass his sons and Tommy in front of people, like he always does - normally by shouting “I love you” when leaving their houses, or kissing their faces in public. And Tommy, as his routine at 8 PM, calls Ranboo through Techno’s phone or robs his laptop to let the kids play Minecraft together on a server.

For the first time, after a long time, Technoblade pauses. He breathes freely and thinks “yeah, this is good” . Soon, he’ll start painting again, maybe even resurrect his project of writing a book. 

And he’s happy. 

(“Boys, I have something to tell you,” Phil proclaimed to his two sons sitting in the living room, while Tommy was playing Minecraft on Technoblade’s phone. It’s one of the days they get together to have some family time: sometimes they bake, other times they play Minecraft on the telly, or simply sit by and watch some movies. Today, they’re having dinner together and trying to finish a random series. 

The three heads shot up.

“Oh no, the old man is dying-” 

“Don’t even joke about that, Tommy. The man is already 86 years old, he’s already in the grave-” 

Phil groaned loudly as the three laughed.

“I’m 45, it’s not even that old!” the twins grinned, a glint of chaos in their eyes. “But- that’s not the point of this talk.”

He clears his throat, suddenly nervous. The others seem to pick up, because no one jokes this time. They stay a few seconds in silence, waiting patiently as the older gather his thoughts. Then:

“I’m dating Kristin.”

Instantly, the brothers stared at each other, Tommy having a confused expression.

“Pog? I don’t know- Who’s Kristin?” the kid asked, ignoring the intense glaring the twins are sharing across the room. 

“About that-”

“She was our school’s headmaster,” Wilbur and Technoblade said in unison and, finally, breaking the staring contest, as Philza smiles nervously.

It’s silent for a few moments, the twins glaring unnervingly at Philza. The man if not unused to it, would be scared - they are his kids, he obviously knows they do these things. 

“Phil, she literally knows every fight we’ve been through-” Techno started, being interrupted by Wilbur.

“Well, then she’s more fit for the mother role, innit? She already knows our emo phase and all the drama we’ve been through!” Wilbur smiled, seeming excited. 

“Did you guys had an emo phase?-” 

“Will, we’ve been dating for two months. How are you already calling her your mother?” Phil exasperated, more calm after his children said something. A soft smile adorns his face, glee clear in his eyes.

“Well, Dadza, I have serious mommy issues. Every time I see an older woman who treats me kindly, I cry and imprint on her. What are you gonna do about it, huh?”

“He’s got you there, Phil-”

Phil groaned while Tommy giggled quietly).  

He’s happy.

“I’m happy,” he thought to himself, as he stared at the kid sleeping on his arms. 

(“So, who’s the oldest twin, after all?” Tommy asked, invading his personal space.

Techno snorted.

“Me. By two minutes.”

Tommy sputtered.

“Then- Then why Wilbur calls you little brother?” 

Technoblade shrugged, a smile adorning his features.

“I don’t know. He’s coping, probably.”

“And you don’t say anything because…?”

“It’s funny.”

Tommy stares at him in silence.

“You’re actually insane.”)