Chapter Text
Tommy gets in trouble for stealing money out of Kristin's purse.
Techno overhears most of the argument. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, it's just that he was on his way down the stairs when Phil raised his voice. Techno stops, one foot already on the next step. The door to the kitchen is open so even when the volume of those voices drops again, Techno can still make out what they're saying with a little effort.
And he realizes that Tommy is being blamed for something Techno did.
He tried to be subtle about it, mostly using his own money to buy the refills for the inhaler. But Schlatt clearly knew desperation when he saw it, and since Techno has to take more and more of the medicine to keep the flowers threatening to tear his lungs to pieces from taking hold, Schlatt upped his prices to make a bigger profit. Techno thought Kristin wouldn't miss a couple twenty dollar bills here and there, something he is quickly learning he was wrong about.
This morning, she asked about it at the breakfast table. Tommy wasn't up yet and Phil left for work early, so it was only Techno and Wilbur who were around. Wilbur made a confused noise around a spoonful of cereal, indicating he had no clue what she was talking about. When those deep blue eyes settled on him, Techno shrugged and shook his head, staring at how the milk in his bowl was slowly getting more brown in color soaking the chocolate pebbles.
Tommy also denies knowing anything about it. But Techno supposes that at the end of the day if all of them say it wasn't them, putting the blame on Tommy is a logical thing to do. He's the youngest, he doesn't get as much allowance as Wilbur and Techno do. He also is the one who already gets in trouble most at school and stuff. Nothing bad, just little things that make Phil and Kristin suspect Tommy is the one lying.
Because above all else, that's what they're angry about.
Or that's what Techno concludes from what he overhears, pulling his legs up and sitting on the stairs waiting for the argument to be over with. They're not happy with the money being stolen either, but they're mostly upset Tommy is trying to weasel his way out of the consequences. That he would lie about having taken the bills when confronted.
Techno hears Phil apologize immediately after raising his voice too. Tommy always flinches away when adults do that, or when they move too suddenly near him. Techno can't make out what Tommy responds, but he knows the argument is calmer after that. It's mainly a lot of Kristin saying 'That's not how we do things in this family'. He's never felt more out of place.
A while later, Tommy storms out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Techno barely has time to stand up and press himself against the wall to get out of Tommy's way. He doesn't acknowledge Techno being there either, something that's very unusual for Tommy.
Almost as unusual as the angry scowl and the tears of frustration brimming in Tommy's eyes.
Techno feels immensely guilty, because he's the one who is bad. He always is, in every house. It's part of the reason he gets kicked out of places all the time. Stealing might be a new low, even for him. But Kristin's words ring true. He doesn't fit into any family. Like a foreign object embedded into a wound, it rots and festers and no matter how much the flesh tries to heal or grow around it, it's always going to cause issues.
Techno is like that. He's literally hurting everybody else the longer he's around.
He walks into the kitchen, shoulders pushing back a bit as if he's walking into a storm. But if that's the case, he's found himself in the eye of the hurricane. It's calm and Phil is sitting at the table, peeling potatoes with the sort of concentration you'd expect from somebody trying to disarm a bomb. At the sink, Kristin cleans up some dishes from lunch.
"Techno, there you are." She turns to him with a smile and Techno swallows away the congealed mess of blood, plants, and bile trying to rise to the surface of his throat. He can't stand her looking at him like that on the best of days, but especially not now, when he has done nothing to deserve it. When he's the reason Tommy is probably lying in his bed bawling his eyes out.
Techno fidgets with the edge of his sleeve, pulling on the stray pieces of torn fabric. For once he wouldn't care if they saw. Maybe they'd get mad at him and that would probably make him feel better.
"Have you thought about your birthday yet?" Kristin continues, oblivious to Techno's internal debate that's leaving his brain to feel strangely big, as if it's pressing against the edges of his skull.
"My birthday?" Techno echoes dumbly.
"It's next week, right?"
