Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sam keeps shooting weird little glances his way that he thinks Techno doesn't notice.

For somebody who should be trained at this sort of stuff, he's not exactly subtle. Techno knows deep down that Sam is probably just wondering how long it will be this time before he gets a call in the middle of the night and has to drive down to fetch Techno. At his previous foster family, Techno had made the phone call himself after the woman tasked to look after him threw him to the curb and locked the door.

She did get in trouble for that. Who could have guessed you're not supposed to toss out a kid the government has assigned for you to take care of?

But Sam has that permanent crease of worry stuck between his eyebrows, taking one hand off the steering wheel to brush through his cropped hair. Techno thinks it's too short and makes him look older than he actually is. Not that it's really his place to say anything, is it? Just because Sam has been his case worker for over a decade doesn't mean they're friends. Or anything else.

In a way, Sam is also simply somebody the government assigned Techno to. A piece of paper dropped on his desk with a kid attached to it. Sam doesn't have to like Techno to do his job.

Sometimes he still pretends he does, though.

"This will be a good placement," Sam says. He sounds like he's desperately trying to breathe truth into the words. As if him wishing hard enough will make this succeed. "They're good people, Techno, they're…They'll be good to you." Sam's hand returns to the wheel so he can turn the car left at the next intersection and into a suburb.

Techno doesn't answer, staring out of the window at the passing scenery. The houses here are big, with white picket fences and little gravel paths that lead up to the front doors laid between carefully planted flowers. It's the kind of neighborhood Techno doesn't belong in. He swallows.

"I had another kid placed here before. He's really happy," Sam tacks on after a moment of silence. Techno doesn't know who he's hoping to convince.

They stop at a home that's pretty small compared to the other ones but looks like a mansion to Techno. He squashes the tiny burst of hope in his heart at the thought of getting his own room, then shakes it off. Just because these foster parents are rich enough to buy a decent-sized house doesn't mean he can get too demanding. Having low standards has kept him from crushed expectations often. Techno used to feel anticipation and hope and excitement and all those other stupid, silly things you're supposed to feel when you're sent to a new family. Every time that little flame got snuffed out, he grew more weary. He found it harder to pick himself up afterward.

So if he keeps his standards as low as humanly possible, there's nothing to be disappointed about.

It sounds depressing - maybe it is, Techno has had a few teachers comment on him being extremely nihilistic for his age - but it's helped him to keep his head clear. In five more years or so, he'll age out of the system. And then none of this will matter.

"Techno?" Sam clears his throat after saying his name, kind of nodding towards the house that they're now very much parked in front of. Crap, Techno had been zoning out again.

"Yeah," he says. It's not much of an answer, considering Sam probably is covertly asking if he's alright or not. But if he's not going to outright ask it, Techno's not going to go through the trouble of lying. He quickly unbuckles his seatbelt so he can get out of the car.

Being dropped off someplace new is always the worst part.

Sam approaches the door with confident strides, only adjusting his sleeves a little before ringing the doorbell. He seems more relaxed than he usually is. He left Techno's paperwork in the car too, which is weird since Sam is the kind of guy who is a stickler for doing things by the books. He did say he's familiar with this family.

Techno idles behind him, shifting his weight from foot to foot. The bag that contains all his worldly possessions feels as if it's dragging him down into the ground. Maybe if it opens up and swallows him whole, that wouldn't be such a bad thing.

The person who answers the door isn't some stuffy adult, all prim and proper to impress Sam. It's a kid, probably about four years younger than Techno. He's wearing pajamas. It's three in the afternoon.

"Sam!"

Techno flinches back when the kid instantly launches himself at Sam, though neither of them notices. Sam's too busy catching the boy's weight without toppling over, bracing one hand against his back and using the other to ruffle the kid's hair.

"Hey Tommy," Sam says brightly. "Man, what are they feeding you here? You're about two heads taller than the last time I saw you."

It's not hard to deduce this is the other foster child Sam mentioned having placed with this family. Techno takes the opportunity to glance over him now that there isn't any risk of being forced to make eye contact, tuning out the conversation as he does so. No obvious bruises or scars, so that's a good sign. The kid doesn't look underfed or dirty either. Techno wouldn't want a repeat of the medical negligence he faced in the past. Then Sam puts a hand between his shoulder blades and pushes him forward a step, forcing him to focus.

"-for him, so can you get Phil?"

Oh, they had been talking about him too. Techno hadn't noticed.

The boy looks at him for a moment, Techno making an effort to suddenly be very interested in the scuff marks on his shoes. He really should get new ones, these were bought for him by his foster dad from three families ago. The fronts are too small and pinch Techno's toes, but he had been too scared to bring it up.

The boy darts off, yelling at somebody in the house - Phil, presumably - and Sam's hand moves up so it can squeeze Techno's shoulder instead. The gesture is meant to be reassuring but leaves him feeling vaguely nauseous. Some tiny part of Techno wishes he could beg Sam to not abandon him again.

A bigger part of Techno bites his tongue at the thought of Sam telling him to stop being a baby and that he's just doing his job.

"That was Tommy," Sam says. "He's the kid I mentioned. He's been staying with the Crafts for almost three years."

Techno nods stiffly. Why is Sam telling him this?

Despite not being a mind reader, Sam's next statement does manage to instantly clear that up for him. "Before, he also had some issues at different placements. It took him a while to settle in here too, so that's why they couldn't take in a second foster kid right away."

Great, so Tommy was also a troubled child and these Craft people managed to fix him. And now Sam is hoping they could do the same for Techno.

"They'll be good to you," Sam says again. "I promise that I'll-"

"It's fine," Techno quickly answers. He can't take another empty promise from an adult he's supposed to trust. Not when he actually maybe sort of likes Sam and doesn't want to ruin that. Sam raises his shoulders as if he's about to say something more.

Before he can, a man walks into the hallway, Tommy following close behind. The man - Phil, if Techno were to guess - turns around to shoo Tommy up the stairs and he reluctantly goes. Then he steps forward to open the door impossibly wider, making the hinges creak a bit. "Sam, how are you?"

Phil is making the diplomatic choice of addressing Sam first. He has experience with foster kids so he's probably aware of how skittish they can be. Techno is just glad he has a few seconds to take a deep breath and hold it in, before forcing a neutral expression on his face. How many times has he gone through the routine of meeting a new family? Why is it this anxiety-inducing every single time?

Maybe because Techno doesn't know what to expect. When he'd been with people for a while, he would know the rules and the punishments for breaking them. With a new family, anything from them being unintentionally ableist to actual physical abuse was still on the table. The fact that he has no clue what he's walking into makes his entire brain feel like it's buzzing with static electricity.

"I'm doing good," Sam says. "I'm glad we could arrange this on such short notice."

"Of course, you know I love to help," Phil answers brightly. The general positivity radiating off him is almost obnoxious if it wasn't for the fact that it feels entirely sincere to Techno. Not like some foster parents, who play pretend at niceness when the social worker is around to keep up appearances. "Is this Techno?"

No, Sam just brought some other random kid with him, Techno thinks scathingly.

Sam's hand lands on his shoulder again, still firm with an attempt at encouragement. "The very one. Techno, this is Phil. You're going to be staying with him and his family."

"Hi, mate. I heard a lot about you," Phil says and extends his arm for a handshake. Techno doesn't take it.

Sam's fingers squeeze into his shoulder slightly but Techno holds firm, keeping his eyes on some distant point over Phil's head so he can stare at the wall. After a moment of awkward silence, Phil drops his arm but his smile doesn't falter.

Techno studies his expression for obvious signs of annoyance but finds none. Phil steps out of the way to usher them inside. "Please, come on in. Kristin is getting the tea ready."

"Does she still grow her own?" Sam asks. He makes Techno go in front of him as if he'd try to run away or something.

"Yeah! She's been dabbling in vegetables too, lately." Phil leads them down the hallway and into another room. It's a kitchen, one of those open-plan ones that has counter islands and a big table on the other side. There's no wall between this and the living room either, making it all feel very homely.

Or very exposed, if you ask Techno. There's no place to hide.

There's a woman there pouring cups of tea. Phil's wife, Kristin. She turns around to smile at him, long dark hair falling over her shoulder with the motion. The edges are curled, framing her round face. She reminds Techno of somebody, but he can't quite remember who.

Techno more or less zones out completely as they sit down at the table to exchange pleasantries and talk. At one point Kristin asks him if he wants tea and he shakes his head. They give him a glass of juice instead, the fresh kind that has little pieces of pulp floating on the bottom. Techno doesn't drink it.

He stays there as they discuss the placement. Sam didn't bring the paperwork because he mailed everything to Phil ahead of time and got the legal bits sorted out. They talk very briefly about his most recent foster home, then about the school he's supposed to go to now and the therapist he sees weekly. Sam explains Techno's medication schedule to them.

It's all very casual and there's a lot of laughter and jokes that fly completely over Techno's head. At this point, he's not sure if he's ignoring them on purpose, or maybe he's slipped into dissociation because he's overwhelmed. Does it really matter? The adults stop bothering him after he doesn't answer their questions for a while, which is fine by him.

But at some point, Phil notices he's not paying any attention. He stands up and leaves the room for a moment, only to come back with another boy. He's older than Tommy, older than Techno too though not by much. He has dark brown hair and hazel eyes. They look at Techno with open curiosity, like Tommy earlier.

"Techno, this is Wilbur. He's going to show you your room, if that's okay?"

Techno nods. He's amused imagining what Phil would even do if he said that wasn't okay with him. Send Techno back with Sam, maybe? Like a defective household appliance that you ship back to the manufacturer. It would be too good to be true.

"Hey," Wilbur says. He grins at Techno.

"Hey," Techno echoes back more quietly.

The walk to the room takes less than three minutes and Wilbur keeps up a constant stream of chatter throughout it, not disguising his excitement about having another kid in the house. Techno wouldn't be able to recall afterward what Wilbur says to him, he tunes most of it out. He only registers the dull surprise he feels when Wilbur opens the door and Techno sees the empty walls beyond, the one bed neatly made up and pushed into the corner. There's also a desk and a bookcase, but all of it is empty.

He has his own room.

Techno can't remember the last time his fosters bothered to give him his own room.

"Dad said we'll go out and buy you some stuff to decorate and shit." Wilbur waves at the room proudly, displaying it as some sort of trophy. Techno steps closer to the window, seeing that it's right above a bush that's planted against the house. That's good, he could climb out in a pinch. The desk is probably also close enough to the door to be used to barricade it.

Wilbur just keeps staring at him, not taking Techno's refusal to really acknowledge him to heart.

"You can probably bully him into painting the walls too," Wilbur says. "Just tell him you won't feel at home otherwise. That's how Tommy got the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling." He's still grinning.

Techno shrugs, throwing his bag into the corner of the room. He doesn't know if he'll bother unpacking, maybe he'll be gone by the end of the week.

"What grade are you in?" Wilbur asks while seating himself on the bed - Techno's bed. Seems like he's going to stick around for some reason.

"Ninth," Techno tells him. Unsure whether he should sit down or stay standing, he ends up walking around the room aimlessly. He plays it off as him looking around, but he's inspecting for all the places he could use to hide important items. It's good to have an emergency plan for anything he needs to keep out of his foster parents' hands.

He fidgets with the bracelet around his wrist, fingers pressing between the beads and turning them over and over.

"Wait, how old are you?" Wilbur pushes his elbows into the mattress to sit up.

"Thirteen." Techno says, then to get ahead of Wilbur's interrogation he adds, "I skipped a grade."

"Cool, you're only one year below me then. We might even share some classes."

Techno opens the closet, looking at the clothes inside. There's not much, basic shirts and jeans and some underwear. Sam must have told Phil his size ahead of time so Techno would have something to wear while here. If Phil is the kind of guy who wants to take the foster kid shopping for room decor, he'll probably want to take Techno to buy new clothes too. He cringes at the thought. To say he's not looking forward to it at all would be an understatement.

"Do you like video games?" Wilbur asks. Techno shrugs again. "We should play some, it's going to be forever until Sam's done talking."

Wanting more than anything to get Wilbur out of the room - his room, the only privacy he's had in ages - Techno agrees. He follows Wilbur into the bedroom beside his own. It's similar in size, maybe even a little smaller. Techno doesn't know why that makes him feel on edge.

Tommy is lying on Wilbur's bed, flipping through a music magazine. Techno almost chuckles. Something about how invading other people's sleeping arrangements must be a shared family trait. Though he doesn't feel safe enough at all to make the joke out loud. Wilbur doesn't seem to mind, he just shoves Tommy aside so they can sit down, laughing when it makes the younger kid curse at him.

He hands Techno a controller. "Have you played Mario Kart before?"

"Kinda," Techno says. The group home he used to stay in had a console in the recreation room. Techno watched others play Mario Kart sometime. He never played it himself, the older kids wouldn't share.

"We only have two controllers but we can take turns," Wilbur says. Even when spoken out loud, it's a foreign concept to Techno.

Not as much as the bio kid sharing anything with a foster child though. Now that's just unheard of.

But Wilbur doesn't look like he cares, handing off the controller to Tommy after three matches. And then after three more, Techno gives his to Wilbur. They're very loud and yell a lot while playing, Techno mostly sits there and tries not to let his little cart be run off the road. Somehow he's doing very well, going by Wilbur cheering him on. When Tommy throws the controller down in played frustration, Techno almost smiles.

Then Sam calls his name from downstairs and he bolts.

Techno manages not to trip on the steps and crack his skull open on the way down, though it's an almost tempting notion. He knows exactly what's about to happen and he hates it. There's nothing he can do to avoid the inevitable though.

Sam is about to get in his car and drive away. And Techno is going to be left with these strangers. He'll be forced to pretend at being a family for a while. Maybe they'll keep it up for a couple of days, a few weeks. Several months if they're feeling generous.

Then something will happen. Techno can't predict if it'll be a sudden snap or a slow build-up of smaller things he does that drives them to the brink. They'll get sick of him and they'll stop trying to make him believe they care, or that they're a family.

And Techno will need to go back to having Sam's number on speed dial.

"Easy now," Sam says, catching Techno by the waist to prevent him from slamming into the wall. "You think I'm going to leave without saying goodbye?"

"I know that," Techno says testily. It's more emotion than he's dared to show in the past few hours, yet it's still only a fraction of what hides beneath. If he let it all out, he'd be clinging to Sam with all the pathetic desperation he has tucked into his chest and he'd be begging for Sam not to leave. Emotions he shoves into a small corner of his brain harder so he can step back and away from Sam's supporting hold instead.

Sam lets his arms drop to his side uselessly. He smiles down at Techno fondly and that too causes a feeling inside him that Techno refuses to process. He'll just throw it on the heap with all the other emotions he has decided aren't worth examining further and has tried not to acknowledge the existence of since his real parents died.

"I'll be coming by to check up on you in three months," Sam says. "You still have my number, right?" Techno nods while patting his pocket, assuring himself his phone is in there. It was a gift from Sam, ironically. "If anything comes up, you can call me. I'm never more than an hour away."

Techno crosses his arms to deal with the strange itch in his bones that wants to hug Sam. "Sure."

Sam looks at him for a moment longer, then nods. He shoves his hands into his pockets. There's a small twitch in the muscle below his eye, though Techno doesn't read too much into it.

