Chapter Text
Technoblade did not particularly remember the first few years of his life, but he did remember when he first met Wilbur Soot.
It was a rainy day, he remembered that much. Techno was curled up on the windowsill as tiny bullets of water came crashing down on the uneven pavement below him, thick clouds overhead casting the sky in shades of grey. There was a peaceful kind of silence in watching the rain fall. Well, not quite silence, but silence in the sense that all other noise is drowned out except the rain, leaving you and your thoughts to sit in peace.
Techno was alone. His former roommate had been there for all of three weeks before being swiftly adopted and whisked away to never be seen again. It seemed to be quite a recurring theme. His longest roommate was there for six months, and then Techno never saw him again. This didn’t actually matter that much given that in his nine years at the orphanage, he had never exchanged more than a few vague words with any of his former roommates. Clearly, he was a master of social interactions.
He didn’t remember what he was thinking about during that moment, but he did remember seeing Wilbur arrive. It was quite a commotion, a small scrawny child being accompanied by a woman who reminded Techno vaguely of a metal ruler, the pair of them drenched from head to toe.
Even from a distance, Techno could see the deep scowl set across the boy's face as the woman latched onto his arm, practically carrying him into the orphanage. The reason it was a commotion was due to the fact that the boy went limp, then kicked out at the woman rather abruptly before trying to make a run for it.
It was a rather amusing scenario to watch, with the woman scrambling to regain her balance before several people came running out of the orphanage. Now there was just a rather large crowd in front of the orphanage in the pouring rain, all trying to grab this one boy who somehow kept managing to evade capture.
Techno watched in amusement as the ruler woman tripped over the uneven stones, her feet flying out from under her as she came crashing down on the pavement. The boy almost made it away. He reached the treeline before someone grabbed him, hauling him back with a much tighter grip than prior.
Sometimes, late at night, Techno stared at the stars and wondered what would’ve happened if Wilbur really had managed to escape on that fateful day. Would his life be better or worse? It would be different, that much was for certain. But try as he might, Technoblade could not quite imagine his life without Wilbur Soot.
For now, he would only watch as the boy was hauled into the orphanage with an ironclad grip, the ruler woman picking herself up from the pavement and brushing her skirt off before realising how useless that gesture was given the volume of water that was currently residing in the fabric. The crowd dispersed, and Techno assumed that was that before promptly going back to watching the rain droplets slide down the window.
As a matter of fact, that was not that and not even an hour later the door to his room swung open. In the doorway stood two very drenched figures: the ruler woman and one scrawny boy who had caused quite the commotion.
The ruler woman had an extremely pinched face with hair pulled into a bun so tight Techno felt his own scalp ache out of pity for her. Her voice was sharp when she pointed inside the room, “In. Now.”
The boy shuffled awkwardly into the room, clinging onto a battered brown suitcase that was dripping puddles all over Technoblade’s nice floor. The ruler woman then turned her glance onto Techno, eyes narrowing as she peered over him before deciding whatever she was going to say was simply not worth it and rather abruptly turning heel and slamming the door behind her.
The boy was still standing in the middle of the doorway. Technoblade also made the decision that this was not worth it and it turned back to his window. There was some kind of loud thump behind Techno, and when he turned around, he saw the suitcase thrown down at the end of the unused bed and the boy now significantly closer to him than before.
His brown hair was plastered flat against his head but his honey tinted eyes were bright when he extended a hand towards Techno, “Wilbur Soot.”
Techno stared at him blankly. What kind of nine year old tries to initiate handshakes? What was wrong with this guy? The boy—supposedly named Wilbur—stared right back at him. His hand stayed firmly hovering midair. Water was pooling at the edge of his sleeves and dripping into the floor.
Techno sighed and extended his hand towards Wilbur, “Technoblade. Stop dripping water everywhere.”
Wilbur shook his hand, his grip somewhat dulled down by the fact his palm was also extremely soaked. Techno yanked his hand back and tried to wipe it on Wilbur’s coat, resulting in his hand getting even wetter. Wilbur had the audacity to laugh at him before shrugging his coat off and chucking it across the room, which was a problem for future Technoblade.
“Scooch over,” Wilbur insisted, attempting to clamber onto the windowsill. “What are we looking at?”