Oh… Techno supposes it is. He's not really good at keeping track of time passing. There's a big calendar on the wall where Phil and Kristin mark important events for the family, but Techno barely looks at it.
It kind of dawns on him unpleasantly that he's been with this family for almost three months now. And he hasn't gotten into trouble once. That has to be a new record. He walks over to the table, Kristin's eyes following him for a moment before she returns her attention to the dishes. Techno feels unable to speak when she's watching him. As if a confession is going to force itself out on purpose because the shame is eating him alive.
"I dunno," he settles on eventually. He knows it won't satisfy them, but he genuinely doesn't get what they expect of him. None of the other fosters he stayed at wanted to make a big deal out of his birthday. He was lucky if they brought home a cupcake for him or something.
"We could go out to take a trip," Phil says, predictably trying to urge Techno into having more of an opinion. "Your birthday will be on a Saturday, so you guys won't need to go to school. We could hit up the cinema, or the mall, or the arcade."
"Are you just naming places that teens hang out at in movies?" Kristin asks, giggling a little.
"No," Phil answers pointedly. Then, after a moment of silence and Kristin amusedly raising her eyebrows at him, Phil adds, "Maybe, but there's probably truth to fiction."
"It's not the 90s anymore, dear. Modern teenagers just stay at home and stare at screens."
Techno sits down on one of the chairs, furrowing his brow. It feels like a bit of a wild accusation, considering he's never even on his phone.
"We can do that too," Phil says, focusing on Techno again. "We don't have to go anywhere, we can have a party right here. We could invite your friends from school and order food-"
"I don't really have friends," Techno cuts in. Getting a bunch of people to come to the house specifically to pay attention to him sounds terrible, honestly.
Kristin puts down her towel and turns around, hip leaning against the table. "What about your book club?"
"They're not…" Techno trails off. Are they his friends? Maybe. Techno doesn't know. It's not like he really hangs out with Ranboo or Connor outside of those few hours three days a week when they're in the library, and a majority of that is actually spent in silence reading books (or in Connor's case: taking a nap in the beanbags). He sees Niki during lunch sometimes, but that's because she's Wilbur's friend, not his. He thinks.
He bites his lip, pressing his hands into his lap to stop them from flapping around like his brain wants them to. His lungs hurt.
"You have some time to decide. If you do think about anything you'd want to do, you can let us know," Phil says eventually.
Kristin hums her agreement, turning around again. "If nothing else, we can definitely make a cake and you can open your presents." There's a bit of a satisfied grin on her face as she says that. It makes Techno shift in his seat.
Techno saw the big box Phil brought home the other day, a muted brown paper carefully wrapped around it with a bright golden bow. If the general size and shape hadn't been a giveaway, the sticker holding the ribbon in place would have done the trick. Phil got it at the bookstore they visited when they went out to buy clothes. The collector's edition they saw back then of the fantasy novels Techno told them he likes. The one Phil said he'd get for Techno's birthday.
Pathetic as it is, for Techno it might be one of the only times an adult has stayed true to their word.
There are a few other gifts too, smaller and more mysterious to Techno by far. He saw the boxes piled up in the utility closet - Phil and Kristin aren't exactly subtle. After seeing them, Techno had to rush upstairs through a coughing fit, needing an entire inhaler dose to stop hacking up a lung.
"Is Tommy okay?" Techno asks suddenly. It takes all of his nerves to even bring up what he overheard, unsure if it will make him more suspicious. Techno doesn't want them to find out he's the one who stole the money. He'll be kicked out for sure. And despite that being an inevitability in any case, he's still in no rush to speed the process along. He likes living with this family.
Deep in his chest, it burns, burns, burns.
"He'll be fine, mate. You don't have to worry about him." Phil reaches out to touch his elbow. Techno pulls away.
"He looked pretty upset."
"Tommy did something he shouldn't have," Phil says slowly. "And then he lied about it. We're figuring out what the consequences should be."
