Archive of Our Own ^beta

Wilbur was almost one when his mother died.
Cancer, apparently. She’d deteriorated quickly, dying only a few months after her diagnosis.

He wasn’t particularly sad about it, sure death was upsetting, especially due to those kinds of circumstances, but it wasn’t like he’d ever really known her. Obviously he mourned the mother he never had when he was old enough to understand what had happened, but it wasn’t like he ever felt like he was missing out.

When he began school some kids asked, and others used it to be mean to him, but still he never thought the others had more love than him. Phil was more than enough, and just the two of them, in his opinion, were a perfect family unit.

Techno was three when his parents died.
Both drug addicts, Just your average overdose. A normal sob story, two shitty people dealt a bad hand in life, burdened with a child they never wanted. Techno obviously didn’t remember much of his parents, a few flashes of his mothers face, a certain smell that reminded him of his father. Slight glimpses of what his life would’ve been, had they not taken too much of whatever ended up killing them.

Compiling these memories alongside what snippets he’d been told by the social worker who’d first collected him, life with them wouldn’t have been good. Phil saved him from that fate, after being passed around 5 houses before finally landing with the man. For that, at least, he had the man to thank.

Tommy was two when his mother killed herself.
His father left long before he was born, and his mother had never really wanted a child. It was probably a good thing he didn’t remember her, no photos or anything.
Would’ve just made him sad.
He spent four years circling the system, a sore thumb sticking out from most of the other toddlers who got adopted in their first or second homes. It was strange, he was the typical cute baby. Shining blonde hair and fluttering blue eyes, most children like that were adopted almost immediately. He wasn’t really sure why, maybe he was just never meant to have a proper family. It was when-


-Tommy was six that he was first fostered by the Watson family. A small, cheerful boy who was welcomed with open arms and warm smiles.

At first he’d been nervous of Wilbur, the bio kid and also the oldest, but the 8-year-old boy was surprisingly nice and took him everywhere. Techno was the other brother, the middle child, and had only recently been adopted by the family. He was slightly distrustful of the golden-haired boy at first, but he too quickly came round. Phil, the third and final member of the family, was amazing. He never shouted at Tommy, or ignored him, or hit him. He was the best father anyone could ask for. Barely 2 months into his stay with the family Tommy barely avoided calling Phil “dad” to his face.

This was why, when Tommy was presented with adoption papers at age seven, he was ecstatic. Wilbur and Techno were too, both having grown more attached than either would let on.

Techno too was six when he was fostered by the Watson’s, at the time consisting of just a single father and his 7-year-old son, Wilbur.

Techno was wary at first, like any child who’d been thrown around the system since he was two, but he quickly grew close to the pair. Then, less than a year later, the adoption papers were presented to him just a few weeks after his seventh birthday. Techno, who knew a good family when he saw one, leapt at the opportunity.

Mere months after the papers were processed, Phil was already fostering another child. At the start Techno felt… Well, he wasn’t sure how he felt. Envious of the energetic younger boy? Scared that he would be thrown away, sent back, forgotten? Happy to have another brother? Worried that Phil had already gotten bored of him and just wanted a shiny new child to fuel his saviour complex?

But his fears were soon squashed as Phil remained just as loving as ever, and the new boy soon became one of Techno’s best friends. He smiled and cheered alongside his family when Tommy was adopted, and hoisted his little brother up onto his shoulders. There was still a photo on the wall of him running round the garden, laughing with Tommy on his shoulders, the pair of them being chased by Wilbur. Even years later, when Phil stopped being Phil, Techno couldn’t find it within himself to blame Tommy.

Wilbur was seven when he met his first brother, eight when the papers made it official. The first days of the boy being in his house were difficult, the pinkette was quiet and snappish, but Wilbur loved him regardless.

It didn’t take long for the quiet boy to come round. Soon enough Wilbur was spending the days with dad and brother, the evenings watching films with the pair, and the nights giggling with Techno under the cover of darkness.

He remembered clearly the day his dad gave Techno the adoption papers, only a week after his 7th birthday. They’d both been practically vibrating with excitement. He remembered the grin on Techno’s face as the three stood in the office and their dad pinned the adoption certificate above his desk.

Wilbur was eight, only a year older, when his second brother was adopted. Tommy had first arrived in the house only a short while after Techno’s adoption was official, and Wilbur had immediately fallen in love with the energetic six-year-old.

Less than a week after Phil began fostering him, Wilbur was already begging his dad to adopt the young boy he’d started viewing as a brother. His dad had chuckled, ruffling his hair, and told him they’d have to wait a little. He’d sulkily told this news to Techno, who’d also laughed and said these things took time.
Techno always was the level-headed one, even as a young child. And again, a year later, Wilbur stood beside his brothers in the office, grinning wildly surrounded by his family, as Dad secured Tommy’s adoption papers right beside Techno’s.

