Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The ocean is gray and thrashing. It’s overfilled from the storm that has barely passed, rocking with anger and grief. Occasionally, thunder still rumbles, far off now, but too close for true safety. No one who cares about their well being would be out here right now.

It’s fortunate that Phil is only concerned with his wife’s well being. Unfortunate. Something yet to be seen, depending on how this trip goes.

Phil watches the water with dull eyes, utterly unmoving. A net hangs down from his hands, carried too much in the quick currents to catch anything that moves fast. Most fish around here. He wills the water stiller, the fish slower, the universe kinder—kind enough to not let his wife die, to cure her illness.

Thunders grabs at Phil’s eardrums, painful how it rattles his head. But he doesn’t let it make his body move. Or maybe there’s just not enough energy left within him to manage.

Being a fisherman was supposed to be a good career. Not lucrative, but his family was always meant to be fed, at least. Something he could make happen with his hands, regardless of famine or financial recessions. 

Now, his children go hungry and his wife withers away in bed, as Phil fails to catch enough to even buy a week’s worth of medicine.

Some part of him almost doesn’t care if the thunder grows close enough to allow lightning to strike. Or if the waves rise up and yank him down into their depths. He’s too tired and weak to really fight the water right now, so surely he would drown. At least he wouldn’t have to see his families faces…

But they would certainly die in weeks, if not days, without him. He just needs to figure something out. Keep working, more than anyone. Somehow, it must be enough. Somehow.

As though, finally, taking pity on him, the nets in his hands give a hard tug.

His reflexes are well worn enough to not be pulled free. He pulls back on the rope slightly, twisting. Making sure that whatever has tangled within the ropes won’t escape or be yanked out by his movements. All of his focus snaps into the here and now, heart pounding as he understands how vital this is.

Whatever it is, it’s writhing more than most fish would. It’s heavy and fighting. Something big, maybe. Hopefully. A fish from the deeper sea pushed out here, a tuna or a bass, larger than anything can grow around the coast.

Finally, when Phil is satisfied that he’s twisted the creature up enough, he starts reeling it in, hand over fist. His back aches, arms burning. His face is lined deep as he keeps going.

And when finally the net is pulled free, Phil gets a glimpse of bright oranges and pinks before his eyes pinch closed at the splashing water. Whatever it is is still fighting. Phil gets it down on the bottom of the boat before he even gets his eyes open again, hand pressing down on it firmly.

A sound like a cry responds to him. What could make a sound like that—?

A child.

Wrapped up in the ropes is a child. Wet hair is slick to a chubby screaming face, as tiny hands try to claw at the rope. It’s all too clumsy to be worthwhile though. Phil jerks back from the sight, until finally his sluggish mind clicks into focus.

Not a child. A mermaid.

Well, it’s likely a child mermaid. No, it certainly is. The thing nearly looks like a baby, though is probably more like a toddler, even if the tail twitching on their bottom half makes it harder to tell their age. Phil would know the cries leaving their mouth anywhere, even if they’re clouded by a bit of water still streaming from their gills. A parent can never forget that sound, no matter how exhausted and foggy.

How did a baby mermaid get all the way out here?

Mermaids are rare. In areas far from the ocean, some people still think of them as myths. Obviously as a fishermen, Phil has simply heard too many tales, and seen an actual tail or two among the waves, to not know about them. But even still, they’re almost never seen by even fisherman. And they’re supposed to be almost ridiculously protective of their young. About the only time they'll bother attacking humans is to protect their young.

The thunder rumbles again, taunting. Closer, Phil thinks. The little mermaid cries louder, writhing. The rope seems to be digging into their skin painfully.

Phil crouches and starts pulling them from the tangles.

“Where’s your pod?” Phil asks, voice quiet.

The words make the child jerk their face away from the wooden floor of the boat where they were curling in. More of a twitch than a real acknowledgement. Phil doesn’t know if they speak Engli—

All of Phil’s body freezes, much quicker and harder than if he were flinching from a hit. And he stares.

Dripping from the child’s eyes are brilliant, shiny, white pearls.

They’re mostly small, all smaller than Phil’s thumbnail. But as he grabs one off of the ground, he can tell that it most certainly is a true and pure pearl. Even the dreary light from the gray sky makes the surface shimmer pink and blue and yellow.

Mermaids cry pearls. Had Phil ever heard of something like that before? He doesn’t know. Maybe he has, maybe he thought it was really a myth, maybe he just forgot—

Pearls on this side of the continent sell for far more than fish. The water is too cold to dive for them often, and most oysters don’t even make lovely ones here. But there’s nothing misshapen or not beautiful about these pearls. They will certainly sell for hundreds.

The little mermaid screeches louder, in time with a crack of lightning, visible on the horizon. Phil cringes, before grabbing them again.

“Hey now, it’s alright…”

His hands shake as he slowly unwinds the rope. Though, quite obviously, it does little to soothe the child. They’re more afraid of Phil than the net.

He’s relieved when the pearls keep rolling down their face from it.

“Is your pod…?”

Phil glances out at the water, watching how the waves are biting at each other worse now. Another round of storms is coming for certain. He needs to get back to shore soon. Luckily, his find was worthwhile today, he might be able to afford a bit of medicine and food, not have to water it all down with sea brine—

Again, his body stills. The child keeps squirming fitfully within his hands. Really, it’s so small. It must have been washed this way by the storms.

It would be right to throw it back… right? It’s only a child. Probably has a family out there, considering the half undone braids still in their hair and little bits of shell weaved in. The child is chubbier than Phil’s own kids. Cared for. Loved.

But… lost. And scared. Crying so much.

Who’s to say that throwing it back will even be good for it? They’re so young, there’s no way they could find their way home. They probably were swept miles away. And the ocean is huge, their family could never find them, no matter how much they tried.

Parts of Phil whisper that it likely isn’t all true. That the kid’s cries are loud and high pitched, made for traveling through water. That the fat of their body could likely help them survive days while they waited. That creatures who care so fiercely for their young must have some methods of finding them. Didn’t Phil hear a story about some pirate whose throat was ripped out when a mermaid’s baby was grabbed from her—

Every tear plinks to the ground audibly, another pearls rolling among the others. Phil’s hands are shaking. Slowly, he draws the mermaid to his chest and rubs their back.

“It’s alright. No one’s going to hurt you,” Phil mutters.

The cries go on and on, reassurance obviously not understood to any extent. 

And Phil is deeply relieved with every part of his being.

—

“Did you talk to the church about the kid?” Kristin asks.

Phil hides a cringe by turning away from her, placing the empty cup on the bedside table. A bit of sugar is sticking to the bottom of the mug. Apparently, the medicinal herbs and the powders packed into pills taste terribly bitter. But Phil will buy as much sugar as Kristin needs to choke it down. He swears that there’s a warmth to her face after a full week of the medicine.

“They recommended dropping the kid back off where I found him, for his mother to find,” Phil says.

“Seriously?” Kristin asks, sighing. “The kid could have fell off the dock and drowned. That’s ridiculous.”

Phil turns back to her with a frown. It’s easy to produce, considering the weight of the lies in his chest.

It wasn’t too hard to explain the new child’s presence away to his wife. Most importantly, by the time that Phil carried them home wrapped in his coat, he had grown legs where his tail had been. Thank all that’s good for that, since he’s not quite sure of what he would have managed with the toddler sized fish otherwise. And, he had stopped his crying too, so in the few peeks that his bedridden wife has had of the boy, he’s appeared like any other abandoned child from the streets.

And there are plenty of those. No suspicion can come from that story. A toddler left at the docks, everyone else ignoring them while they cried and cried.

Well, at least one part of the story was accurate.

The worst part is that Phil doesn’t even know if he would have actually taken home a child if that situation occurred. If they didn’t weep profit. His insides sour as he looks upon Kristin’s face. Purely concerned and worried.

“I’ll have to go see about it again in a few weeks. Maybe there will be some room in an orphanage nearby then,” Phil says.

“Maybe,” Kristin agrees, forehead lined with stress.

Immediately, Phil leans forward and brushes his hand against her skin. He pushes her hair behind her ear and offers a small smile. She leans her cheek into his hand.

“Hey. That storm that blew through has pushed some fish from the ocean this way. Maybe the storm season will be good for us. Fix the tides,” Phil says.

“Just don’t sail into any storms. I can’t wrangle three kids, I only have two hands,” Kristin says.

“Promise,” Phil says, smiling with closed lips.

“We’ll figure it out,” Kristin says, words getting quieter.

Even while her fingers tremble with weakness, she grabs his hand, squeezing. Phil lets her hold on until her eyes start dipping shut and her fingers slip away. Then he takes a deep breath and pulls away.

“Get some rest. I’ll bring you some dinner soon,” Phil says.

He leans forward and kisses Kristin, adjusting her pillows below her. With her hair fanned out, she looks beautiful, even with the dark circles under her eyes and the hollowness to her cheeks. The medicine will have to clear it up soon. A couple more weeks on all the medicine that the doctor said she needed, not missing any days or watered down. It has to make her better.

Carefully, he picks up the dishware and carries it out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Another grand breath leaves him, aching around the edges. It’s fine. He can do this.

As he walks to the kitchen, he looks around for scurrying feet or little heads of curls. It’s almost suspiciously quiet, and although his sons have been surprisingly good about letting their mother sleep, they’re rambunctious boys. He’s used to at least whisper laughter or fights at most times.

“Boys, where are you?” Phil says, only barely raising his voice above a speaking tone.

There are disconcertingly no answers. After washing the last of the medicine out of the cup, he turns and walks to the boys’ bedroom. What sort of mess have they gotten up to now?

Soft voices filter out of the door right before he pushes it open. There’s no blood or fire upon first glance. Tommy’s splayed out on the ground and Wilbur’s hunched over. Talking to something…

“Boys, what did I tell you?” Phil asks.

Both Wilbur and Tommy whip their heads around to him. Their eyes have the shine back to them, just from a few days of good meals. Still too thin though. Spread across their caught faces.

“...Nothin?” Tommy says, utterly guilty.

Phil sighs, shaking his head.

From behind Wilbur, the little mermaid crawls away quickly, wedging himself under the bed. Only the tiniest of cries precedes the boy disappearing from sight, and then he’s quiet again.

The boys turn to watch it happen, heads tilting in confusion. No part of them is able to understand why a child would be afraid to be in their home.

“I said to leave the boy alone. Come on out here and help me get started with dinner,” Phil says.

“We were just talking to him,” Wilbur says.

“Yeah! We’re friend’s him!” Tommy says, gappy baby teeth shown off in a smile.

“That’s really nice of you two, but he’s a bit afraid right now. Will be until we get him to his parents, hm?” Phil says. “Now come on. Let him relax.”

Tommy groans loudly, but Wilbur’s face is simply screwed up as he stands. 

“Are you really going to find his parents? What if they…” Wilbur trails off, looking at the ground.

His son is too smart. He’s seen too much in the world, even with Phil trying to shield him. He hasn’t done enough as a father to protect his innocence. How many times has his son worried about his mother dying because they have no medicine? His father dying at sea and leaving them alone?

Surely too much. Phil wanted better things for his boys. For them to be happy every day, until they are far, far older.

He grabs Wilbur’s chin, tilting it up and offering a smile.

“We’re doing everything that we can,” Phil promises. “That’s all we can do for him.”

“Techno,” Wilbur says.

“What?” Phil asks.

“He said his name’s Techno,” Wilbur says.

“Yeah! And he said that they’s got lotsa horsies!” Tommy says, popping up now with energy.

Phil almost worries about what sorts of things that the boy has apparently spoken about to his sons. But then again, he—Techno—is so young that it’s probably nothing too understandable. Horses?

“I’ll make sure I’ll tell the priests who are looking about, huh? Now come on already, mom’s hungry,” Phil cajoles.

Tommy skips out of the room, running ahead a tad too loudly. Perhaps Kristin’s fatigue will be good to keep her sleeping through all that. But it’s hard to scold Tommy for simply being happy and young.

Wilbur, on the other hand, pauses.

“Are you going to make him feel better first? He’s crying.” Wilbur asks, peeking under the bed with concern.

Phil hesitates, before nodding and ushering his son out of the room. “Of course. Go start setting the table for me.”

When he’s alone in the room with only the baby mermaid, he pauses, chewing the inside of his lip. Slowly, he crouches, ignoring how his knees and back ache with it. Peeks of pink can be seen below the bed, curled up in the corner.

“It’s alright, you can come out,” Phil says.

But it hardly matters. Nothing that Phil says ever calms the boy.

Techno is terrified of Phil. Just the presence of him makes the boy weep enough for a day’s food, a week’s medicine, life for all of them. It’s wretched and relieving.

But it also won’t exactly be inconspicuous if his boys find that Techno is crying pearls. Since the kid is so prone to crying in his fear, Phil has been trying to keep them apart as much as he can. To pick up any loose pearls that he finds rolling around wherever he’s curled up, trying to hide from him. Of course his sons won’t heed that warning for long, though. It’s good that Techno is not scared of them, won't show him inhuman nature to them.

Good that he’s scared of Phil, terribly.

“Alright, alright,” Phil murmurs.

He dips his hand beneath the bed, making the child squeak in more terror. But he simply lays a hand on Techno’s back and pulls him out. The boy tries to writhe away, crying louder, but Phil pulls him into his lap. The squirming, crying toddler is a familiar feeling to have there, as Phil presses him to his chest and starts rubbing his back.

“No one’s going to hurt you. It’s alright, Techno,” Phil says.

With a hiccup that sends a pearl clattering off of his chin, Techno tips his head back to look at him. Responding to his name? Hopefully it’s the right one. 

Phil spreads a soft smile across his face, pushing the hair off of Techno’s face. It’s not damp, considering the lack of true tears, but his face is still warmed from the fussing. Somewhere, he heard that injured oysters are the ones that make pearls. The worse off their broken shells, the more beautiful and big the pearls will be. Though of course, most die before any proper pearl can be formed, hence why it can’t be taken advantage of.

Gently, he wipes the pearls from Techno’s eyes and presses him to his chest once more. He hums softly and rocks him, like he did when his sons were smaller.

“I promise that I won’t hurt you,” Phil says. “Everything’s alright.”

And he means it. No matter what, he can’t hurt a child. It’s wrong what he’s done, taking the little mermaid away from his home and family like this. But it was storming badly out there and the young thing was lost, alone. Who knows what could have happened? Phil will keep him warm and fed, looked after. That’s better than what the orphanages offer, the workhouses once kids get old enough to use their hands.

If things keep going as they are, then in a few weeks Phil can see about getting him back to the ocean anyway. Techno screeched so loud right out of the water, it must be something with the mermaid form. If his pod was ever going to find him, then surely they can after a little while. The weather will be better then, too.

Phil couldn’t take care of another child without the money from selling the pearls. Both of his actual children would die, and his wife too. Are they not also innocents here?

As Techno slowly calms in his whimpering, Phil feels a bit better in it. He can imagine that anyone else in his place would have done terrible things to the boy to get him to cry and cry, all the way to death. This is really for the best.

Carefully, Phil picks up every tiny pearl that has fallen to the ground and onto his shirt. Better than them going to waste, really.

Then he picks Techno up, shushing his slightly fearful whines, and carries him out to the main part of the house. Wilbur and Tommy have gotten bored of helping ‘cook’ already, sitting on the rug and playing some sort of hand game. Phil sets Techno beside them. There’s really no harm in it.

“Techno, Techno!” Tommy chirps, grabbing at the boy’s hands excitedly.

“Careful, Tommy,” Wilbur says, clumsily mature as he pushes his brother away. “He’s scareded.”

Phil chuckles as Techno blinks unsurely, before shuffling closer to Wilbur. When he steps away to actually start the dinner, the boy glances up at him. His eyes are pale blue, the same shade as the ocean on a clear summer’s day.

—

The merchant frowns at the small pile of pearls, rolling one in his fingers. Suspiciously, he tries to dig his fingernail into the pearl. But it doesn’t give at all, unmarred or chipped, pristine and shining.

“Where did you get these?” The man asks, pushing back his fanciful hat. The stupid feather stuck in it sways.

“Oysters,” Phil says. When he’s glanced at with disbelief, he elaborates: “I’ve got a method. Sorry, but you understand why I won’t be sharing any time soon.”

“You think that the results are replicable?” The merchant asks.

Phil shrugs. “It’s dependent on a lot of things. Time consuming. I can’t guarantee numbers or anything. But, it’s better than just shucking stray oysters from crab traps.”

Depends how much the boy happens to cry. And how long until Kristin gets better, so Phil can return him to where he belongs.