Techno wrings his hands in his lap. "Are you going to punish him?"
"Probably," Phil says.
Swallowing uneasily, Techno presses a palm to his stomach and pushes, hard enough that it kind of makes him want to gag. But it's a good distraction from how sharp his insides feel, thorny. Cut to tiny little pieces.
At all the other foster homes he stayed in, the simple mention of punishment was enough to have cold dread build inside him. Funnily enough, with Phil and Kristin, that dread has become a constant. Techno always feels on edge now. Like a baby deer fumbling on crooked little legs. Every step is his first. Yet at the same time, they don't seem like the type of parents to do all those things other foster parents did to show him his behavior was unacceptable. Withholding food, screaming at him for hours, locking him in his room, even beating him sometimes. Techno can't imagine Phil or Kristin doing that.
Their idea of discipline is probably just making Tommy write an apology letter or not letting him have candy for a couple of days. It's not that bad.
Why then? Why is knowing he's the reason Tommy is getting punished enough for Techno to want to peel all his skin off?
"It'll be okay," Phil says with a gentle smile that sends more nausea all through Techno's gut. Maybe he's picking up on Techno's nervous energy despite how hard he's trying to hide it.
Techno doesn't answer.
As long as he's in this house, things will stay wrong and he knows it.
"Tommy, get out of my room!"
Wilbur is shouting as he comes down the stairs. Techno glances up from where he's tying his laces near the door.
"I'm booooooored," Tommy complains, also coming to the top of the stairs to drape himself dramatically over the banister. He looks a bit like a Victorian child dying of the plague that way, all floppy and pathetic.
"Don't be a bitch and get in trouble next time then," Wilbur shrugs.
"I'm not the bitch, I don't have to go to school today," Tommy says smugly. The elementary school is closed because all the teachers are having a big meeting or something like that. Techno doesn't know what they're talking about that they have to shut the whole school down, but the kids themselves are probably thrilled.
Well, all the kids who aren't grounded like Tommy. Even if he is grounded for something he didn't do.
"We're going to be late," Techno says. He's pretty used to the way Tommy and Wilbur bicker by now. It doesn't bother him, sometimes he can even call it endearing. Not endearing enough for him to get in trouble with his teachers though.
"Yeah, yeah." Wilbur dismisses him and runs into the kitchen to grab more stuff. Techno sighs.
"I'm gonna go in his room again," Tommy lets Techno know, like it's a little secret. "There's literally nothing interesting to do in this house when you two aren't around."
Since he's grounded, Tommy isn't allowed to go and hang out with his friends. He spent the entire weekend being grumpy about it, though he has since switched to making his own lack of entertainment everybody else's problem.
"So long as you don't steal anything," Wilbur says as he rushes into the hallway again, hastily starting to put his shoes on too.
"I didn't do it," Tommy says staunchly. "I'm a martyr."
Wilbur laughs. "I don't think you know what that word means."
"Can we go now?" Techno presses.
He has already made up his mind. He's going to confess tonight to Kristin and Phil that he's the one who stole the money. Being terrified they'll find out anyway has been exhausting, every time they bring up Tommy's punishment and Tommy insists on his innocence, the sword of Damocles swings wildly over Techno's head.
And Sam is coming by soon.
Incidents of a certain seriousness, such as running away and stealing, need to be reported to the social worker. Phil said they'll have to inform Sam of what Tommy did. He chuckled when he said it, as if it was some inside joke. As if Sam was going to think it was a hilarious little caper and he would wag his finger at Tommy before promptly moving on.
Techno doesn't think that will be the case.
He thinks Sam will say that Tommy is a good kid who would never do something like that. Unlike Techno, who has all kinds of misdemeanors on his record already, for whom theft is the logical next step. Sam will probably frown, that expression of vague disappointment he has when Techno manages to screw up another placement.