He misses the group home. He misses adults not acting like he's anything more than a paycheck, either because it's their job to care for him or because the government will give them a foster care allowance if they put up with him long enough.

"Take care of yourself," Sam says then. He does reach out to awkwardly pat Techno on the shoulder once, though it doesn't quite land when Techno dodges the touch.

"I will," he says, looking away.

Sam is hoping to never have to see him again. He can tell.

After the door closes, Techno turns around and Phil is standing in the doorway. Techno doesn't know if he watched the entire exchange, the thought that he has makes his head hurt. He wants to go upstairs, crawl beneath those colorless blankets and fall asleep for a million years. He doesn't want to deal with any of this.

But Phil clears his throat and nods at Techno's feet.

"We prefer it if you take your shoes off inside the house," he says - not unkindly. Not that it matters when the words stab into the most sensitive parts of Techno's brain. Sam hasn't been gone for more than a minute and he's already screwing this up.

He hurries to undo the laces, mumbling a quick apology that Phil either doesn't catch or doesn't respond to.

"We're having dinner in a couple of minutes, could you fetch Wilbur and Tommy?"

Techno nods and shoots back up the stairs, anything to get away from Phil's watchful gaze. It's only for a short bit though, because he knows he'll be the main attraction as soon as they sit down at the dinner table. Techno is already going through the usual scripts he's built over the years, all the answers to their insistent questioning that tend to go over well or are neutral enough not to cause discontent.

Just because Techno knows this family will end up hating him anyway doesn't mean he has to speedrun the process.

When he returns to the kitchen - this time with Wilbur and Tommy in tow happily chatting with each other - Techno notices the table is set. There are matching plates and cutlery and four different colored glasses. One for each member of the family. Techno's glass is a boring, plain one that you can get at every store ever and doesn't match the rest. Somehow, it feels like a relief.

For a little bit, Techno can sit and push the food on his plate around with his fork without anybody commenting. He's once again not actually listening to the conversations going on around him, but not zoned out enough to miss it when Kristin says his name.

"Techno, do you like the food?"

Techno raises his chin to look at her, then lowers his head again. "It's fine," he says.

Kristin laughs, perhaps finding his demure disposition funny somehow. "Don't be scared to insult Phil's cooking, he's used to it."

"What?!" Phil squawks. "You've always said you like my cooking?"

"But Techno might not," Kristin points out easily. "Sam told us you have some sensory issues, so if there's any food that disagrees with you, let us know."

Oh, this was them leading into the questioning. Techno's fingers tighten around his fork.

"It's fine," he repeats. He can't eat some stuff but it's not like they would need to adjust their diets to fit him. Kristin just keeps looking at him, forcing Techno to elaborate. "I don't like grainy stuff, I guess."

"Like the juice?" Kristin asks - though it doesn't sound like a question. Techno looks over her shoulder and sees his glass of juice on the counter. He was stupid for thinking they wouldn't notice.

Techno returns to picking at his mashed potatoes with a small shrug.

"I hate the little peel bits on a banana," Tommy offers. "They're nasty."

"I think you just hate fruit in general," Wilbur says. "You're going to get scurvy."

Tommy frowns, taking the accusation very seriously. "Nuh-uh. I'm too cool for scurvy."

"Diseases don't usually care about how cool you are," Phil says. "And fruit punch is not a substitute for eating your veggies." He points his fork at Tommy's plate. Unlike Techno, who has been avoiding all of his food, it looks like Tommy specifically ate everything except for his broccoli.

"What about other textures?" Kristin asks. It takes Techno an embarrassingly long moment to catch on that she's talking to him again.

"I don't know," he says. "Some shirts are itchy."

He feels like his entire face is burning with shame. He's used to new foster families asking questions, but not these ones. When Sam tells them about his ADHD and the problems it causes for Techno, they often just scoff and wave it away.

"We'll have to go shopping at some point," Phil says predictably enough. "Have you thought about how you want your room to look yet?"

Techno shoves a piece of chicken in his mouth to avoid needing to answer, settling for a vague hum through tight lips. It's sufficiently non-committal, he hopes. And it beats having to say that he doesn't care how his room looks since it won't be his room for very long anyway.

"You have time to figure it out," Kristin adds quickly, trying to smile gently at him. "No need to decide all of that now."

"We should paint the walls," Wilbur says. Techno is puzzled by his insistence on why that needs to happen so badly.

Phil nods. "If Techno wants them a different color, sure."

"We can get some other stuff at the mall too," Kristin says. "Like toiletries and things you need for school. What do you like to do for fun? You might want to join an afterschool club."

"I kinda just read," Techno admits. The only thing in his bag aside from some clothes and the frazzled polar bear plushie called Steve that he's had for as long as he can remember, are books. He's read them all a dozen times by now, but that is fine. It's still easy to get lost in the familiar worlds laid out for him on those pages. Whenever he was stuck in a particularly bad foster family, they were his only escape.

"There might be a book club," Kristin says. Techno shudders at the thought of social interaction. The best part about reading as a hobby is that he can do it alone. Better yet, he's usually not bothered by people if he's buried nose-deep in a book. They avoid talking to him because they don't want to interrupt.

Sitting in a circle with other people talking sounds like it would drain all the fun out of reading.

"I'm in the music club," Wilbur says.

"What instrument do you play?" Techno asks, then instantly wants to bite his tongue because crap, he was supposed to be keeping his distance from this family. Why would he make things harder on himself?

Wilbur brightens up at the question though, puffing his chest out proudly. "Guitar."

"String instrument," Techno can't help but answer. "Respectable."

He wonders what happened to the violin he used to play. That family wasn't great, but they were very insistent on him keeping up with his musical education. They said he was a natural, a prodigy. They kicked him out after three months because Techno was 'ungrateful' while they saved him from a life of misery by taking him in.

"I bet I could learn how to play a guitar," Tommy cuts in. He's looking at Techno with an uncomfortable amount of eagerness, searching for something. Something Techno can't give. He clears his throat and pushes his chair back.

"Can I be excused?" he asks.

Phil looks surprised but after exchanging a glance with Kristin he nods. "Yeah, of course. You don't start school until next week so don't worry about setting an alarm, mate."

Techno flees that room as if staying there a second longer will physically burn him.

He changes and crawls into his bed. The blanket is grey and cold, trailing along his skin with a shiver. For what might be the first time ever, Techno thinks he would prefer the bed in the group home. He can't sleep in the ward full of other kids and the sheets are horrible, too scratchy. But it's better than being here, in this house.

Techno can't do this.

He can't deal with Tommy's wide-eyed face hoping for his approval, desperately wanting Techno to think he's cool. He can't deal with Wilbur trying to be friends with him and make him feel welcome. He can't deal with Kristin's gentle patience or Phil's soft acquiescence and their attempts to show their kindness. He can't deal with any of that.

He can't be let down again.

The cell phone on his bedside table has a little light on the side that blinks lazily while the phone charges, beckoning him. If Techno could bring himself to pick it up, Sam would only be one button press away.

Instead, Techno rolls over and closes his eyes, trying to sleep. But an uncomfortable ache deep in his chest keeps him awake until sunrise.

Phil makes Techno sit in the front seat of the car when they drive to the mall.

It's probably meant to make him happy, somehow. Techno supposes most kids like it when they get to sit in the front seat. It makes them feel important.

For Techno, it makes him feel weird and stiff and as if he can't move an inch or he'll distract Phil on accident, and then they'll end up driving into a tree. It would be a quicker and more merciful death than the clothes shopping has in store for him, meaning it becomes an appealing thought by the time they're halfway there. Anxiety burns in Techno's gut something fierce. Or maybe that's the cereal he had for breakfast disagreeing with his stomach.

Techno didn't know the brand, so he can't be sure. Another thing he hates about coming to live with a new family is all those strange new experiences. Even stupid mundane stuff like figuring out how the shower works is something Techno has become used to doing over and over and over again. Because every home is slightly different.

They drive by Tommy's school first. Kristin gets out so Tommy can scoot out of the middle seat and she helps him put on his backpack. He hugs her and she kisses the top of his head while squeezing back, filling Techno with abject horror. Are they going to expect him to do that when they drop him off in the mornings?

But when they get to Wilbur's high school - the same one Techno is enrolled in, though he won't have to start going until next week - Wilbur just hops out with a wave and a goodbye. Maybe he's too old for hugs? Techno has no clue when kids usually grow out of wanting physical affection from their parents, he's never wanted any.

Come to think of it, his touch aversion is definitely the reason for some of his placements not working out.

Techno expects Kristin to switch places with him at this point but she doesn't, stretching her legs in the backseat while on her phone, tapping away at the screen. Phil put the radio on now that Wilbur and Tommy aren't filling the car with their chatting, though he keeps the volume very low. Techno isn't going to complain, he's already close to overstimulated and they're not anywhere near the mall yet.

This is going to be a long day.

"So, what do you think you want for your room?" Phil asks suddenly. Uh oh, small talk.

"I don't know," he says. He has been staying with the Craft family for three days and Techno has not gotten any better at talking to them. He can manage when it's Wilbur or Tommy. They're kids, like Techno. Interacting with them is pretty straightforward. It doesn't require Techno to pick his brain for the right things to say at all times.

And they don't have the authority to kick Techno out of the house.

"There are some stores we can check out. It's probably easier when you can actually see what they have," Kristin says from behind him. Techno almost catches her eye in the rearview mirror and quickly looks away.

He leans into the door a bit more, subtly trying to pull up his knees. Curling up into a miserable ball while in a car and without Phil noticing is impossible, but Techno sure is going to try and approximate. He feels much more exposed around them than he does around Wilbur and Tommy. Much more vulnerable.

"Techno?" Phil asks - sounding on the edge of worry. Techno realizes he didn't acknowledge Kristin talking to him at all and that's very rude.

"I guess," he says. "I'm not very picky."

It's kind of a lie. Techno is extremely picky about everything, that's why he's such a chore for the families he stays at. But he has taught himself over time how to hide that pickiness and settle for the things he gets without being an ungrateful wretch and now most fosters wouldn't be able to tell the difference. Not that it does much, since he'll find something else to ruin the placement with. But it won't be home decor.

Kristin chuckles lightly, either finding his answer funny or maybe she's looking at something on her phone that made her laugh. "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue," Techno answers.

"Then we'll keep an eye out for blue stuff."

Techno bites his tongue and doesn't say out loud that he thinks that's kind of silly. Just because blue is his favorite color doesn't mean they should get him blue stuff. What about how much the items cost? That's way more important.

It's stupid to spend too much money on a kid you're not even going to keep around.

But he just presses his cheek against the window and closes his eyes. It's cold against his skin, revibrating in tune with the car's engine. Phil turns the music down a bit more, despite them being done talking. Techno forces his hands into his lap hard so he doesn't start to fidget again.

He wonders what Sam is doing.

By the time they get to the mall, Techno has dozed off into an uncomfortable half-sleep. He can't sleep properly in the new bed yet, it always takes him a while to get used to after he moves foster homes. So he has spent the last couple of days walking around severely sleep-deprived. He's not exactly surprised that the quiet humming of the car managed to do the trick for him.

He is surprised when Phil reaches out to gently shake him awake by the shoulder.

Techno flinches so hard he bangs his forehead against the glass. Not his finest moment and it's only a little bit softened by the fact that neither Phil nor Kristin mentions it as Techno rubs at the red mark on his skin. The pity in their eyes is hard enough to bear, if Phil would have apologized for startling him Techno might have just started to scream.

He quickly opens the door so he can get out of the car and onto his feet, shaking off the unpleasant lingering of Phil's touch with a full-body shudder and a few flaps of his hands that neither adult comments on.

"It's usually quieter here before lunch, so there shouldn't be too many people," Phil says as they head on inside. "But if you do lose us, there's a little kiosk at the food court in the middle of the mall. We can meet there."

Techno nods, though he'd probably be more surprised if he does somehow manage to get lost in here. The mall isn't exactly big, a relief because Techno won't have to sit through an entire day of them walking from store to store. It has two stories and a big set of escalators near the kiosk Phil mentioned, but the layout is pretty straightforward. Some people loiter around, mostly older folks who don't have school or work and a couple of teens who might be skipping class. Techno sticks close to Phil just to be safe.

"Where are we going first?" Kristin asks. Techno is very happy she's not looking at him because he has no clue.

"Clothes first and then we circle around for the other stuff?" Phil suggests. "One is more important than the other. You can't live in the same outfit forever."

Techno would love to wear the exact same outfit forever, actually. It fits him and it's comfortable, it doesn't have any scratchy bits or annoying buttons. And there's a zipper on the hoodie he can mess with when he gets nervous.

But he doesn't say any of that, just follows Phil and Kristin as they walk with purpose toward a big clothing store on the other side of the mall. It probably is where they get clothes for Wilbur and Tommy too. It does seem to try and appeal to a younger crowd.

Soon, Techno feels lost in a sea of choices he doesn't want to make. The amount of options is downright overwhelming and Techno isn't used to being encouraged to voice his opinion. Every time Phil or Kristin holds something up to show him and ask what he thinks, he can only shrug vaguely and try not to beg them to just pick whatever they want - like other foster parents did. They would always grab what they wanted Techno to wear and called it a day. Why can't Kristin and Phil be like that too?

After a while, Phil has been tasked with carrying an almost comical stack of jeans, shirts, jumpers, and hoodies. Kristin shoves a plastic pack of underwear into his arms too, nodding to herself in satisfaction.

"There, that should have you settled for a while." She looks at Techno and smiles. "Was there anything else that caught your eye?"

Techno shakes his head. He has barely been looking around, honestly.

"What about the textures? Nothing that will bother you?" Phil prods.

Oh right, Techno forgot they talked about that at dinner. He steps forward and kind of awkwardly rubs his hand over the stack of clothes.

"I don't know," he admits after a moment. "I usually can't tell unless I'm wearing them."

"That's fine, the changing rooms are right over there." Kristin nods at the back of the store. "We can try these on and you can tell us what you think."

Techno's entire body goes rigid. He pulls his arm back, holding it against his own side so stiffly his shoulder hurts. "No," he says - though it comes out more like a pathetic squeak than a proper word. He regrets it the moment it has left his mouth too.

It's too late to take back though. Kristin raises her eyebrow at him. "No?"

Techno tucks his chin into his chest, tracing the pattern on the tile floor with his eyes to calm himself down. He can feel their eyes burning into the top of his head. "I can't- I don't like changing rooms," Techno says. It's a more agreeable answer than 'making me go in there will make me have a meltdown' so that's what he goes with.

"Oh," Kristin says. It doesn't sound like a bad 'oh'. If anything, it sounds slightly guilty. As if it's her fault for not considering that. It's also the complete opposite of the anger Techno was expecting, the exasperated sighs and grabbing of his arm while they drag him off to get changed anyway because he has to stop being such a baby about these things. Them hissing in his ear that he better not embarrass them in public.

Instead, Kristin considers for a moment and then visibly perks up. "Wait here, I'll be right back."

While she's gone, Phil rearranges the clothes in his arms slightly and grins at Techno. "Don't worry, mate. We're not going to make you do anything you don't want to."