“Hell, this many in a year could fuel a proper business. If these are real—”

“They’re real. I’m a fisherman, not a swindler,” Phil says.

“You’ll get your’s if not,” The man threatens. “But, I must admit, this is frankly lucrative. I have many connections in the cities inland. Wealthy merchants, nobles, even some lower royalty. If all checks out, I could see us making something more long term, hm?”

“What sort of deal?” Phil asks, hesitant on multiple fronts. Long term…

“Exclusivity on your product, or something close to it. I do the selling. You get some upfront, some once the product is sold. More a-piece than what you’re asking for now,” The man says.

That’s far more than he’d ever touch just fishing. More than they’d need just to survive. Long term.

“And this batch? I buy it all upfront. To show my good will,” The merchant says, smiling.

There’s no way Phil can turn that down. That amount of money in his pocket—near security for his family. Anything getting sold to the cities goes for far more than Phil can hock at the fish market in town here.

He exhales anything biting at his insides. He holds his hand out.

The merchant takes it, smiling and shaking his hand.

“We have a lovely relationship in the making here, my friend. I will send you a letter when one of my men in the city gets a look at these. Then we will talk.”

The bag of coins that the man hands him is heavy, and a glance inside shows mostly gold and silver pieces. He shuffles through, before giving the man an affirmative nod. And just like that, the pearls are packed away within someone else’s pocket.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Phil says. “I must be home now. I’ll alert the post office to fetch me for any mail from you.”

The man tips his hat at Phil before strolling off, whistling a tune. Seems like he’s heading in the direction of the bar. Well, whatever a man does with his own pleasure. Phil turns and beelines for his home, eager to see his family with an ounce less of desperation weighing him down.

The weather is nice. The smell of the ocean is fresh today, blowing in on a gentle breeze. A few pieces of his hair that has escaped his pony tail get tugged on by it. He thinks about buying some steak for his family. The red meat will do them all good.

Their house is a bit back from the road, small and paint peeling. It was Phil’s father’s. He and Kristin fixed it up together, after he died. Back then, Phil was thinking that maybe his dad did have it all right. Fishing, staying close, going to church.

They ran out of money for tithes pretty quick. There wasn’t much forgiveness to be found then.

The sounds of laughter floats on the wind up to him. With a furrowed brow, Phil follows it out behind the house. He has to squint against the setting sun, the yellow light that it splays over everything. On the path down to the little piece of beach behind their house, his children run and scream, chasing each other. Kristin is sitting in the place where dirt starts to turn to sand, watching them. Her back is to him, but even so. She looks beautiful like this, below the sky, before their children.

As he walks closer, he spies Techno a bit ahead. Too far, toddling nearer to the ocean.

Hurriedly, Phil jogs down the slope. Kristin calls out as he passes, but he’s in too much of a rush to get to the small child. And as he’s there, fully in the sand, he plucks Techno up off the ground quickly. Techno cries out in surprise, wiggling. But Phil pats his back and heads over to Wilbur, setting Techno beside him.

“Hold his hand Wilbur, stay away from the water. Techno can’t swim at all,” Phil says.

With a look of importance, Wilbur plucks up Techno’s hand, holding it tightly. Phil ruffles his sons' heads, before heading back up to Kristin.

She’s half getting up now, but Phil waves at her to sit down.

“Thank you. I didn’t see him,” Kristin says.

“It’s alright,” Phil says, sitting beside her, a little breathless. “My Tommy senses started tingling.”

Kristin chuckles, taking his hand. Slowed down by the toddler, Wilbur has turned his attention to digging for treasure instead, which means that Tommy has inevitably followed too. Techno seems to be watching the ocean, quiet and entranced, fingers in his mouth. A small squinch pulls at Phil’s brows.

“Are you feeling well today?” Phil asks.

“Pretty good,” Kristin says. “Don’t I look it?”

“You always look it, that’s not a good way to tell,” Phil says, smiling at her.

But it is true. There’s more life to Kristin once more. Her cheeks are fuller, slightly rosy, and her eyes are bright. Not quite as healthy and strong as she used to be, but the few weeks of medicine and food have done her well.

It’s a better sight than any sunset or pile of gold could be.

“It’s a good day. Just got winded on the way down,” Kristin says.

“It’s the sand. Hard to walk on,” Phil says. “Probably for the best, I think Techno’s scared of the water after everything.”

Kristin hums.

“The sun is nice though. Good for the kids,” Kristin says.

“It is,” Phil says.

He sets the side of his head on the top of Kristin’s. She leans her head onto his shoulder, sighing contently. Perhaps a bit tired, but not dropping with exhaustion. Phil wishes this moment would last forever.

The peace lasts a couple minutes, until Tommy stands and jumps onto Wilbur. Techno makes a little screechy sound at the sight while Wilbur starts thrashing in fight. Kristin sighs, meeting his eyes.

“Time to feed the beasts.”

Phil snorts and shakes his head, before standing and helping his wife up.

“You boys knock that off, or no story tonight!” Kristin calls.

The squabble grows louder at the threat, but they at least stop clobbering each other. Phil makes a sharp gesture at them to come closer. It seems to be half abided.

“Story, you say?” Phil asks her.

“Oh, didn’t you hear? You’ve got yourself a new job,” Kristin says.

Phil laughs. Dimples pop up on Kristin’s cheeks.

“Let’s see if I’m awake that late or you might have to. I fear I make all sorts of deals before ten in the morning,” Kristin says.

“Those boys…” Phil murmurs.

When Tommy comes sprinting past them, Phil grabs him off of the ground and throws him over his shoulder with a groan. He’s getting big, almost too big to carry. A couple little kicks hit his front in retaliation.

They move inside slowly, Kristin sitting heavily in the armchair right when they get in. While Phil goes to get her some water, Techno toddles over to her. He catches sight of the little boy setting his chin on Kristin’s knee, looking up at her. It pulls a sweet smile out of Kristin as she ruffles his hair.

Nearly in time with Kristin getting better, Techno has slowly gotten more comfortable around them. Less afraid of Phil, hiding less, fighting less. Crying less.

It feels like some sort of sign, maybe. Kristin is well on the way to healing with the medicine that she’s got, the medicine that they should be able to afford plenty to get her back to completely healthy. And Techno isn’t so emotionally upset. He’s still a bit of a fussy child, but he’s sweet, too. Quieter and more observant than his boys, more withdrawn. It makes him toddling after them quite cute.

He hands Kristin the water and Techno scurries away, off behind the couches. Well, not exactly comfortable with them, but the flow of the pearls has slowed significantly.

Maybe that’s okay. Maybe it has to be. In a couple weeks, maybe he can put the boy back where he belongs and everything will go back to how it’s supposed to be.

It turns out that Kristin is too tired to read them the story tonight. Phil does it for her, much to the slight disgruntlement of the boys. Techno ends up falling asleep in the boys’ bed, but Phil doesn’t bother moving him out to the living room. He’s been waking up crying less and less, it will likely be fine.

Heading to his own bed, despite the slightly early hour, Phil smiles at his wife still being awake, though resting. She smiles back, before looking to the side. At the coin bag on the bedside table.

“Phil? What’s all this?” Kristin asks.

A slight rumple goes through Phil’s face. He sits beside her and starts unbuttoning his overshirt. She sets her hand on his upper arm softly.

“There’s been more money than there should be lately, even if the tides are treating you well. And now this,” Kristin says, trailing off. Her eyes are so dark they almost appear a lovely black, like the night sky.

“You think I’ve taken up highway robbery?” Phil jokes, quirking his lip up.

“I’d hope you’d have more if that’s what you turned to,” Kristin says.

“Nothing like that,” Phil says, shaking his head.

A part of him almost wants to come out with it. Surely this is all over now, or very nearly. There will be no more need for the slightly foul money source he’s stumbled upon and it can all be sorted right again. A small wrinkle in everyone’s curtains, but nothing so much as a rip.

But on the other hand, he can hardly do such a thing. It weighs heavily on him, inside him. It makes him tired, and he doesn’t even have a reason for it like his wife does.

She needs nothing that will make her stressed or upset or sicker.

“I didn’t want you to worry, or get your hopes up. None of this is solid in the… long term. But I’ve been poking into the mercantile sphere. Whale bones, tuna and dolphin, blubber. There’s money to be made in managing to get it to the cities, if you know the right people,” Phil says, slow at the start till he gets his words in order.

“And you do?” Kristin asks, eyebrows pressed together.

“... I reached out to some old friends. And some old acquaintances. Old practically strangers.” Phil huffs. “It’s just short contracts, the main one is up with this. But we needed some help.”

The sour thing is that it’s true. He did reach out to a lot of people. But aside from an offer for a spot on a whaling ship from an old fishing buddy who moved a few port towns over, one that would hardly pay more than he was getting fishing on his own ship and take him away from the home for months, there was nothing.

Not until the boy.

Kristin smiles, slightly sad, but mostly happy.

“I can’t help but to worry for our family. But I worry a lot less knowing you’re here to take care of us. You’re a good man.”

The words are a hand around his heart. Equal parts painful and caressing. But in the end, they can only reinforce everything he's done so far. He would do almost anything for his family, no matter what sort of man that makes him.

“You just worry about getting better, love,” Phil says.

He lays down beside his wife, holding her and feeling that it all must work out. Somehow, it will be just as she says. All alright.

—

Phil wakes up in the middle of the night to Kristin seizing as her lips turn blue.

Chapter Text

The doctor, apparently, had gotten the original diagnosis wrong. Not terribly, not in a way that could truly hurt Kristin. And the medicine was still the right choice, still helping her.

Her condition is not one that will improve. At least, not permanently. It’s likely she’ll have it forever. The rest of her life.

For the first time since all this started, Phil breaks down. Just a little bit and locked away in the bathroom, where no one can see him. But the weight that hits him is suddenly so heavy that he can’t bear to hold it all in. To even stand on his legs like this.

So he sobs silently into his palms and he tries not to crack further.

Even in the worst moments, where there was no food in their house and Kristin didn’t have enough medicine to even get through a couple days more, Phil had hope. That if somehow, someway, he managed to get the money they needed for her medicine, she would get better. She’d be healthy and happy, she’d carry their kids around and go back to her embroidery, her carpentry help at the mortuary. She wouldn’t get that awful hollowed out look to her ever again.

But she’s unwell forever. The rest of her life she’ll need the medicine to keep living, to have any chance of feeling good at all and not withering away.

Phil doesn’t know what to do.

When he leaves the bathroom, the doctor is long gone and Kristin has fallen back to sleep in the early morning. His children, too, are piled on the bed beside her. Drifted off and looking peaceful. It makes him hurt all the more, ache with it.

The softest sound of crying reaches him from the kids’ room. Phil’s face scrunches as he looks inside.

Techno is curled on the bed, sobbing with choked little sounds. His hands are balled up at his temples as his whole body shakes with it. Pearls drip off of the pillow onto the blanket.

Phil stands at the bedside for a few moments, watching as the pure white drips free from his eyelids and turns to perfect orbs before they even crest his cheeks. It truly does look magic, if only the tragic sort.

Finally, Techno’s eyes flutter open. A louder cry leaves him as he looks up at Phil, one hand reaching out towards him. Phil grabs it, kneeling by the bedside and petting his back now.

“What’s wrong?” He asks quietly.

“Hurts,” Techno whines.

“What hurts?” Phil asks, petting lightly.

All he gets in response are pitiful moans as Techno scrunches back up. Phil sits beside him on the bed, before pulling him into his lap. Humming, he rubs circles on his back, wicking the pearls away into the pocket on his night pants. With hiccupy chokes, it slowly fills.

Exhaustion drags Phil's head backwards, barely able to keep his arms up around the boy. He wonders if Techno is dying too. It’s not supposed to be catching, what Kristin has. But maybe it’s something else. Wouldn’t that just be Phil’s luck now.

He supposes he doesn’t know what mermaids need. Is he fine as a human in this form? Is there some sort of food or, god forbid, medicine he needs? Is it just the fear and sadness once more?

Phil has no idea. All he can do is hold Techno and pocket his tears.

—

The illness gets worse.

Not Kristin’s, her’s is steady with the medicine. If one doesn’t count the dips and spikes that seem to be completely random. Well, aside from the fact that stress of any sort, physical or emotional, brings them on worse.

It’s Techno that’s the inextricable one now.

Phil plays it off as a flu to Kristin when he can’t quite hide it completely. In reality, the symptoms are far more concerning. Full body pain, it seems. Nausea, lack of appetite, terrible thirst that then makes him vomit. When he starts to writhe and scratch at his legs, Phil feels something solid in his guts, knowing he’s done something wretched to the boy.

And, Techno cries. Near constantly, Phil has to keep him from the boys to have a chance of them not seeing. What Phil promised the merchant in a year, he nearly collects in a week.

If only it didn’t seem like he was truly dying. If only his wife wasn’t dying.

One morning, after Phil had stayed up the night rocking Techno, the boy starts to scream. His vocal cords are weak, but the sound is nearly proper shouting. None of Phil’s shushing dents it at all. It washes over Phil so much that he swears he can feel the physical pain too.

“Okay, okay,” Phil repeats, near senseless. “Hush and I will try.”

Techno doesn’t seem to have it in him to obey, but he falls silent regardless, vocal cords tripping. Quickly, Phil hoists the boy up and carries him out the door. He only pauses long enough to make sure it shuts silently behind him.

The walk to the beach is oddly wobbly, under the barely there light of dawn. The sand. Walking on it tires a person.

Within his arms, Techno’s body stiffens and bows, screechy sounds escaping him. It’s so similar to the seizing that Phil finds himself near running, only slowing when the sand is slick below his feet and the ocean is loud. Jerks are running through the boy as Phil kneels at the water’s edge, slowly lowering Techno into it.

The waves are rhythmic as they lap at the shore, over the tiny body. The fluff that Techno’s pink hair has become with salt stained curls instantly flattens below the water. Made for floating weightless in it, perhaps. After a few touches of the water, Techno quiets and stills, eyes flickering wildly. Then, his hand drops to his side and he starts grabbing at the water, fingers digging into sand and feet kicking up. 

Picking him back up under his arms, Phil pulls him deeper into the water. He doesn’t bother rolling his own pants up, getting submerged from his waist down. The water laps over Techno’s face a few times, until with a start the boy flips over.

Phil flinches slightly as the toddler disappears from his grip. Instinctive panic at watching a small child disappear into the ocean. His grappling fingers slide over something slippery and wet, the obvious scales of a fish. Just as he tentatively stills, Techno’s face rises back out of the water, snippets of pink tail waggling at his back. Pinkish gills are splitting his neck now, eyes sharper and coated in a clear eyelid. He gurggles a strange animal noise.

“That’s something,” Phil murmurs.

With a chirrup, Techno flips backs into the water. Splashes of water splatter out onto Phil’s face. It’s cold in the early morning air, but Techno doesn’t seem to care as he swims about. 

From below the surface, Phil can see streaks of color mostly. Even through the slightly gritty water, the scales glitter brilliantly. If anything, Phil swears that he can make out more colors in them now. Lilacs and faint blues, sunset orange and yellow, middle-of-a-peach red.

Although a sort of clumsiness for childhood still sticks to Techno, he swims quickly. Faster than a human could, though that makes sense. He wonders how fast adult mermaids can zip about. Techno sticks close to him, winding around his legs and occasionally breaking the surface with presumably happy fish noises.

Phil sighs as he watches. It seems like the water has helped with whatever was wrong with him. No longer sluggish or crying. Maybe mermaids need the ocean to live. He supposes it makes sense.

The loops that Techno is making slowly get wider around Phil, dipping away before coming back. It almost seems like he’s going to swim right away, out into the ocean proper. Maybe even baby mermaids can find their way home. Maybe he would be alright out there. Off back to his pod and home…

And then Kristin would die when they run out of money. No matter how much Phil can make off of what pearls he has, eventually they will run out. And she will die.

He bites his lip before shooting out, grabbing Techno around the wrist as he starts to swim off. Precision and speed from catching fish out of the water for years. He drags him back through the water as he thrashes slightly.

“Don’t go far, Techno, it’s dangerous,” Phil says firmly.

Screeching responds at him, Techno wiggles more. But with a firm squeeze, Phil lowers him back into the water and he stays closer again.

He releases a breath.

Phil lets Techno swim for nearly an hour, making sure that he never strays too far. When the boy starts splashing Phil with his tail and giggling, he picks him up and carries him out of the ocean once more. Techno whines loudly, hand reaching over Phil’s shoulder to grab at the waves. The noise is clicky, not quite human. But Phil just pats his back and shushes him like any other child.