Techno hates it when Sam frowns like that. It makes him feel three years old again, terrified and alone.
In one of his previous foster families, the woman who took care of him was obsessed with crime dramas. She kept those shows running on the TV all day, just there in the background even when she wasn't actively watching. Techno didn't like that, the noise and the flashing lights caused constant overstimulation, but he did absorb a thing or two. And he learned from them that if you confess your crimes, that's usually a good thing. It shows remorse. Phil and Kristin will be a lot less angry at him if he tells them the truth rather than them having to find out in a roundabout way.
So after building all his courage, Techno will spill the beans. But he needs to make it through the school day first. He has a pretty big test today, in math - which is Techno's worst subject by far. He usually gets the answers right, it's just that his teachers don't like the way he gets there, whatever that means.
Once they get to the school gate, Wilbur stops him by grabbing his elbow.
"Here." He holds out a hair tie.
It's kind of silly, bright green and with a plastic four-leaf clover attached to it. Techno has no idea where Wilbur would buy something like this. He stares at it for a moment.
"What's that for?"
"Your hair, what else?" Wilbur rolls his eyes in fond annoyance and pushes Techno's shoulder to get him to turn around. He carefully pulls Techno's hair out of the braid it's currently in, replacing the boring black hair tie with the one he brought. Techno pretty much lets it happen, freezing as soon as Wilbur touches him because he's trying so hard not to cough.
Wilbur smiles sincerely, bumping his shoulder into Techno's to signal they should start walking again. Other kids stream past them, though Techno has learned not to notice the glances he sometimes gets.
"It's a good luck charm. For your test," Wilbur says. The school bell rings in the distance.
"You believe in that stuff?" Techno asks.
Wilbur makes a face. "Maybe. Maybe not. But I'm sure it will help you."
He's off into the crowd before Techno can decipher what the heck that means. Then he has to hurry to make it to his class. The hallways have become slightly easier to navigate with time, even if Techno still dislikes that he doesn't really have an assigned spot. Teachers just let the students sit wherever, and while that usually means they pick the same desk every time, sometimes they don't. Or it changes depending on the day of the week. Then that throws Techno off and he's looking at the front of the room at a totally different angle than what he's used to and he can't concentrate. It's one of the reasons he tries to arrive at class early.
The test goes fine. Every time Techno starts to doubt if he wrote things down correctly - that is to say: wrote them down in a way that his teacher will find satisfactory - he reaches up and fiddles with the hair tie a bit. It manages to calm him down.
At lunch, he sits with Niki and the rest, so they can talk about the book they're reading some more. His phone vibrates in his pocket and when Techno pulls it out, he sees he got a text from Phil to ask him how the test went too. Techno scowls at the screen and pushes the phone back into his pocket without sending out an answer.
Tonight, it's all going to stop anyway.
Techno is going to confess he stole the money and they're going to kick him out and then call Sam to pick him up like discarded trash. Techno is never going to have one of Kristin's home-cooked meals again. He's never going to sit on the couch for family movie night.
He's never going to have another matching glass.
It keeps hanging over him like some sort of dark cloud. Once or twice, Techno almost flips over into second-guessing himself hard enough that he thinks he shouldn't come clean at all. It's not like being grounded for a few weeks is going to do Tommy any real harm. And Techno can stop using as many inhalers, he just needs to learn how to deal with the pain. But on the other hand, maybe it's better if he doesn't get any more attached.
Like ripping off a bandage. Techno has to take a deep breath and get it over with.
Speaking of breathing, that's getting a little hard. Techno has started to time his bathroom breaks so he doesn't have to ask to leave in the middle of the class, since Kristin made a comment about it. But his chest is starting to hurt and every inhale sends sharp spikes of pain deeper and deeper below his ribs. He awkwardly raises his hand, waving it around a bit before the teacher notices.
"Yes, mister Craft?"
Techno has given up on trying to correct them on the last name. "Can I go to the bathroom?"