Tommy was ten when they all went to the beach together for the last time. It was a sort of family tradition, every year they would all pack up their bags and head to the seaside for the day usually coinciding with Wilbur's birthday... Honestly, the day was almost a blur to him.

It had been insignificant at the time, just celebrating his oldest brother’s special day with his family at the beach. Now it was looked upon with a wistful smile, a reminder of time gone by, of ‘the good ol’ days’. A memory etched onto a scrap of paper, left to crumble in the wind.

He knew they’d gotten ice cream. He knew his brothers and him had raced down the pier. He knew Phil had to get back early to take a work call. He knew Wilbur had cried about being forgotten on his birthday and Techno had comforted him, not realising this would be only the first of many forgotten days. He knew the three of them had ended the day curled on the floor of Will’s room.

Wilbur had been the first to sleep, Techno and Tommy listening to Phil, now hours into his call, with frightened eyes. Tommy had never heard him sound so angry. He soon got used to it though.

There wasn’t much else of that day he could recall, even when he picked through the very crevices of his brain. It made sense, he hadn’t known it would be the last time, the last vaguely good day. If Tommy had, he’s sure he would’ve payed more attention. Perhaps he would’ve savoured the taste of half-melted ice cream, breathed deeper to keep the sea air, relished in the wind on his face as he sprinted down the pier, basked in the warmth of the day. But he didn’t, and the memory inevitably slipped from his mind like sand.

Techno was eleven when he first noticed the family splitting, cracking like a porcelain mask. He’d brushed it off at first. The shouts from Phils office? It was probably just a stressful time at work. His older brother disappearing into his room every day without fail? Wilbur was probably just being an angsty teenager. His baby brother, who could be heard crying in his room every night without fail? Tommy was probably just anxious about starting secondary school. It was fine, it would be fine. Everything would go back to normal if he just gave it some time.

Safe to say, it didn’t go back to normal. No, instead it got slowly worse.

It didn’t take long to realise no one was going to comfort Tommy on those long sleepless nights. Wilbur, who’d once have cleaved the world straight in half if someone so much as looked at either of his brothers wrong, never appeared to help. Phil, who was supposed to be the adult, never came to wipe his eyes. Instead, Techno was the one to sit with his brother through those long, tear-filled nights. Techno was the one to tuck his younger brother into bed, read him a story, get him a drink.

And that wasn’t the only thing. The tense dinners and snide comments, which before had been uncomfortable, sure, but bearable, quickly turned to full-blown shouting matches, usually involving Phil and Wilbur. Or really just Phil and whoever he deemed had messed up badly enough this time, Wilbur was just most likely to rise to the bait.

Techno was fast to fall back into old habits, flying under the radar and avoiding the man at all costs. Barely talking, passing in school, doing his chores. The fact he was the middle child probably helped, easiest to forget. It couldn’t hurt too that he grew up fast. While maybe not a good thing in terms of mental health, his emotional maturity pinned him as more of a parent than Phil at some points, even to the man himself. Hours spent sitting passively listening to Phil rant about his parents, or complain about how difficult Techno’s brothers were.

Attempting to comfort Tommy whenever the shouting got bad, trying to keep the younger boy safe in the delusion of happiness for as long as he could. He took to reading Tommy myths again, like he had when his brother was smaller. Despite how it pained him, Techno usually stayed away from Wilbur. lt hurt to see the happy, charming, talkative child he’d known now gone and replaced with a mean, angry, and frankly violent boy.

Techno hated it. He hated how powerless he was to change anything, how he had so readily trusted that this house would be good. He hated Phil.

Tommy was thirteen when Phil forgot his birthday for the first time. It wouldn’t be the last. Wilbur and Techno had remembered, Wilbur wished him a happy birthday before school. Techno got him a notebook and pens, and got the three of them cupcakes. They sat in a secluded area of the park behind the house, laughing together. It had been one of the best bad days of Tommy’s life. Wilbur had been invited, but simply rolled his eyes and told them that he had better things to do than go to a child's picnic.

Techno gave him Wilbur’s cupcake.

The two of them had stayed out until dinner, and Techno led Tommy up to his room as soon as they got home, ignoring the dinner table. He shut the door behind him but that didn’t stop Tommy from hearing him shout at Phil, even from the bedroom. Surprisingly, he didn’t really mind these shouts. Not when they were defending him. Afterwards Techno had come back to the room and sat with Tommy, reading to him until he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Techno was fourteen when the house went silent. No shouting, no fights, but no laughter or joy either. Just. Silence.