As they fully leave the water, Techno’s fussing gets louder. It’s almost hard to keep a hold of him, tail slippery and hands clawing. But Phil doesn’t let him go, sitting in the sand to wait for his tail to turn back to legs.

“All down for now. Maybe we can swim tomorrow, okay?” Phil says.

Techno burbles sadly, a couple tears streaking from his eyes. Phil thumbs them away, puts them in his breast pocket.

Eventually, Techno starts kicking and squirming in discomfort, until his tail splits apart. He makes a tiny noise at it, but there is no blood and he calms quickly. Only a couple confused snuffles and tears. The big sleep shirt around the boy is already drying, but sticking to his skin skin uncomfortably all the same.

“Let’s go inside and get dried off,” Phil says, petting his tide tangled hair.

Techno only whines in response, but his fight is weak as Phil carries him back inside.

By the time that he is cleaned up and dressed for the day, damp hair braided back, Techno is toddling after Wilbur and Tommy once more. He seems a bit clumsier, but the warmth in his cheeks is back and he giggles without pain. Fine again.

It’s for the best. Techno’s so young, there was never any way that he could find his way home after he got lost to begin with. No one else would take a lost orphan either. And Phil can’t afford to take care of him without the pearls. It’s just how it has to be. For the better. For the best.

He rolls a small pearl between his fingers, before tucking it away in a satin bag. He keeps this one tucked in a tea tin, a kind only he likes.

No one needs the stress or worry. Somehow, it will be okay.

—

Things even out, more or less. Kristin’s health goes better or worse, pulling like the waves, but with the medicine there are still more good days than bad. She hasn’t lost any more weight and she can get up for a bit most days.

Techno, too, continues to settle well. Phil bothers to tell Kristin that the church declined to take him again, lies that they told Phil to just take him to a workhouse himself and drop him off. From there, no one brings up Techno going ‘home’ anymore.

And, thankfully, the merchant is fulfilling his end of the deal. Phil received a letter, happily confirming that the pearls are real and pure, that the jeweler is interested too, as are some of that man’s connections. Half are sold already, and the rest are just about promised away to buyers who wish to lay their eyes on them first. But the merchant is certain that all will buy them when they see them.

After a couple days, Phil writes back in confirmation to the prospect of a long term deal. Something buzzes in his chest as he mails the letter. He needs this. They need this.

The only problem with the situation is that the more comfortable and well that Techno gets, the less he cries. In fact, it almost seems that without the stress of the new place that Techno is quite a calm and aloof child, if not outright happy.

Phil wishes that he was a bit more of a crybaby. It would certainly make their future more secure, as Phil has to hire the doctor back to look at Kristin’s cough when it gets a little bloody, or to buy more medicine that is supposed to help with the seizing. The medications do all seem to help, but it’s more and more money. They have enough for now, but in a couple months if Techno doesn’t cry much…

While Phil is mending a shirt, he watches as Techno picks a block off of the floor next to Tommy. It seems like it was holding up a tower that the blond had built, since it all goes tumbling down with a clack. 

“Hey!” Tommy shouts.

Roughly, Tommy grabs Techno’s wrist, yanking towards him. In reflexive surprise, Techno jerks back, trying to pull away as his chubby little fingers stay stuck around the block, probably having forgotten it. In anger, Tommy pushes him down on the ground and pulls on his arm even harder.

Techno cries out, thrashing in obvious pain and fear.

“Stop it, Tommy,” Wilbur scolds, grabbing onto Tommy’s arm and pulling.

It probably only wrenches at Techno harder, considering how his cry warbles higher, practically a scream. Phil stands, putting the sewing aside, and pulls Tommy off of Techno.

“Be more careful,” Phil scolds lightly. 

As he catches sight of some tears pooling in the corners of Techno’s eyes, he can hardly have much force behind the words. Phil picks the boy up and presses his face to his chest, rubbing his back.

“Sorry,” Tommy says, not appearing too apologetic.

“Be nice,” Phil reinforces. “You could have hurt him.”

Still looking like he’s slightly annoyed about his toy being stolen, Tommy turns away with a pout. Phil only sighs and shakes his head, carrying Techno back to the bedroom. He brushes his pink hair back, sitting in the old rocking chair with him.

“It’s alright, Tommy didn’t mean it,” Phil says. “Just an accident. You’re okay.”

A look over the boy shows that there’s only the faintest of red marks where Tommy grabbed his wrist, seemingly not bad enough to bruise or anything.

“Does it hurt anywhere else?” Phil asks, rubbing the back of Techno’s hand.

Techno just whines quietly, before pushing against Phil’s neck. The tears are cold on his skin, dripping down and getting caught in the collar of his shirt. Humming soothingly, Phil rocks him in the chair and hugs him until he calms again, sniffling.

It seems like he’s all tired out now. Cute, in the way that little kids get floppy and all droopy eyed with tiredness moments after running high. Phil lets him stay snuggled up as he cleans him up and tucks away the pearls, making sure that his eyes seem dry.

“Do you want to help me with the sewing? Make Kristin’s nightgown all pretty?” Phil asks, patting Techno’s back.

The boy mumbles inaudibly, nodding. Phil chuckles and hoists him on his hip, carrying him back out to the living room. Tommy and Wilbur have moved on from the blocks now, stacking an old deck of cards instead. It seems far less successful, though there’s less violent tumbles.

“Do you want to go play again instead?” Phil asks, bouncing Techno slightly.

The boy shakes his head and clings closer to Phil. He just accepts it, sitting back in his chair and doing the sewing over Techno. Children get into little scraps all the time, it’s fine. Techno will forget by the time he wakes back up.

Phil goes on humming while he works, watching as Techno sleeps curled up in his laps, cheeks only a little reddened. He’ll have to make tea later.

—

“Swim,” Techno says, grabbing onto the edge of Phil’s shirt, tugging. “Swim!”

“Not right now, Tech,” Phil says.

He doesn’t glance down at the boy, even as he whines. The past couple days, Techno hasn’t eaten much at meals, sleeping more and whining in pain. It’s been a couple weeks since they’ve been swimming and it’s obvious that discomfort is digging into the young boy.

In frustration, the toddler throws his stuffed bear onto the ground. It’s a nice thing, soft and instantly latched onto when Phil gifted it to Techno. Only felt fair when he saw it at the market while trading with the merchant a bit ago. Since then, Techno’s carried it around with him everywhere, except when they’re swimming.

From trial and error, based mostly on how much Techno cries or is sluggish, Phil has figured out that Techno really needs to swim in the sea at least twice a week to feel good. He’s alright enough if a couple weeks go by, but after that he starts getting properly uncomfortable.

Phil wished he was more prone to tantrums. Tommy and Wilbur probably both would be far more prone to screaming and crying the second that Phil denied them from something like this.

But Techno is a good boy, truly.

Quietly, Techno hunches over on the ground, pulling his bear back to his chest. Phil turns his back on him completely, focusing on cleaning the cabinets. Everything in the house needs a deep clean, neglected from when Phil was working early in the morning to late at night and Kristin was too sick to even stand. Not that she’s well enough to do much cleaning now, but Phil’s actually home a lot of the day to help take care of things. Take care of her. He still fishes a few times a week, but nowhere near as much.

The merchant happily told Phil that one of his clients, a young fashionable girl, had excitedly shown her friends and social rivals the small, delicate pearl bracelets she bought. Now, everyone in the circle has to have them. Phil promised more by the end of the month.

Being ignored seems to bring forth Techno’s whining even more than the pain does. Seemingly past all his fear now, the boy follows Phil around as much as Wilbur and Tommy. And any time that Kristin is up, he’s at her side like a loyal puppy too.

When the cabinets are clean, Phil moves over to the stove, setting about scouring out the soot stains. A louder whine pearls out of Techno, followed by a tiny tug at his back.

“Not right now,” Phil says evenly.

He feels bad at the sound of the little body flopping to the ground. Techno kicks a few piddedly times. But then soothes himself by rocking, tucked up again.

Poor thing, trying so hard. If only he would give in faster.

Slowly, Phil gets the whole kitchen polished as clean as it can get. There’s stains from decades of use that can never truly get out, but he gives them a few rubs just to try.

When he walks past Techno, out to the living room, and starts dusting the top of the cabinet, Techno finally cracks. The little boy throws himself at Phil’s feet, head tipped back as he wails. The sounds are heartbroken and punctuated with sobs. 

“Poor little one,” Phil says, crouching down before him.

He rubs the boys back as he cries and cries. With weak clawing, Techno drags himself against Phil’s chest. He holds him back, squeezing gently.

After a couple minutes, Techno calms slightly, blinking the last of the tears off of his lashes. Phil pulls away with a final hair ruffle, turning to the back to the cabinet.

That is far too much for the boy. Screaming, Techno yanks with and batters his balled up fists against Phil’s legs. His anger, frustration, and sorrow bubbles up as he sobs loudly. It’s a full-blown meltdown, with him hardly seeming to have control over his limbs anymore through the emotion. Pearls cascade down his cheeks, falling off of his chin loudly and rolling away. Phil slowly crouches once more, reaching out to the boy. But he’s obviously too emotional, since he slaps Phil’s hands away while still wailing.

“It’s alright, Techno. You’re alright,” Phil says.

“NO! SW-SW-SWIM!” Techno yells.

As he fights, Phil manages to pull him into his lap. This time, he’s not so easily soothed. He tries to squirm out of the hug, crying in that loud way babies get. Phil shushes him while rocking him, holding him through his sobs.

The pained noises scratch over the pair of them, hardly even touched by the shushing and humming and murmured reassurances. Techno is fully lost to the crying. Only when Phil almost fears that he’s choking on pearls from how his cries strain does he yield.

“Alright, alright, we can swim,” Phil says.

“Swim!” Techno yells.

“Yeah, we’ll go out and swim,” Phil says.

First though, he quickly collects and stashes away the significant amount of little pearls that have fallen to the floor. The guilt and relief fights within Phil. There’s nothing to do other than hoist him on his hip and carry him outside, though. Kristin has somehow slept through the fit and Phil tells the boys to stay inside while he gives Techno some fresh air.

Even in the water, it takes Techno a moment to calm down. But as he starts to move in the way that denotes a growing tail, he finally stops crying. Still keeping a hold of the boy with one hand, Phil makes sure to pick up the pearls that have fallen into the sand under the water.

Techno turns to a mermaid, flipping below the waves quickly. Phil squints after him, but the boy turns back. He knows to swim close now.

It takes a while longer than normal for Techno to perk back up. Phil crouches and lets Techno splash him in the face, letting out dramatic defeated noises. Finally, it makes him start giggling. Slowly, Phil splashes him back, giving him plenty of time to dive below the water. His shouts and cries are punctuated with giggles, baby teeth on display from his smile. Phil smiles back at him.

He’ll take him out to swim again tomorrow, a few times this week. It’s a shame that he can’t bring the other boys with, but it’s best that they don’t know. Before he goes out fishing, he’ll bring him along. Let him play for a little while.

“Come here,” Phil says, holding his hands out towards him.

Instantly, Techno swims over, into his arms. Phil smiles, hoisting him up. Then, he tosses him back into the water, just a little ways up. Techno squeals, high pitched, as he splashes in.

“Again!” Techno calls.

Grabbing Techno under his arms, Phil throws him up once again.

His laughter is loud and pure, like bells. 

No. Pure like pearls.

—

“Let me help you, you’re making my back hurt just watching.”

Phil sets down the bedside table, turning to Kristin. His wife is walking out towards him, reaching out for the furniture. Putting himself between them, he waves at Kristin.

“Love, go sit down. I’m going to need you awake to help wrangle those kids during the trip,” Phil says, smiling.

“I can be awake and carry a couple tables,” Kristin says, setting her hand on her hip.

“I’m sure you can, but please. For me,” Phil says. “I will get on my knees and beg.”

“On your knees you say?” Kristin says, smiling.

Phil just laughs and shakes his head. He picks up the bedside table once more, carrying it over to the cart nearby. With a heft, he shoves it up next to the other furniture. Some ropes are hanging around, ready to be tied in place.

When he glances over his shoulder, he catches sight of Tommy running across the lawn, plank of wood in his hands, right over his head.

“Please, save his back,” Phil says, sighing.

“Hey, Tommy!” Kristin shouts.

As she hustles over to go collect the boy, Phil chuckles and goes back to packing everything back into place. The cart is mostly packed now. A couple older boys from town came by this morning and helped him pack away the beds and bigger furniture for a couple coins. By night, they’ll be ready to set out on the road. Though, Phil thinks it’s better for them to wait until morning anyway. They’ll sleep on some blankets and pillows, he decides.

But, he still wants to get this all done soon. Set out at first light, sounds good.

Little hands press on Phil’s thigh, making him pause and look down. Techno’s little face looks up at him, wide eyes blinking and eyebrows pushed together.

“Hey, little fish. You run off from Wilbur?” Phil asks.

Techno hums, pressing against him. As Phil pets the top of his head, he’s surprised to see little pearly tears growing in the corners of his eyes. Phil slides his hands down until it blocks Techno’s face from where Kristin is bargaining with Tommy.

“What’s wrong?” Phil asks.

“Where go?” Techno asks, voice wobbling.

“We’re going away to a new home. Very big and nice,” Phil says.

He catches the pearls before they can fall.

“Me too?” Techno asks.

Phil blinks, and then a sad smile crosses his face. He crouches before Techno. The little boy’s lips wobble, another pearl dropping free. Phil shoves them in his pocket.

“Of course you’re coming, Techno. You’ll even have your own room. Your own nice bed and window,” Phil says.

The new place is a few towns away, a nicer place. Cleaner air, better weather, the town is more well off. Kristin should be able to get healthier there. And the house itself is tucked down by its own private beach, a nice dock, two stories and an attic. It’s a beautiful place, more secluded with a huge fenced in lawn. There’s even some fruit trees, already bearing.

It’s the kind of place that Phil always dreamed about when he got married. When he held his children, first saw them start to toddle around the tiny old house.

Only possible now…

Leaning forwards, the boy grabs onto him in a hug. Phil hoists him off the ground, bouncing him. It’s not a strain to hold him yet, but he’s gotten a bit taller in the past year and a bit. 

“Now, you need to go wait with the boys and Kristin so I can finish packing,” Phil says, starting to carry him over.

Over Phil’s shoulder, Techno reaches out. His hand grabs at the ocean, trying to reach it. He makes a soft noise, questioning.

“There’s an ocean right nearby the new house, don’t worry,” Phil says, patting his back.

Techno still seems slightly concerned, but he accepts the answer when Phil places him in Kristin’s lap where she’s sat in the grass. Looks like she managed to talk Tommy down from tearing the place apart himself. What a feat, truly.

As Wilbur runs out of the house over to them, shouting about something and carrying a pile of books, Phil smiles at the sight. His family, happy and safe, well taken care of.

The next day, they get to the new house right as the sun is setting. It’s just as lovely as he imagined. While they’re walking up to check it out, Kristin stops walking. He turns to her, only to find tears streaming out of her eyes. She looks tired from the trip, but the smile across her face is perfect.

Phil kisses her and he feels happier than he’s ever been too. Maybe their life can be lovely, more than not. Just like this. He’d do anything to make it happen.

When the sound of children gagging and groaning at the sight of kissing grows too loud, they part and laugh. Damn hellions. They make the scene better too, though.

Quickly, Phil gets Kristin situated in the house, resting in the new bed that was already inside their room. He promises that he doesn’t need her help getting everything they need tonight and somehow convinces her to go to sleep. The exhaustion likely helps a lot.

Back outside, Phil listens to Wilbur and Tommy argue about the bedrooms while he starts carrying trunks inside. It’s only when Wilbur calls out in surprise that Phil turns towards them. Then he takes off running after them too.

Techno is well ahead, running down the incline to the beach. Phil curses and tries to run faster, to catch the boy. But he had obviously been toddling closer for a while before Wilbur noticed. He manages to get past Tommy who tripped in the sand, but Techno’s long since jumped into the water.

“Wilbur, stop!” Phil calls.

But his oldest son quickly runs into the waves, plunging in where the head of pink disappeared. Phil curses louder.

In a moment, Wilbur is standing straight again, taking a big breath. Techno is in his arms, held under his armpits and facing out. Good form for saving someone from drowning, with his feet wide on the ground and stance wide. Phil is proud, even when his heart squeezes completely still.

“What the—?” Wilbur asks, as he pulls Techno further from the water.