"Be quick about it," she answers, a little snappish. Techno nods and hurriedly leaves the room, telling himself he's imagining the way the other kids are staring at him.
He locks the stall behind him, fumbling to get the inhaler out of his pocket. Then he stands there and waits, trying to hear if there's anybody else in the bathroom. After several seconds of complete silence, Techno's worry is soothed enough for him to dare press the plastic to his lips, letting the unpleasantly sharp tang of the medicine fill his mouth. He inhales as much as he can, wanting this to work. The inhaler isn't very effective anymore. It feels like it's tearing off little bits and pieces but not dislodging any roots. Everything is stuck down there - digging deeper inside him.
His nausea swells and Techno kneels, hands clutching the cold porcelain of the toilet hard enough to make his knuckles go pale. The skin of his fingers is clammy with sweat. A small cough builds into a proper dry heave, his tongue curling back a bit as if to help the puke along. Techno doesn't like this, but he usually feels a little better after he vomits.
When the pain starts it's still bearable. Blood clogs up Techno's throat, every gag bringing it up further until he's croaking around wheezy breaths and flowers that drop into the blue-tinged water. With a shaking hand, Techno reaches up to flush them down. He doesn't know how often, time after time more coughs make his shoulders tremble and his insides are rubbed raw. Wherever they brush against his lips, they leave blood behind, until a small trail of it runs down to his chin.
Techno doesn't know if he should use the inhaler again. Maybe he didn't take enough?
Then it feels as if something inside him implodes.
A surprised inhale shoots burning pain into his ribcage again, so much worse than before. Techno coughs louder, but this time it makes his lungs feel as if they're shriveling up. The more air he takes in, the more it collapses inside him and refuses to expand again. He's choking. He bites down on a cry of anguish, curling in on himself. All it does is make him gasp. More flowers fall from his mouth in sticky clusters, spat out grossly.
Eventually, it stops and Techno stays there panting. He doesn't have anything left to retch up, but his breathing hasn't improved any. He doesn't know why. Maybe his lungs are too damaged? He catches sight of the way his fingernails have scratched into the toilet's rim, hard enough to draw more blood, blinking lethargically until the pounding in his head diminishes somewhat.
He- He needs to get back to class. If he stays too long, his teacher will tell on him again.
Techno gets up, using the toilet and then the wall for support. He flushes one last time, after using some toilet paper to clean any stray droplets. The water swirls a sickening purple color before he's satisfied. At the sinks, he also cleans his face, scrubbing at his teeth until people won't be able to tell what happened.
He pushes both hands over his mouth, swallowing down a sob. He wishes Phil or Kristin was here. The thought - painful and cutting and burrowing where it hurts the most - is quickly discarded.
He gets back to the classroom without his teacher commenting on his tardiness, though they throw him a sharp glance all the same. Techno shuffles over to his desk, picking up a pen to start tapping on a piece of paper. He always has issues with concentration, the pain and the fact he can't really take in enough oxygen to not be lightheaded isn't helping much.
"Mister Craft?"
Before he knows it, he blinks and several minutes have passed. Techno has been spacing out for a short while, though that's probably the usual for him. "Yes?"
"I asked if you would mind coming to the front and completing these sentences." The teacher is holding a marker out towards him, despite him being on the other side of the room. It looks a little funny. Techno glances at the board, noticing that the exercise is about verb conjugation. He's pretty good at those. Maybe that's why the teacher called on him even though he didn't raise his hand.
The problem is that Techno doesn't trust his legs to carry him all the way to the front of the class without making him fall on his face.
"I don't-"
"Unlike you, I don't have all day," the teacher says, tone slightly mocking. It makes a few of the other teens chuckle and Techno's cheeks flush with embarrassment. He stubbornly pushes upright, starting to make his way over.
He gets about three steps in before the room starts to spin.
