Chapter Text
Tommy wandered downstairs, moving sluggishly from lack of sleep. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go to bed, but he simply couldn’t.
For one, he stayed up late trying to finish a stupid six-page math packet that was due the next day as homework. Secondly, he could hear Techno crying in the room beside his. Tommy didn’t know what that was about, the Blade never cries. He’s strong.
Still, Tommy was going to talk to him.
Tommy stumbled over to the kitchen, going to pour himself a bowl of cereal. Techno was already up and chugging coffee like a psychopath. “What the?!” Tommy questioned, his eyes bugging out of his head.
Techno slammed his mug onto the table, wiping his bottom lip with his sleeve. He arched an eyebrow. “What?” he asked, his voice thick.
“Are you insane?!” Tommy exclaimed. “You just downed scalding hot coffee!”
Techno nodded slowly, as if he wasn’t seeing the problem. “Yeah. This is my ninth cup.”
“You are a madman.”
There was a bit of an awkward silence, and just then, Tommy realized Techno didn’t look to be doing too well. He was deathly pale, he had large dark circles under his eyes, his eyes were dull, and his posture was sunken.
“Are you okay, big man?” Tommy asked, concern tinging his tone.
Techno sighed, and there was so much emotion that fell from his lips- exhaustion, sadness, pain, so much. It hurt Tommy’s heart to see his brother like this.
“I’m fine…” Techno replied, rubbing his temple with his knuckles.
That proved to be a lie.
As the days went on, Techno just got worse and worse. His skin went from pale to kind of blue, his cheeks becoming more hollow. Every night, Tommy could hear Techno’s sobs grow louder and more painful.
He wasn’t okay, but he couldn’t accept help.
A full week after Tommy noticed his predicament, Tommy was in the kitchen with Wilbur, listening as he toyed with some notes on his guitar. Techno wandered into the room, rubbing his face harshly. Tommy stared at his older brother, taking note of the way he swayed on his feet and choked on his breathing.
“Technoblade?” Tommy whispered, actually kind of scared. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fi-”
Techno didn’t even get to finish his sentence before he was falling, his knees having buckled beneath him. Wilbur screamed, setting his guitar down abruptly and dashing to his brother’s side.
“Tech?” Wilbur whispered, pure terror clouding his features as Tommy joined them on the ground.
Wil shook Techno, trying desperately to awaken him, but to no avail. He was out cold.
Phil and Kristin came rushing into the room, having heard Wilbur’s scream. They stopped dead in their tracks, staring in horror at their son’s limp form on the floor before Phil snatched out his phone and called emergency services.
The doctors couldn’t tell the Crafts what had happened. Seriously, they had no idea. His vitals were fine, he was healthy, the scans didn’t turn up any signs of disease, he didn’t have a fever. They couldn’t find a thing wrong with him internally, and externally, he didn’t have any infections or wounds.
He seemed fine but was so obviously not fine that it had the doctors standing around, scratching their patchy noggins like they didn’t know what to do next.
Ultimately, they decided on monitoring his condition (not letting him, you know, die), and waiting for him to awaken.
It took him two days. He was out for two days, and rarely did Tommy or Wilbur leave his bedside. Tommy tried so hard not to sob, but he was so terrified that he’d lose his confidant, his friend, his brother. Wilbur held onto Tommy’s hand with his left and Techno’s with his right, trying to cling onto the hope that he would be fine.
After the two days were up, Techno looked much better. He was still unconscious, but his skin had gone back to its normal tan shade, and his cheeks were full again.
Both of them heard was a groan, and their heads were snapping up to look at Techno. His eyes were open a sliver, his gaze trained on them with confusion. “Wha’s happ’nin?” he slurred.
Tommy broke out into a relieved smile. “Oh, you’re awake!” he exclaimed, throwing himself on top of his brother in a giant bear hug. “We were so worried! You’ve been out for two days!”
Techno grunted, and Wilbur squeezed his hand. “We’re so glad you’re awake. Are you feeling any better?”
Techno smiled faintly. “Yeah. A lot better actually. You remember how bad my headaches were before?”
Wilbur nodded.
“They’re back to normal now. Not nearly as drastic. And I don’t feel like death, so that’s a plus.”
That was like music to Wilbur and Tommy’s ears. He was okay. He wasn’t dying. But there was still one more pressing question.
“Why did you get so sick? That was bad, really bad, and even the doctors couldn’t say what was wrong with you because they didn’t know.”
“I don’t think it was a sickness,” Techno admitted. “I think my body was deteriorating from the extremity of my headaches and from… other stuff… I think me shutting down like that was my body’s way of restoring and/or rebooting itself for lack of better words. My condition in the week leading up to my collapsing was my body giving me a warning that that was going to happen.”
Wilbur and Tommy nodded. It made sense.
“But you’re okay now?” Tommy clarified.
“Absolutely.”
“Good. You scared the crap out of us.” Tommy crawled into Techno’s hospital bed, and Techno wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Techno pulled him close, returning Wilbur’s hand squeeze, before laying his head on Tommy’s shoulder.
“I’m okay,” he whispered, rubbing Tommy’s shoulder. “I’m okay.”
Tommy nodded and cuddled in close, and like that, the three of them fell asleep.