Techno ignores him. He won't even deem such a lie with a response.

He wanders a few steps away from Phil, distracting himself with the nearest clothing rack. It has a bunch of sweaters on it, the kind that are a normal fabric on the outside but have a thin layer of fleece on the inside. Techno pinches it between his fingers, feeling the soft fibers on his skin. The sweater is a light, pastel pink color. It might even be meant for girls, though Techno always thought that was really weird. Colors shouldn't be restricted to a single gender.

He used to have a pale pink sweater once. It was the knitted kind, itchy and terrible. Techno hated it but sometimes he would still wear it because he liked the color.

"Okay, so I asked about the return policy," Kristin says as she walks back up to them. "If we keep the tags on, it shouldn't be a problem to return anything. We can go home and you can try the clothes on there."

Techno blinks at her, feeling as if his brain must be short-circuiting. Or there might be another reason why he misheard.

"That's good," Phil says. "Did you hear that Techno?"

Techno tries not to pick at the sleeves of the sweater, nails catching on a loose thread. "Isn't that a lot of work?"

"What?" Kristin asks vaguely, already nudging Phil towards the cash register so they can pay.

"If you have to drive all the way home and then drive all the way back to exchange them," Techno says. "That would take a lot of time."

"Well, you said you can't use the changing room?" Kristin says slowly, waiting for him to give a confirming nod. "And you can't walk around in clothes that you can't stand, that would be ridiculous. So I thought this would work best for everyone."

When she puts it like that, it makes perfect sense. Techno can't deny it makes sense.

But that doesn't stop the tight, uncomfortable knot from forming in the pit of his stomach. That oddly detached feeling of wrongness that crawls down Techno's spine and makes him want to draw up his shoulders and hunch in on himself. Like he's doing something wrong just by existing.

"I guess," he mumbles. His lack of enthusiasm doesn't face Kristin, who notices the sweater he's still using as an improvised fidget toy.

"Do you like that one?" she asks.

"Hm?" Techno drops the fabric quickly. He doesn't want to get in trouble for damaging it.

"The color is really nice," Phil adds. "We can get that as well if you want?"

"I don't-"

"Nonsense," Kristin chirp, quickly sifting through the pile to find one that's Techno's size and folding it in half over her arm. "It's pretty, it'll suit you." Techno doesn't even have the energy to protest.

It all feels so wasteful. At least Tommy is younger than him, so he can get all these clothes later when Techno is sent away.

After paying for the clothes, they go to a small store that sells an assortment of knick-knacks they can use to decorate Techno's room with. Reluctantly and after ample encouragement that makes Techno start to feel guilty for not cooperating more easily, he picks out a few things to put in their basket. He picks out a little set of three cacti that he can put on his desk, a dark blue bed sheet that probably will be nicer than the gray ones he has now, and a lamp for his bedside table. They're paltry things, feeling small and insignificant. But with each one that Techno points out, Phil and Kristin smile wider at him. As if every one of his contributions is a small victory for them.

Techno certainly feels like he's losing in some sense.

Phil insists on getting him a bean bag too, for the empty corner of his room. So he can 'sit and read'. Techno doesn't mention that he hasn't unpacked a single book from his bag yet. He doesn't get the point of it.

He gets it even less when Kristin herds them into a hardware store.

"What shade do you prefer?" she asks, holding up one of those cards that has all the different gradients of blue on them. Techno can barely tell the difference between some of them, the hues all blend together and make him dizzy so he looks up at Phil instead. Searching for help in the face of Kristin's undeterred insistence on having him make these pointless decisions.

"Lighter colors might be better," Phil offers with a nod at the pastel tints. "They make a room feel less crowded."

"Okay," Techno says, though it sounds more like a question.

With an expression that reads almost as compassion at Techno's inability to pick between three shades of blue, Kristin turns the card over to consider the colors for herself before singling one out. "This one will probably work. We can get two big tins."

They want to paint his room. They want to have his presence in their house leave a permanent mark, a stain that the next kid that comes along will need to cover up. Techno feels a little sick.

Maybe that's why Kristin tells them to go check out the bookstore while she puts their purchases in the car and picks up some groceries while she's at it. Techno is grateful for the respite, burying himself in the much more tedious activity of tracing along book spines. Techno likes the smell of books, especially old ones. Mildew clinging to the pages and making a nice little health hazard.

Techno would take dying of moldy lungs over ever having to pick a paint color again.

Phil is also looking at books, but he actually pulls them from the shelves to open them and leaf through them. Techno finds himself peeking at him from the corner of his eyes, trying to catch what books Phil is interested in. In the living room at the house, there's a big bookcase pushed up against the wall next to the TV. Wilbur mentioned they are all Phil's. Techno looked them over and was actually impressed with Phil's taste in literature.

Not that it means anything. What guy of Phil's age doesn't read fantasy and science fiction? Just because he has some really good authors in his collection doesn't betray good sense.

"This one seems pretty interesting," Phil says because - crap - Techno is not at all as subtle as he hoped and Phil totally caught him staring. "It's the first one in a series."

"I know," Techno says. Nonchalantly, he returns to scanning the covers in front of him. "It's one of my favorite series, actually."

He doesn't know why he adds it and as soon as he does his cheeks flare with heat embarrassingly. It doesn't help that Phil makes a surprised noise of amusement.

"Really? I'll have to check it out then." He tucks the book under his arm. "They have a collectors edition of the entire series too," he adds. "Do you own them?"

"I got them from the library when I read them," Techno says.

"We could get these for your room then," Phil starts. Techno thinks he will start puking if he doesn't do anything about the sudden malaise at the thought of Phil buying him a collection of books that cost well over a hundred bucks.

"No," he says firmly. "They'll suck to move to the next placement."

He didn't mean for it to slip out so candidly. But Techno can't deny that it's half the reason he doesn't want Phil to buy them for him, on top of the money thing. His current possessions barely fit in his bag. He wouldn't be able to cram in five books on top of it.

Phil doesn't say anything for a moment. Techno doesn't want to look at him, scared to see some sort of hurt on Phil's face. Guilt is easy to shake, blossoming in his throat and then swallowed down quickly.

Techno isn't trying to be mean. He just knows rejecting them now is better than them rejecting him later.

There's a small exhale from Phil. Then Techno hears him let out a huff close to a laugh. "Well, maybe for your birthday then? Sam told us it's in a couple of months."

Techno turns his back on Phil so he can check out some other books. They really are stubborn in presuming he'll still be around.

He doesn't say anything, and he still doesn't say anything when they leave and Kristin is waiting in the car with the groceries. She got him those toiletries they mentioned and stuff needed for school. Everything Techno could possibly need to settle in.

Then she pulls out a small object wrapped in paper. The sides are taped together to protect it from breaking during transport, but when Kristin folds up the edge, Techno can clearly see that it's glass.

A glass that matches the others they have at home, blue in color.

During the drive back, Techno sits in the back seat. He feels safe enough to pull his phone out there, and drafts at least a dozen texts he doesn't end up finishing. Each one sounding a bit more miserable, begging Sam to come get him.

Techno doesn't send a single one. He just leans his head against the window again and lets the soft hum of the engine pull him away from having to think about it.

Wilbur insists on helping him paint his room.

Techno doesn't care, he didn't even really want to paint the room to begin with. But it turns out Phil and Kristin had talked it over before they headed to the mall together and already decided it was a good idea. So his input doesn't really matter. They mention faded colors (Techno doesn't know how eggshell can even fade) and some stains on the wall that had been there since they bought the house but that they never bothered to fix because the room was empty. After Phil and Kristin tape off the edges, they put on the first layer of paint. For the second layer, Wilbur and Techno are allowed to do it all by themselves. Wilbur is bouncing to get started, excitement dripping off him. It's the weekend and Tommy is at a friend's house, so it's just the two of them in the room.

On Techno's desk, there are two glasses of lemonade. Wilbur's yellow glass and his now matching blue one. Techno tries to ignore the strange flutter in his chest in favor of grabbing a paintbrush and getting to work.

It's not the worst thing in the world. Techno has a hard time knowing how to behave around Phil and Kristin, as he does with most adults. Especially ones that could easily kick him out so he won't have a roof over his head anymore. And Tommy is a bit too high-energy for Techno to feel comfortable. Wilbur is strangely excited about everything and while that perplexes Techno to no end, it's also something he knows how to handle. He's also pretty chill to talk to.

Wilbur tells him a lot about school, mainly his friends that he's definitely going to introduce Techno to come Monday. But he's also able to give Techno a heads up about what teachers are more strict or where he can sit for lunch. He asks about the shopping trip and doesn't interrupt while Techno awkwardly stumbles through the rather uneventful things he did yesterday. He shows Wilbur his cacti.

Wilbur's phone is playing music from some band he likes. It's not one Techno ever listened to before, but it's nice.

He can almost feel himself start to enjoy this.

"Oh shit, I nearly forgot." Wilbur doesn't say what slipped his mind, darting out of the room before Techno can ask. He's back a couple of seconds later, holding an alcohol marker. "Let's do it behind here," he says. Wilbur kneels on the floor next to his nightstand.

"Do what?" Techno asks. He watches as Wilbur slides his nightstand to the side a little. Phil said they only had to paint once over those parts of the wall since they were hidden by furniture. But Wilbur leans in closer, gesturing for Techno to sit next to him.

"We have to solidify our brotherhood," Wilbur says, pitching his voice very low. He must be making a joke. They're not brothers.

Techno scowls at the unpleasant noise the alcohol marker makes when it scratches against the wall. Wilbur writes his name in block letters. Like a toddler laying them out one by one on a Scrabble board. Then he holds the marker out for Techno to take.

"Go on," he pushes when Techno doesn't immediately move.

"Are we going to paint over this?" Techno asks wearily. He closes his hand around the marker slowly, handling it as if it was a dangerous tool. Wilbur's fingers brush against his.

"Duh!" Wilbur smirks wider. "But we're always going to know it's there. And that's what matters."

"Why?"

"Because." Wilbur is still grinning at him and Techno is blinking back, trying not to have him notice his hand is getting all sweaty and gross holding onto the marker too tight.

After a moment more Wilbur's smile drops and that's almost worse.

"I did the same with Tommy," Wilbur says then. "It's cool. Like we left a little piece behind of us being together."

Techno's thumb presses into the tip slightly, ink spreading onto the skin. Tainting him. He tips forward and then he's writing, just because he can't wait a moment longer. He writes his own name underneath Wilbur's - smaller and more shaky.

The fear is there though. Tight and curled up and making a hollow home out of his brain. Techno has to ask. "But what if I leave?"

And when Wilbur laughs it tears at him worse. Peels away some kind of layer Techno has been carefully maintaining for years.

"Don't worry about that," Wilbur says easily. As easy as anything. It must be nice to be the bio kid and never have to worry about what it feels like to be discarded. "They're like, totally sold on you. They have been for months."

"Months?" Techno echoes numbly. His ribcage hurts, shrinking on itself. Squeezing his heart too tight to breathe.

"Sam told us about you forever ago but you were staying with somebody else. And then there was some legal stuff because we already are fostering Tommy. So it took a while before you could come live with us." Wilbur nudges into him, elbow against elbow. Techno would recoil from the touch if all his muscles didn't feel locked up, unable to move. "We're glad you're here now though."

They wanted him.

That's the bottom line of what Wilbur is saying.

Unlike every other family that Techno has been placed with, this one was waiting for him. Not just any kid, him. They wanted him to be here. They wanted Techno.

He drops the marker and gets up. In being so hasty, he almost overcorrects and pitches backward, hitting his hip on the nightstand Wilbur moved aside earlier. Techno's fingers clench and unclench uselessly but there's nothing there. His chest aches.

What started as a slight tingle has blossomed into a cough, expanding beneath his sternum and pushing against it trying to break out. It hurts and Techno almost doubles over, hacking into his elbow. But when he inhales, oxygen refuses to do what it's supposed to.

He can't breathe properly.

"Techno?!" Wilbur starts to get up and he reaches out, warm skin against the searing coldness of Techno's body. He stumbles back, making a sound that's too pitifully close to a hiss.

"I need some water," Techno manages to bring out between more coughs. He's turning around before Wilbur can stop him. With every step, his legs wobble and his knees feel weaker.

Techno is really scared that he'll faint.

It wouldn't be the first time - probably not the last time either. Techno isn't unfamiliar with the pull of unconsciousness on his body. He's been starved so bad that he fainted on the way to school, so sleep-deprived that he passed out during the slightest physical activity. One time he was beaten by a foster parent so awfully he woke up in the hospital.

But he never choked on nothing before.

His legs finally give out on him when he gets to the bathroom, seconds after he manages to lock the door behind him. The tiles are freezing against his fingers and for a moment Techno simply stays there on all fours while pressing his forehead into the floor, the pain so formidable that it tears on his insides. He struggles for air, chest expanding and constricting around the fullness but failing to draw in a proper breath. Another series of hacks spirals him into pure agony.

Then the pain spikes, something shredding apart in Techno's lungs.

It surges up his throat accompanied by a wave of nausea so powerful Techno gags on instinct, trying to get rid of the sudden blockage. It burns through him, piercing and ripping apart more of his insides as it painstakingly forces its way up, up, up. Eventually, with a wet retch, it lands on the floor in front of him.

Tears have made Techno's vision blurry, but after blinking to clear them and rubbing the warm stickiness off his face, he can make out the flower he just coughed up.

The yellow petals are clumped together with thick globs of blood and a few flimsy pieces of flesh. Pieces of Techno that it tore out while it was expelled. The flower's roots are thin and wiry, clotted at the bottom where a moment ago they were still trying to anchor within his lungs.

All the emotions he has stubbornly pushed down for years are taking revenge on him with this unnatural growth, a flower burrowing into his chest.

Hanahaki disease.

Shakily, Techno stands up. He can breathe again, though every inhale tastes like iron on the back of his tongue. Techno walks over to the sink and grabs some tissues. Then he methodically wraps the flower in it, wipes up the excess blood spilled on the floor, and throws it in the toilet. Techno watches the water swirl red before he flushes it.

He brushes his teeth with the new toiletries they got at the mall, rinsing his mouth until he can almost delude himself into thinking the metallic aftertaste is caused by the toothpaste he isn't used to yet. With his free hand, Techno pulls out his phone and pulls up a website for flower meanings.

There are a ton of them online, all full of information that people suffering from Hanahaki disease might need. The type of flower says everything about the person who caused it and the emotions that are the proverbial (and literal) root of your suffering. Techno doesn't have to guess who he can blame for this. It's his own fault for lowering his guard around Wilbur's honest and disarming attitude.

He still scrolls until he finds a picture of the flower he just flushed. The long stem and little clusters of yellow petals are pretty recognizable.

Yellow Bouvardia, Techno reads. Enthusiasm. There's probably not a better word to describe Wilbur's approach to the situation. Harbingers of new beginnings, better times, and hope.

Techno grimaces around the leftover tang of blood on his lips.

Hope, huh?

He flushes the toilet a second time before heading back to his room, just to make extra sure all the evidence from his moment of weakness has been erased.