Sweat clings to the nape of Techno's neck with the effort it takes to keep moving, to try and force labored breaths when his lungs might as well be ripped out of his chest and put through a paper shredder before crudely being shoved back in. The pain somehow feels more fuzzy than before, drowned out by his dizziness. Techno puts one hand against the board and takes the marker with the other, so he can start to write the verbs.
Then he's on the ground, blinking up at the school's ugly popcorn-textured ceiling.
Somebody is helping him up. The teacher, Techno realizes blearily. Her face is all creased in either annoyance or worry, maybe a good mix of both. Techno thinks it must be very frustrating to have a student pass out on you when you're trying to get them to solve a simple task. Somebody else touches his elbow. Techno jolts, but he's too weak to struggle as a boy he barely knows beyond them being in the same class as him starts to lead him to the nurse's office.
They check him out, but because Techno managed to kind of slump into the board first before fainting, he doesn't have a scratch on him. He makes up some excuse about skipping breakfast and not drinking enough water, and the nurse has a severe expression as he allows Techno to lie on the cot.
"Do we have your caregiver's number on file?" he asks, already shifting through a bunch of papers.
"Don't call them," Techno says, trying to play off the shortness of his breath as something else. Fear, maybe? It does leave the nurse to frown a little.
"We're liable to report any incidents-"
"I can tell them when I get home," Techno interrupts quickly. "Phil is working and Kristin is home with Tommy, they're very busy. I don't want to cause them any trouble." He manages to work enough desperation into his voice to get a pitying look in return. Techno can act really pathetic if he needs to. In some previous foster homes, it helped save him from worse consequences.
After a few seconds more of scrutinizing him, the nurse nods. "I'll give you a form to take home. Have them sign it and bring it back, so I'm sure they're aware of what happened."
Techno sighs, relieved. That's fine. If he confesses to being a thief tonight anyway, he can probably have Sam sign the paper. If he ever comes back to this school at all.
He's allowed to stay and rest for the remaining period and a half before school ends. Techno scrolls on his phone, going through all those texts he drafted to Sam before and composing some new ones. None of them end up being sent. The clock looms above him on the wall, slowly ticking away the time. Techno is anxiously waiting for it to pass. He's sick of today, he wants to go home.
The insides of his lungs burn.
"Techno?"
The sound of Phil's voice makes Techno's heart sink into his chest. He sits up, which causes him to double over in pain with another series of coughs. He blinks rapidly to get rid of the tears building in his eyes, both from how bad it hurts and from a detached sort of anger. Did the nurse lie? Did he call Phil after all?
"There you are, we need to hurry," Phil is saying. The nurse follows Phil inside, looking somehow more severe than before. Pale and about as shaky as Techno feels, which is a little ironic. "Kristin's in the car, she's already on the phone with the hospital."
"The hospital?" Techno wheezes out. "Did something happen to Tommy?!"
"Wha- No. Mate, we're getting you to the ER." Phil seems to consider his options for a moment, then promptly bends down and lifts Techno into his arms in a bridal carry. Techno squeaks out in surprise. Sure, he's a little small for his age (malnutrition in early childhood will do that, Sam says he'll totally get his growth spurt soon!) but he didn't expect Phil to pick him up so effortlessly.
"I'm fine," Techno says. "I barely even fainted-"
"We need to get you treated for hanahaki disease before it gets worse."
Phil must be able to read his expression clear as day. Or maybe he notices how Techno goes slack in his hold, the fight draining from him.
"You'll be fine," he assures, squeezing Techno a little tighter in what's supposed to be comfort. Not that it keeps Techno from panicking.
They know. Somehow, they know. They found out and they'll know he loves them and they'll see how desperate he is and-
Phil carries him outside, Techno feeling distantly grateful in hindsight that everybody else is still in class so they don't get to see the pitiful sight he makes. His shoulders shake with suppressed gasps he tries to keep down. His chest aches just as bad as before, maybe worse.