Techno gave him his most deadpan stare, which coming from one nine-year old to a (presumably) fellow nine-year old was not particularly intimidating. “I’m looking at the rain.”
By this point, Wilbur had successfully made his way onto the windowsill (with many struggles) and now had his face smushed against the glass. It was a rather entertaining sight, watching him try and figure out what could have possibly captivated Technoblade’s attention.
After a while, he gave up. “What are we looking at?”
“You’ve asked that already. The rain.”
Wilbur frowned, peering at the glass as if it would somehow unlock the secrets of the universe. “What about the rain?”
“The raindrops, specifically.”
“What about the raindrops?”
Techno frowned and turned to face Wilbur, sitting up a bit straighter. “You’re asking quite a lot of questions.”
“And you’re not providing a lot of answers,” Wilbur shot back.
“Why should I?”
“I recently became an orphan, ever consider that dickhead? Maybe you could try to be a tiny bit sympathetic.”
Technoblade stared at Wilbur. “You’re an orphan? Cringe.”
“Are you not also an orphan?” Wilbur barked out an almost incredulous laugh, “What do you mean cringe?”
“I said what I said.”
“So you’re not an orphan?”
“...I am.”
They sat in silence for a while after that, watching the raindrops slowly trail down the glass. It was rather peaceful to have someone else there, a sort of odd comfort in the presence of another person. Not that Techno would ever admit that outloud. The peacefulness factor was somewhat minimised by the fact Wilbur’s face was still smushed against the glass in a comical manner.
However, Wilbur quickly grew bored, a fact that he made abundantly clear. “Technoblade I am bored.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Make this not boring. I say let’s go explore.”
“Explore what?”
“I don’t know. This building? Maybe we can find somewhere to wash my coat. Actually yes, let us go on a grand adventure to restore my coat to its former glory. To the laundry room we go!” Wilbur proclaimed, jabbing his hand into the air and pointing off at some vague spot in the distance.
“I think I’ll pass.”
“But Technoblade, how am I meant to find the laundry room? I need a tour guide.”
“And I am not that tour guide.”
There was another prolonged period of silence as Wilbur screwed his face up and tried to think of an appropriate response.
“But my coat-”
***
In the end, Techno cracked because one person can only endure so much pestering before they’re ready to commit murder. Regrettably, sharp objects were not permitted in the orphanage, which was probably within Wilbur’s best interests.
All this to say, Techno found himself in his current predicament, which was the absolutely absurd situation of Wilbur and Techno huddled in the storage closet under the stairs. He’d somehow ended up with Wilbur’s still soaked coat, which he really did not want. Techno wasn’t quite sure why they had to hide under the stairs, because he could hardly imagine getting in trouble for going to the laundry room but Wilbur had been oddly insistent about it.
Techno tried to shove Wilbur’s coat back at him, but Wilbur made a funny face at him, mimicking a shushing motion. The coat in question was still quite damp, and given the cramped space they were currently squashed into, the water was probably seeping through the thin fabric of Techno’s own clothes.
There was a shuffling from outside the cupboard and a small pause was all the warning they received before the door swung open and they were met with a very confused woman holding a spray bottle and a cleaning cloth. Looking around, maybe the cupboard with all the cleaning supplies wasn’t the best place to hide.
Now they were in an even more absurd situation which was the two of them staring down the head of the orphanage. In his nine years of being here, Technoblade had never once encountered the man in question. You saw the head of the orphanage for two reasons and two reasons only.
The first was if you were being adopted, or a nice happy family was thinking of adopting you. The orphanage would run some basic background checks, and then the head of the orphanage would call you up to his office to meet the family. That had never once happened to Techno, but he’d seen the wide grins on other kids' faces after exiting the office.
The second was if you were in trouble, which was their current predicament. Misbehaving kids would be sent up to his office where he would fix you with a firm scowl and some kind of punishment, normally a whole heaping of chores. This had also never once happened to Techno, but he’d seen the crying snot ridden faces of children exiting his office. Techno really hoped Wilbur wasn’t a crier.
The head of the orphanage was a rather short man, and this was coming from a nine-year old Technoblade who did not have much going on in terms of height. He was balding quite a bit, and it was rather obvious that his hair was poorly arranged to cover the numerous bald spots littering his head. Techno, having some manners and a basic concept of human decency, did not point out his unfortunate condition.
