Chapter Text
"And you're sure you can take care of Friend?" Wilburs- Well, Ghostburs,- shrill voice cuts into Philza's thoughts as he shifts his attention from the mess of art supplies he's attempting to clean up to his literal ghost of a son. "O'course," He responds smoothly, "Friend'll have a great time here. I'm sure we'll have lots of fun." Wilbur eyes him warily at the words as he levitates ever so slightly from the floor, fingers knotted together with nervousness. "Not too much fun right? Because he could get hurt or tired or hungry or-" Phil cuts his rambling off with a soft tut. "I've got him, don't worry," He assures him whilst practically shoving him out the door. He loves Wilbur- How could he not?- But he'd stayed up making lanterns and such with him, and, god, he wasn't good at functioning with little sleep. "Alright. Take care of him, OK?" He says before departing. Friend. Wilbur's blue sheep. Where is the animal, anyways? Probably the spare room. Heading up the stairs, Phil arrives just in time to keep the stupid animal from leaping out of the window, which Wilbur had apparently left open.
Snatching the lead, he pulls the sheep back as it struggles to move forwards, wanting to eat the flowers that Phil keeps outside the window. Maybe he should just build it a pen. It's over here so often that Phil reckons that It'd be better in the long run. Besides, Wilbur would be over the moon, which is certainly a plus. Gathering materials, he pulls on a thick coat and some boots, makes sure the window is locked so Friend can't fling itself out of the house, and heads outside.
Techno's house looms to the left of his house, so he'll have to build it to the right. Setting out his materials, he sighs softly when he thinks about the pink haired male who lives next door. He hasn't seen him in a few days; He's been busy with some project in the nether. He'd offered to bring Phil along, but he can't stand the nether still. Not since the accident. He'd never really told Techno too much about it- It was still too fresh in his mind to talk about. He misses talking to him, admiring his odd quirks that he didn't even seem to notice he did. He's sure he'll manage. Besides, maybe a bit of distance will be good. He doesn't know fully how to feel about his pink-haired friend. Maybe it's just grief, from losing Wilbur, from his little accident in the nether, where he nearly died buried deep underground hiding from piglins in the suffocating heat, that draws him closer to Techno, who seems so strong and steady. It's probably not, but Phil can't help but worry. Worry, worry, worry. Seems it's all he does these days.
One hour of working on a pen quickly turns to two, and, before he even knows it, he's spent four hours working on the damned thing. It had to be perfect. Nothing less for Wilbur. By now, he's barely functioning, running on low sleep and no coffee. He'd probably be fine, if he'd have coffee. But Tommy had broken his coffee maker, playing a game of ball with Tubbo in the house. The kid had sworn he'd pay for a new one, but no luck with that yet. At least he was out of Phil's hair for a while, at a sleepaway camp. Drowsy, Phil settles down on the ground, cross legged, to fiddle with some intricate woodwork. It's not necessarily, but he hasn't anything else planned, so why not go over the top? If it'll make Wilbur happy, even for a few minutes, it's worth it. Poor Wil. Phil can't even begin to imagine what it's like for him. Sighing ever-so-softly, he does his best to carve shapes into the wood, but his vision is slightly blurry from tiredness, and before long it's obvious he won't be able to continue, for fear of hurting himself. Leaning back, he props himself up on a nearby plank of wood so that he's sitting but slouched, and decides to allow himself a nap. Just a short one, of course. He probably should go inside, but it's oh so warm and comfortable here, in the grass and in the sun. Eyes fluttering shut, he settles back and quickly falls asleep, head lulling against his chest because of his slouched position and swearing to himself that he'll be up in just a few minutes.
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"Ghostbur, move," Techno half snaps half hisses as he snatches the hem of the ghost's soft yellow sweater and tugs him roughly down beside him into the little hole he's set up his temporary base, whilst he's here in the nether, hunting for wither skulls. "Oh, sorry. I didn't know. What're you doing? Is it fun? Can I help? Here, have some blue!" The ghost says loudly, shoving some small blue crystals into his hands. Oh, how Techno wanted to just... Shove the kid back where he came from. But he'd promised Phil he'd be nice to him and, should he ever need to, protect him should any harm come to Phil. And it was awful dangerous in the nether, even for a ghost. "Sit down," He commands, and Wilbur quickly does so. "Why're you here?" Techno rumbles, gaze flickering between Ghostburs curious one and the fortress around them. "Oh, well, I told Phil I was gonna go get more blue- Which I do need, but that's not why I'm here," He starts, gesturing animatedly. His voice takes a mischievous note, his eyes wide and happy, "Instead, I'm here! I came to get you!" There's a long pause, and Techno glances at him the way one might look at a rambling toddler. Confused yet endearing.
"Yeah?" He murmurs, unable to look at him for that long. It's hard for Techno, being around the chipper ghost. He's had such a rough life, and he's so happy and nonchalant about it. It makes Techno nervous. Surely no one is this... Good? So pure and sweet? Swallowing the thoughts, he makes an effort to make sense of Wills words. "Phil seems so lost without you. He's sad with you gone, and no amount of my blue makes him less sad! So I thought... If I can't give him blue to make him happy, what can I give him? What makes Philza Minecraft happy? And then I knew it! You!" He exclaims, grinning proudly. Techno freezes, eyes suddenly wide at the implications of Wilbur's words, whether he knows what he's saying or not. "I don't make him happy like that, Ghostbur. Maybe more blue. I don't see how I can help," He says finally, dismissing the thought that he has the capability to make his friend so happy, and that he was upset when he was gone. Simply impossible. They are nothing more than friends.
"Oh. Ok, then. I do actually need more blue- speaking of my blue, here, take some more- It's Friends favorite color," He says, getting to his feet. "Have a good day, Mr. Blade!" Will chirps, then wanders off in the opposite direction from which he came. Whatever. Techno dismisses his visit at first as little more then some stupid rambling. He can't make Phil that noticeably happy. Sure, he's probably made him a little more cheerful, but surely not as much as Wilbur's claiming it to be. But why would he lie? What does he have to gain? But if Phil'd really missed him so much when he was gone, why didn't he just come to the nether with him? So many damn questions. They make Techno's head spin in ways he hates, his tummy knotting into pretzels. Does he like Phil? More than in a friendly way? He doesn't know. How can he? Everything is so confusing. So, so confusing, Technoblade thinks as he almost mindlessly slays black, ash colored skeletons. So confusing, he thinks, as he gathers his things. Perhaps he should check in on the blond. It wouldn't hurt, would it? Surely not.