"They're ready for us," Kristin says after Techno is deposited into the backseat and Phil takes his seat behind the wheel. "Hey dear, how are you feeling?"
Techno blinks a few times, vision blurring. He realizes she's talking to him. "I-"
He needs to put a stop to this while he can.
"I stole the money," Techno croaks out, voice all smothered and tiny.
"Hm?" Kristin asks, glancing in the rearview mirror. Phil is too busy pulling into traffic, tapping on the wheel with anxious energy. They must be really worried.
"I stole the money," Techno repeats a bit louder. "It was me. I stole it, and then I let Tommy take the blame."
If they hear that, they'll know how terrible he is. And he can stop feeling like this all the time. He can stop caring, they can turn the car around to head home, this can all end.
"We can talk about this later," Phil says. "The important thing right now is that we can get this checked out as soon as possible." He pounds down on the horn as he cuts in front of a family in a minivan. "Fucking hell, idiots!"
"Don't crash the car, or we'll all end up in the hospital," Kristin says mildly, almost amused. "Does it hurt?" she asks Techno then, seeing him hunched over in the seat. "Don't worry, we'll be there soon."
"Didn't you hear me?" Techno insists. "I'm the one who took the money, I did a bad thing!" He's coughing, choking on it. Cupping his palms, he catches the petals spilling from his lips. They cling together with blood.
"We heard you." Kristin twists around in her seat, so she can use her own hand to support his. Her thumb rubs over his skin, leaving behind pinpricks like those on a rosebush. Her fingers get wet with his blood. "Concentrate on breathing, dear. You'll be okay."
Techno raises his chin to look at her, at her soft compassion, and loses what little air he has left. "If you heard me, then why aren't you kicking me out?"
Kristin's smile pulls down a little, seeming that much more tinged with sadness. "Because you doing something bad won't make us stop loving you, silly."
"If that's what it takes to kick somebody out, Wilbur and Tommy would be long on the street by now," Phil adds lightly, with a nervous little chuckle that doesn't break the tension completely.
For Techno, it barely sinks in what they're actually saying.
Until it does and he hunches over again, almost folding double with more hacks. His insides are tearing. He's terrified. Kristin strokes one hand through his hair to keep it out of his face.
Despite the tears that make his sight blurry, Techno sees that Phil runs a red light to get them to the hospital quicker.
They're sent back home the same day.
Hanahaki is not very treatable in the traditional sense. Techno gets checked out, is given painkillers, and the doctors prescribe him some better, less illegal drugs that he can take to suppress his symptoms. They're not a cure, more like a bandage on a weeping wound while you wait for stitches to be done. Only that the stitches - in this case - are time and communication, so he can learn to accept his emotions. And probably some extra visits to the psychologist. Techno isn't looking forward to those.
But he can inhale a deep mouthful of air in his not-collapsed lungs again. So that's nice.
The damage wasn't as bad as they feared, though Techno sure got an earful from a stern pulmonologist about the dangers of ignoring hanahaki disease. He doesn't mention to them that he would have hidden it a lot longer if he was able to, though he does ask on the drive home how Kristin and Phil found out.
"Tommy told us," Phil says. "He found some bloody tissues in your trash bin while you were at school and connected the dots."
"Those could have been from a nosebleed," Techno answers, trying to understand. But Kristin offers him a grin, less strained than on the way over. Techno likes that better, he likes seeing her smile.
"If they were from a nosebleed, you'd have no reason to hide them from us. Besides, Tommy used to do the same when he got hanahaki."
"I can't believe we went through this twice now," Phil sighs to himself. "Sam isn't going to let us foster any more kids after this."
"Maybe he should stop giving us the emotionally constipated ones then," Kristin laughs.
Techno fidgets with the seatbelt. "Tommy had hanahaki too?"
"Not too long after being placed with us, yeah." Phil drives into their street. Techno is glad to be home, hospitals always disconcert him. "Though he didn't manage to hide it as long as you did."