He couldn’t tell which was worse, at least with the shouting there was some way to remind him there were other people living there. Weeks would pass where he didn’t even see Phil, let alone speak with him. He went to Tommy’s parent-teacher conference with him that year, and Tommy went to his the next day.

He was fifteen when Tommy first called him dad. It was on his birthday, when the card Tommy gave him was proudly emblazoned with “World's Best Dad” on the front. It was a joke. Probably. But it made Techno think. He’d been essentially parenting his brother since Tommy was about ten, so over three, closer to four years. Phil had stopped parenting him around the same time. Really, in just a couple of years, Techno would’ve been acting as Tommy’s parent for just as long as Phil had been. That was… Really scary to think about.

But he’d shoved it forcefully from his mind, instead choosing to spend the day teaching Tommy how to wrap gifts well and do fencing, blissfully ignorant to whatever the other half of this sorry excuse for a family was doing.

Wilbur was sixteen when he realised the extent of the damage. How he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to either of his brothers. How Phil didn’t care where he was or what he was doing as long as he brought home good grades. How the dust accumulating on the picture frames hadn’t been cleaned in years.

It all came to a head one day in mid-April. He’d realised about a week too late that he’d missed Tommy’s 14th birthday, and being the stubborn bastard he was there was no way he was going to admit he messed up. Everyone was too far gone, an apology now would mean next to nothing. The day had been going- Not well, never well, but it had been going okay.
Or at least, it had been going okay until dinner that evening. The memory was vivid, so much so that he could still recall the conversation almost verbatim.

It had started off as any other Friday evening, the day Phil insisted they all sit down as a family and talk. Even when everything else crumbled, this somehow remained. Phil was half-listening to the conversation, Techno sat in stony silence. Wilbur himself was picking at his food, occasionally chipping in but also content to sit in silence. Tommy could never do that though, he needed sound. Even if it meant talking into the silence.

Wil wasn’t sure if Tommy was still under the idea that their family was doing good, he doubted even Techno was that convincing, but the way he kept talking almost made him believe. Only the twitching hands and nervous glances gave him away. He was rambling, mostly about random things. Then his birthday came up.

“And Tubbo and Ran got me a pair of discs, so I’m going to put them on my wall! Techno got me this really cool notebook, it has a Mincraft pig on it-”
Phil tutted, shaking his head. “Really Techno, you shouldn’t buy your brother things without occasion, you’ll only spoil him mate. Besides, you should be saving for Uni, I can’t cover everything.”

The tension in the room was palpable, Techno glaring daggers at their father. Staring intently at his meal, Wilbur flicked occasional looks upwards. Tommy seemed… Not surprised, but almost heartbroken. His voice when he next spoke was so small it almost made Wilbur flinch.

“What- What do you mean ‘no occasion’?”

Phil ignored the tremor in his voice, just rolling his eyes. “You know, he shouldn’t get you things at random. It’s a waste of money.”

At that Tommy did visibly flinch, and Wil reached out under the table for his hand. The younger drew away at first, but quickly took the outstretched palm. He seemed to be waiting for something, and one look at Techno quickly revealed what that “something” was. His brother looked prepared to fight an army, staring at their dad with an intense hatred.

“Ph- Dad. If you’d been paying attention, you would know I got that for Tommy’s birthday. His birthday which YOU FORGOT.” He finished in a shout, hitting his hand on the table. A flicker of regret seemed to pass over Phil’s face, before he turned to look properly at Tommy for the first time that evening. “Oh. Yes, that’s right. Sorry mate, I was busy with work, you know how it is. Happy late 13th, anyway. Teenager, eh? That’s big!” He gave a weak smile and seemed genuinely surprised when Tommy just wilted more. Wilbur almost corrected his dad, but before he could Techno interrupted with a deadly calmness to his voice. “Tommy, go upstairs. I’ll be up in a minute. Wait in my room and close the door.”

This time, Wilbur followed his brother up the stairs. He hesitated, lingering awkwardly at the top, before turning into his own room as Tommy turned into Techno’s.

For the second year in a row, Tommy sat with his back pressed to the door as shouts echoed up the stairs.

Wilbur was sixteen when he began dusting the photos that lined the hallway.

It was nearing his birthday, and he’d given up on trying to connect with any of his family. He buried himself in schoolwork, praying for a distraction and subconsciously wishing for praise each time he bought home an A*. Praise he never received. That extra layer of separation, however, didn’t stop him from his now biweekly habit of cleaning the glass shielding the pictures.

For some reason, He didn’t bother with the frames. It was almost ironic, the perfection of the photos inside the dirty frames. He wasn’t sure why he started doing it, but he took the opportunity to look over the snapshots of their lives… The most recent he could see was from his thirteenth birthday, about four years ago.