A pink tail hangs down from the wiggling boy. Phil sighs, finally reaching the shore. He walks over to them, taking Techno from Wilbur.

The brunet looks up at him, dripping water and completely bewildered. Phil offers him slanted lips, readjusting Techno’s body even as he makes annoyed noises.

“...You knew about this?” Wilbur asks, blinking widely.

Phil sighs and nods. At the same time, Tommy practically screeches from the shore. Techno screeches back, more high pitched and cutting. With a cringe, Phil sets him back into the water, which he shrinks into. Luckily, he stays right around Phil’s legs.

“What?! Is that Techno?! Why—?” Tommy yells.

“Hush, Tommy, you’re going to wake your mother,” Phil scolds.

Not bothering to roll up his pants, Tommy stomps into the water over to them. For a moment, Phil sets his own face into his hand. His mind thrums, aching now.

“Dad?” Wilbur asks, pulling on his elbow.

“Alright, listen boys,” Phil says, looking up at them seriously. “You can’t tell anyone about this. Never.”

“Why?” Tommy asks, confused.

“People will hurt Techno if they know that he’s a mermaid. It’s not uncommon for people to kill them, even. I’ve heard some men talk about it at the docks. Seen some of it…” Phil says.

“You’ve never hurt one, have you?” Tommy asks, looking nearly afraid.

“Of course not, Tommy. I saved Techno, but other people don’t understand that they’re people like us,” Phil says. “A lot of people. No one can know. Not even if you make a friend or someone nice, they could let it slip. Only we can know.”

“Yeah, but why didn’t you tell us?” Tommy asks. “Techno’s our brother, we’d never hurt him!”

Phil smiles, cupping the back of Tommy’s head.

“Of course not, you’re good brothers. But you were little, I was worried you’d accidentally tell someone,” Phil says. Then he turns more serious. “You can’t slip up at all, okay? He might be very seriously hurt if that happens.”

Tommy frowns hard. Then, Techno pops his head out of the water, looking up at them. One of his hands holds onto Phil’s pant leg, but he chirrups at Tommy when the close attention is on him. Tommy looks utterly shocked, but then he smiles.

“I promise!” Tommy says.

“Good. I know you will keep it,” Phil says.

Face half submerged under the water, Techno suddenly spits a mouthful of water at Tommy. His son shrieks, before splashing back. But of course, Techno is back under the water, swimming off. While Tommy whines, Phil chuckles.

He looks at Wilbur then, tentative at his silence. But Wilbur is squinting back at him.

“Does mom know about this?” Wilbur asks. Or more like accuses. Shit, that boy is too smart.

Phil cringes, before shaking his head. “... Your mother is going to be okay, I promise. But any sort of stress or worry, it makes her sicker. Even just taking in Techno and thinking that he was a normal boy, thinking about all of it made her bedridden for weeks. This would be too much for her to know.”

Wilbur frowns, seemingly thinking.

Phil sets a gentle hand on his shoulder, squeezing.

“I know you don’t want to keep anything from her. I don’t either. And if it was anything else, I wouldn’t ever ask you to do such a thing. But your mother loves you boys more than anything, so that makes her worry over you all more than anything,” Phil says, smiling sadly.

“...You’re probably right,” Wilbur acquiesces.

“Good lad,” Phil says. “I know I can trust you both with this.”

Wilbur scoffs, haughty in the way that only a child can be. “Of course you can. We take care of our brothers.”

The pride is back then. Even if it’s tinged the slightest amount with all the lies, the root of it is true. His sons are good boys, good brothers. And Techno does need protection. Not just because he’s a mermaid, an innocent child, or a source of money, but because he’s family.

When Techno tries to spit water at Phil, he snaps back into the moment and splashes back. The sounds of his three sons laughing is worth more than anything in the world.

Chapter Text

Phil looks up from his parchment, blinking in confusion as something is shoved before his eyes. Wilbur’s no nonsense face looks back at him, new glasses making his eyes bigger. Another glance shows that pinched between his fingers is a pearl.

“What is it?” Phil asks, face twisting slightly as he sits back.

Wilbur rolls his eyes, though he lets Phil take the pearl. He curls his fist around it, as though that will make it disappear from their eyes and minds.

“You know what a pearl is, dad,” Wilbur says.

“I meant: why do you have that?” Phil asks.

“Techno cried it,” Wilbur says, enunciating the words. Shit.

“Is he okay?” Phil asks.

“Tommy stole his toy, he’s fine.” Wilbur rolls his eyes again. “But the crying a pearl is the thing I’m getting at here.”

“Yes, Wilbur. Mermaids cry pearls sometimes,” Phil says. “I’m pretty sure it’s normal for them.”

Finally, he sets the pearl on the desk before him. He shuffles up the papers a bit and sets the quill back in the pot before it can drip everywhere or dry out. But Wilbur doesn’t waver at all.

“You sell pearls,” Wilbur says.

“How do you know that?” Phil asks.

His kids know that his work is mostly mercantile things, helping with the business of buying and selling and shipping items from the sea. That it’s more lucrative than just fishing. But they hardly know the details, partially because most of them are false. While Phil has slowly been getting involved in further business dealings, most of their income is still from selling the pearls.

“I found some in your fishing things once,” Wilbur says, looking to the side at being caught doing something he shouldn’t have. “But that doesn’t matter! I just know you do.”

Just barely, he stifles his flinch. Oh, his smart son. Too smart.

“I do,” Phil says evenly.

“Dad,” Wilbur says.

When Phil looks into his eyes, there are tears on the lash lines. Simple saline, but they still break Phil’s heart. With a sigh, he cups the side of his son’s cheek.

“Yes, when Techno cries, it makes pearls. That’s just how mermaids are, I don’t think it hurts them… And he just leaves them behind when he’s done. But they’re perfectly fine pearls,” Phil explains gently.

“But—They’re from him crying,” Wilbur says, upset twisting his expression.

“I know,” Phil says. “It feels a bit strange, but I don’t think he cares. It’s better than it going to waste.”

“It feels wrong. Like, like selling his blood or something,” Wilbur says

“It would be if I hurt him for it. It’s different,” Phil says firmly.

Wilbur shakes his head. “It still feels wrong.”

“We need money, Wil. Your tutors, the things we need… your mother’s medicine. It would be like discarding jewelry off the ground instead of using it to help our family. That would be far more wrong,” Phil says.

“Do we… not have money?” Wilbur asks.

“We have enough, you don’t need to worry about that,” Phil says. “But nothing in life is free, I fear. Including an extra child.”

“He’s not extra!” Wilbur says, looking incensed.

Phil can’t help smiling at how it warms his heart. Even though his son is getting a bit too old to accept his parents' affection lately, Phil pulls him into his lap, into a half hug.

“Of course he isn’t. I see Techno just the same as I do you and Tommy. He’s my son and I love him,” Phil says, honestly. “But me and your mother didn’t plan to have more children after Tommy. I would make it work somehow, but… Things would not be as good for any of us if I let it just go to waste. Worse for Techno too.”

Wilbur looks conflicted at the idea. It’s something that Phil can certainly empathize with. He never feels like a good person pocketing his son’s tears, selling them away to random people to wear like they’re pretty.

But they are pretty, and they are worth a lot of money. Children cry a lot, he can’t just let them be swept to the corners like worthless dust. That would be foolish.

And if sometimes he encourages Techno to cry… It doesn’t hurt Techno. He would never hurt his son. It’s for the betterment of his life too, just a little harmless crying.

“I kind of remember… Thing used to be worse, didn’t they?” Wilbur asks, looking sad. “Not just being at the old house, but before Techno moved in with us, you were gone more. And we had less food, right?”

That’s not the sort of thing that he wants his kids to put together. Wilbur is probably the only one old enough to manage it, though. Phil doubts that Techno even remembers much about living at their old house. Let alone anything before…

“They were,” Phil nods. “But that’s not what persuaded me originally. It was… I couldn’t afford your mother’s medicine, Wil. That’s why I worked all the time, I truly tried everything. It’s not like Techno would want her die either—”

Wilbur eyes grow wide as he flinches backwards, looking nearly struck. Phil grabs his hand, squeezing it firmly.

“Your mother is fine, I promise. But she needs her medicine to stay fine. Needs doctors to visit, a life without stress.” Phil pushes back the hair of Wilbur’s forehead, before planting a kiss there. “I wouldn’t do it if crying hurt him or anything. 

Slowly, Wilbur nods. And then he nods a bit firmer.

“I guess you’re right. He was just crying over a stupid toy that he literally stopped caring about five seconds later,” Wilbur says.

Phil smiles, chuckling. “Children cry a lot. If we had Techno as a baby, I’m sure I’d have been able to buy him his very own castle, full to the brim of stuffed animals.”

The words make a small sour look go through Wilbur, before the implication pass him by. Then he smiles a bit.

“He’d love that,” Wilbur says.

Phil hums.

Slowly, after leaning against Phil a little heavier, Wilbur stands. Creeping ever close to his teenage years, he has the lankiness of an oncoming growth spurt to him. He’ll need new clothes, shoes, another pair of glasses if his eyesight gets worse.

This is the way that he gets his son those things. Good things. Phil feels bad at the back of his throat, but he easily ignores it at this point.

“How did you find Techno anyway?” Wilbur asks.

“There was a bad storm, it must have washed him away from his parents. I’m not quite sure how it works with mermaids, but I doubt he’d have been alone otherwise. He was weak, a bit hurt, tangled up in a fishing net. I was going to take him to shore since another storm was coming, make sure he wasn’t injured, but then he grew legs,” Phil said. He looks down at the parchment, at the pearl lying on it innocently. “I couldn’t just leave him on his own. He was a toddler, practically a baby. Like any other.”

The story makes Wilbur lose some of his worry. It is true, if sugar coated and wrapped in cotton. And anyway, Phil does love Techno now. He’s his child. It’s unfortunate how he relies on his son’s literal tears to keep their family alive right now, but that’s just how it has to be. And maybe one day it won’t be that way.

“I guess we helped each other then, right?” Wilbur asks.

“Of course,” Phil says. “We always will.”

Finally, Wilbur brightens properly. In a way, Phil is proud that his son was worried about something—worried about something about Phil—and still came to him about it. Phil certainly wouldn’t have done that with his own parents.

Difficult but worthwhile. That’s life. Every part of it.

“I need to finish up these ledgers, go make sure your brothers haven’t gotten into a scrape again while you were gone,” Phil says.

“Fine, fine,” Wilbur says, back to rolling his eyes.

Before he turns to go, the boy carefully reaches into his pocket and pulls out another pearl. He sets it on the desk, beside the other. Then he turns and scurries off, back to bossing around his brothers and hopefully keeping too many worried thoughts from his head.

Phil rolls the pearl under his fingertip. It’s just under the size of his pinky nail. The slightest bit bigger than they used to be. His main connection has been pleased about that.

Sliding open his desk drawer, he slides open a hidden slot in the false bottom, dropping the two pearls into the satin bag there. It joins a growing collection of others. Every one a tear off of his son’s cheek.

He slides them out of sight and turns back to his papers.

—

It’s really not a large issue that Techno is growing into a more confident and calm boy. Anyone would hope it for their child, Phil included. And with him being a mermaid, it offers both the end goal and the solution to get there for all the horrid problems in their life.

The need for him to cry enough pearls to sustain them. And the fact that he is quite inclined to cry when he is withheld from the ocean for a long enough time.

Seeing his son sick and uncomfortable is obviously hard, it makes Phil’s chest clench horribly every time. But it is very easily solved. A few minutes swimming in the ocean, he always perks back up. He just needs a good cry before then, and everything can be okay.

And strangely—or perhaps not—Techno has actually begun having meltdowns when he is withheld from the ocean far sooner than he did as a toddler. Before, he would go almost a week completely miserable, until he was puking himself into a crying fit. It was agony to go through. But now, he rarely goes a few days where he’s blue and under the weather before he comes to Phil and has a proper throwdown tantrum.

Phil understands in some part of him that he’s done it. In the same way that a parent who gives their kid candy every time they cry will end up with a child prone to crying every time they go to the market, this is much the same. But he assures himself that this is a good thing. Techno doesn’t need to bring himself to such intense discomfort to get what he wants, to do what they need. If he cries the day that he feels he wants to go swimming, then that’s all the better for it.

The issue doesn’t lay in any of that, not really. The process has worked out decently well for them, to the point that by the time Phil is carrying Techno down to the ocean he’s hardly even mopey at all, knowing he’ll get what he wants and is excited for it.

The problem is that it is making Techno properly sick.

Not the fact that it has to happen occasionally. Phil worried sick that some sort of permanent damage might have occurred the first time that Techno came out of the ocean and started throwing up only a few hours later, pained and feverish to boot. A few more days with visits to the ocean fixed him up completely, thank all that’s good.

It turns out if Techno is withheld from the ocean, long enough that he cries, too many times in a row, then it starts making him far more seriously ill. Sick in a way not so easily cured. The sickness is dreadful, definitely worse than the discomfort that brings him to tantrum before Phil to bring him swimming.

Staunchly, Phil will only do the song and dance with the ocean and crying once every few times that Techno wants to go swimming. It rounds out to every couple of months in this way, with most weeks Techno going swimming every other day or so. It’s really fine, he’s happy this way. Still healthy.

It does limit opportunity though, in a way that the world does not limit the cost of all the things that they need. And it seems that as Techno grows older, he can go longer without the ocean without it causing discomfort, and thus the crying. Considering that Phil would only dream of keeping Techno from such a thing he wants for the necessity of his crying, it makes that all the more guilt inducing. And access to the pearls, and the money from them, less common too.

The whole situation is a rife thing, one that Phil feels often like thinking about it any further will fill his chest with burning sea water. The salt is so caustic and his head stinging with it.

Something else likely needs to be thought of, though. Especially if Techno continues to feel the need to cry less towards the ocean as he grows, which is likely to happen. But all the assured ways to make someone cry that Phil can think of are just simply impossible to do to his own child, any child, no matter how much he comforts him after.

It’s probably why Phil doesn’t punish Tommy as harshly as he should for how he acts towards Techno.

Tommy is a passionate boy. He is all highs, all the time, good and bad. It’s really quite similar to Wilbur, though with slightly less self control and purposeful poise.

Tommy loves Techno. He adores the boy, and was frankly the one who took to him the most naturally when he moved in. Tommy doesn’t really remember Techno ever not being his brother, and no part of him doesn’t see Techno that way.

But the pair sometimes get on like a house on fire. And not in a good way.

Techno is quieter, reserved, cunning and clever. They’re far more different than Wilbur and Tommy ever were, and Techno doesn’t have the height and age advantage like Wilbur did to keep the boy in his place. When Techno and Tommy were younger, they used to fight in a far more evenly matched way. Techno would surprisingly throw punches back, and bite quite a bit too, in spite of his sweet exterior. It certainly made Tommy think twice before that was his first instinct with Techno, the same way he learned with Wilbur.

But lately… Well, Phil always comforts Techno when he’s upset or cries. It’d be wrong not to. Even if they need him to cry, he shouldn’t suffer through it on top of that. Meanwhile with Tommy, and Wilbur too, Phil was far more inclined to encourage the pair to walk off minor injuries or upsets. It helped them form some resilience. Some tougher skin around their gentle insides.

With all the coddling, Techno—

A loud cry pulls Phil out of his thoughts. It’s from outside, but practically a scream, so he hears it well enough. With a sigh, he stands and hurries over to the back door. It’s sitting ajar, so Phil gets a good view of Techno flat on the ground and Tommy running away from him. Definitely knocked him over.

The second that Phil steps outside, Techno quiets his screaming to simple cries and holds his arms out towards him.

“Tommy, you need to use your words,” Phil calls to him.

“But he started it—!” Tommy yells back, holding some sort of stick in his hands.

Phil sighs, reaching Techno now. The boy has gotten back onto his knees, seemingly just to reach out to Phil better. And shimmering tears are rolling down his face already.

Picking him up, Phil presses Techno’s face to his chest and starts rubbing his back. Techno bunches his fingers up in his shirt, sobbing openly.

“He didn’t mean it, Tech. It’s alright,” Phil says soothingly. “Isn’t that right, Tommy?”

“Hrmph!" Tommy says, angrily crossing his arms.

Phil simply sighs and shakes his head. But Techno is still crying so openly that he can’t exactly have a proper conversation. And as a pearl drips to the ground, Phil is forced to juggle Techno more to pluck it up.

“Just play gentler going forwards, Tommy,” Phil says. “Do you want to come in with us?”

