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The night was quiet and peaceful.
Snow floated down from the sky, landing carefully on the ground and coating it in a thick layer. Stars dotted the dark night sky, flickering in and out of focus as if trying to stay alight for just one second, one minute, one day longer. Strong gusts of wind caused the trees of the forest to sway, clinging desperately to their leaves to keep them from being swept away.
Amidst it all, a pair of twin cabins stood, smoke billowing from their chimneys to keep their owners warm and comfortable. They were connected, joined together by wooden decking, attached just as much as the people residing in them were. Across from them was another home, etched into the side of a snow-topped mountain, although smoke did not rise to the sky from the chimney like it had from the others.
The shack stood alone, cold and mostly untouched for many weeks. It's owner hadn't returned- couldn't return now- and so there had been no need to light a fire to bring heat or provide light. But still, it was cared for. The plants had not become overgrown, the animals had remained happy and fed, all the doing of two angry, grieving people unwilling to let go.
Technoblade sat on the steps that lead to his home, uncaring for the way his body shivered as the snow huddled around him. His eyes remained blank, his head tipped sideways as he stared half-lidded at the shack, once again taking in its imperfections, the display of love and care practically carved into its walls. He had been the one to visit it that day, the one to leave food out for the confused pets that rubbed against his legs in a cruel imitation of how they once would with their previous owner, the one to water and trim the plants that the boy who used to live there cared for so dearly.
He was exhausted afterwards, just like he had been ever since Ranboo's death. The sound of the boy's heart wrenching screams as he'd been torn open, joined by the animalistic cry from Technoblade's own mouth and he had shot forward with his hand outstretched as if to stop the sword from piercing through Ranboo's chest, still replayed in his brain at every possible opportunity, haunting his mind near constantly.
His nightmares functioned similarly. Each night without fail his own memories would be twisted and warped behind his own eyelids, replaying not only the screams and cries but the panic and terror in the kids eyes as he fell to his knees with blood gurgling at the corners of his mouth. Dream pulling on his arm harshly, attempting to drag him away from the boy he had sworn that he would protect, his own raw screams as he scrambled to return to Ranboo's side.
Remembering hurt in a way he had sworn it never would again, swarming his mind with guilt, regret, anger and grief alike, leaving his body thoroughly unrested due to the mediocre sleep. It hurt even more knowing that he had been there. If he had acted faster, if he had managed to stop Sam from pressing the blade of his sword against Ranboo's neck and pulling him close, then maybe the kid would still be alive and well in the shack across the tundra.
The voices seemed to agree with his sentiment, flaring to life with loud taunts and jeers as the mocked him. Their shrill chants and cries were familiar, but no less grating on his ears as they erupted from near silence. Technoblade winced, drawing his knees up to his chest and bringing a hand up to his head to clutch at his temples as a low hiss escaped him. It was only then that he was able to truly focus on their words, on whatever message they were trying to pass on to him.
They rambled on and on about how he was too late, how if he had just been faster he could've managed to finally save and protect rather than hurt and destroy. They seemed to feed of his own insecurities, dealing them like deadly blades aimed straight for his heart, each one intended to wound him and him alone. He sighed deeply, pulling his knees up to his chest with a grunt and burying his head into them.
The voices began to chant, the same whispers that they would as he was going into battle, slowly crescendoing until he hit his breaking point and chaos unfolded. Your fault, they muttered, shouted, screamed. The volume didn't mater to him, nor did the tone. What mattered to him was the words they spoke, the venom they laced the words with. Gradually, more voices joined those already whispering until it felt as if thousands of them had joined together just to spite him. He allowed his fingers to tangle into his hair and pull, attempting to find some form of solace from his mind, and muffled a sound partway to a shout into his knees as he struggled to calm his breathing.
He should be used to this by now, he thought bitterly. He should be used to the harsh words, the jeering, the agony in his mind. Some days, it all grew too unbearable for him to handle, leaving him to curl up in a ball and wait for his mind to quiet.
A sudden weight landed atop his shoulder, making Technoblade flinch sideways in an attempt to squirm away. He raised his head, his entire body jolting, his legs slamming against the wooden decking as he straightened them, whipping around to find the source of the weight.
Phil stood beside him, one hand resting on Technoblade's shoulder, his eyes soft and gentle as they looked down at him. Phil knelled beside him, his bones popping from the movement which usually would have elicited a sarcastic comment about the man's old age from Techno, but he found he could barely open his mouth to speak at all. He was helpless to resist as Phil carefully pulled his head to rest on his shoulder and began to rub careful circles on his back, too tired to care about anything other than making the voices go quiet.