Phil is probably telling Wilbur to stick close to Techno and look out for him throughout the school day, but it sounds more like static. The noise is muffled, drowned in a hundred voices from the people rushing past them towards the building all combining into a constant buzz. Techno presses closer to the car. Maybe if he plays the scared little kid card, Phil will allow him to go home. He could start school next week. Or next month. Or if he acts pathetic enough, Phil will agree to homeschool him. Techno is a pretty good actor.

And he hates going to a new school more than he hates going to a new family.

Or maybe it's a different kind of hate. But the latter is something he knows how to deal with - mainly by embracing that loathing and allowing it to guard him against all the other emotions bouncing around his head. Being the new kid at school just plain sucks.

"Come on, we're going to be late." Wilbur grabs his elbow to drag him along. Techno's desire to wrench away from that touch is slightly outweighed by his desire not to be swept up in an unruly crowd of kids, so he allows Wilbur to hold onto him and pull him to the entrance. Wilbur waves at Phil over his shoulder and Techno barely cranes his head back to make eye contact before regretting the decision.

Phil is giving him the goofiest thumbs up accompanied by an equally goofy grin.

Techno turns back to the large brick building looming over him. Waiting to swallow him whole.

Wilbur marches the both of them straight inside and towards a specific hallway on the ground floor with purpose. Techno trusts he knows where they're going because despite studying the map of the school he was provided beforehand, he doesn't feel like he knows where anything is. This place is a lot bigger than his old middle school, the one Techno went to the longest. And he didn't really stick around in his old high school long enough for it to become intimidating. Plus, everybody he knew went there so he could just covertly follow them around.

Here, people are gawking at him. Either that or Techno's social anxiety has been pushed into overdrive again. When he sees one girl lean in close and whisper to her friend from behind a cupped palm, he feels like they must be talking about him. He pulls the sleeves of his sweater down further over his hands. It's the soft pastel pink one Kristin semi-forced him to get. Techno kind of has to admit he's grateful for it now.

"Okay, just stay right here." Wilbur pushes Techno into a line of people. From what Techno can tell, they're lining up for the office where they handle the school's administration. "I'll be right back. I wanna say hello to my friends real quick."

Techno doesn't get a chance to nod before Wilbur is gone. It's a bit nerve-wracking to be surrounded by so many strangers, but standing in a line is easy enough. He can manage that much.

His hand finds the phone sticking out of his pocket, pushing it down a little bit so it doesn't fall out.

Sam texted him this morning. Out of nowhere, early enough that it woke Techno up actually. The sound jumpscared him too because nobody ever texts Techno. Sometimes he wonders who even has his number at this point. Sam, of course. Phil and Kristin and Wilbur do too, since he got kind of pressured into giving it to them. Tommy doesn't have a phone yet. Nobody else would ever want to reach out to Techno.

But Sam texted him to check in and wish him luck at the new school. And Techno maybe almost had to roll over and put the pillow on top of his own head just so he could breathe. How could three lines on a blurry old phone screen make his chest feel so constricted his heart might burst? It really wasn't fair.

Luckily, all of that was easy to forget in the face of the horror he felt at actually having to go to said new school. There was a bit of a tickle in Techno's throat when Phil casually told him over breakfast - a bowl of cereal from a brand Techno still didn't know he quite liked - that they took care of his enrollment before he arrived. Wilbur smiled at him from the other side of the table and Techno avoided his eye by looking down at his own hand. The marker stain was gone, though he knew the lines scribbled on the walls that they painted over. Techno knows now, about them wanting him, and that will never go away.

Techno swallowed it down uneasily back then. But the blossom inside him is stubborn.

Before Phil could call him down again that morning so they could drive to school, Techno kneeled on the bathroom tiles and coughed up the flower that grew inside his lungs overnight into the toilet. It was still just the one - yellow bouvardia, Wilbur's gift to him. The rate at which he expells them is not concerning yet according to the sites Techno has read. One per day classifies as an extremely minor case of Hanahaki disease. He is very much in the clear for any severe complications if the symptoms are handled.

Techno only has to figure out exactly what 'handling it' is going to mean for him.

"I'm back!" Wilbur claps him on the shoulder - an action that manages to bodily push Techno into the teen lining up in front of him. Techno scoots back, hunching in on himself. But Wilbur just gives a quick apology and a charming grin, so the kid doesn't seem to mind.

Must be nice, to be effortlessly liked by other people.

Wilbur then drops his hands and puts them in his pockets. "I told my friends we can meet up during lunch, so I'll introduce you to them. Don't worry, they're very chill."

Techno vaguely hums, not thinking his voice will hold up if he tries to verbally answer. He is fairly certain that Wilbur and he have a pretty different definition of what the word 'chill' means. Not that that's any fault of Wilbur's. He can't help it that Techno's brain deems anything more than an inch outside of his comfort zone as a real threat to his well-being and mental health.

Sometimes, Techno feels an odd kinship to rabbits. Prey animals that are constantly on the run in a world that's so much bigger and more dangerous to them than it should be. Not to mention that if Techno could dig a burrow to live in and never come out or interact with other people again, he'd take that opportunity with both hands.

Wilbur doesn't touch him again, but kind of awkwardly clears his throat to signal it's their turn. Techno blinks out of his self-indulgent fantasies about convenient tunnels to retreat into and steps forward.

The woman behind the desk looks at him, then at Wilbur next to him, then back. "Mister Craft?" she asks.

"Uh, no." Techno gulps down a small cough threatening to slip out. "It's Mister Blade. I don't-"

"Yes, yes, somebody called ahead." The woman turns towards her computer with something too close to an eye roll for it not to trigger Techno's rejection-sensitive dysphoria - wow, what a great way to start the day.

Wilbur is tapping away at his phone, probably missing most of the exchange. He did mention that having your cell out during class would instantly see it taken away, so most kids would try to get that vital screen time in quickly before the bell rang and during the breaks.

"Here you go." She hands him a manilla folder that reminds Techno of a military debriefing or something. "Don't forget to have your guardians sign the consent form that's in there."

They're ushered out of the office before Techno can get so much as a thank you in. It's not even the start of the school year, so he can't fathom why it's this busy. He doesn't question it though, dutifully following Wilbur out into the hallway. Wilbur reaches for the folder and Techno allows him to pluck it from his hands.

"Oh cool, we do have classes together. Like math, right now actually." Wilbur is looking over a piece of paper that Techno assumes must be his schedule. "We also share science classes." He takes off down the hall and Techno stays as close as he can bear without literally gluing himself to Wilbur's side. At his old school, he always made sure to get to the classroom well ahead of time so he didn't have to traverse the hallways in the morning when they were this crowded. The fact he is forced to do that around lunch is already bad enough.

"Holy shit, you're taking advanced English?" Wilbur is frowning at the paper now, maybe he thinks there has been a mistake since it's a class normally reserved for seniors and all.

"Jup," Techno says quickly. "Since a while."

"You're such a nerd," Wilbur laughs.

It might be an insult, but it doesn't exactly sound like one. Techno scrunches up his nose when he answers. "You're literally in the school band."

"What?" Wilbur spins around. "Band is not nerdy."

"I'm not sure the guys going around shoving kids into lockers agree," Techno shrugs.

Wilbur laughs again, a little more high-pitched and incredulous. "What kind of fucking school did you go to before this?"

The bell ringing saves Techno from having to reply to that, since it makes Wilbur curse and speed along a bit faster. They get to class only a few minutes ahead of the teacher. There's a handful of empty seats near the front of the room and Techno takes one because Wilbur went to sit with his friends. The teacher jumps straight into handing out assignments without making him introduce himself in front of his gawking classmates or acknowledging Techno's presence at all, something Techno takes as proof there might be a merciful god left in the universe after all.

The first half of the day passes by slowly. Techno might be dissociating through a decent chunk of it, but he didn't get lost on his way to English class after Wilbur pointed it out on his map and told him how to get there, so that's a huge win for Techno. By the time lunch rolls around, he's been overstimulated long enough for the constant burn of it to be reduced to cinders settling on the back of his spine. From experience, Techno knows that will just make it worse later. But for now, it's not too bad.

He's going to need it to cope with Wilbur's friends.

They're… very loud. Jeering and yelling at each other across the table. The only one Techno thinks he likes by the end of it is a girl called Niki. She's quieter than the rest, preferring to nod along to the others joking. And she has really cool dyed hair. Techno also sees that she has a novel tucked away between all her books for school - Watership Down, one of Techno's favorites. So that means he's legally required to think she's cool.

While they talk, Techno spends most of his time looking around the cafeteria and trying to gauge how many kids go to this school. It's within walking distance from their home, though Wilbur and Tommy said Phil or Kristin drive them sometimes too. Like when they went to the mall after dropping them off or this morning because it's Techno's first day. Wilbur seems to be reasonably popular. Aside from his little group of friends, Techno watches so many other people talk to Wilbur throughout the day that it makes his head spin. It's hard enough for Techno to keep track of the few people he's been introduced to. He can't even remember most of their names.

At his old school, Techno usually just hid out in the library during lunch. But he doesn't know where that is yet. Besides, Wilbur said Techno should sit here with his friends.

Still, when Techno sees a table across the room that's completely pushed against the corner so it's far away from everybody else, he's almost envious. There's only one person sitting at it, with his legs on top of the chair across him and wearing headphones. He looks completely fine with being left alone.

"That's Schlatt," Wilbur says. He pokes his elbow into Techno's side. "You're better off staying away from him."

Techno pulls his eyes away, pretending to need all his concentration to eat his sandwich. He knows everybody at the table is looking at him because they caught him staring. "Why?"

"He's like, totally a drug dealer. Everybody knows that." The guy who spoke up has ginger hair and a black jacket. Techno already forgot his name too.

"Definitely the school's worst-kept secret," Wilbur adds.

"Then why isn't he punished?" Techno asks. He might have only been here for a day but he's fairly confident that selling narcotics has to be against the school rules.

"Schlatt has been expelled numerous times," another kid - Techno vaguely recalls their name as Eret - answers. "But it never sticks. His parents are old money. And he's a senior, so I guess they just gave up on it."

Wilbur shakes his head at the term 'old money' but Techno pretends not to see, picking at the loosened threads of his sleeves. He hopes Kristin won't be mad at him already ruining the sweater. Techno likes having something to fidget with.

When the bell rings, he gets to escape conversation by going to class again. The rest of the day passes by quickly enough, though Techno hopes nothing too important was covered because he can't remember most of it. It'll probably be like that for the first week or two, before his dumb brain can settle and start coping with the newness of everything. Wilbur is waiting for him near the gate when school ends because they're walking home together. There's no band on Monday, apparently. They stop by Tommy's elementary school on the way too.

Tommy is out on the playground playing with two other boys, but he skips over immediately when he sees Wilbur and Techno. "You'll never guess how many bugs I caught today!"

"Something tells me you're about to tell us," Wilbur says. He crosses his arms and grins at Techno, as if they're in on this together. Techno smothers a cough into his elbow.

"Well, now I'm not telling you," Tommy says with a scowl. He turns around to start walking home.

"Pity. How will we ever survive without this vital information." Wilbur's tone is light and teasing, making Tommy huff in dismay. When Wilbur reaches out to take Tommy's hand, he pulls away from his older brother's grip.

Techno kind of walks after them awkwardly and watches this go down.

"Tommy," Wilbur says, "give me your hand."

Tommy raises his chin defiantly. "I don't think I will."

"Are you trying to piss me off?" Wilbur asks - a rhetorical question but going by the glint in Tommy's eye, Techno thinks he can guess what the answer is. "You know the rules."

"I don't want to hold your hand." Tommy skips back over to Techno's side. "I want Techno to hold my hand instead."

Techno blinks, surprised to suddenly find himself involved in the exchange. "What?" Tommy tries to make a grab for his hand, but Techno holds his arm against his side and away from the warm skin threatening to make contact with his own.

"I have to hold Tommy's hand while walking home from school because Mom and Dad think he'll run into the road otherwise," Wilbur says casually. "They say it's dangerous because the sidewalk isn't very wide and they'll be pissed if they find out."

Techno turns his head to find Tommy looking up at him with the poorest attempt at puppy dog eyes he's ever had the misfortune of witnessing. It knocks some thoughts loose in his head that Techno quickly tucks back into the darkest corners where they belong. Tommy's bottom lip trembles sadly at his refusal to hold hands.

"Are you really going to run out into the road?" Techno asks.

"Maybe," Tommy says - as if he hasn't quite decided if bodily throwing himself under a moving vehicle is in the cards yet, though it definitely doesn't sound entirely out of the question.

With a sigh, Techno reluctantly offers up his hand. He immediately cringes at Tommy's fingers curling around it. Great, now his hand is going to be all sweaty and gross by the time they get home.

"I don't get why you couldn't just hold mine," Wilbur grumbles half-heartedly. He slows down so he can keep pace next to Techno again, but shoots daggers at Tommy from behind Techno's back.

"Techno is like, way cooler than you." Tommy keeps squeezing his hand. Techno has to resist the urge to pull free again. But that'd just make things more awkward. "He's super smart, that's why he takes all the special classes. He can fight with swords and he plays violin and-"

"Wait, hold up." Wilbur tilts his head. "What are you talking about?"

"I snuck into Phil's office to read Techno's file," Tommy says proudly. Techno feels nausea settle heavy in his gut.

"I don't think that's legal," he mutters softly. The joke doesn't really ease his tension, nor is it loud enough for either of the other two to overhear.

"You used to play violin?" Wilbur asks loudly.

"Uh, kinda," Techno says. Tommy is holding his hand so tight he wants to pull it away and rub it across something else, to get rid of the weird tingling.

"And swordfighting?"

"Fencing," Techno corrects. "I used to fence. I wasn't very good."

"He won a lot of tournaments," Tommy says with excitement. "It's really cool. Did you get trophies? Where are they?"

Techno looks at the cracks in the pavement with ever-increasing interest. His face is burning bright enough the tips of his ears are probably red at this point. Ugh, why does it all have to be so embarrassing? Why can't Wilbur and Tommy be like any other foster siblings he's ever had, who didn't give a crap about Techno or what he did with himself?

"You don't play the violin anymore?" Wilbur continues to prod.

Techno manages to give him a deadpan stare. "I don't have a violin anymore."

"The school might have some. The band is always looking for new members." Wilbur studies his face, searching for something. Techno's thumb presses into his hand so hard he can feel the nail dig into his flesh.

"See! I told you Techno is way cooler than you." Tommy laughs and it successfully distracts Wilbur from his intense scrutinizing.

"Hm, the guitar is just as cool. Trust me."

When they reach the driveway, Techno rips himself free from Tommy's hold and runs into the bathroom. Wilbur shouts something behind him but he doesn't care, locking the door and opening the faucet to run cold water over his hand until the skin goes numb with it. His nerves send pinpricks of almost pain into his arm and Techno relishes it.

Swallowing brings the feeling of leaves and thorns burrowing into his lungs.

"How was your first day of school?" Phil asks as soon as he steps foot into the kitchen. It really is a constant interrogation with these guys.

"It was fine," Techno says. He opens a cupboard and reaches for a glass, purposefully avoiding the blue one they got him. When he goes to fill it at the tap, Phil is still smiling at him, perhaps waiting for an elaboration.

Techno drinks his water to postpone having to answer for a few precious seconds more.

