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One year.
It had been one year since he lost his brother. It had been one year since grief, sadness and anger had crashed into him amongst the ruins of a battle long fought, leaving him reeling with the weight of his emotions. It had been one year since he had heard the panicked shouts and anguished cries from those around him, turned and saw red.
Red as the blood staining a glistening sword plunged straight through his brothers chest. Red as his fathers hands, still resting on the hilt of the blade. Red as the blood of his enemies, of his past allies, soaking the ground in crimson.
Everything had felt strange, in that moment, standing amongst the ashen wreckage of the one thing his brother had loved more than anything, the one thing he had fought so hard to recover only for it to be destroyed at his own hand.
He remembered the pain in his heart as he fled the battlefield, the broken bodies of those who had dared to fight against him splayed across the bloodstained ground like some morbid display of victory. His eyes had burned, his legs weak as he had ran towards the only place he knew he could not be found, unshed tears clinging to his lashes as the world blurred around him. He had collapsed the instant he was in the safty of his own home, although the agonised sounds and blood soaked battlefeilt had followed him into unconsciousness, making it impossible for him to properly rest.
After that night, he refused to acknowledge his dead brother, even as a blue ghost followed him, claiming to be the man he couldn't allow himself to mourn. He found solace in mediocre tasks, making potions, enchanting armour, anything he could think of to keep his hands occupied and his mind busy. He had ran from the memories , not allowing himself the slightest chance to feel.
That was until the anniversary of his brothers death had rolled around, and Technoblade stood by a familiar grave. He had seen it a few times in passing, never allowing himself to stop to get a proper look at it. But still he stood, silhouetted in the darkness of the night, taking in the curve of the gravestone and the large crack running down the middle, not too different from the scar left on his brothers chest from where the sword had pierced.
The silence seemed too loud, even the voices that plagued his mind seeming oddly subdued as he stood with his head bowed low, staring down at the stone. Without the familiar noise of the chattering in his mind, he could hear the wind whistling through the land, the trees rustling in the breeze, the sound of his own slightly ragged inhales as a tidal wave of emotions crashed over him. Everything felt too much, a heavy weight pressing down on his chest, leaving him gasping, alone in the darkness.
Or maybe not so alone.
A branch snapped behind him. Technoblade jolted, spinning on his heel with one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, not too different from how his fathers had when-
He grimaced, quickly passing it off as a snarl as the figure stepped closer, striking flint against wood and setting a torch ablaze. Technoblade blinked as he stared into familiar blue eyes, tussled blond hair and a weak, strained smile.
Of course. Tommy.
He and the boy hadn't spoken properly since their brothers death. Technoblade hadn't expected Tommy of all people to come here, not when Wilbur's final act before his death was to destroy the only place the kid had ever called home, but it seemed fate was pulling strings, forcing them to have the conversation they both so desperately needed and yet were avoiding as if it were a curse.
Tommy stared right back at him, a similar expression of confusion, panic and sadness crossing his face. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, Tommy's shimmering eyes downcast as he too stared at the spot his brother was supposedly buried at. None of them could ever be certain, there had been no funeral, just a gravestone appearing almost as fast as their brother had died.
"Didn't expect to see you here." Tommy said softly, as though the murmured words were enough to break the peace of the night. Technoblade turned away, not willing to even look at the boy he'd once loved, cherished more than anything. Tommy sighed. He could feel the weight of his eyes on him, burning on his back, unable to shake the feeling of unease that came with it.
"I'm the one who put this here, y'know? Nobody else seemed to care, but I did. I knew Wil wouldn't have wanted to be forgotten, not by me, even after-"
Tommy cut himself of, his fists clenched in a white knuckled grip at his sides. Technoblade slowly looked back up at the teen, taking in the aged look on his face and the dark shadows beneath his eyes. The smp had changed them both, taken so much from them time and time again, and Techno would be damned if he lost another brother.
"I cared." He whispered into the night, the confession tasting like ash on his tongue. He's once again aware he of the emotions he had hidden from the world, his grief and vulnerability, but for once, he can't bring himself to feel ashamed.
"What?"
"I cared. I tried not to, I tried to hide from it. I thought it would be easier to not let myself feel, to not let it consume me. In the end, all I did was delay the inevitable." He paused, swallowing down the lump forming in his throat at his own words, "Wil was as much of my brother has he was yours. I shouldn't have allowed myself to pretend that everything was okay, I should have faced the fact that my brother was dead instead of running from it."
A long silence followed. Tommy seemed to be weighing the truth of his words, deciding how many of them were trustworthy. Technoblade inhaled, exhaled, digging his nails into the palms of his hands as if in an attempt to ground himself.
"I tried not to grieve either," Tommy's voice was a distant thing, small and fragile and weak, "After Wil- after he went insane I stopped seeing him as my brother. Not fully, but I knew something about him had changed, I knew he'd lost a part of himself, and I'd lost a part of him, a part that we would never get back. After he died and took l'manburg with him, I tried to force myself to forget and focus on rebuilding the life I'd once had for myself, but I couldn't do that. I couldn't just forget about him. He'll always be my brother, even if it's difficult to see him that way anymore."
Another silence, this time heavier.
"I'm sorry. If I'd known, if I'd been here sooner, I would've helped. You and Wil are both my brothers, even if we haven't treated each other like it in the past few years. I never wanted this to happen."
And he meant the words with his whole heart. If Techno had known, if they had called on him for backup sooner than they had, then Wilbur may not have abandoned the country he had loved as a pile of rubble. If he had known, maybe Wilbur wouldn't be dead.
"It's not your fault, you couldn't have known."
"It's not yours either."
"I know," Tommy muttered, "I tried my hardest to keep Wil sane but I just couldn't, he wouldn't listen to anything or anyone, and that included me. I still hear his voice sometimes, I can still see the gleam in his eyes, as if he's following me. Not as a ghost, but as a memory."
That Technoblade could understand, because the memories haunted him too. The terrified screams splitting the air, ringing in his ears late at night when he found himself unable to sleep, the nightmares making it near impossible to get any proper rest even when asleep.
He found himself longing to comfort the boy before him, to protect him even if it meant leaving himself open and vulnerable. And so he reached a hand out slowly, resting it upon his shoulder. Tommy stiffened beneath the touch, but did not pull away, allowing Techno's hand to rest there. He rubbed circles with his thumb, gently, and watched as the tension slowly began to ebb from his brothers form until he was leaning into the touch.
"Techno," Tommy whispered, "I'm tired. I'm so fucking tired."
"Sleep." Techno urged, pulling the boy close as if to stop him from slipping away again, "Sleep, I'll get us home."
Home. The one place they would be safe. The one place Techno knew he could protect Tommy from the horrors of the world, despite the fact that the kid had already seen his fair share.
He pulled Tommy up into his arms, and once again turned his back on the grave of his other brother, finding his chest felt lighter than it had in a long time.