The blond boy is grumbling still, but Phil turns away towards the door when Techno lets out a choked noise. He pats his back firmly, repeating reassurances to him. Quickly, he carries him to the old rocking chair, now in Techno’s room considering he’s about the only one that needs it anymore. Laying his head more comfortably on Phil’s shoulder, the boy whines sadly as his tears drip free.

It’s an easy song and dance to soothe Techno at this point. Whether from something bigger, his fullblown meltdowns, or the more and more common cries he has over simple kid stuff. A few times now, Wilbur, and even Tommy, will deposit a couple pearls to Phil from a small snuffle that they managed to get him through on their own.

He hums one of his out of key songs as he starts brushing the tangles out of Techno’s hair.

Sleepy child curled up on his chest, slowly calming and nodding off, Phil smiles softly at the sight. Maybe it’s not the best that Techno clings so much, but it can be nice. And perhaps it’s good, considering how the world would treat him if he strayed too far. Maybe it’s okay to be different with some children if it’s better for them, overall.

Phil doesn’t know how true he’s being, but he doesn’t reflect on it as he looks around the bedroom. There’s a window seat full of cushions, framed by flowing curtains with little embroidered flowers. A bed with a lovely quilt, that Kristin made by hand when she had some hours sitting up while resting, and a pile of stuffed animals. There’s some toys piled in a wicker basket, clothes filling the bureau, books from the office library piled on the bedside table.

It’s everything that Phil ever wanted for his children, back when they all shared one small bedroom—no windows, one bed, an old stained carpet.

Tommy is inside and playing marbles with Wilbur once Techno is rocked happy once more. When they see Phil leading him down the hall by his hand, Tommy perks up.

“Techno,” Tommy calls out. When the pink haired boy hides behind Phil’s leg a bit, he frowns, before lightening once more. “Do you want some fruit?”

The prospect of the treat draws Techno out easily, as does Tommy offering his hand to hold. Phil pushes him over to grab it, watching his two youngests hurrying off to the kitchen. Wilbur starts sweeping up the abandoned marbles.

“Where were you when they were scraping?” Phil asks, half joking.

Wilbur simply shrugs. “They fight all the time. Techno prefers you when his feelings are hurt.”

Phil hums in assent. It’s true, whenever there are problems between him and his siblings, Techno almost always darts to Phil. More and more, he’s the person Techno turns to to be comforted.

“Plus, he needs to cry sometimes,” Wilbur says, almost offhandedly.

“What?” Phil asks, surprised.

Wilbur looks up, eyes slightly widening. “Nothing! I just meant… you know.”

The prospect hits Phil then. That his older son, often tasked with wrangling his younger siblings, or at least keeping an eye on them, would let them fight so that Techno cries from it. It’s slightly chilling in his stomach, but then again… Phil doesn’t put an end to it as soon as he should either.

It’s just harmless kid stuff. Techno and Tommy love each other, they get along most of the time. And it’s not like either of them would purposefully hurt the other, and not in a bad way either.

Sometimes those kid things are the easiest to rely on. Less harmful than the alternatives.

Not answering, Phil simply cups the back on Wilbur’s neck and pulls him towards the kitchen too. He decides to cut up some fruit, for his sons and wife.

—

“Come on, it’s not so bad,” Kristin says, readjusting the centerpiece on the dining table. “It might even be a bit fun, entertaining adults instead of children.”

“On one hand, no raspberries blown into my face. On the other hand, stuffy business talk while I try not to insult anyone. It’s a close competition,” Phil says.

“Be serious, Phil. You know Tommy’s going to manage to slip a couple of those in before they’re sent to bed,” Kristin says, very serious.

Finally, Phil cracks and laughs. The crooked smile Kristin levels him with is almost out of place with the dark, sparkling gown that she is wearing, and the beautiful curls pinned into her hair. But then again, it all looks equally lovely to Phil.

“I am frankly in over my head with these sorts of things,” Phil admits.

Kristin finishes poking the table into being set how she likes, before turning towards him properly. For a moment, he thinks it’s just to straighten him out too, since she starts messing with his cravat. But her hands stay on his shoulders when he’s done.

“It will go fine. And I’ll be there with you,” Kristin says. “Our whole family, supporting you.”

“Don’t feel pressure not to get away if you need to,” Phil says, bringing his hand up to cover her’s.

Kristin just shakes her head, kissing her cheek.

“I will keep my simpering biles at bay for one evening. I can’t have people thinking that you’re the dignified one between us,” Kristin says.

“Oh, alright. What happened to supporting?” Phil asks.

“Supporting my poor hapless husband, of course,” Kristin grins.

Phil can only laugh. His chest is too full of warmth to ever feel barbed by her insults, especially when he knows that they’re only for jest. Kristin is the one person in the world who he knows is always in his corner.

Well, and—

A thud and shout breaks the moment, making the pair of them sigh. There goes the only moment of peace that they’ll have tonight.

“Boys, what did we say about best behavior?” Kristin calls, turning away to go wrangle.

For a few more seconds, Phil stands poised where he is. But there are no cries, nor a small child running towards him, so he’s quite certain that Techno wasn’t the one at the end of whatever happened. That, or it really is something extremely minor. Sometimes those still set Techno off into sobs, more and more often, but hopefully not tonight.

Admittedly, that’s a bigger stress for him tonight than it should be. It’s not the fact that his child would be crying in front of people—a whole party’s worth of merchants and the well off who Phil and his ‘business partner’ are associated with, or trying to be. Honestly, Phil doesn’t care if his children seem weak or whatever bullshit people harp on about with obedient children. No, it’s just that Techno is surely the one that will cry if it’s any of them, as he’s so oft to do. And tonight there are far more eyes that need dodging if Phil doesn’t want questions about where he got the son that does not look like him and happens to cry the main product that he sells.

Sighing, Phil massages the space between his eyes and turns to the front hall. People will be here any minute, he needs to appear more like a member of the upper classes than he ever even wished to be. Not like he’s anywhere close to that, he’s sure his lovely house will be judged to bits. But connection making is all bluffing it, apparently.

Phil has some experience with that. Quite a bit.

“Philip!” The merchant cheers as he steps into the house, clasping Phil’s elbow while shaking his hand. “My good man.”

“Good evening,” Phil says, as pleasantly as he can.

The good news of this situation is that it would be extremely difficult to put off the most important man in Phil’s ‘business.’ His longtime connection for selling pearls to all sorts of wealthy people is very fond of Phil. Not as a person, but as an endless source of potential money and movement within society. Pearl earrings do wonders for gifts, he hears. That’s how the merchant reeled in his wife, apparently. The man’s own words.

All that Phil cares for with the man is that he offers fair rates and handles the bulk of the duties. The more time that Phil is spending taking care of his wife and children and their home is all the better for it. Luckily Kristin has been doing generally steady, so Phil’s foray into further business hasn’t hit them very hard. But he will always put them before such fickle fucking nonsense.

If only it wasn’t necessary. Damned all of it.

“The house is just quaint, isn’t it? I suppose the location to the sea was the draw, right? I presume that’s where your secret little source is from,” The merchant says, elbowing Phil like they are in on some joke.

It’s difficult not to crack a tooth with the only smile he can pull up. Closed lipped and tense.

“Indeed. But let’s not go into that,” Phil says, a touch stern.

The merchant sighs, flapping a hand. “You could be richer than half the men we’re meeting tonight if you let that one slip right, you know.”

“Maybe one day,” Phil promises emptily. “But not a while. You will be the first I contact if I change my mind, my friend.”

That’s the right thing to say. The man is ravenous to maintain his stake on Phil’s supply, his sole business associate. It has likely stifled Phil’s ability to branch out into other types of sales, which would be annoying if he cared.

“Ah, the beautiful family you tell me about!” The merchant says as they step into the sitting room.

Somehow, Kristin has managed the impossible. All three of their children are fully dressed, hair in order, limbs all attached, and even standing in a cute little row. Though Techno admittedly breaks form and grabs onto Kristin’s leg at the sight of the new man, his other hand fisting up in the end of his poofy and ridiculously frilly white and blue dress.

A real smile manages to split Phil’s lips at the sight.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Kristin says, offering a hand to shake.

The merchant takes it and plants a kiss on the back. Oh dear, Phil will be hearing about that tonight. But Kristin barely stutters, taking it like an elegant lady. Those elegant ladies go through too much, surely.

“Kristin, my wife. And then my boys: Wilbur, Tommy, and Techno,” Phil says, gesturing at them proudly.

Both Wilbur and Tommy echo polite words of greeting. Techno does not break out into any tears, screeches, or try to bite, so it’s a success all around. Kristin pets the top of Techno’s head where he’s latched onto her.

It can’t be faulted, truly. Techno has rarely been into town, and they don’t get visitors often.

“Ah! Are you training to take over your father’s business, boy?” The merchant asks, obviously directed at Wilbur.

“Fishing?” Tommy asks bluntly.

Luckily, the merchant just laughs. Tommy is quite charming, when one isn’t stuck up or caring for manners and politeness.

“Yes, of course,” Wilbur says. “Though I spend much of my time on studies still.”

“A smart one, then. It’s a good trait for a businessman,” The merchant says, with a smile.

It’s not exactly true. Though Phil gets the sense that Wilbur only said it to make them come across better. In some ways, he is far too good at that. He likely will be a very good businessman one day.

Phil just smiles and pats his head. Wilbur sends him a look that is distinctly disgruntled, practically screaming ‘don’t ruin all my hard work to look distinguished.’ Just barely, Phil manages to not pinch his cheek.

More people arrive slowly, pleasant and covering all their words in honey in hopes of catching things. It’s really quite ironic, and Phil gets the impulse to tell them that dead things work far better as lures. But he holds that back and instead gives Kristin credit for the entire dinner, though he helped cook about half of it. It’d likely be seen as low of him or some shit. The ideas of the upper classes sometimes make him feel brained on a cockle, or at least wanting it to happen. But they are thoroughly impressed by the amount of food made with any servants' help.

Phil doesn’t think he would feel comfortable with someone in his house all the time like that.

For the most part, the evening goes well. His children are well behaved, Kristin dazzles, Phil does not shove his foot into his mouth. He almost starts to feel good about this. Kristin suggests letting the boys stay up until dessert, as Wilbur and Tommy are being enthralled by a retired military officer who seems to take their rambunctiousness with good humor.

That was where it all went wrong. Phil should have known to keep his kids far from people as much as he can, locked away where they’re safe. At least Techno, the one who needs it most.

The boy is gone during two scans of the room. Kristin is sitting in an arm chair, obviously more winded and fatigued than she is trying to come across. Her little pink shadow has disappeared. 

With a frown, Phil slips from the main rooms.

It is likely just that Techno got overwhelmed or tired. Or perhaps he got upset and ran off. He knows not to go to Kristin if he can ever help it, and he tends to give her ample space when she starts feeling unwell. Perhaps afraid of bursting into tears beside her and worrying her to death. Mabe Phil has been too heavy with his warnings.

When he peeks into Techno’s room with a soft call, there is no one. He’s not in Tommy, Wilbur’s, or his and Kristin’s room either.

Phil's halfway to panic when he hears a whine. The sound instantly makes him relax. It is a normal noise for Techno to make, Phil associates it with his son almost more than his voice.

The office door is cracked open as Phil approaches. The cries are muffled, which is the opposite of normal for Techno. The boy wails until Phil is at his side. Only then does he grow quiet, to what Phil thinks is his natural soft sniffles and sobs. Have the people being here scared him?

Pushing the door open, a knife drives itself through Phil’s spine.

Techno is on the ground, curled in on himself slightly. His body is shaking with cries, but his hands are over his mouth, purposefully quieting himself. 

Standing a few feet away from him is the merchant. One of his hands is raised. Phil connects it to the slight reddening on Techno’s arm. And the man’s eyes are extremely wide, barely even looking up when Phil walks in.

Focused on the pearls falling down Techno’s cheeks.

The pain from the knife fades. Then, it’s only the severed spinal cord. Numbness, all throughout him.

Calmly, Phil steps fully into his office, closing the door behind him. Silently, he clicks the lock shut.

“Phil…” The merchant says, finally sparing a glance at him. “I see now.”

At the sight of his father, Techno shoves off of the ground with a cry. He runs over, throwing himself at Phil. He’s grown quite tall, these past few years. Getting close to his rib cage now, just beneath the heart where he resides.

With a small push, Phil breaks the hug. Then he smoothly walks across the room, behind his desk.

“He’s not your’s, is he?” The merchant asks, looking… something. The gears in his head are turning, small as they may be.

A small smile crosses Phil’s lips. “He’s a mermaid.”

“A mer-… I did not know they were real,” The merchant says.

“One sees many things, out in the ocean,” Phil says. He turns and opens a cabinet behind his desk. There’s a couple old bottles of alcohol in it, mostly gifts. He holds one up. “Do you want one?”

“A drink?” The merchant asks. “I see all this, and it’s a drink?”

“Sure. Seems like ‘maybe one day’ has come sooner than expected,” Phil says.

“Our deal?” The man asks. At the sight of business, he tentatively slides into the chair across from the desk.

His eyes keep flickering down to Techno. The boy has edged his way across the room, put himself close to Phil. Though he doesn’t try clinging again, simply crying in near silence now. He’s confused, unsure, scared.

“I suppose it’ll have to change now,” Phil says.

“Yes, you would think,” The merchant guffaws. He points a hand at the bottle, waving it slightly.

Phil starts making two glasses. He had no plans to drink, he rarely does. Kristin can’t drink on her medicines, and it makes her seize anyway. And his boys could need something at any time. It would scarcely stand for him to be tipsy then.

Turning back to the desk, Phil sets both glasses down and sits. The man takes one.

“Here is the problem,” Phil says. “Mermaids are rare. They avoid humans. They are strong and can kill.”

“How did you get that one,” The merchant asks, outright pointing. Phil doesn’t follow the line of sight.

“I am a fisherman,” Phil says simply.

“...And I am a businessman,” He says, and then laughs.

Phil takes a drink from the glass and the merchant follows his lead.

“It’s the tears then?” The merchant asks, apparently having lost his hesitance with the mouthful of alcohol. “I mean, talk about turning coal into diamonds. No. Easier!”

“Not so replicable as you hoped though,” Phil says, running his finger around the rim of his glass.

“Nonsense! In some ways, far more! Where did you live before, a little shack? That is all it takes for endless fortune!” The merchant says.

“Hm. A bit more,” Phil says.

“You need not be so hesitant, sir. You gain something much bigger, even losing your monopoly through this," The merchant exalts. His hands go out, showing the grand, grand fortune he foresees.

“Did you not hear me? You won’t find another mermaid,” Phil says.

“Well, surely—”

“No. Simply, you cannot. No one can.” Phil drains the last of his glass, the burn near foreign. And yet not. He’s used to pain there. “I am a fisherman, I do know.”

“So then just this one—”

“A lucky accident. Unable to be replicated,” Phil says.

“Well, then. All the more worthwhile for us,” The merchant says.

Phil looks up at his face. He watches his features closely. The man is thinking, scheming. He’s outright rubbing his chin, and he didn’t even bother to take his damn hat off within Phil’s home. A tiny whine pearls out of Techno where he’s wedged himself in the corner of the room.

“All the more… More…”

The merchant’s eyes flutter, before he looks around quickly. He looks near afraid. Made all the perfect a picture in how he raises his hands towards his throat, looking like he’s about to claw at the space.

“I do not feel well, I think—doctor—”

He looks up at Phil, now searching him. But Phil knows that there’s absolutely nothing for him to find there.

His eyes move quicker. He stands quickly.

And then falls to the floor.

Calmly, Phil tucks his glass away in the cupboard. He leaves the bottle of alcohol out, the other glass. It’s a good scene, Phil can imagine it clearly.

A merchant snooping around the office of an associate, just taking a look at things. Just set on slipping a few things into his pockets, or perhaps actually only stealing some booze—there was only wine at dinner. And instead, a small child slipped into the room after him, thinking that the figure was his father. Probably marred by the beginnings of tears already. Interrupted the man before he could see that the cabinet has more medicine in it than alcohol. The type of things one must keep far from children, since a bit too much could kill.

The tears likely popped free when the man shoved Techno away from him, hugged from behind, or something of the sort. A simple accident, or a casual cruelty. Who knows.

He’s not quite dead, but he’s getting there when Phil crouches at his side and pulls the small notebook out of his chest pocket. All of his little business schemes and connections. Not even his wife gets to look in there, apparently. His words. The thought has made Phil’s nose wrinkle. Secrets, for something as small as business.