"I met Wilbur's friends," he adds eventually. Because that's about all Techno can remember about today.

Phil hums - a pleased little sound before he returns to stirring the food he's making. "Have you thought about afterschool clubs?"

"Not really," Techno admits.

"Good, because I actually have a better idea."

Techno's fingers curl harder around the glass, waiting for whatever is about to come out of Phil's mouth next. His mind is cast back to previous foster families, forcing him into activities he hated with tepid smiles and promises that it's all for his own good. They only wanted him to be the best version of himself he could be. Why would Techno make everything so difficult?

This was usually where the placement started to fall apart.

"I think we should go and get you a library card," Phil says.

There is a voice in the back of Techno's head that sounds suspiciously like Sam, that is currently chiding him for always expecting the worst. Techno would like to remind that voice that experience is the best teacher.

"I saw you eye the books in my collection the other day," Phil continues, looking at him expectantly. Gauging if this is an okay thing for him to bring up. Techno hopes his cringing isn't too obvious. If anything, this family is proving he's not as subtle as he likes to think he is. "You're free to borrow them after asking, of course. But since you mentioned getting those other ones at a library too, I figured it would be a nice idea."

Techno puts his now empty glass down on the counter. "Sure," he says. "Can I go outside for a bit?"

Phil's expression softens. "Yeah, of course. You don't need to ask, mate."

That has to be a line Techno's heard a million times before. He has learned not to trust it.

Outside, the late spring air is a lot more bearable than the stuffy kitchen he left behind. Everything about the house feels like that, as if it's choking the very air out of Techno. Like he's caught in a snare that keeps tightening with every twitch of his struggling body. Maybe the bunny analogy is starting to hold more water than Techno wants it to.

He hasn't answered Sam, at this rate he doesn't think he can.

"Oh, hey Techno." Kristin is kneeling in a patch of earth to the left of the porch. She's wearing a sunhat, the kind that's kept on by a ribbon that ties beneath the chin. She grins at him. "How was school?"

Techno tries not to scowl. He gives her the same answer he did Phil. "It was fine."

She examines his expression a moment longer then turns back to her gardening with a soft chuckle. Not for the first time, Techno wishes he knew what Kristin finds so funny all the time.

There's dirt under her nails. Techno has only seen one other person work in the garden before, the man hired at one of his former placements. He wore gloves. But Kristin shifts the petals around with her bare hands, careful as can be while pulling the weeds from the ground.

"Do you want to help?" she asks.

Techno kneels beside her. "No."

Kristin laughs again. "You just enjoy watching, then?"

"Sometimes," he says. He puts a hand over his chest, feeling the heart that's beating somewhere beneath his sternum. And if he tries really hard, he can almost imagine he can feel the roots tearing into him too. "I just like flowers."

"I do too," Kristin says brightly. "Do you have a favorite?"

Techno shakes his head. He doesn't know what he's doing. He doesn't-

"How long have you guys known I was going to come to live here?" he hears himself ask. It's a bad idea.

"Sam told us about you around four months ago," Kristin answers. "I remember because it was right after the new year."

Techno doesn't want to touch the earth, because he knows the little particles will bother him and he won't be able to get rid of that feeling for a while. And he doesn't want to cry either, but his eyes are already burning. So he blinks a few times and then stands up.

"I'm going back inside."

When he walks away, he purposefully pushes his heels into the ground and tramples a few of Kristin's flowers - in a way where it can be taken as being an accident though. Her slight gasp chases him all the way up to his room even if the guilt it brings with it pales in comparison to the pain of his every breath.

Sleeping in his new bed has only become slightly easier over the past week, but Techno has accepted that he'll never be a very deep sleeper anyway. When the door to his room cracks open, he wakes up. The light falling into his eyes from the hallway isn't helping matters any.

There's a shadowy shape that tiptoes its way across the room and then Tommy is standing next to Techno's bed.

Techno offers a noise that's half confusion and half apprehension. He's not an idiot, he knows why little kids sneak into your bedroom at night. Predictably enough, he can see the tremble of Tommy's lip that he's stubbornly trying to hide and the anxious way he clenching his hands.

"I had a nightmare," Tommy says.

Despite how much he knows it's a bad idea, Techno sighs and scoots until his back hits the wall. He doesn't lift the blanket and there's a small sense of relief when Tommy doesn't crawl under it either. He just lies on top of the sheet, but close enough that Techno can feel it dip the mattress and Tommy's slight shaking as he curls up next to him.

Techno has had foster siblings in previous placements, though he never was any good at this part. He usually was kicked out of the house long before they started to see him as a big brother or anything.

The knowledge that Tommy and Wilbur consider him one already is… Techno doesn't know what it is, except bad. Very bad.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks awkwardly after a moment - because he can't sleep like this and Tommy is just lying there miserable and on the verge of crying, rubbing at his face.

Tommy shakes his head.

Techno swallows, tense. "Should I get Wilbur?"

It's almost a plea. Pawning Tommy off on Wilbur, for whom everything about being an older sibling seems to come naturally and effortlessly, sounds pretty tempting. Techno doesn't get why Tommy came to his room instead of Wilbur's in the first place.

Not until Tommy shakes his head again, breathe hitching a bit when he whispers softly. "I think he's mad at me."

"Wilbur?" Techno asks. "Why?"

"Because I was being a bitch earlier." Tommy is facing him and when he pulls up his knees they dig into Techno's stomach, almost. He doesn't complain. "Maybe he's pissed, I don't know. I'm not exactly jumping to find out he doesn't want me around anymore."

Sam's words echo in Techno's head, about how Tommy has had difficulty with placements before. In the darkness of the room, it doesn't feel as difficult to speak up.

"That's not going to happen here."

Tommy frowns at him, unconvinced. "What?"

"They're not going to send you away," Techno tells him. "Wilbur adores you. He's like, a massive dork about it actually. He talked about you to his friends during lunch today."

"Really?" Tommy asks, sounding more hopeful than skeptical.

"He did. So don't worry about it. You can just hold his hand again tomorrow."

Tommy crawls a little closer to him, Techno tries pushing himself against the wall more but he can't exactly phase through it. Would be nice, though. Tommy is looking at him with those stars in his eyes again, the ones that make Techno feel crowded and sick.

"I liked holding your hand though," Tommy promises. Techno thinks it's supposed to be a compliment, or make him happy somehow.

His chest hurts so bad a pained groan almost slips out.

Soon after, Tommy falls asleep again. And Techno stays there, waiting until he can see the first filtering of sunlight through his curtains. He manages to get out of bed without waking the younger boy up and sneaks out of the room and into the bathroom.

There, he sinks onto the tiles again so he can puke his lungs out once more.

Techno has gotten oddly used to how much it hurts. The stabbing and tearing and ripping at his soft tissue makes the corners of his eyes sting, but it doesn't shake him to his very core like it used to. And he's not at all surprised to find the yellow stalks undercut with small round flowers of pale purple, edges clung thick with his blood.

He uses his phone to look up what these flowers are when he's done. Dianthus. Admiration, it reflects back at Techno from his screen. His head is pounding.

Techno flushes these gifts from his supposed 'brothers', then wipes his mouth and goes downstairs.

"What do you need?"

Schlatt's voice is deep and grave. His question comes before Techno can even open his mouth. He glances over both shoulders but it's between classes. There's nobody else around.

It only took three days for Techno to find out where the senior student hangs out behind the school, smoking on a bench.

"Come on, I don't have all day," Schlatt snaps at him. "Is it Adderall? You seem like the overachiever type." He barks a laugh as if it's humorous.

"Do you have anything that works against Hanahaki disease?" Techno asks.

Schlatt peers at him for a moment, dark eyes narrowed. Smoke curls from between his pursed lips. "Do I look like that kind of doctor, kid?"

"Not a cure," Techno says. "Anything."

Sensing his hesitancy, Techno sighs and reaches into his pocket. Back in the day, he was always preparing for the eventuality of being kicked out. So he has quite a bit of cash saved up. Most of it was stolen from other foster parents or the caretakers in the group home.

So he has no shame in throwing about three hundred bucks worth of bills on the bench next to Schlatt.

After a sharp exhale, Schlatt takes a drag of his cigarette. Then he nods. "I can get you something. You'll need an inhaler."

"I'll take care of it," Techno says. He knows where Wilbur's backup inhalers are. "How long?"

"Meet me here tomorrow," Schlatt says while collecting his reward. "Don't be late."

Techno doesn't know what else he can do to send a message to these people.

Locking himself in his room constantly doesn't seem to work like it did with other foster families. Those caught onto the fact that he wanted to be alone pretty quickly, leaving Techno to his own devices unless they wanted something from him. But Phil and Kristin keep inviting him to do stuff, no matter how often Techno refuses. Board games or movie nights at home. Trips to the park or the arcade on the weekends.

And they're not forcing him either.

Techno almost wishes they were, then he could get angry at them and consider them bad people. Like the families he stayed with before, who saw Techno's presence as an excuse to play at being the picture-perfect family. There, the requests were honestly more like ill-disguised commands. They would ask Techno to do stuff, but they weren't really asking. They were telling him.

Phil and Kristin - even Wilbur and Tommy to a certain extent - are actually asking. Every time they ask, Techno will let them down. Every time, they ask again the next day. It is starting to drive him mad.

There's simply no way they want him to be part of the family that badly.

Tommy especially doesn't get the memo that he still only has one older brother and his name definitely isn't Techno.

"Techno, can you help me with my homework?"

The question is almost immediately followed by a series of additional knocks. Techno is just glad he'd locked the door because Tommy also rattled the knob earlier. "Is it math again?" Techno asks from where he's sitting at his desk.

He's not as good at math. Maybe he can send Tommy to bother Wilbur instead…

"It's history," Tommy whines. Techno can hear from the sound of his voice he's bodily leaning against the door, probably making a very pathetic and adorable face. It makes Techno frown at his dumb calculator. "It's this stupid essay I have to write about some dead guy?"

"Most of history is about dead guys," Techno tells him automatically. He hears Tommy laugh. Techno coughs into his cupped hands, hoping Tommy can't hear. "Uh, yeah, I'll be right down, I guess."

He doesn't want to help Tommy, it sounds like a pain. But Tommy has been nice to him, Techno supposes. It's not Tommy's fault that Techno is trying not to settle too much into this temporary arrangement. Also, Phil and Kristin will be happy with him if he plays nice. They always smile so sincerely when Techno sets the table or takes out the trash.

He hasn't told them they're just old habits. In his previous foster home, there was no chore chart. Techno was supposed to 'see work' when there was any and take it upon himself to do it. And if he didn't, he'd get scolded or worse. With the Craft's, the only chore he has is helping with the dishes every other day. Wilbur has the same chore, so they alternate. Tommy is too young to help with the dishes, he enjoys unloading the groceries with Kristin.

Techno gets up and heads to the little bedside table he has. The top drawer can lock, though Techno leaves it open because that's less suspicious. He reaches inside and digs through some other stuff he put there as a distraction - socks and underwear. Buried beneath he hid the inhaler he stole from Wilbur. The white cartridge inside has been replaced with a pale yellow one Schlatt sells him.

The defoliant burns in his mouth, down his throat. Techno hates the taste it leaves behind, like licking copper coins. It took him by surprise the first time he used the inhaler. But it does help. His coughing fits aren't as bad. He hasn't puked up a flower in days.

Downstairs, Tommy is sitting at the kitchen table. He's frowning at an empty sheet of paper like it has personally offended him. Techno can see that Kristin is outside, working in the garden again. Wilbur and Phil aren't home. They had to go to the doctor's for something or another. Techno thinks it might be a check-up for Wilbur's asthma but he honestly zoned out through most of breakfast again.

That does mean it's quiet, with no music from the radio or the TV on in the background. Techno prefers it that way.

"Okay, who do you need to write about?" Techno asks, pushing his chair a bit closer to Tommy's.

"I don't know, some guy and his peas."

"How specific," Techno mutters sarcastically, taking the book from Tommy's hands. Tommy laughs again. He always does, as if Techno is the funniest person ever. Techno swallows and scans the text. "Gregor Mendel," he reads out loud. "You're right, that is the guy with his peas."

"Told you so," Tommy says smugly. He starts to play Connect Four against himself in one of the squares in his textbook. Somehow, he's losing.

"Yeah, I can help with this," Techno says. Mendel's way of looking at genetics is baby stuff, Techno can probably explain it to Tommy in a way that the paper should be a breeze. Kind of funny that Tommy's school is doing this as part of a history lesson and not science or something. Or maybe they're teaching it twice.

Techno isn't sure. He missed out on a lot of normal education because he was bouncing around foster places or group homes. Sometimes he was homeschooled or followed online classes, so it could definitely be that things happen differently in an actual classroom.

"Aw, look at you two." Kristin has just walked through the open patio door. She's putting her hair in a ponytail to get it out from her face. Her cheeks are flushed red and she seems a bit sweaty from having worked outside all afternoon. "How's the homework going?"

"Techno's helping me!" Tommy says brightly.

"That's nice of him." After filling a glass of water for herself and draining it in a matter of seconds, Kristin then grabs a bottle of orange juice from the fridge. It's the non-pulpy kind that they started getting ever since Techno moved in. She refills her own glass first, then gets one for Tommy and Techno each. The matching ones.

Techno pretends to be very engrossed in the pages when she walks over to put them on the table in front of him.

"Techno is very kind to help you, but don't take advantage now." Kristin smiles at Techno gently and he feels forced to meet her gaze. "Don't let Tommy pawn off the bulk of the work on you," she adds.

"Hey?!" Tommy cries, outraged. "I'm not pawning off my work." He's pouting at Kristin for her comment but she ignores it.

No, she's too busy keeping her eyes on Techno. It's making him a bit uncomfortable, like he wants to fidget in his chair. Not the bad kind of fidgeting though, when he feels like he wants to bite or cry or scream his lungs out. This is a feeling of tight warmth that bursts in his chest and he doesn't think he should like it but he doesn't hate it either. It's all very confusing.

"It's okay," Techno mumbles, holding the book up so he can kind of use it as a shield and hide behind it. He doesn't feel as exposed that way. "I like helping."

"If you like helping, how about after you're done explaining some of the basics to Tommy and writing an outline for his essay, you come help me in the garden?"

Techno knows what Kristin is doing and it kind of makes him grin. Tommy probably would make Techno write the entire thing if he could and Techno wouldn't have fully minded. He's very used to letting people copy from him, all his old friends used to do so. And he let other foster siblings do it too. But Kristin wants to encourage Tommy to do the homework himself. And she doesn't want Tommy to take advantage of him.

His fingernails slightly dig into the paper as he grasps the book tighter. "Sure."

Tommy complains about it a little bit, which Techno doesn't take to heart. Wilbur always says annoying Tommy is funny. Techno didn't know if he understood that at first, but he definitely does now. And Tommy's annoyance is an easy thing to deal with. He's the type of kid who blows his anger out of proportion for other people's amusement. He huffs and hawks and then he's back to laughing again a moment later. He'll call Wilbur a bitch and then beg for Wilbur to play video games together.

Sometimes Techno almost wishes he could be the same.

Not exactly the same, maybe. But Tommy has such an easy time showing his emotions, even around Phil and Kristin. Techno does think his life would be a little easier if he could also do that. Maybe it would stop him from feeling like he's walking through a minefield all the time.