It showed three young boys, so happy they were almost unrecognisable. All three had mouths smeared with ice cream, huddled around their grinning dad. It was a good photo. Well-centred, not even a little blurry. Another close by showed a tiny Tommy, no older than 8, curled onto Techno’s lap. Techno was sat on the floor, leaning against the sofa where Will was sitting. His tongue was poking out in concentration as he attempted to braid his brother's long hair. Evidently it was Phil who’d taken the photo, Techno shooting him a sideways fond half-glare. He’d probably been shaking with laughter, hence the slight motion blur.

There were other pictures all the way down the hall, stopping just before the kitchen door. It was like a walk back through time, the furthest displaying a beaming Phil, wearing a black tuxedo, stood beside a raven-haired woman in a flowing white dress. They were both positively glowing with joy.

Wilbur didn’t think he’d ever seen his dad that happy, not even when they’d adopted Tommy or Techno.
The rest of the photos depicted the same woman and Phil, doing various activities. A picnic at the park, a roller coaster, feeding a flock of crows at the pond. Each was equally joy-filled, and each left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

One with the lady in was the same as most of the others, her and Phil together, except this time she was clearly heavily pregnant. That was the last photo of the pair together on the wall. There was a final photo, her sat on the sofa and looking lovingly down at a month-old Wilbur. It was soon after this she started complaining of leg pain, and about six months later she was finally diagnosed.

Four months after that was her funeral. He barely even got to meet her, no memory of her at all, but still he knew who she was. Through wistful conversations with his father and furtive glances in the mirror trying to piece together the similarities, he knew this was his mother.

And this was the only photo he had of them together, if you could ever really call it that. She’d been alive nearly a year after his birth, but her health had deteriorated so quickly there wasn’t much opportunity for photo shoots. He tore his eyes away from the frame and continued down the hall.

The next one was a photo of him, Wilbur, as a new-born. It was taken in the hospital, a bunch of wires plastered on and around him. He’d never really asked what was wrong with him when he was born, and so he was never really told. It must’ve been something relatively serious, he knows he wasn’t breathing. But he lived a relatively normal childhood, as evidenced by the next scattering of images along the wall.

Toddler Wilbur clutching his dads hand. The first time he saw snow. Him licking an ice cream, half of it already across his face and shirt. A camping trip. Wil’s first day of school, grinning toothily at the camera with the brand new uniform. A day at the beach with his dad. The day he learned to ride a bike. Him jumping into a pool on holiday. A day at a theme park. Various shots from a multitude of his birthdays. A blurry shot of the boy with a mop of brunette hair spinning fast on a roundabout, him kicking his feet on a bench near the pond, running through the park with his brothers, Will on his first day of secondary school.

The more he looked at the photos, the more he picked up on the subtle reveals of Phil’s true preferences. While yes, there were photo’s of his brothers on the walls, almost all of them included Will. There were very few of either of them alone, and even fewer of just the two of them together. Of course, their first days of school or the first time they saw snow would’ve been harder to get, as neither were living with Phil then. Still, only 3 of Techno’s birthdays were on the wall, and just 2 of Tommy’s, a meagre number compared to the at least 12 of his own.

Neither had their first days of secondary school. Wil was sure Phil had taught Techno how to ride a bike, Tommy having been taught at the group home by one of the older kids, but there was no photo evidence of this moment that Will could find.

The closest was a shot of all three children cycling down their road, Techno tearing away in first place with Will and Tommy battling neck and neck for second. It was nice. They were all smiling. It was rare.

Techno was seventeen when he left. Packed a bag, took a final glance around his bedroom, and drove away with his little brother and his friends. He hadn’t looked back once.

He hadn’t needed to. He felt a lot of things about his childhood, very few of them good. One thing he didn’t seem to feel was regret. Which was strange, he had every right to be regretful. Phil had been a shit dad and he should hate him for that. But he couldn’t. Not because of the man himself, but because if his life hadn’t been the way it had, who knows where he’d be?

Without Phil he never would’ve met Tommy, and then Tubbo and Ranboo by proxy. He would never have done as well as he had in school, even if most of it was out of spite. He never would’ve got those almost 6 years of joy before everything went, to put it mildly, To Shit™.

Sure, he felt anger at how he and his brothers had been treated. He felt nostalgia, for those brief years of happiness. He felt betrayal at how the foster system had failed him, and countless other children, so miserably. He felt sadness at the way a family that seemed so good and whole had crumbled so quickly. He even felt resentment, towards what he wasn’t quite sure. Phil? The foster system? Fate? The world? But he never felt regret.

Regret would imply there was nothing good that ever came of his situation, and that wasn’t true. For years he thought he regretted his life, and it wasn’t until he moved out with three of the people he cared about most that he knew he could never regret this.


It wasn’t until he moved out that Techno realised life might not be that bad after all.