Wilbur, on the other hand, seemed to have no such qualms. Before the man could even open his mouth, Wilbur was talking. “You’re balding. Have you considered trying a hair serum? Or getting a wig. I feel like that could do wonders for you.”
The man opened his mouth, and then closed it again. “My hair is perfectly fine,” Techno personally did not think he had much hair to be particularly fine, “but what we are meant to be focused on right now is why you two boys were found in the cleaning closest under the stairs when Mr Soot was supposed to be kept in the room after today’s little fiasco.”
He had an odd manner of speaking where he puffed his chest up all big and sat up straight and enunciated his words, dragging them out syllable by syllable in some kind of odd display of power. Look, I understand the concept of syllables! It did not distract from the fact he was remarkably bald.
“And you, Mr Technoblade,” the benefits of not having a last name due to being dropped off in a cardboard box strike yet again, “I expected better from you.”
Techno had never spoken to this man before in his life. What were his expectations?
There was a rather long period of silence in which the man simply sat with one hand folded over the other, back pressed straight against his chair.
Wilbur spoke up first, seeming to recover from his earlier comments about the man’s hair, however true they may have been. “Well, you see, my coat. It was damp, and I wanted it to not be damp, so I asked my good friend Technoblade here,” Techno scrunched up his nose as Wilbur gestured to him. Good friend was quite a stretch. “So we set out to find the laundry room, and unfortunately we ended up taking a wrong turn and somehow ended up in that cupboard. Crazy, isn’t it?”
The man turned his gaze on Techno so Techno did the only appropriate thing one could do in that situation and just nodded slowly. “How did you two boys take a wrong turn if Mr Technoblade has lived here his whole life?”
In all fairness, Techno only ever left his room for three occasions (1) food, because eating was apparently a basic requirement of living, (2) basic hygiene, because he had standards, and (3) the very rare field trip into town. Almost no expectations, meaning he was not particularly well versed in the architectural layout of the orphanage.
Techno considered saying something at that moment, but thank god Wilbur cut in. “I thought I knew where I was going because I had gotten a brief tour prior to the coat incident, so I insisted Technoblade would follow me and as you can see that ended rather poorly. However, I would like to apologise for my mistakes in the navigation of this fine building and this will not happen again in the future.”
Technoblade nodded slowly but convincingly. For a nine-year old, Wilbur was shockingly well spoken. Maybe Wilbur wasn’t even nine. He’d kinda just been going off the assumption they were the same age. Was he like a twenty-year old in disguise? How would that even work?
The man hummed slowly. “Since this is your first day, and I know you’ve had some…troubles adjusting, I will excuse you two just this once but do not go about making a habit of things like this. Mr Soot, I expect you to be better behaved from this point forth, you have made quite the first impression and I would like you to challenge that impression and prove me wrong. As for you Mr Technoblade, please help Mr Soot around, and see to it he learns the rules of our establishment. You may leave now.”
“Thank you!” Wilbur grinned, already jumping up from his chair and practically sprinting towards the exit.
Techno mumbled a similar sentiment under his breath, turning to leave when he heard a voice behind him.
“Wait.” the man held out a hand. “Mr Technoblade, you have not caused us any trouble in your nine years, and I would like you to keep it that way. Mr Soot is rooming with you and I expect you to be responsible and keep him under control. Is that understood?”
For the third time today, Techno slowly nodded. What kind of weirdo slightly menacingly tells a nine-year old to keep his fellow presumably nine-year old peer under control? Why would he ever expect that to work?
Wilbur was waiting for him in the corridor. “What took you so long in there?”
Techno debated telling him, but then decided there really was no point. “How old are you?”
“Nine!” Wilbur grinned proudly. “How about you?”
Huh, looks like Techno’s assumption was right. It would be really awkward if Wilbur was actually a twenty-year old in disguise. “Also nine.”
“That’s so cool!” Wilbur practically shouted, but thankfully they were far away enough from the man’s office that he didn’t hear them. “When’s your birthday?”
Techno frowned, “I don’t know. I don’t think I have one, or if I do I guess it’s just never really been celebrated.”
“Well that’s stupid. You can have my birthday. We can share,” Wilbur announced this with all the grandeur of a royal decree, like this was the undisputed truth now and anything Techno said to contradict it would be futile.