Then again, Tommy doesn't have to worry about being kicked out. Techno does.

When they're done with the outline and Tommy is writing the actual essay part of his homework, Techno goes outside. The sun is bright, it's that time during late spring when it almost feels like summer. Techno removes his jumper, carefully folding it and putting it onto one of the garden chairs. It's a jumper that Kristin and Phil bought for him, so he doesn't want to get it dirty.

Kristin is kneeling in the flowerbed again, much like the last time Techno came into the garden. She has one of those weird foam things so she doesn't hurt her knees. Techno walks over, crouching beside her.

"Oh, there you are." Kristin smiles at him. She's always smiling. "Do you actually want to help, or do you just want to watch? Because either is fine, so long as Tommy is doing his homework."

Techno chuckles softly. "I can help."

"Nice. Take this." She hands him a little thing that looks similar to a rake. Just very small so it can fit in his hand. "If you want to even out the soil, that'd be helpful. I'm going to be planting cornflowers soon, but I need to make some space."

"Are you going to throw these out?" Techno asks, nodding at the flowers Kristin currently has in her garden. He uses the rake to drag little lines in the dirt. It's pretty fun to do, though he can't tell if he's doing it right.

"No, I'm thinking I'll just replant some closer together and if that's not enough, I'll uproot a couple and put them in flowerpots." Kristin clearly knows what she's talking about. Techno nods. "Would you want one?"

"A flower?" he asks.

"If I end up needing to move a few," Kristin says. "You could keep one in your room, with your cacti."

Techno considers it. "Maybe," he decides eventually. "What if I kill it, though?"

"I could teach you how to take care of it."

One of Kristin's hands gently grabs his wrist. Techno jolts, close to flinching away from her. But Kristin doesn't let that bother her. Her hold on him is loose and light yet somehow firm in its reassurance as she carefully guides him into raking the soil properly - the way she needs him to. Techno can feel his face flush up stupidly.

"I like your bracelet," Kristin says.

Techno's eyes flick toward it. The beads are kind of faded. When he got it, they were all painted in bright blue and purple colors. Over time, the paint faded or chipped off, so now you can very easily see the wood beneath with all the little grooves and stuff. Techno likes it because he can stim with it. He can slide the beads around or run his fingers over the uneven surface when he's nervous. Or sometimes he just pulls on it, messing with the stretchy piece of nylon string. And when he shakes his wrist, it makes a good noise that scratches his brain right.

There's one other thing that makes it special.

"Sam gave it to me," he says.

"He did?" Kristin lets go of his wrist so she can continue her own task, confident that Techno has gotten the hang of raking. When her fingers leave, the skin she touched feels too cold.

"A while ago."

Techno remembers that day better than most others. Maybe because it was one of the nicer days of his life. He got kicked out of a foster family again, he can't remember what for. Being hard to handle, probably. That was usually the reason. It was the middle of the night. Techno was in his pajamas and everything, socks getting wet on some suburban home's pavement.

Sam came to pick him up. He always did when Techno got in trouble.

Usually, Techno would be sent off to the nearest group home with a free bed or maybe a foster family that had opened their door to temporary emergency placements. For whatever reason - that particular night - none were available.

So he got to spend the night at Sam's apartment.

Techno had never been there before. Sam lived alone in the middle of the city. Techno recalls how the colorful lights looked zooming past the window of Sam's car, all blurred together and hard to see. They didn't go to sleep when they got to Sam's place either. Techno was eight years old and he'd drained most of his energy already with how much he had cried, smothering hiccups in the front of Sam's shirt and then after that into Steve's fur as he sat in the car. But he still refused to sleep. Sam put on a movie instead and they ate cereal together until Techno dozed off leaning against Sam's shoulder. Techno got a new home the next day, though he'd never felt safer anywhere than he did on that couch, with his plush polar bear clutched in his arms and Sam's body warmth next to him.

The bracelet was lying on Sam's coffee table back then.

"That old thing?" Sam said after noticing Techno playing with it, turning the beads over and over. "I don't really wear it anymore, got it forever ago. You can have it if you want."

Techno has held onto it for five years already. Sam never mentions it, though Techno notices him looking less sad whenever Techno is playing with it to calm himself down.

"That's very nice of him," Kristin says. "I'm glad you have somebody like Sam in your life."

Techno wonders why that's her first thought. He's too scared to ask.

He's also glad he's had somebody like Sam.

"Sign your name here."

The old lady behind the desk hands a pen to Techno. He has to stand on his tiptoes to be able to put his signature on the bottom of the form she slides over next. He's not even smaller than most kids his age, the desk is just that ridiculously tall.

When he finishes, she scrutinizes the paper for a moment to make sure everything is in order. Techno thinks that's a little funny. Do people often commit fraud when signing up for a library membership?

Perhaps this is one of those libraries that holds onto ancient books and special relics that people want to steal.

"Here you go." She puts a card down on the desk, actually out of reach from Techno because again - the desk is ridiculously tall. Phil picks it up for him instead and only grins when Techno snatches it from him maybe a bit too eagerly.

Phil also puts his hand on Techno's back to lead him away. Techno doesn't shrug it off for once.

"So, what part of the library do you want to check out first? I saw they have a young adult section upstairs?" Phil says.

Oh. Techno stops and he feels Phil's hand fall. He opens his mouth and closes it, hesitating.

Phil quickly continues. "Or you know what? You can go and have a look around by yourself. I need to pick out my own reading material anyway." He takes a step away from Techno.

Stupidly enough, it's guilt that clogs up Techno's throat. He doesn't want Phil to follow him around and hover over his shoulder while Techno looks at books. That sounds like the worst thing in the world. But he also feels bad about the slight edge of disappointment in Phil's voice. He probably thought this could be some weird bonding activity - helping Techno to pick out something to read. Techno doesn't get it.

It's been over a month and he still doesn't get it.

Why do all of them keep trying so hard? Why can't they accept that Techno doesn't want them to keep up the charade, so it'll be a lot less painful when they grow sick of him?

"You can text me if you need me, yeah?" Phil asks.

Techno pats his pocket, confirming he has his phone on him. "Got it."

Phil keeps smiling at him until they part ways.

Techno's gut swirls with nausea. He wishes these dumb thoughts and feelings would go away already. The shelves of books about Greek myth offer a worthwhile distraction. He runs his fingers along them and wonders if Phil will be annoyed should Techno pick three of them. The library card allows him to loan out ten books at a time, but maybe Phil wants Techno to stick to one. So he doesn't take up all that space in his room and so he doesn't come across as too needy.

On his next breath, Techno feels that tickle in his chest again. He coughs into his elbow, taking more gasping inhales into his lungs to accommodate the hacking. It doesn't help, only getting worse because every breath feels like it's scratching his throat raw right into his soft tissue. Techno fumbles for the inhaler in his pocket. He's glad he took it with him.

He was kinda scared to because what if Phil would notice? But it's better than Phil noticing him coughing and thinking he's sick.

Techno licks his lips afterward, the metallic pang heavy on his tongue. He's tired. The drugs help against the hanahaki, but the wheezing and struggling to breathe properly shakes his entire body and takes up a lot of energy. Instead of spending a lot of time picking out his books, Techno gets the first two that seem mildly interesting before calling it a day and heading down to the exit. He texts Phil to let him know he's done.

And when Phil insists on stopping for ice cream on their way home, Techno doesn't put up a fight. Even if the inhaler has left his mouth numb and unable to taste anything.

Techno's resolve has crumbled from days of Wilbur bothering him.

He feels very silly, standing in the band room and watching kids go over their sheet music or clean their instruments. Techno doesn't want to be here, and the fact that he's already getting some weird glances isn't helping matters any.

Wilbur is pretty much bouncing on the spot though. None of his friends are in band so he's excited to have Techno there.

"They won't have one," Techno says. The teacher went off to look in some forgotten supply closet probably because there weren't any violins kept in this room. It's not the most popular instrument, and the few students who do play violin have their own. A public high school isn't going to have a Stradivarius casually lying around to hand out. The violin is a kind of thing taught in private tutoring or after-school orchestras.

"They'll have one," Wilbur insists. "A couple of years ago they siphoned a shitton of money to the club after the school won a national talent show. They used it to buy all new materials."

"There's no way they used it to buy a violin."

The universe itself - as always very aware of irony and how much fun it is to rub Techno's words into his face - punishes his presumption a moment later when the teacher finally returns. His long hair is kept in a little bun that has come partly undone. Retrieving that violin must have been quite the adventure.

But a violin he does have. Or that's what Techno assumes is in the violin case he's carrying, at least.

"You were saying?" Wilbur sounds pretty conceited. Techno wonders if he could get away with punching him.

Before he can decide, the teacher puts the case on a desk in front of them and pops it open. "I had to do some digging. Turns out it's been a while since anybody has shown interest in the violin."

"I'm not surprised," Techno says. It's not something most kids would typically go for. Guitar and piano are the 'cool' instruments, they're what you see people play in the movies a lot. And bass or drums are popular if you want to be in a band. No normal thirteen-year-old lies awake at night dreaming of playing the violin unless they already have some connection to classical music.

Or if their foster parents forced them because it 'looks sophisticated'.

"Can you play it?" Wilbur asks, visibly perking up.

Techno looks around. Most of the other students are too busy with their own stuff to really notice them. "Right here?"

"It's important we find out if it's tuned properly. We might need to wax the bow too." The teacher takes it out of the case and easily holds it out to Techno, prompting him to take it. Techno's foster parents from back then hated it when he handled the instrument. They said he was too sloppy with it.

"It's probably fine," Techno says. But Wilbur won't stop staring at him and the teacher is busy pulling out rosin and a cloth. So they're really serious about this, huh?

With a sigh, Techno tucks the violin into place. He doesn't have a shoulder rest or a chin rest, maybe they're in the case somewhere. If he's only going to play for a little bit it doesn't matter though. Techno puts the bow to the strings and slowly drags it over them. He doesn't want to put too much pressure because he's trying to be relatively quiet.

Despite his best attempts, he knows some other kids are already gawking.

Hoping to get it over with relatively quickly, Techno plays some random sonata he learned at one point. It's not his best work, he's rusty from not having played for almost two years. His fingers cramp inflexible against the wood, he knows his motions aren't smooth enough to carry the notes through.

It's nice to play again, though.

Techno never chose to learn the violin and when his foster parents pushed him to perform on higher and higher levels it stressed him out enough that he started to hate the activity altogether. But before all that, when it was just him playing music… Techno liked it.

Wilbur claps for him when he's done, which is mortifying and stupid and only draws more attention towards them. And Techno wants to hate him for it but he can't.

"Sounds fine to me," Techno says hastily, shoving the violin back in its case - not as carefully as he should with such a delicate instrument.

"You're talented," the teacher says. He sounds so sincere about it too. "If you'd be interested in joining the club we-"

"I don't like to play in front of other people," Techno says quickly.

Wilbur frowns at him. There's something about that expression that makes Techno feel a need to cough into his elbow, trying to breathe through his nose so it doesn't hurt as badly.

"We also loan out our instruments," the teacher continues, unbothered. "There's a bit of paperwork for it, your parents will need to assign a consent form in case of damages. But you should consider it."

"Maybe," Techno shrugs.

At least Wilbur doesn't ask him to accompany him to band anymore after that. So that's one way Techno can stop constantly letting people down.

Wilbur has started texting him.

Techno supposes the locked door only sends a memo to people who are in the house with him. Wilbur enjoys texting him when he's out. Sometimes he sends Techno memes or silly pictures, or he's asking to see if Techno wants them to bring something back.

Like right now. Wilbur is out with Tommy and Phil at the grocery store. Apparently, that means Techno needs to get continuous updates about their great journey and questions on whether they need to bring anything back for him. He sighs when he's answered the latest one and turns the phone screen down on his desk. He can't concentrate like this.

Before he can get back to his homework, Techno flinches at a sharp stab of pain that runs through him.

He hunches over the desk, clenching his teeth so hard his jaw aches. The flowers sprouting inside his lungs painfully burrow their roots into Techno's soft tissue, tearing at his insides. He stumbles upright and to his bedside table again, so he can grab his medicine.

After one puff nothing more happens. He's run out.

Well, isn't that just great?

Techno throws the inhaler back into his drawer and falls onto the bed, clutching Steve to his chest.

He can feel the flowers wilting, peeling away from the flesh as they disintegrate into nothing. Schlatt warned him that it would hurt, that this would only provide a temporary solution. But man this sucks. Coughs keep bubbling from his throat, making his shoulders shake. Techno tries to muffle them into the soft fabric of Steve's fur. Kristin is downstairs, Techno can faintly hear the TV playing some show she likes to watch on her free days - and she shouldn't hear. When he's done, Techno pulls away and takes a rasping breath.

He looks down and Steve is staring back at him with one beady eye.

Techno sits up instantly, watching the other plastic eye he accidentally tore off fall into his lap. His fingers clasp around it, desperately. He ruined Steve. He should have been paying more attention.

Without thinking about it, Techno is already rushing down the stairs.

Kristin is sitting on the couch. She's engrossed enough in her show that Techno almost hopes she'll not notice how unsteadily he's breathing. "Do you have a needle and thread?" he asks.

Kristin looks up at him, surprised. Of course. She can't just be one of the dozens of fosters Techno had before. They would just wave him away, tell him where to find what he needs, and leave him to figure it out on his own.

"What do you need those for?" Even as she asks it, she's getting up and walking over to a little dresser in the corner. Techno watches her rummage through it.

"I uh," he hesitates, and swallows away his anxiety. It's kind of stupid to lie since Kristin is standing right there. And it's not like she hasn't noticed the polar bear plushie he holds in his arms. "One of Steve's eyes fell off."

Kristin doesn't seem to find what she's looking for right away. Her brow furrows, and for some reason that sends panic through him. The little eye feels like it will slip out of his sweaty palm and then it'll be gone forever. Techno needs to fix Steve now!

"Found some," Kristin says triumphantly. She pulls a small pouch from the dresser, opening the zipper to reveal the sewing supplies inside. She walks over to Techno and then stops. He's not as good at concealing how he feels as he wants to be. "Hey, it's okay. We'll be able to patch him right up."

"Y-yeah." Techno nods. He's trying not to cry, or stim to get his frustration out.

"Do you want me to do it for you?" Kristin asks, voice soft. "I know you can do it yourself, but I'll be very careful, I promise."

Again, Techno nods. His hands will be shaking and he might mess up again. He doesn't want to mess up again. He feels his eyes sting and blinks several times.

Kristin takes Steve from him. It's like having a piece of his soul ripped away.

"Did Sam give him to you too?" Kristin asks gently, probably hoping to distract him. "He's cute. I'm sure I have some white thread in here, so you will hardly even notice."

"My parents gave him to me," Techno says.

Kristin doesn't falter, not for a moment. She smiles, very attentive in how she moves the needle, allowing Techno to watch her work. So he doesn't have to be as nervous about it. "Really?"

"Yeah, not long before they died."

Techno doesn't know why he said that. Maybe because he never says it out loud otherwise. But Steve is all he has left from them, so it's different.