Slowly but surely, the chanting began to peter off into individual whispers, occasionally sarcastic and taunting comments that he silently elected to ignore as to not rile them up further. Phil always seemed to know exactly how to get the voices to go quite, and it was a skill Technoblade both envied and adored.
Briefly, he wondered how Phil had discovered that something was amiss in the first place with the late hour of the night, until he remembered the sounds of his own frustrated groaning at the noise in his mind. He took a moment to lift his head, to properly look at his friend. The man's shoulder length hair was messy and knotted, his eyes slightly droopy. An emerald green cape was draped around him, in vast contrast to the nightgown the man had in beneath it. Techno cleared his throat carefully, not trusting his voice not to break if he spoke without the action, pulling Phil's full attention to him.
"I'm sorry," He muttered, his voice slightly muffled by the fur of Phil's cloak. The man's shoulder length tilted his head slightly in obvious confusion, and so Techno decided to clarify before he had a chance to voice it, "For waking you. I didn't mean to."
Clarity seemed to strike Phil then and the man shook his head with a rueful smile that was only fraying slightly at the edges.
"It's alright, mate. I was up anyway, heard a noise and thought I'd come check it out, didn't expect to find you out here, though," His face seemed to soften then as he took in the dark shadows beneath Technoblade's eyes, still visible due to the light pouring out from the open cabin door, and the slight tremors running through Techno's body. His voice was patient when he next spoke, "Are you alright, mate?"
"I'm fine."
Phil stayed silent for a handful of moments, long enough that Technoblade half expected to feel the comfortable weight at his side disappear and hear the sound of snow crunching beneath boots and watch as the light shining from the cabin faded as the door was closed. Instead, Phil simply sighed and ran a hand through his own hair, an action he had seen him do many times whenever Techno mentioned his own horrific sleep schedule or his general lack of ability to take care of himself. It would usually be followed by a sarcastic comment, a light joke, but this time Phil took the time to consider his words before speaking.
"You know, mate, you should stop trying to be so strong all the time. You don't have to."
Technoblade blinked in surprise, his mouth opening and closing as he stuttered. Phil simply watched him, patient and waiting, and they fell into a comfortable silence as Techno processed the words. He eventually opened his mouth to respond, to say anything, but another gust of wind made him shiver and curl slightly closer into Phil's side. Phil laughed softly, standing before reaching a hand down for Techno to take to pull himself up.
"C'mon. You must be freezing, you don't even have your cape on! Let's go inside and then we can keep talking."
Technoblade didn't resist, even when he noticed that he was being lead towards Phil's cabin and not his own. Instantly upon entering his body was flooded with heat like a wave crashing over him, causing his body to relax slightly as his shivers subsided. Phil lead him over to the couch, placing a hand on Techno's chest to gingerly push him to sit down. Techno felt himself practically fall backwards, sinking into the cushions with a content sigh.
Phil wandered over to the kitchen, and loud clattering that was somehow almost comforting could be heard as the man set about making drinks for them both. When he reemerged, he was clutching two mugs of steaming hot tea, one in each hand. He placed both of the mugs onto the table, sitting down heavily besides Techno with a content sigh of his own.
Technoblade reached out and grabbed his own mug with both hands, attempting to regain proper feeling in his fingers after so long of sitting out in the cold, and took a small sip. It was perfect, exactly how he liked it, and he caught a soft smile thrown in his direction as he began to practically lap up the drink.
When he was done, he set the mug back down and fell further into Phil's side, ending up almost sprawled out across the entirety of the couch with his head in his friends lap. He felt his eyes beginning to droop closed, relaxing into his friends embrace. But there was one thing left for him to say, one more confession left for him to make. He took a deep breath, savoring the feeling of the air in his lungs, and breathed out evenly.
"I miss him," He murmured, burying his face into one of the cushions of the couch to hide away the way his cheeks reddened as he said the words. He had never admitted it out loud before, more keen to move on past that moment in his life without ever displaying his weakness on over it, but saying it made him feel as though a weight had been lifted from his chest.
Phil wouldn't judge him, Technoblade knew he wouldn't, not after all that they had been through and so he allowed himself to let out what had been on his mind for the past weeks.
"Ranboo?" Phil questioned, although something in his slightly pained expression told Technoblade that he knew exactly who he had been referring to. Techno nodded anyway, willing to give confirmation, and Phil gently squeezed his hand.
"I know. I do too."
It was all that needed to be said, Techno thought, as his eyes began to slip closed. He felt Phil drape a blanket over him, murmuring something about getting some rest. Techno saw no reason to fight against the encroaching darkness, and allowed sleep to claim him.
They would talk in the morning, Techno knew, if his past experience with Phil was anything to go by. But for now, he could allow his body to attempt to get the rest it so desperately craved.
That night, he did not dream.