The tiniest of hiccups finally draws Phil’s eyes back to the corner of the room. Techno looks petrified. His hands are still hovering over his mouth, eyes blown exceedingly wide and still leaking at the corners.

A small, soft smile crosses Phil’s lips as he reaches out.

“Oh, baby. It’s alright,” Phil says.

He expects Techno to flinch or cry out when Phil touches him. And he does cry out. But he only moves to fling himself forward, against Phil’s chest. As Phil pulls him into a hug, he sobs.

It’s with a near violence that Techno digs his fingers into Phil’s front. There’s a concerning clacking sound from the boy accidentally smashing his teeth together. The cry is full body, terrible and all consuming, similar to a seizure. Phil holds him more securely, pressing him to his front and cradling him with both arms. He hums softly, soothingly. Even when Techno wails louder and hits him a bit, Phil doesn’t waver.

When Techno exhausts himself to huffs, Phil hefts him higher and starts to stand. Techno whimpers, tightening his arms around his throat. But Phil just shushes him, squeezes him in the hug.

“It’s alright. That was a lot, hm?” Phil murmurs.

Carefully, he cleans all the signs of the tears and pearls away, into the hidden drawer.

Then, he carries the boy out of the room, making sure that his face is tucked away where he can’t see anything. As they pass the merchant, there are no visible breaths raising his chest.

“A rough hour. Where I was telling you a story in bed, hm?” Phil keeps going as he leaves the office and takes him to his bedroom.

Techno is reluctant to detach as Phil tries to lay him in the bed. But with enough shushing and placing stuffed animals in his arms, he reluctantly is laid flat. Phil pulls the blankets up to his chin, planting a kiss on his forehead. Techno whines a little in response, but closes his eyes as Phil pets his head.

As though touching something incredibly fragile, he traces his cheekbone and temples. His skin is flushed from emotion, but simmering down slowly. Somehow, it feels normal.

“There you two are.”

Phil turns to the doorway, watching Kristin step inside. There’s a small, relieved smile on her face. Phil matches it for her.

“I lost sight of Techno, I got worried,” Kristin says.

“Storytime,” Techno murmurs, behind his fingers.

Kristin laughs at the prospect of Phil slipping away from his duties to indulge their child. Though he probably would have if that’s all that was needed anyway. Phil is momentarily surprised by the explanation from Techno, but then chuckles himself.

He smoothes his boy's forehead once more, and then plants one more kiss on it, before standing.

“Too many people, I think,” Phil says. “Everyone will be gone in the morning, little fish. Get some rest.”

Unsurprised by the prospect of Techno being upset, due to how common it is, Kristin walks over and gives him a goodnight kiss too. It does usually take quite a little while to calm the boy down. An hour, maybe. Less time than the merchant has been gone, surely…

Techno still seems a little nervous as they leave the room, but at least he is no longer afraid or upset. That’s good. Phil does, truly, hate to see it.

“I love you,” Phil calls, before shutting the door.

His little eyes are the last thing that he sees. They’re always stuck on Phil, seeking him out and begging for help.

What else can he do but abide?

Chapter Text

It’s storming out.

Not badly. The rain is a little heavy and there’s thunder rumbling overhead. But it’s just a small summer’s storm, something that will blow over in a couple hours and leave everything unchanged, except perhaps an unlucky tree or two.

But the inside of Techno’s stomach feels yucky.

He’s not completely sure why. There’s a lot of weird things that make him feel all bad on the inside, like he’s sick from being away from the ocean, but not quite that. Stuff like being home alone, or waking up when it’s still dark out, or when he’s held too tightly and he can’t escape. Storms.

Chewing on the tip of his thumb, Techno whines a bit as a flash of lightning shows through the window. It feels like something bad is going to happen. Or like something bad has happened, but he doesn’t know what. It’s terribly distracting, the bad feeling being all that he can think about. He wants to writhe out of his skin or hide under the bed.

Part of him thinks that maybe reading one of his books or going to peel potatoes for dinner will help him feel better. Distract him from the feelings until they go away on their own, like a storm passing through.

The rest of him screams that he needs his dad to save him.

Nothing else will make him feel better. Will quell the horrible loneliness and danger rioting, inside and out. Techno isn't able to manage it on his own. His whine draws out and ends in a sniffle as he pushes off of his bed. Hurriedly, he runs through the halls, looking into the rooms he passes for his father. His mom is sleeping in his parents’ room, but he’s not supposed to stress her out in any way. He sees his siblings in the dining room, and he pauses for a moment, thinking about going in to see what they’re doing. But in the end, the raw parts inside him tug him onwards to his dad.

Phil is in his office, doing his job stuff. Techno thinks it has something to do with fish, but he doesn’t really know. Doesn’t really care as he walks into the room with a whine.

The noise draws his dad’s attention, expression instantly turning concerned. Techno hurries closer, rubbing at his eye and sniffling more. He drops down to the ground, setting his forehead on Phil’s knee as he whines again.

“What’s wrong?” Phil asks, petting through his hair immediately. “The storm?”

Techno mumbles miserably in agreement, earning him a sympathetic noise. His shoulders hitch, pulling Phil’s fingers down to them. They rub soothingly at the place where his neck and back meet.

“It’s alright, little fish,” Phil says.

Little stabs are grabbing at Techno’s chest, making his yucky feelings ooze out of him a bit. Not quite sobs or cries, but close. His dad makes another sympathetic noise before lifting his face up.

Phil frowns at his face. Gently, he pets over Techno’s side of his face, before ending on his cheek. He wipes at it like there are tears there.

But there aren’t quite.

“You’re alright, hm? Go on out and do the reading your tutor assigned you,” Phil says, giving him the smallest of prods.

Another whine drips out of Techno, and Phil pets his cheek a couple more times in response. But despite the fact that the gray grossness in his chest bristles more, no tears sprout forth. His dad pats his cheek twice, turning back to the desk slightly.

“Go on, then. You’re all okay.”

When his continued sniffling doesn’t draw anything more than a pet to his head from Phil, Techno slowly stands and walks from the room. The doorway behind him makes the writhing and darkness worse. He feels close to suffocating beneath it all. And yet, all he can bring up are some quick, stuttered breaths. 

No tears.

Stiltedly, Techno walks to the dining room, finding his brothers still there. They have school work laid out before them, but both are obviously slacking off. Flicking graphite sticks at each other.

Slinking over, Techno sits beside Wilbur in his chair. It means he ends up half on top of him, but his brother doesn’t seem to care. He only pauses long enough to wrap his arm around Techno, and then flicks another graphite stick at Tommy.

Techno droops until his head is on Wilbur’s shoulder, sniffling softly.

“Why are you crying, Tech? Help me beat Wilbur,” Tommy says, smiling wide enough to show off his missing molars.

Grave as the center of a storm, Techno shakes his head. It feels impossible to pull up the energy to do such a thing. Even though he likes competitions, and teaming up with Tommy would probably ensure that he does beat Wilbur—which is even better, since he loves winning. The interest is too wilted below the heaviness inside.

The miserable hitches still pull on Techno’s body. Wilbur occasionally pets his head and back, swaying his legs in a way that nearly rocks the pair of them.

As Techno leans over and hugs Wilbur more properly, sinking his face into his chest, something hits the back of his head. It cracks into his skull, painful. He yelps, flinching all over. The very tiny corner of the chair that Techno has slips away with the movement, leaving him to fall to the floor.

His tailbone bruises and he cries out louder.

“Damn it, Techno! Why are you always crying, you baby!” Tommy says heatedly.

Hunching over, Techno turns up to Wilbur. His brother looks into his wide gleaming eyes, seemingly scanning him for something. Whatever he finds there, he ends up turning away. Ignoring Techno.

A greater hitch grabs Techno’s lungs, painful and cracking. Even still, Wilbur only bounces his leg, organizing the graphite sticks.

“We’re trying to play a game, don’t bring Phil out here with your whining,” Tommy says.

Fingers flying to his mouth, Techno rocks with the verbal smack to his face. It almost physically stings. The pain rises and rises, until finally his eyes burn. He smashes his eyes shut and cries out.

Shoving on the ground, Techno rises and runs off back down the hall. Part of him wants to run to his parents’ room and disappear into the blankets with his mom. But it’s a far away part of him, a long forgotten echo. The rest of him brings him back to his father.

Loudly, he pushes open the office door, properly in sobs now. Phil turns with far more surprise, far more concern. Hardly seeing through the sheen, Techno crumples into his dad’s arms. The man catches his weight, squeezing him into a hug. Squeezing out the tears and cries.

Far away, under water, Techno can hear his dad talking. Some sort of questions or reassurances or something else. He doesn’t really care, caught up on crying out an ocean’s worth around him. It feels right, under pounds of water and tickled by bubbles wiping his cheek. The arms around him help too, cradling him like the gentlest of tides. Cradling like his dad, who always makes him feel better.

When all the yuckiness is outside of him, cried all out, he feels cozier against Phil’s shoulder. All of his limbs are heavy, sluggish. It feels near impossible to move. But his dad is holding up his whole body, petting his head and back and temples. When he twitches or makes a pained expression, his dad responds immediately.

No matter what, his dad can always make him feel better. It’s the one thing that always works, the only way to help the bad feelings get out. To fill up that space with attention and love and all things good.

When Phil makes a move to pull back, Techno whines and holds onto him harder. His dad chuckles.

“I was supposed to finish this today… Did you want me to sit with you until the storm is over?” Phil asks.

Quickly, Techno nods. He wraps his arms around Phil’s neck, readjusted as the man lifts him with a soft groan. Perhaps he’s getting too big to be held by his father. The thought makes the cold and darkness stab at Techno, hitching his shoulders a few more times. A few tears fall free, which Phil wipes away with one hand. It means he’s only using one arm to hold him, so he must not be that big yet.

Techno holds on all the tighter for it, determined to never get there. He doesn’t know what he’ll do then. It feels too unsafe.

Phil shushes him softly, carrying him out of the office. The halls are quieter, no windows to let in the noises of the storm. Though he had really almost forgotten about them until now. The reminder makes his lips pout out as he whines. His dad squeezes him in response.

After they pass the dining room, Techno notices Wilbur’s face peek around the doorway towards them. A near rumble breaks out of Techno’s chest at the sight. He shrinks below Phil’s shoulder more.

But, his dad ends up stopping anyway, turning towards Wilbur.

“Everything alright?” Phil asks.

“Yes. Just… seeing if Techno got you,” Wilbur says.

Techno makes a disgruntled noise of pouting, fingers gravitating towards his mouth. His dad notices and sends a look towards Wilbur.

Something about it makes Wilbur speak up, smiling: “We weren’t mad at you, Techno. Tommy just wanted you to go get dad, yeah?”

A small frown pulls on Techno’s lips as he remembers the sharp words Tommy spit at him. But he supposes that in a way it was about Tommy not wanting Phil to come out there. So the alternative was obviously Techno going to Phil. And their dad did make it better, just like he always does.

Humming slightly, Techno sets his cheek on Phil’s collarbone so he can look at Wilbur more calmly. His older brother smiles at him properly. 

“Do you want to read a chapter of the novel?” Wilbur asks, skipping closer.

“What’a bout Tommy?” Techno asks.

“Of course he wants to. I told you he’s not mad, he’s just loud,” Wilbur says, rolling his eyes.

That is true. And that would make sense, with Wilbur not saying anything or helping him. Wilbur always steps in when it’s serious, Techno was just upset, he guesses.

Nodding, Wilbur walks off to go get the book that they’re on right now, as Phil changes direction. They try to read the book with Kristin, when she’s awake and not resting. There haven’t been any fits with her sickness, but sometimes she just gets tired and achy. Techno understands that a lot, so he listens extra good to his dad about not bothering her.

When Phil peeks into their bedroom, he swings the door open after a moment, smiling. Kristin is sitting before her bureau, slowly braiding her hair. She brightens upon seeing them, looking like a ray of sunlight through the rain.

“Hello you two,” Kristin says. “How is it?”

“Too dreary to work. Apparently,” Phil says, jouncing Techno with the last word.

While his mother laughs, Techno pouts. Phil kisses his temple, before setting him down. Nearly stomping over in displeasure, Techno gives his mom a hug. She laughs harder at him for some reason, but hugs back.

“I think you’re right, little pearl,” Kristin says, kissing his temple too.

From the corner of his vision, Techno sees Phil flinch. He’s not totally sure why, but he assumes that it’s because Techno often leans against or climbs on his family like this. But he knows not to do that with his mom, since it could hurt her. Instead, she uses his shoulder and the chair to push herself up, before ruffling his hair.

“More like little flower instead, with how he likes the sun, huh?” Phil says, smiling stiffly.

“Little cutie,” Kristin says, pinching Techno’s cheek. It would make his brother cry out in annoyance, but Techno only leans into the touch.

“We’re doing story time,” Techno says.

“Oh, it is lucky for me, then,” Kristin says.

“Are you up for it?” Phil asks, walking over and grabbing Kristin’s elbow.

“I feel right as rain.” Kristin flaps her hand at him.

Tommy skips into the room then, carrying the book. Wilbur follows after him, looking excited at the sight of their mother up and the rest of them there. Techno agrees. Being here with his family like this, it’s the best thing in the world. All of his wounds rubbed over with cotton now, far, far away. It’s a lovely feeling.

The only thing better would be cuddling with them, so he goes and climbs onto the bed. It’s a big bed, but they still have to squeeze to all fit. Techno loves it.

“Will you do the voices, Tommy?” Techno asks, a little tentative as the others join him.

“Of course. I do them best, right?” Tommy asks, smiling at him.

Techno nods quickly.

“Pffft, you do the same voice for them all,” Wilbur says, flicking Tommy.

“I do not!” Tommy says.

“He does good voices,” Techno defends.

“Yeah,” Tommy says. Then he leans over and sets his chin on Techno’s head, hugging his side. “My favorite brother knows.”

Wilbur is only rolling his eyes, like always, but Techno’s chest feels light and fluffy. Warm. He nestles down in the blankets, squished in the middle. Tommy lays the book across Techno’s lap so that they can see better, having to lean close and against him.

It truly is a perfect day.

—

Leaning forwards, Techno presses his face to Steve’s soft fur. It’s gotten slightly more worn over the years, but he’s still his favorite. Still the softest and nicest to turn to when he feels bad. Tommy says he’s a baby for still carrying a stuffed animal around, but Tommy doesn’t know what he’s talking about. And his dad said it’s okay, so it must be.

Sniffling, sets his face into its fur better, before grabbing the skin on his thigh between his fingers. Then, he squeezes.

His lips crumple below the dull pain that picks up from it.

Techno went swimming yesterday with Wilbur and Tommy, so he feels good physically. There’s no pressure behind his skull from overwhelm either. No storm in his belly trying to push up.

But there is the slightest of something below his skin, and he simply wants it to be made better by his father. Sure, he could go crawl into bed with his mom, or join Wilbur and Tommy wherever they are, or even sit in Phil’s office with him. But Techno wants his attention and cuddles and love, fully on him.

If only he could cry on command. Techno would love that power, probably even more than his ability to breathe underwater and swim fast. Those things… there’s a squirmy feeling in his chest at the thought of being without them, but he needs his family, needs his father holding him to make him safe and better. If only he could have it any time he wants, not just when the tears come up. Which at times does not happen nearly as much as it should, considering how much he wants it.

His dad does spend a lot of time with him and shows his love and attention obviously. More than most parents, Techno would think from books and vague notions. Plus, Wilbur talks about how before their dad got into his current job, he was never around. Always working out of the house, and mom sick too.

The thought is near unbearable. Finally, paired with the pain of his pinching, his tears well up. He sighs in something close to relief at how yucky feelings surface to go with the tears too. They’ll keep them flowing.

Quickly, Techno stands and walks to Phil’s office. He was working today, something very important, he said. But he always makes time for Techno if he is upset, it will be fine. It has to be all better now.

Pushing open the door, the tears drip faster when he sees that the office is empty. A frustrated noise comes up and one of his feet stomp on its own. But that doesn’t make his dad come either.

Where is he? He said he’s working and Techno already checked the rest of the house to see if he’s on break.

Techno walks into the office, sticking his fingers into his mouth and chewing on them. His parents have tried scolding him out of it lately, but now the feelings are too much if Phil isn’t here to help him. Shoulders hitching, he looks down at the papers strewn across the desk. A candle’s just gone out and a few spots of wax are drying. Letter seals? Who knows when he’ll be back from the post office.

Whining, Techno kicks the leg of the chair. That only hurts his foot, makes the pinch on his thigh hurt worse. And now for what? Nothing, because no one is here.