In almost all the other foster homes that found out, they'd get angry about it. They told Techno he was too old to sleep with plushies. Or that he should use the toys they gave him instead, not this stuffy boring one.

Kristin doesn't say that.

She is quick but deft, sewing the eye back on in a matter of minutes. And then she hands Steve back to him with the biggest grin.

"There, good as new."

Techno wants to cry again, for a whole other reason.

But he stays tightlipped and nods. He mutters a quick thanks under his breath before hurrying upstairs again.

Because his lungs feel like they're being torn apart.

Like inside him there are a million little threads too and they're all snapping at the same time. And he's falling apart, ripping at the seams. Techno heaves into his trashcan this time because he didn't make it to the bathroom. He looks at the flowers there, they're fuzzy and strange and their pink-red color makes it hard to see how stained they are with blood. Worse than before. Techno's mouth tastes of iron and rot.

Astilbe, Techno will later find out by scrolling his phone, Steve held against his chin safely, has a meaning of patience and dedication to a loved one.

Kristin checks on him by slightly opening the door, but Techno pretends he's already sleeping.

Techno knows Kristin told Phil about Steve.

Not that Phil has said anything, he's not acting any different from usual. He's still all smiles and patient conversations and that stupid, stupid grin Techno can't bring himself to hate no matter how hard he tries to. But when they are in the store - Techno unwillingly dragged along because Phil decided they just have to stop by there on the way back from Techno's therapy session - Phil not very subtly drops one of those lint roller things in the cart. Techno's eyes only flit towards it for a moment. He's not even interested in the groceries, he's only trying to avoid more eye contact with random strangers doing their shopping than he can humanly bear. But Phil thinks it's curiosity, maybe. Or he's hoping for a reason to bring it up.

"I think it would be nice for you to have one," he says.

"A lint roller?" Techno asks. He's pretty used by now to Phil and Kristin wasting money on him. If they're not careful, they're not going to have anything left from that pretty allowance the government gives them as a reward for putting up with Techno. What a bunch of chums!

"Yeah, for your clothes and such," Phil says. Quieter, he adds. "You can use it for stuffed animals too."

Techno feels his cheeks heat up, stupidly, embarrassingly. He exhales a shaky breath that feels like thorns burrowing into his lungs. Then, because it's safer than any other impulsive actions that would bubble up, he huffs and stalks away from the cart. "Whatever."

When they get home he shoots up to his room and hides there, locking the door behind him. Steve is sitting on his bed, tucked in a little as if he's taking a nap. Techno rips the blanket off and clenches a fist around the soft polar bear's neck, wanting with every fiber of his being to chuck it into a wall. He can't bring himself to do that, though.

So he shoves Steve into the little gap beneath his bed instead, something Techno hates and it makes him feel weirdly guilty despite it being an inanimate object. Steve doesn't have feelings but Techno does and the most vibrant thing he feels right now is hate towards himself for getting so dumb and emotional about a stuffed bear.

He doesn't remember his parents. He doesn't even have any of their pictures anymore.

Techno retrieves the inhaler, full again because he stole some more money out of Kristin's purse to pay for additional medication. His tongue is numb, barely tasting anything. Techno doesn't eat a lot anymore because without the flavor all that's left is the texture and Techno despises that more than anything. He only picks at the food on his plate enough to keep Kristin and Phil from getting worried, otherwise they'd start to ask annoying questions again.

After that he takes a short shower, trying to stop his chest from feeling stuffy, full. It's not mucus that's stuck in his lungs exactly but what is there is probably close enough. Techno puked the other day, throwing up sticky fluid made of plant rot and blood.

Coming back into his room, he notices the door is left ajar. Techno is very meticulous about always closing it, especially since Wilbur and Tommy have demonstrated that they see an open door as an invitation to come bother him. But when he walks in, it's just the lint roller left on his bed. Techno picks it up and marches downstairs.

"I don't need this," he tells Phil, who is still busy unloading their other groceries into the cabinets. Normally Techno would have offered to help. He forgot this time because he was too distracted by the lint roller incident.

"Really?" Phil asks, but he doesn't take it from Techno's outstretched hand. "Everybody's clothes get lint on them, mate."

"Well, I don't want it," Techno corrects, feeling petulant and unlike himself. "Besides, once I'm kicked out I'm gonna have to leave it behind anyway, right?"

It's almost a challenge and truthfully, Techno doesn't mean to say it out loud. He knows Phil will just deny it. His face stays neutral but Techno sees the small twitch of Phil's brow.

"It's yours," Phil says slowly. "We got it for you. So even if you leave-" he exhales there, as if speaking that word is enough to pain him somehow. "You get to take it with you."

Techno scowls. "That's stupid."

"Why is it stupid?"

Phil sits down on one of the chairs, not telling Techno to do the same though something about the position reminds Techno vaguely of his therapist's body language. He knows Phil has been talking to them. Techno has caught it a few times when he's gone to the bathroom right after therapy before Phil takes him home. He's pretty sure they haven't discussed exactly what he talks about during his sessions, mostly because Techno would have noticed if Phil knew about some of the stuff he's vented in there. But he can't rule out that Phil has been getting pointers on how to 'deal' with him.

Like getting dog training lessons from an expert to handle the unruly stray you picked up.

"Because you bought it," Techno says. "So it's not really mine, it's yours."

"But we bought it for you," Phil repeats.

"But you bought it," Techno insists stubbornly. He feels like he's arguing with a brick wall. "It's your money so…" This shouldn't be a difficult thing for Phil to grasp, the man isn't that stupid.

Phil sits back more and kind of raises a brow at him. "Do you have a job, Techno?"

Techno frowns, mouth dry. That might be because of the inhaler. "No?"

"Then where are you supposed to get the money to buy stuff for yourself?"

"That's not what I meant," Techno says quickly, getting more heated. His cheeks flush up further, more with frustration than shame this time. But Phil continues unheeded.

"Besides, we get money from the government to help take care of you. It's only right we spent it on stuff you'd get to keep." Techno stares at Phil, deadpan. Because the money being intended to be used on him has never meant much in a lot of the previous families he stayed at. "Do you disagree?"

Techno bites his tongue, hard enough that he can feel blood well in the back of his throat. He doesn't want to argue about this anymore. He just wants Phil to take the damn lint roller back and leave him alone.

"Anything we buy for you is yours forever. It stops being mine as soon as I hand it over, okay? And we'll never make you give it back for any reason. It would be wrong of us to do so." Phil says it so sincerely, so heartfelt. Weirdly, it feels like he's had this conversation before - maybe with Tommy. Techno swallows down a painful cough threatening to break free, failing spectacularly. He turns the sudden gasp of pain into a smothered sentence because he doesn't want Phil to think he's sick.

"Yeah, tell that to the last place I stayed at." It sounds even more bitter than he expected.

What's worse is that it makes Phil's eyebrows rise more, facial expression all alarmed surprise that should be comical if it wasn't then replaced by genuine worry. "Is that something that happened at your last foster home, Techno?"

Techno should lie. But lying to adults often already makes things worse and Phil seems to be on the edge of… something. Techno doesn't want to call it anger, though it comes dangerously close. So he tries to cover the confession up with an apathetic little shrug.

"Not just the most recent one," he says. "It's no big deal."

"It is actually," Phil says louder and - oh, he certainly sounds pissed off now. Not at Techno though. At those other foster families.

"It's fine. Most of them let me keep the stuff I already had before arriving, at least."

He regrets it instantly, even before the words come out of his mouth. Techno pinches his lips shut. The action feels easier when his entire throat is clogged with vines, the taste of blood getting significantly more pronounced. He wrings his hands together behind his back, out of sight but still trying to dispel the nervous energy at an adult going so very motionless.

Because if Phil was pissed off before, he's furious after hearing Techno's latest revelation.

"What did they take?" Phil asks, dangerously cold. In the face of his silent storm, Techno can only stare at the floor and mutter his answer, too scared to refuse.

"Just some things," he says. "Pictures and stuff."

Techno had a locket that used to belong to his mother and some travel-sized board games Sam got him to ease the long hours of waiting at the social service office for administration to be sorted out and a plastic horse figurine that was probably meant for little kids but which the foster mom at his very first nice placement got him before she couldn't keep him because she had to go to the hospital herself.

"I'll take care of it," Phil says. Techno has no idea what that means. He can't meet Phil's eyes.

He hates it when adults get angry.

"Can I be excused?" Techno asks softly.

"Yeah, of course." Phil gets up to continue putting his groceries away, clearly not picking up on Techno's distress. Nor seeing him flinch back.

Techno scurries off and up the stairs quickly, coughing before he's halfway to his room. But his feet are stomping so hard he's hoping Phil won't hear. Techno throws the door shut behind him, clumsy hands fumbling on the knob when he locks it. Techno sags against it, wheezing through every labored inhale. Gasping like a fish on dry land. He sinks to his butt and finally notices that in his panic, he didn't even give the lint roller back. It's still clutched in a sweaty fist. Techno does throw it at the wall since he has no emotional attachment to it like he does to Steve, though it only bounces off and falls onto his bed lamely, right where he picked it up earlier. So in the end he hasn't accomplished anything.

Isn't that just the story of his life?

On his knees, he crawls back over to the nightstand, bumping into it with his shoulder first before he manages to force his vision to focus. He grabs the inhaler again and closes his trembling lips around the plastic.

But all it does is make him hurt worse.

His lungs are on fire, a blaze that tears at every inch of his insides and is fed by the oxygen he takes in with small, choked gasps. Techno's sight blurs more and he drops the inhaler back into the drawer before hunching over properly, coughing and hacking.

Then something dislodges inside him and he almost screams.

The pain chases the clump of plant matter up his throat, shredding the soft tissue it slides across with every insistent push upwards. Techno is almost relieved when it finally loosens, dragging its roots free from his chest and triggering his gag reflex until he's constricting around the small tendrils. After what seems like forever, the excruciating feeling ends with Techno throwing up the tangled flowers in a pathetic heap, astilbe and dianthus and yellow bouvardia, blood pooling around it. He recognizes the shapes and colors vibrantly, the medicine not managing to dissolve them completely anymore and now only preventing them from anchoring deep enough to choke him.

Though Techno doesn't know how long that will last.

Too weak to do his usual clean-up routine, Techno wraps the flowers in some tissues from his desk and throws them in his trash bin, rubbing at the blood long enough that it's more of an indiscernible brown stain on his carpet than recognizable for what it was. He also shifts his nightstand to cover it, for good measure.

Exhausted, he crawls under the sheets of his bed, not caring that it's the middle of the afternoon still. Without Steve there to hold, he can only curl onto his side pathetically, but he's too tired to get the polar bear from under the bed either.

So Techno simply falls asleep with the hollow feeling in his chest to keep him company.

The room is empty.

Techno blinks at it for a moment before stepping inside, taken by surprise almost at how different it looks when there are no people around. Band is usually one of the more popular after-school clubs, Techno guesses because playing music and becoming famous are pretty tempting sounding prospects to a large demographic of teen kids. Sometimes, Kristin will put on a singing competition in the evening and the entire family will huddle around the television as if they're the most interesting thing in the universe. Techno doesn't get it but to each their own.

The room doesn't seem less cluttered, with instruments strewn about and a few jackets hanging over chairs and stuff like that. But there's nobody actually around. Techno doesn't know what to do. He often hangs out in the library after school and when Wilbur's extracurricular is done, they walk home together. But Wilbur is nowhere to be found.

Maybe the music teacher stepped out and dragged them all along?

He steps inside, trying to spot a chair that's empty so he can sit on it and wait. Instead, his eye falls on a familiar violin case. Techno never came back to take them up on the offer of lending it, but they must have left the violin lying around. No point putting it back in storage after all the time they spend digging it out of there. Techno wonders if anybody else has been playing it.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he slowly walks over and undoes the latches. After peeking behind him but confirming there's really nobody in the room, Techno carefully takes the violin in his hands. The weight of the instrument feels comfortable, like slipping on a pair of old shoes you've worn so long that they fit almost better than perfect. The shape molding and bending into something uniquely your own. Techno's old violin was a little too big for him since his foster parents were clever about getting him one he'd be able to use for many years to come.

How ironic, then, that they discarded Techno long before he could grow into it.

He picks up the bow too, letting it linger in his curled fingers uncertainly for a moment before taking a breath and starting to play. The song is one Techno taught to himself, not one his old tudors preferred him to play. Those pieces were mostly classical in nature, the sort of music that would befit an orchestra and sound grand played up on stage, an audience full of stuffy people in formal clothing who barely put their hands together when clapping. The piece Techno plays is more meandering, the notes flowing into one another. It reminds him of the music Sam would play in the car when they drove places.

Then there's a noise behind him and the spell is broken.

Techno turns, slightly flustered. The girl curses softly while trying to steady the sheet music stand she bumped into before it teethers to the ground and probably causes a small domino effect of upturned equipment. She sweeps her pink hair behind her ear with one hand, smiling sheepishly up at him.

Techno recognizes her as one of Wilbur's friends. Niki, her name is.

"Sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to sneak up on you. I didn't want to interrupt your playing."

"It's fine," Techno says, throat tight and fist close to snapping the violin bow in half.

"It was really good though," Niki adds. "I thought Wilbur said you weren't interested in joining?"

"I'm not," Techno answers curtly. He resists the urge to ask what else Wilbur has been saying about him behind his back, or why he'd feel the need to talk about Techno to his friends at all. It's really none of their business. His life would be so much better if people would just leave him alone.

"Oh," she says, then stops there, as if uncertain what else she should add. Her hands fidget with the lace edges of her sleeve

Blossoming guilt about treating her so harshly makes Techno falter, and he quickly shoves the violin back into its case. "I uh, I like your hair," he says.

Smart, Techno. If you act like a jerk to somebody, give them a throwaway compliment and see if it redeems you.

Niki lights up though, automatically brushing her fingers through her bangs with a smile. "Thanks, my parents hate it but-" she shrugs, "that's what parents are for, aren't they? To hate everything you do."

"I don't know," Techno says, "I don't have parents."

The answer is more instinctive than rational, something he's been pointing out to people in his life since he was three years old. He doesn't have parents. It's one of Techno's most defining traits, actually. It has marked his entire existence, his childhood, every waking moment, and every nightmare he has woken up from in some stranger's house who wouldn't comfort him.

But instead of the expected backpaddling, trying to make her joke hit with less sharpness like Techno is used to from most people who get that retort, she only walks into the room further, sliding herself to sit up on the desk.

"Eh, biological, adopted, foster. As long as we're pissing adults off." Niki says it kind of shyly, almost hesitantly. But Techno chuckles.

"Yeah," he agrees. "Yeah."

Niki definitely means it in the typical 'rebellious teenager pushing back against authority' way. The same way Wilbur cringes away when Kristin hugs him or calls Phil lame when the old man fixes his shirt collar. Techno can't really relate to that stuff, he just dislikes most adults because… well, there are a lot of reasons. Mainly he hates them because they're adults. But he does genuinely like Niki's hair, a soft shade of pink that reminds Techno of the trees he watched through his window in a previous foster home. Cherry blossom, he thinks they're called.

"I see you in the library often," Niki says suddenly. "If you're not interested in joining band, maybe you can join my reading thing because-" She breaks herself off in the middle of the sentence, suddenly embarrassed. "Never mind."