For some reason that makes Techno feel… not better, exactly. But it settles some weird anxious part inside him waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for Phil and Kristin to turn around and decide that if Techno can't even handle a little affection without getting all his emotional wires crossed maybe he shouldn't stick around after all.
But apparently, Tommy went through the same thing, or at least something similar enough. They kept Tommy. As they pull up in the driveway, Techno gets out of the car on slightly unsteady legs. And for once, he doesn't pull away when Phil puts a hand on his back.
The hallway is eerily dark as they step inside it. At least until all the lights flick on at the same time and confetti rains down on Techno from above - thrown by Tommy who is standing higher up the stairs.
"Surprise!" he yells excitedly, getting out a second handful and throwing it onto Phil for good measure.
"Jesus fucking- Not again," Phil says as he starts flapping his silly hat to get the little colorful papers off.
"Where is the babysitter?" Kristin asks, shrugging out of her coat behind them. She was smart to be the last one coming inside.
"I send him home," Wilbur says smugly. "I told you I'm old enough to look after Tommy myself."
"You're quite literally destroying your own argument," Phil grumbles, also starting to take off his shoes and such. Wilbur ignores him and looks at Techno instead.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like somebody took me and squeezed my lungs to dust for a century," Techno answers. The painkillers are taking the sharp edge off and he won't be vomiting up flowers again for a while, but the doctor said his lungs will keep straining until all the little roots are gone. Which could take weeks, or even months. He'll be short of breath until then.
"Yeah, I bet." Wilbur walks up to him and throws an arm around his shoulder. "Good enough for pizza though?"
"Who said anything about pizza?" Kristin asks.
"Since I didn't know if you guys were going to be back in time to make dinner, I-" Wilbur puts his hand on his chest dramatically at this part, "made the executive decision to order pizza so we wouldn't starve."
Phil laughed. "And you'll be paying for that?"
"It's paid upon delivery," Wilbur answers with a scowl, rolling his eyes at Techno with an air of 'Can you believe this guy?' that makes Techno chuckle.
"Maybe you should make Techno pay for it," Tommy says, jumping down the stairs two steps at a time until he's pushing into Techno's other side. "With all the money he stole and then totally blamed me for."
It should hurt, but somehow the way Tommy says that makes it sound funny rather than offensive. Like Techno's mistake is nothing more than a dumb inside joke they can share now. His chest feels full in a completely different way when Tommy winks at him.
Though he'll still apologize for it later, he knows.
"I spent it all," he says for the moment, adding a little shrug. Tommy pouts mockingly.
"Spent it all on huffing pesticide," Wilbur says.
Ugh, he did do that. He's never going to live it down, probably.
But for a change, Techno can deal with that. The pizza is delicious and Phil helps him draft a text for Sam to tell him about what happened. It makes Techno's heart beat faster, yet he isn't scared. Not like he was before.
When Phil tucks him in that night - totally not on Techno's request - Techno kind of awkwardly grabs Phil's sleeve before the older man can completely pull away.
"The zoo," he says. Phil frowns at him.
When Techno was little, his parents didn't have a lot of money to go places. Not that it mattered much. Techno's parents both worked so they were too busy for long trips. It was fine, they had a lot of fun at home. The one place Techno can remember ever going was a zoo, two towns over. The sun was bright that day and there were so many kids around that the screaming and laughing was a little overwhelming, but Techno liked watching all the different animals. And he liked how much his parents smiled that day. It's one of his fondest memories.
None of his foster families ever took him to the zoo.
"For my birthday," Techno says. "Can we go to the zoo?"
"Sure," Phil answers. He hesitates for a moment, eyes searching a little as if he's about to do something he's not certain is allowed. Then he carefully kisses the top of Techno's head. "Sleep tight, okay? If anything starts to hurt, you know where to find us."
Techno hums, burrowing deeper into the blankets. But he sleeps all through the night, breathing without pain.