As he starts to cry enough for the pearls to fall off of his cheeks, he’s about ready to go find Wilbur and make him help. He usually will, especially because Phil isn’t around and they can’t bother their mom. But a shine from within the desk catches his attention before he can.

Techno grabs the slightly open drawer and yanks it all the way open. The bottom of the drawer is partially askew, which is kind of confusing. Did Techno break it?

But a small push on it reveals that what is inside must be purposeful. There’s some soft clothed bags, the kind that hold money. Phil’s money hiding spot? Techno thought he kept that in his and Kristin’s room, since that’s where their mom always goes to give Wilbur and Tommy money if they go to town. But Techno really doesn’t know, though.

A closer inspection of the shine rids him of that idea anyway. Or at least makes him forget about it. Because the biggest bag is obviously filled with pearls.

Techno takes one out, sniffing roughly at the sight. It’s about the size of two of his fingertips. He glances down at the pearls dropped to his feet, and then back up.

Oh.

It makes sense, in the way that learning about something he’s simply never thought about before makes sense. His dad always cleans up the pearls when he cries. Techno supposes they must go somewhere. There’s a lot here, in this little drawer. It seems like a lot. But also, Techno gets the feeling that it’s nowhere near as much as he has cried throughout the years. Through the month, maybe. But even then.

He rolls the pearl between his fingers. Then he brings it to his lips, pressing it against them. It’s cold. Smooth. He nearly has the impulse to put it in his mouth and swallow it, but instead balls it up in his hand and turns away.

Footsteps click closer to the door. Phil still has his coat over his arm as he steps into the room, pausing at the sight of Techno. The sight of his dad makes the deluge pour back into him. Instantly, he’s back below the water. Gray water, thrashing waves. His hand drops to his side, the pearl falling and clattering to the floor, rolling away somewhere unseen.

“Tech—” Phil starts, stuck in place.

Techno pushes his fingers into his sore thigh as he takes off into a run. Phil stiffens slightly. It makes the impact slightly harder, as Techno throws himself at him.

Arms wrapping around his dad’s middle, loud sobs wrack his body. 

“What’s wrong, Techno?” Phil asks, finally hugging him back.

Pulling on the man's shirt until he bends over, Phil hugs him better. Fully envelopes him, so that nothing else can get at him. The hands on his spine, rubbing circles, feel right.

Phil hums a bit inquisitively, but luckily doesn’t pull fully away. Techno couldn’t bear that.

“Alone,” Techno murmurs.

His mom would encourage him to use his words. She says that he’s incredibly smart, but that he needs to fully voice his thoughts to get it out properly. That’s simply too much, though. Just like the fingers, Phil rarely enforces such a thing when it’s just the two of them.

The same is true now. The man hums in acknowledgement, before hoisting him up. A groan leaves him, like it’s work to manage. But his dad doesn’t say anything to indicate such a thing specifically. Techno holds onto his neck all the harder.

After walking back into the office, Phil throws his coat over the back of his chair. Then he leans over and retrieves the strewn pearls, new and old, and sets them back in the drawer. Tucks them far from sight, no more smudges of shine. For the better, really.

“That’s just dad’s work. Nothing for you or your brothers’ or mom to worry about. Okay?” Phil says, patting his back. When Techno nods smally after a second, he continues. “Sorry I was gone. I had to send some letters to very boring men. I’m very happy you’re here to cheer me up.”

“All done?” Techno asks.

“For now,” Phil says.

A slightly disgruntled noise leaves him, making Phil chuckle. But then he starts to carry him out of the office, so it isn’t all bad. No, it’s quite good. All that Techno wanted, really.

He sets his cheek upon Phil’s shoulder, breathing smoothing out. Every little hitch that still goes through him is soothed with a pet from his dad.

“Where are Wilbur and Tommy?” Phil asks.

“Climbing trees,” Techno says.

“You didn’t want to go play with them?” Phil asks.

Techno hums. “I don’t know.”

It’s true, he really doesn’t know. He does like playing with his brothers. Likes climbing trees and running around outside. Like swimming, it’s fun. But the edge of wanting within him was too strong to just be for fun. More and more lately, it’s like that. The dark gray is buttoned on too tightly.

But he doesn’t mind when he’s in his family’s arms. That’s better than anything.

“You can go have fun, you know,” Phil says, leaning back to look into his face seriously.

“I wanna spend time with you,” Techno settles on.

“I’m nowhere near as fun as Wilbur and Tommy,” Phil says.

Techno just shakes his head. The man sighs, but he sounds fond. No matter how much Techno gets upset and cries, his dad never gets mad or annoyed at him. Mom doesn’t either, but he also can’t be around her when sad. Wilbur and Tommy… They don’t mean anything bad. And anyway, Phil’s hugs and comfort are the best. Wilbur is too bony.

Knots grab at Phil’s fingers as he drags them through his hair. Not enough to hurt, Phil stops tugging before it could. But his dad pats his head regardless.

“Let me braid up your hair and then we can see what those two have gotten up to,” Phil says.

That’s always nice, so Techno doesn’t disagree. Even though it means he has to sit on the floor, between Phil’s shins. He leans against one of his legs, Steve propped up in his own lap. In time with Phil brushing his hair, Techno pets the bear. Wilbur said that there was a stuffed animal at his friend’s house that was a horsie with long hair, enough to braid the yarn. Techno thinks he’ll ask for one like that the next time that Phil visits town for shopping. But then he’ll need to learn how to braid himself.

His dad will have to teach him. He smiles at the thought. But only for braiding on the horse, he can’t do himself.

That line of thoughts makes Techno thinks about the office again. Honestly, he doesn’t even like the room. That’s where his dad goes to do all his work, spending a lot of the day away. Phil says it’s only a few hours at a time, but it’s still far too much. Plus, sometimes people go in there and… Techno doesn’t like anyone but his family.

Petting Steve more sadly now, he chews on his lip.

“Dad?” Techno asks, hesitant.

“What is it, little fish?” Phil asks, pausing in his braiding to pet the back of his neck.

“Do you… are pearls worth money?” Techno finds himself asking.

For a few seconds, Phil is silent and still. Then, he pets Techno’s neck again, along the spine.

“You’re very smart, aren’t you? They are,” Phil says.

That. Techno doesn’t quite know what that means in the grand scheme of things. Other than the fact that he cries pearls and his father collects them. And then they have money…

Suddenly, Phil pulls him up off of the floor, back into his lap. Techno leans against his chest as the arms wrap around him in a hug.

“Aren’t we lucky? I hate to see you cry, and I know you hate it too. But at least I can get you and your brothers and mom nice things then,” Phil says. The hug turns squeeze-y, which is how Techno likes it. “Anything you want, I want that for you too.”

That’s the bad part, him crying... His dad’s face is lined slightly, as he looks down at Techno. Perhaps worried at the slight upset on his boy’s face. But it’s not any of what Phil thinks that is twisting slightly within him.

Techno doesn’t hate crying.

The feelings are awful. How he feels so unsafe, out of control, pained, terrified, alone, awash at sea. But when he cries, his family always comforts him. His dad. Or if Phil is busy, then Wilbur. Sometimes even Tommy too. Mom’s too sick to worry, but she would if she could. And that’s the best feeling.

“I just want a hug,” Techno says.

Phil blinks. Then he leans forward and wraps his arms around him once more.

“Aren’t I the luckiest father in the world? I have three perfect children,” Phil says, kissing the top of his head.

“And mom,” Techno adds.

“And your mom,” Phil agrees, smiling. “I would do anything for you all. Don’t ever doubt that.”

In response to the loving look, Techno raises Steve up and smushes his snoot against Phil’s face. The man cringes at the bear kiss, before laughing.

With a small exclamation, Phil lowers his hand and starts poking at Techno’s side. A squeak leaves him. He flops over onto the couch, trying to squirm away from the tickling. His laughter is book ended by yells and kicking feet.

“Does Steve not like the tickle monster?” Phil asks, still poke, poke, poking at his sides.

“No! He eat you!” Techno shouts between laughs.

The threat seems to sway Phil very little, as he keeps tickle attacking Techno with evil laughter. When a stitch starts to form in his side, and the very beginnings of tears start to prick at his eyes, a voice interrupts.

“Who is attacking my baby?”

“Him! Him!” Techno yells with laughter, rolling towards his mother.

“Nope, it was Steve,” Phil says.

“Was not!” Techno shouts.

Phil picks Steve up off of the cushions where he slid away in the battle. Then, he peppers Techno’s face with stuffed bear kisses. The little pearls that had started to slip free from laughter get wicked away by bear snoot too. But Techno’s just focused on grabbing the bear back, still lost to giggles.

The scene makes Kristin laugh fondly, walking over and batting away Phil’s hand to save him. She sits beside him and pulls him up into a side hug, rubbing his arm and waggling her hand at Phil. Warding off any further attacks.

”Wow, ganged up on by my own family,” Phil says, laying a hand on his heart.

“Such is the life of siding with a bear,” Kristin says.

“Hey, he started,” Phil said, trying to get another poke in at Techno. Kristin bats him away before he can.

Giggles spill out of Techno at the shenanigans. 

“And what did you do to his hair? Jeez,” Kristin says.

She runs her hand over her head. Apparently mused up by rolling about and the tickle battle. 

“Interrupted by more pressing matters,” Phil says, shrugging.

Tsking all the way, Kristin slowly sets about undoing and then redoing his hair. For her, he sits still. Though his body lists ever closer to her. From the other side of the couch, Phil smiles at the pair of them.

And just about, Techno sees Phil slip a couple pearls into his pocket. He closes his eyes and basks between his parents all the more.

—

Phil is coming home today.

His dad has been away for nearly an entire month, doing some sort of important business a bunch of cities away. Techno cried and cried in the days leading up to him leaving, but he left anyway, promising to be home the second that he could. From the time he stepped out of their house, every second has been far, far too many.

Right now, Wilbur is off too, fetching fresh meat from town for their mom to make dinner. He’s been the one that Techno has been going to with his upsets, even crawling into his bed some nights. Luckily, his older brother has been exceedingly kind towards him, more than he ever usually is. He’s told Tommy off any time he teased him too, even though that’s just how the boy jokes around. Tommy hardly even seems annoyed, playing with Techno more as well. It’s nice. If he ignored Phil being gone.

Tommy is currently burying a broken vase on the edge of their property, his normal space to hide things he’s destroyed. That means that it’s just Techno and their mom. He’s been helping Kristin around the house all day, cleaning and straightening things. So much stuff that now she has to rest.

Bothering her isn’t allowed. It will make her sicker, and then their dad will have to go away all the time to get money for more medicine. That’s the last thing that Techno wants.

He wants Phil home all the time. All of them, all the time.

Why does anyone ever have to leave or go out? It’s not fair. Techno wishes that all the time was like story time, tucked in bed together and playing around. Hugging and between everyone, safely. Phil there to chase away all the bad feelings, far, far away.

That never gets to happen. Barely enough at all. Cause Phil’s always going off to get money; then Wilbur’s all mature-like, and mom is all tired from doing too much, and Tommy does dumb stuff when he’s bored.

A pout plucks at Techno’s lips, pulling the odd hitch out of him. He’s nearly tired of crying after all this time. It doesn’t get him what he wants these times. He hates it.

With a whine, he throws Steve to the ground and stands. He stomps out of the room, quieting as he gets closer to his parents’ room, and then loud again when he is past it. If Phil won’t be here then, then—

Simply, he will go and get Phil. Bring his dad home where he belongs!

He tromps down the walkway in front of the house, right out of the gate. His dad left going in the opposite direction from the town, so that’s the way Techno goes. And if Phil is really meant to be home in time for dinner, than he’d better be pretty freaking close.

Sniffling, Techno scrubs at his cheeks while walking down the road. When he turns a corner and their property disappears from sight, it feels far more real. But that just makes his chest ache and feel yucky more, which only his dad can help with.

Onwards he goes.

Techno honestly doesn’t know if he’s ever walked this way before. Definitely not alone. Though, he really doesn’t think that he’s left their yard alone ever. At the very least, Tommy would be with him if his brother wanted to drag him off somewhere nearby. And anywhere much further, always with his parents or eldest brother.

But they’re all off without him, so what does it matter? Sniffling harder, he kicks a rock away from him. It bounces a couple times before stopping. He walks over it it and kicks it again. It practically soars this time, before bouncing bouncing bouncing. Right over the edge of the road into a little creek trickling beside it. Not even deep enough to wade in, let alone swim. But swimming is really only fun in the ocean anyway.

The longer that he walks down the road, the less sure that he feels about the situation. Phil’s definitely going to come from this direction, right? 

Of course he is! And it’s the quickest way to get to him and get him home. Tell him to hurry it the heck up. Though Techno didn’t account for how walking makes his legs and feet hurt. He wishes that he brought Steve with him about now. It’d be nicer if something was there with him. In his arms…

The loneliness ebbs a little as he passes horses and cows. Techno makes sure to wave at them all, and one even moos at him. He giggles and forces himself to keep walking. He can tell Phil about the cow.

Whenever his or his brothers ask about getting horses or other animals, his parents always warn them that they will have to do lots of work to take care of it. Even though Techno always sides with his brothers, arguing that they totally can, it honestly seems like a lot of work. Maybe they should just visit other people’s horsies. Sounds more fun.

The sun slowly starts to creep downwards in the sky. Jeez, how far is his dad anyway? It’s ridiculous!

As though in time with the thoughts, the soft clopping of hooves on dirt becomes audible. Techno looks up from the dirt, kind of expecting more horses around him. But, just visible around a bend far, far up the road, Techno can see a horse and cart.

Perking up, Techno takes off in a run right towards the cart.

“Daddy!” Techno yells, excited.

He can’t tell if his dad sees him yet. In fact, he can’t even tell if it is Phil in cart or not. It probably is—it has to be! Techno just keeps running as fast as he can, filled with energy and buzzing at the prospect of finally seeing his father again. It has been way, way too long!

As only a wooden bridge stands between Techno and cart, he sees a head of blond hair stick out of the cart. The man says something, sounding distinctly like Techno’s name.

Despite the pain and tiredness in his legs, Techno pushes himself even faster.

“Dad—!”

Foot falling onto a wooden plank on the bridge, his stomach jerks violently upwards while the rest of his body falls. The plank he stepped on tilts completely to the side with his weight, nothing holding it flat anymore. And with it, his foot slips right through the gap where the wood once laid. In less time than it takes for his eyes to even widen in shock, his whole leg, his hips, his outstretched arms drop through. 

As his scream turns high pitched and panicked, his other leg catches roughly on the lip of the wood above him. From upside down, Techno has a second to take in the view of the creek below. Except somehow, in the space between their house and now, the tiny tickling flow has turned to a deep churning river, far below the bridge.

His throat chokes as he grapples and swings, hanging there. And then his caught up leg starts to slip down too.

A horrified shriek leaves him, mouth tasting like blood from how his heart is exploding in his chest, as his knee slips into the gap and all of him starts to drop—

“Techno!”

With a violent jerk, a hand wraps roughly around his ankle. Then another around his knee, dragging him back up through the gap in the bridge.

“Jesus fucking—! I’ve got you baby, I’ve got you,” Phil says.

His fingers nearly break Techno’s skin as he slowly pulls him through the gap. When the wood on either side catches on his limbs or skin, the man pauses and painstakingly twists him free. Techno’s eyes squeeze shut, a one note whine breaking out of his throat on a held exhale. Phil continues uninterrupted, until Techno is grasped tightly to his chest.

“What the hell? Fuck—! Why are you here, Techno? What happened?” Phil asks, arms shaking a bit around him. Maybe from how hard he’s holding him. “Are you hurt? Fuck.”

Techno can only blink, still struck by everything that happened in only a couple seconds. He almost fell, his body is a little sore, and now his dad is here and saved him—

With a hitch, Techno grabs onto Phil as tight as a barnacle on a ship. Then he wails.

“Oh, my baby. My darling. My poor thing. Are you hurt?” Phil coos over him.

He rocks Techno in his lap, kissing the top of his head and rubbing his back over and over. Even though Techno’s eyes are pinched closed in his violent sobbing, he can feel the moisture of some tears on his face. His tears aren’t wet though. His dad is crying over him, whispering kindness and fluff and thanks to the skys above that Techno didn’t fall.

Tucked up under his dad’s chin and so close to his chest that Techno can feel his heart and the expansion of his lungs, the fear melts away completely. He presses his face to his dad’s shoulder better, chest still hitching as every rock and squeeze makes all of him feel dunked into warmth.