"What?" Techno asks.

"They won't let me start it when there's not enough people," she says. "It's so silly, they have room for us and I told them we wouldn't be too loud."

"Like a book club?" Techno asks wearily, remembering Phil's words from a couple of weeks ago.

"Kinda?" Niki says. "Not a lot of my friends like to read, so… thought it might be nice to just have somebody who is reading the same book and then we can talk about it." Her legs are swinging from the desk as she leans back onto her hands.

"How many more people do you need?"

"Just one person. There's this first year I had to show around, Ranboo? I think I accidentally peer pressured him into joining. And then there's that stoner guy, Connor. He said he would join in exchange for me baking brownies for him." Niki smirks a little as she says it.

"Weed brownies?" Techno ventures. Schlatt said the Connor kid is his most loyal customer.

"Regular brownies," Niki assures. Her finger traces the desk for a moment. "...Probably."

"Maybe I'll join," Techno says. He doesn't want to commit to anything but if they're going to be meeting in the library anyway, that's where he hangs out after school already. And perhaps the idea of reading the same book as Niki and getting to talk about it with her isn't the most terrible thing in the world. He also doesn't have many friends who enjoy reading. Or many friends at all, not counting Wilbur and Tommy.

Does that even count?

A wave of noise makes its way towards them from the hallway. Techno barely has the time to think about idioms concerning the devil appearing when Wilbur enters the room. Well, Wilbur and the music teacher and about twenty other kids. They're carrying a bunch of stuff.

"Oh, hey Techno! Niki!" Wilbur beams at them and promptly skips over despite carrying a box large enough that it almost makes him topple over when he comes to an abrupt stop next to the desk. "We were hauling shit for the talent show. Hope you didn't need to wait for long?"

Techno blinks, feeling incredibly stupid. He definitely heard Wilbur mention said talent show before, during dinner. He's not always paying much attention to the talk at the table, he's too concentrated on eating without looking suspicious or gagging. Not the easiest task in the world.

"Nah, me and Techno were just chatting," Niki says, pushing off from the desk.

Wilbur puts the box down, puffing out his chest a little. "Told you the two of you would get along."

Techno tries not to frown at the reminder that apparently Wilbur loves discussing him with others. Between that and knowing that Phil and Kristin were trying to foster him long before Techno was even aware of their existence, an uncomfortable heaviness settles on the base of his skull. Like a headache but worse. Looming over him.

"Can we go home now?" he asks.

Wilbur makes him wait around for another fifteen minutes, time which Techno spends outside on the little grass field in front of the school kicking rocks. Back at the group home, when the older kids would hog all the real toys, a rock would be just as good as a ball for Techno. Anything to keep entertained. Now, he just doesn't want to think about Niki's smile and Wilbur's small edge of pride, as if luring Techno into accepting a friendship is a personal achievement for him. He pulls out his phone, drafts another text for Sam, then never presses send.

Walking home together is nice, even if Wilbur mostly talks about the talent show again. Must be a big deal to him. Techno will probably be dragged along, though he doesn't mind the thought as much as he should. When Wilbur opens the front door, the familiar sound of Kristin humming in the kitchen greets them. Techno toes off his shoes, kicking them in between Wilbur's and Tommy's, the spot where they've always started to go.

And like every day before it, Kristin has prepared after-school snacks for them on the table.

Nothing fancy, often it's just a few cookies from the store and milk. She just prefers for them to have something to eat first thing upon coming back. She told Techno once - all whispers and secret smiles - that it was a tradition they started since Wilbur hit puberty. Because he'd sneak into the cupboards before dinnertime otherwise.

Techno shuffles into the room, allowing Wilbur to enter first in the hopes it will divert Kristin's attention to him when she goes through the whole 'asking how their school day was' routine. It usually works, except today she stops Wilbur mid-sentence to fix Techno with a sideward glance.

Enough to have his heart still in his chest, fear bubbling up real and poignant.

"Techno, can we talk in the hallway for a moment?"

Wilbur goes rigid too, looking at them curiously. Techno nods - the motion stiff and awkward - walking backward out of the room again and then he's leaning against the wall, hoping it will support his weight. Kristin pulls the door closed, a bad sign. Techno tries not to start hyperventilating.

"The school called today," she starts. Her arms are crossed in front of her, not tightly over her chest yet all Techno sees is the firm gesture mimicked in every family that has kicked him out before. Their eyes narrowed in disappointment staring down at him.

He exhales, shaky and uncertain. But she doesn't say more, letting the silence linger. Does she expect him to say something? Is he supposed to guess why the principal called her? If he gets it wrong, he might reveal something she shouldn't know though, so it's basically a trick question. There are no right answers.

After a few more tense seconds, Kristin takes pity on him and she sighs. "They say you're absent during class sometimes," she says. "When you go to the bathroom, you're supposed to come right back."

"I know," Techno snaps, a little testily. He's not a little kid who needs somebody to hold his hand when he takes a toilet break.

"Then why aren't you?" she asks, face honest in its confusion. No anger or anything. Only genuine worry about why Techno is leaving class in the middle of his lesson and not coming back in what the teachers deem a timely manner.

And Techno can't tell her the truth, which is that Schlatt can be a prick and harder to find than feels reasonable to Techno.

He looks away, staring at the wall. He doesn't know what to say.

Kristin sighs again, tone a tad more irritated. She brushes some curls over her shoulder and then allows her arms to fall to her sides again. "If you're having any trouble at school, you can talk to us about it. Or maybe we could bring it up to your therapist at your next session."

"I'm fine," Techno answers. But since it fails to sound convincing to his own ears, he doubts Kristin will buy it.

"We could speak with Sam-"

"I'm fine!" Techno repeats, louder, before impulsively brushing past her and into the kitchen again. He freezes three steps inside, the realization of what he'd just done catching up to him. Techno has not only yelled at a foster parent but also interrupted them and left in the middle of a conversation without permission. In any previous home, that would be a one-way ticket to him packing his bags less than an hour later.

Except Kristin follows him inside, walking over to the table as if nothing happened. Wilbur looks up at her, something exchanged between the two that keeps him from prying. He's also too busy eating one of the chocolate chip cookies Kristin left on a plate for them. His yellow glass stands in front of him, already filled with milk. Techno's matching one is waiting.

"We're having dinner early so don't stuff yourself," Kristin says mildly. Techno moves slowly toward them, shuffling in like the intruder he is to this family.

Kristin smiles at him.

He just yelled at her and she's smiling.

Techno reaches out to pick up a cookie, before grasping his glass with his other hand and dragging it towards himself. Kristin has already gone back to talking with Wilbur, asking him about those preparations for the talent show. And nobody is telling Techno to go pack his bags and leave. His fingers tighten, pressing into the small hollow indent near the rim of the glass.

A glass that so perfectly matches the other four.

Techno doesn't blink when he picks it up and purposefully lets it slip, lets it fall so it can shatter to pieces on the floor beside his feet. He watches as Wilbur jumps at the noise. He watches as Kristin rushes over to him.

"Oh, be careful. I can clean this up, don't move or you'll hurt yourself." She kneels down to pick up the shards, wrap them in paper and throw them in the trash. Where it belongs now that it's broken.

Techno is back to having a plain glass at dinner.

"Techno? What are you doing here?"

Looking up from his phone, Techno locks eyes with Sam.

Despite it only being a few weeks at most since Techno saw him, the man looks starkly different from when he dropped Techno off at the Craft home. His hair has grown out a bit, his eyes have bags under them. After placing Techno, he must have gotten a new file to replace him. Not that Sam stopped being his social worker, that won't happen until he's been placed for a year. But Sam does emergency cases most of the time, or kids whose situations are time-sensitive and require special care. It leaves him chronically stressed, pretty much.

And Techno can see it on his face too, that little edge of unpleasant surprise.

"I didn't run away," Techno says seriously. Because clearly, that's what Sam thinks. That Techno went and did something stupid that got him in trouble and that's why he's here.

"Good," Sam answers evenly. Techno snorts at his neutral tone.

"Tommy is having a meeting with his social worker," Techno explains. He sits a bit straighter when Sam walks over to him. Techno is acutely aware that when they last met, he almost hugged Sam. Pretty cringe in hindsight.

"How have you been?" Sam asks. "I mean, I know we have our evaluation soon but…"

Techno has to suppress a very intense urge to shrug. "Fine," he says.

"Fine?" Sam echoes and raises an eyebrow.

"I just told you I hadn't run away, right?"

Sam does not laugh. He very rarely does, but Techno never minded. When Sam sits down, Techno might shift just a little closer. Barely, so their shoulders are touching and he can put his head against Sam's side the slightest bit.

"It'll get better," Sam says suddenly, unprompted.

At least Techno is very used to adults lying. So he doesn't really feel any disappointment towards Sam for saying that.

Tommy runs around the corner less than three seconds later. Techno sits up so quickly that his neck aches from it, probably whiplash. Kristin is behind him, papers in hand. Tommy is smiling brightly, which means Techno can conclude the meeting went well.

"Saaaaaaaaaaaam!" Tommy drags the man's name out for an exuberant length. Sam chuckles in response, getting up from his chair so he can ruffle Tommy's hair. "What's up?"

"I just happened to run into Techno here so we were having a little chat." Calling it that seemed generous but Techno wasn't going to comment. "Did your talk go well?"

Tommy nods. "Hm! My master plan is close to complete."

"That's what he keeps calling it," Kristin muses as she steps up behind him. "You know these adoption papers aren't signed yet, right? We can still change our minds."

Tommy turns on her, eyes wide and bottom lip trembling. "You wouldn't!" he says, absolutely aghast.

"Really?" Sam asks, seeming surprised. Yet also happy.

Of course, why wouldn't he be? Having one of the foster kids you placed become formally adopted by the family that took them in… obviously that would be the dream for any social worker. The highest commendation of their work. Something Sam would never get with Techno, either.

He swallows away the cough threatening to build in his throat when Kristin shows Sam the paperwork.

"Techno. Pst, Techno!" He blinks at a hot puff of air against his ear, Tommy exhaling wetly in a failed attempt at a whisper. Techno cringes back from it.

"Ew, Tommy. Gross."

Instead of apologizing, Tommy chuckles and holds up a folded drawing. "The meeting was very boring so I made this awesome art piece for your room. No need to thank me."

He presents it proudly, the crayon lines scribbly and a mess even for a kid of Tommy's age. Techno frowns at it, trying to recognize something in the bright overlapping colors. Maybe it's a very artistic interpretation of a car wreck? Or the Big Bang?

"It's our family," Tommy says at his expression. "Look, this is Phil and this is Wilbur and this is Kristin." Tommy starts to point out vaguely human-shaped things in the mayhem. "And then there's you and me, right here in the middle. We're holding hands like when you walked me home from school."

The drawing is more or less shoved into his hands, leaving Techno no chance to refuse it. "Thanks?"

"Put it on your wall," Tommy orders. The casualness of the demand from a pipsqueak like Tommy almost makes Techno laugh. "Maybe once you get your adoption papers, you can make me one too."

And that kills the mood right quick. Thankfully Sam has stopped talking to Kristin and diverts Tommy's attention again, so the younger boy doesn't notice Techno crumpling up the drawing hastily and shoving it into his pocket.

Techno doesn't bother to ask Phil where they are going.

He figures Phil would tell him if it matters. Or maybe they're heading to the library or the grocery store again. Phil didn't ask Techno if he wanted to come, just told him to get in the car. And Techno did, because he's been pushing his luck with this family lately. He knows they're probably going to kick him out soon - especially since they've taken the step to start the adoption process for Tommy. Before long, Tommy won't be a foster kid anymore, he'll be their kid.

And they must know by now that whatever happens, Techno never will be.

It's not until after a good twenty minutes of driving, the houses in the neighborhood start to look vaguely familiar to Techno. He's watching them go by through the window, more out of boredom than anything else. But he knows he's been here before. In fact, he's been here before not too long ago.

A tiny amount of uncomfortable tension spikes alive in Techno's gut though he does his best to push it down. "Where are we-"

"We're getting your stuff," Phil says simply. His hands grip the wheel tighter as he stares straight ahead, resolutely.

"What?!"

"I asked Sam for the address of your previous foster family. He didn't want to give it but, uh, yeah, I kinda convinced him to." There's tension on Phil's face too, for other reasons.

"We shouldn't," Techno says quickly, hating how close it sounds to begging. "You don't have to do that, Phil."

"Yes, I do." Phil turns the car left and suddenly they're on a driveway Techno gladly left behind him barely a month ago. "What they did was wrong."

Techno wants to deny it. He wants to reiterate that - honestly, it's not that big a deal and also most of that stuff is things he'd gotten from other foster families he stayed at so it wasn't really his to begin with, they weren't wrong to take it from him - but if Phil wouldn't hear his arguments the last time they talked about this, he won't now. Phil gets out of the car and gives Techno the keys before he closes the door.

"Stay here and wait. I'll be right back, okay?"

Phil doesn't wait for a response. Techno watches helplessly as he heads for the front door and rings the bell, only glancing back at the car once. When the door does open, Techno sags down in his seat until his back hurts, but somehow he doesn't want to be seen. He doesn't want any of this to happen. Phil talks to the man who opened the door for a few seconds, then at some point, he's let inside.

Techno counts the minutes and considers calling the cops. Maybe they're murdering Phil in there.

Then Phil comes out again. He walks around to the passenger seat and prompts Techno to open it so he can put the box he's carrying down on the teen's lap.

"Is this all of it?" Phil asks.

Techno doesn't look at the box even as his arms cradle around it eagerly, selfishly. He knows he shouldn't want these items, but he does. Just not more than he wants to get out of there.

"Yes," he lies quickly.

But Phil only frowns. "Take a look through to make sure. I can go back for anything they missed, while we're still here."

Techno shakes his head, looking down at the box helplessly. He doesn't remember everything he owned when he was placed with these people, only that they forced him to leave only with the meager items he could put in his backpack. All the other things he'd left scattered in his room, all the stuff they had taken from him when he arrived because they 'didn't want the clutter', Techno never thought he'd get it back. He doesn't know.

He tries, shifting through a few things. He recognises them, sure. But he can't tell if it's everything. After a bit, Techno nods.

"Yes, that's all of it. Can we go now?"

He doesn't know if Phil believes him or if he takes pity on Techno's desperate tone. Phil tries to offer an encouraging smile before quickly going around to the other side of the car again. Techno practically throws the keys at him so they can leave quicker.

They've been driving for a while in silence when Techno finally opens his mouth.

"Why did you do that?" Techno chokes out, the box held so tightly to his chest it hurts. He can't breathe.

"Like I said, what they did was wrong. You didn't deserve that." Phil doesn't pull his eyes away from the road.

Techno is glad because that will make it harder for Phil to notice the shaking of his shoulders.

When he throws up that night, he's not surprised to find a new flower he's never seen before among the others. Techno looks up the meaning of these small clumps of cream-colored petals, fingers shaking slightly as he smears dots of blood on his phone screen.

Achillea, more commonly known as yarrow, a plant that symbolizes courage, protection, and everlasting love.

Techno's head falls back against the sink as he closes his eyes.

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.