There was so much intense panic and fear and badness, but it’s emptied all out with Phil’s hands. Now it’s all okay. All full up with love.

Slowly, still petting him, Phil pulls away. He scans over Techno, looking for injuries. There are a few scraps and red spots that his das worries over, but he’s mostly alright. 

Cause his dad saved him.

“Why are you out here? Did something happen?” Phil asks, stroking his face gently.

Techno’s lips wobble. “I wanted you.”

“Baby… That’s dangerous. You can’t go out alone. You could have fallen! Or gotten hurt or lost or taken,” Phil stresses, words as sharp as they have ever been while pointed at Techno. When Techno hiccups, he hugs him to his chest once more, squeezing. “I don’t know what I would do if you got hurt. It would kill me.”

Dusting his fingers over a red scrape on his knee, Phil looks up at seriously.

“Promise me,” Phil says, stern.

“Promise,” Techno echoes.

He leans forward and hugs his dad. Phil hugs him back twice as hard.

“I missed you,” Techno murmurs.

Phil sighs. “I know. I missed you too. All of you. We should go get back to them, before your mom worries over you being gone.”

A sad hum leaves Techno. His dad hushes him, sweeping away all the pearls that have escaped down his shirt. When Phil stands, he only hugs Techno tighter as he groans with effort. Like no matter how big Techno is, nothing could make him put him down.

As he’s carried over to the stopped cart, Techno notices the man who has been driving it. He’s standing off to the side, face awkward and concerned. Phil eyes him slightly, before seeming to notice that the plank of wood on the road is fixed up. Must have taken most of the driver’s time. Phil relaxes.

“Everything okay, sir?” The man asks.

“Fine. My son,” Phil says shortly, patting Techno’s back.

“Ah. Shall we get you both home?” The man asks.

“Yes, if you please,” Phil says.

In the back of the cart, Phil settles him in his lap. His dad looks over him, near nervous still. But his eyes are so loving, focus completely on Techno, no matter how many mooing cows or bumps they pass by.

The attention washes all the small pains away like they’re nothing. Better than nothing. He tucks his face back into his dad’s neck so he can smile, hugging him.

It’s a far shorter and sweeter drive back to the house than Techno running all the way had been. Feels well worth it now. He’d run and run forever for this. Phil doesn’t waver the entire time, all focused on Techno, on soothing him. It truly is exactly what Techno wanted when he set out. He doesn’t want to upset or worry his father, of course. But it feels right, deep in his chest. Finally safe again.

A little bit of disappointment pearls up within him as the cart rolls to a stop outside of their house. But then it sets in that his dad is finally home and he feels happy and pleased all over again. Even the guilt of seeing his mom standing by the front gate, looking up at them nervously can’t blight it out.

“Ah, thank god!” Kristin says, seeing Techno.

“Lost one?” Phil jokes, carrying Techno down.

“I woke up to him gone,” Kristin says, slightly scolding as she looks upon the boy. “Wilbur and Tommy are searching the orchard.”

“I’ll go fetch them,” Phil says.

Slowly, he sets Techno on the ground. With another kiss to the top of his head, he goes off to tell the cart man something, and then to go get Wilbur and Tommy. It’s a little sad to see him go off, but he’ll be back. Real quick, and with his brothers too.

“Sorry, mom,” Techno says softly, leaning against her side and grabbing her arm.

She sighs, but then sets her hand on his head, petting.

“Just be more careful, little pearl.”

Techno hums and tucks his face to her upper arm. Some part of him wishes he still only reached her leg. Still small enough to go in her arms and lap. But at least his dad can still hold him. That’s enough.

When the others get back, Wilbur scolds him and pinches his ear. Even Tommy seems upset, giving Techno a short tight hug. Techno can only look down, shuffling his feet. With a grand sigh, Kristin smiles and kisses Phil, shooing them all inside.

“Late dinner,” Kristin says. “Okay because my family is here.”

Techno can agree.

The night really is perfect. Dinner is nice; Phil tells his stories about his trip away. There was apparently quite the scene of important rich people who Phil had to charm and compliment into gathering correspondence with. Fancy noblewomen and weird men who wear funny outfits and chortle too much. It sounds dreadfully boring to Techno, at least until he starts talking about how he found the perfect gifts for all of them.

His mother gets a pair of very shiny and pretty golden earrings. Phil promises that they were a gift from a new business partner when Kristin gives him a look. They looks very nice hanging near her hair, but Techno notes that Phil never gives her pearl jewelry. He almost pouts at the thought, but it’s washed away for now at his brothers’ excitement.

“This is what they play in the city,” Phil says, presenting Wilbur with a twisted up string instrument.

“What is it called?” Wilbur asks, eyes shining.

“Uhhhh,” Phil trails off, before smiling. “I’m sure that you can figure it out with your talent.”

Wilbur laughs while rolling his eyes, making everyone else laugh too.

“My turn now!” Tommy demands.

“I got a vase to replace the one that is suspiciously missing,” Phil says.

Tommy blinks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Phil guffaws at the gall. But it’s like Tommy always says: deny, deny, deny. And somehow Phil has a gift down in that bag for him afterall, so perhaps the boy has some wisdom in him.

A lovely metal dagger is presented to the boy, which makes him let out a nearly evil noise. It truly inspires confidence in everyone around him. No matter what responsibility-talk Phil gives the boy while handing it over. The room is now… safer?

“Last but not least,” Phil says.

He holds his hand out to Techno. In it is a large, leather bound book, binded with ribbon and covered in curly silver text. It even smells like soft paper and warm dust. Techno picks it up in both of his hands, though he nearly drops it with how heavy it is.

“More stories for us all to read, huh?” Phil says.

Smiling, Techno hugs the book to his chest. It is the perfect gift.

“No stuffed animals though?” Kristin asks, joking.

“Well, seemed a bit unfair to get two for him…” Phil trails off. Then he sticks his hand back into his bag and pulls out a fluffy stuffed dog. “The book is for all of us though.”

The book goes up on the table as he hugs the silver dog tightly. It looks more like a wolf, actually. Very beautiful and elegant. He rubs his face against its ears. A lovely red bow hangs from its neck.

“Of course that’s his favorite,” Tommy says, prodding.

Techno simply sticks his tongue out at him. And he gets a tongue stuck out at him back.

“Have a name in mind for it?” Wilbur asks.

“Apollo,” Techno says, primly.

His older brothers snort, but he doesn’t care. It’s a good name for a good wolf. What would they know about it?

“Very lovely,” Kristin praises him. “Want to go introduce him to the others? We need to clean up.”

“That’s my cue,” Tommy says, hopping up and running off.

Off in his room once more, Techno finds Steve where he left him, abandoned on the floor. Frowning at the sight, he picks him up and dusts him off.

“Sorry,” Techno apologizes.

Steve looks a little sad, but cheers up when Techno gives him a hug. He makes sure that it’s extra tight. That fixes it all up.

“Meet Apollo,” Techno says.

He introduces his new wolf to the whole pile of animals on his bed. Steve, of course, but also Carl the brown horse, Andrew the black horse, Em the white dog, Brick the brown dog, Blitz the arctic fox, and Baba the brown bear. There’s more in his closet, but he can introduce them later.

Now, he decides that he’ll go help his parents clean up. Cleaning is boring, but also he wants to be with his dad. He’s a good helper.

Techno walks downstairs quite happy, only pausing when he notices that his parents are in the office instead of the kitchen. Why are they in there?

Frowning, he walks over to the door and leans in close.

“ —well. But I have to see about getting the letters out tomorrow. I’m not sure if the port folks will respond to that, though. I probably have to visit them in person to set things up,” Phil’s voice says.

“When are you thinking about that?” Kristin asks.

Phil sighs. “Some time this month. It’s truly the sooner the better, but…”

“It’s alright. I can manage without you for a few more weeks. Wilbur really stepped up—”

Techno pushes away from the door, mouth falling open with shock. His dad is leaving again already? But, he thought after this trip, he would be back for a long, long time. Ideally forever, but at least for a year! Only a couple more weeks before he’s gone for who knows how long?

That’s just— It’s not fair!

Techno can’t stand being alone, being without his father to save him! For his family to be all split up and unsafe and sad. It’s not okay! It’s not!

Very nearly, Techno stomps his foot on the ground and storms right in, crying right then and there. Surely it would make his father stay and prove him wrong. Then he’ll have to stay, or Techno will cry forever!

The only thing that stops him is the fact that his mother is in the room too. He’s not allowed to cry in front of her. It will make her sick and die. That’s not good either, he needs all of them here and alive! But, but—

A thought slips into Techno’s head, bringing his brain and body to a pause.

His dad said that if something happened to Techno, if he got hurt, then he couldn’t take that. And when Techno almost fell and got hurt, he was so scared. He stopped the whole cart and stayed there until he knew Techno was okay for sure. And that was just a couple scrapes.

What if he did fall? Would his dad stay then?

Slowly, Techno creeps back away from the door. His fingers go up to his mouth, slipping past his lips as he chews them lightly in contemplation. It would probably hurt a lot, right?

But, his dad will save him after. Make it feel all better. And Techno will definitely cry for ages and ages, so Phil will have to stay with him all that time. Maybe he’ll even cuddle with him until he falls asleep again. He never does anymore. Too busy all the time, or Techno is “too old” for it. How can he be too old for everything feeling okay and perfect?

Set on the idea, Techno nods and goes back to his bedroom. He’ll wait until his mom is asleep so she doesn’t get sad at all the crying and stuff. All the getting ready today made her tired, so she’ll be asleep soon.

Techno sits on the floor with his legs out before him. He pulls Steve and Apollo down, setting them on his legs.

“It’ll be okay, right?” Techno asks.

Steve looks a little scared, but Apollo nods his head. Since Apollo was the one with Phil all this time, he probably knows best. Bears are supposed to be brave, but that’s okay. Techno gets scared sometimes too. That’s why he needs his dad.

“Dad will make us better,” Techno says to Steve.

The bear is still scared, but believes him. For his support, Techno gives Steve a kiss on the head. Apollo promises to stay with Steve the whole time too.

“What are you up to?” Wilbur asks, poking his bedroom door open.

“Nothing. Mom and dad are in the office,” Techno says, pouting. “Can we play?”

“It’s getting late,” Wilbur says, looking out the window.

The sun has almost set. But it’s summer, so it will last a little longer.

“Can we play outside? Pleaseeeeeee—”

“Okay, okay, shit,” Wilbur says, cursing like it’s something special.

“Swear,” Techno points out, standing.

“Don’t be a snitch,” Wilbur says.

His older brother grabs his hand, pulling him back downstairs and towards the outside. Now, his heart picks up a little bit and he starts feeling the yuckiness start to swell up. It’s almost too much. Cries want to come out really bad.

But he has to do this. Phil won’t stay just for cries.

Forcing his thumb to stay out of his mouth, Techno looks around the yard. Probably better to stay close.

“Let’s do a tree climbing race,” Techno says, pointing at the old, tall one.

“It’s a little dark for that,” Wilbur says.

As Techno opens his mouth to rebut, Tommy runs outside after them.

“Are you racing?” He asks, bouncing.

“Yup!” Techno says.

He pulls free from Wilbur, wiping off his sweaty hands. Then he starts to climb.

Although Techno doesn’t play outside as much as the others, he’s pretty good at climbing trees. Just slower than them, but he can often get up a lot higher. The branches still hold his weight okay.

Techno forces himself to go faster right now. Higher up. Lets the branches sway even though his heart hurts with how fast it’s beating and his eyes are swimming with tears. 

As the branch he’s perched on starts to crack, he freezes. Then he looks down.

It’s so far.

Maybe even further than the creek under the bridge. No, that’s impossible. Right? It must be. It just looks far because it’s pretty dark and the ground seems to be moving, stretching before his eyes and making the inside of his head terribly dizzy. Like goo that has been spinning and jiggling like crazy. His tummy feels like it’s tumbling even without moving.

Far away, he hears Wilbur say something. Calling to him, he thinks.

But instead of listening, Techno pinches his eyes shut and pushes off of the branch.

Falling is even scarier than he imagined. The entire world yanks and shakes and spins all around him. Except not even that, because there’s nothing solid at all. Just wind whipping past so fast that it hurts his skin.

Right as he has time to cry out, it stops. His foot hits the ground. Then his hand. Then his body. Then the pain.

He cries.

There’s only a little left within him to do that, because when he hit the ground all of everything got knocked out of him. Techno twitches and tries to breathe, but nothing will come in. Choking, coughing, wheezing, pearls fall forth out of his eyes as the vague pain collects in his limbs. And then it sharpens.

His whole leg, all the way up to his hip. It hurts like when his tail turns to legs, but far, far worse. On instinct, he tries to kick like would make it better. But that just shoves air into his lungs so he can scream.

“Oh god, Techno! Are you okay?” Wilbur asks, tripping over to him.

When his thin limbs wrap around him and pull him up, Techno cries out louder. His arm scraping against the ground hurts. He can feel the bone shift, cutting like a knife. No, worse. It must be worse!

Big sobs break and break and break.

“Go get dad. Quickly!” Wilbur shouts. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

Wilbur pets his face, but Techno jerks away, crying harder. Wailing now, chest ripping apart. It hurts too much to be touched, to move, to not move. 

This pain, these cries, surely they can’t be stopped. It’s a whole ocean within him, never to run out. He sobs terribly, drowning in the ocean of pearls. Wilbur has to push them away so they won’t fall into his mouth and drown him for real. Yet they just won’t slow, let alone stop.

“Techno!” Phil calls, dropping beside him.

He screams as his dad picks him up. All of his bones tear further, shatter apart, stab him. More gently than anything, his dad cradles him. It could stop the thinnest glass from breaking. But not Techno.

He wails in pain, shaking and vision going gray around the edges.

“It’s okay, baby. It’ll be okay,” Phil says to him, firm enough to somehow get through.

Even when he starts to slip away. Even when it all starts to go weird and gray everywhere, not just inside. His dad stays there and holds him and keeps his focus, all on him. 

There’s voices, someone Techno doesn’t know. And the pain grows brighter till he screams with numb lips. But his dad is there, so he goes back down. Into his father’s hands, safe and sound. Techno supposes he could live there forever, and it would all be okay.

Groggily, he blinks his sore eyes and whines. Instantly, Phil shushes him and pets his cheek.

“It’s alright, Tech. You’re alright,” His dad murmurs. Like he’s said it lots and lots.

With all the force in his exhausted body, he peels his eyes apart. Through the darkness, his dad is sitting over him. He smiles weakly, rubbing on his temple.

“There you are. My poor baby,” Phil says.

“Daddy,” Techno mumbles, voice brittle.

“I’m here,” Phil says. Promises.

Despite the pain still there, though fuzzy beneath gauze and splints that must have come from the doctor, he smiles smally. Phil’s smile spreads far more real. It’s a warm summer’s day after swimming and the fact that no one can ever hurt him, not even the bad feelings inside or the pain. Safe and safe and safe.

When Techno turns his head to the side a little, he cringes at a cold, hard feeling. Phil mutters an apology and swipes away a handful of pearls. Collecting on his pillow, down in his blankets. They must be covering the carpet if he’s just discarding them like that. He can always pick them up later though, when Techno isn’t awake and needs him. His dad won’t leave while he’s like that.

Again, he smiles. It shakes and it pushes more pearls out. But his father kisses his head.

“Do you feel funny? You got some medicine,” Phil says.

Slowly, Techno shakes his head.

“Good. Tell me if it hurts, I’ll get you some more,” Phil says. Promises. “I’ll make you all better.”

Wordlessly, Techno reaches up. His hurt arm only aches, twitches slightly. But his other goes up and reaches out. His dad leans forward, into the hug.

“Thanks,” Techno murmurs.

“You don’t have to thank me for taking care of you, little fish. That’s my job,” Phil says, cradling him so gently.

His real job, Techno thinks. And it sounds perfectly right. Tucked up there with all the other feelings and the held back terribleness.

Perfect.

Sleepy, Techno’s eyes slide shut again.

“Get some rest, I’ll be here,” Phil says.

Techno hums. “... This is… enough, right?”

“Enough what?” Phil asks.

“Money for you to stay?” Techno says, barely whispering. Through his eyelashes, he sees that his dad is still confused. “Pearls.”

The sight morphs, then. Those eyes on him, so attentive and loving and safe. They go from a little confused to extremely, terribly, deeply horrified.

It’s the last thing that Techno sees as he drifts off to sleep, feeling utterly safe and perfect tonight.