“Does that mean we’re twins?”
“Yeah, I guess it does. Race you back to the room?” and just like that Wilbur took off up the stairs, sliding around dangerously in the little pools of water from earlier.
From that day on, Technoblade never had to see the head of the orphanage again because. Of course, they still created plenty more problems and had a whole lot of fun, but this time they didn’t get caught.
***
They were thirteen when Wilbur first bought up the idea of leaving the orphanage.
As per usual, no one had come to adopt Techno. Wilbur had a few people inquire after him, but had flatly refused to leave Technoblade’s side and threw such a fit that the potential families seemed to decide he wasn’t worth the trouble.
Techno was always annoyed at Wilbur after those occasions, because why would he throw away his chance at happiness to chase bugs around in the backyard with him?
This would then be followed by Wilbur insisting in his typical over dramatic fashion, “This is my happiness,” before promptly launching himself at Technoblade in a heap of limbs. Techno would never not deny the smile that stretched across his face at Wilbur’s antics.
It was the middle of the night, long shadows stretching across the tiny room as the two of them whispered back and forth. Not even a week into Wilbur’s arrival at the orphanage he had demanded Techno help him push the beds closer together, because, “Why are they so far apart? How am I meant to talk to you?”
Techno had refused to help with that matter, because he did not want to talk to Wilbur; he wanted Wilbur to shut up so he could go back to sleep. However, Wilbur always found a way to preserve and after much struggling and a rather impressive amount of swearing, he managed to shove the beds together to what he deemed a suitable amount.
It had become routine at this point, lights out by nine and then quiet discussion until one of them fell asleep (it was normally Wilbur who passed out first). This night was no different from normal as Techno stared at the ceiling, listening to Wilbur blather on about one thing or another.
“Techno, Techno, are you even listening?”
“Mhm,” Techno gave a vague noise of acknowledgement.
“Prove it then. What was I talking about?”
“How anteaters are horrible animals and their faces inspire pity.”
There was a moment of silence as Wilbur seemed stunned that Techno had in fact been paying attention to his extremely long, extremely over the top anteater hatred rant. It seemed to go on for so long that Techno found himself wondering if Wilbur had fallen asleep, rolling over onto his to see what the other boy was thinking of.
Much to his surprise, he found Wilbur also laying on his side staring directly at Techno. There was a little sliver of light that always slipped in through the window between their two beds, and in the dim lightning Wilbur seemed to be contemplating something. What exactly he was contemplating was uncertain. Maybe he was questioning the secrets of the universe late at night.
“Techno?” Wilbur asked, his voice a lot softer than his prior anteater fuelled rant.
“Yeah?” Techno hummed in acknowledgement.
There was a small pause before Wilbur spoke up again. “Do you ever just think of leaving? Of running away, and leaving this stupid fucking orphanage and all it’s dumb rules behind?”
The simple answer to that question was no. All he had never really known was the orphanage, and what was beyond it was a great big uncertainty. He had long since given up on hopes of actually being adopted, as adoption was now some childish dream Technoblade did not ever think he would be a part of.
Even though he would never admit it to Wilbur’s face, he did not want a family because Wilbur was his family and as long as they had each other the world would be right. Wilbur had greater ambitions, that much was clear. He never seemed to sit still, and late at night during moments such as this when the two of them could feel the lure of sleep tugging at their eyelids, Wilbur would spin tales of grandeur to Technoblade, telling him of the feats he wished to achieve and how he would go about it.
It was dazzling, tales of revolution and presidency, of recognition and power, of glory and honour, and it was all something that Wilbur would do one day. When Technoblade looked into the future, he did not see anything in particular but he did see one Wilbur Soot. So if Wilbur planned to go on a grand old adventure to start his own nation, who was Technoblade to say no?
That is precisely why when Wilbur asked that fateful question, Technoblade simply chose to respond with, “If you go, then so will I,” and that settled the matter for both of them.
What really cemented the decision for the two of them was the Miller family. It was just a normal family, mundane in every way that mattered except for the fact they were unable to have children and were looking to adopt.
For some reason or another they had absolutely set their sights upon Wilbur and the orphanage was done putting up with his usual theatrics of refusal. Wilbur was called in the dreaded office for the first time since all that time ago when Wilbur and Techno had first met.
He came out with a scowl on his face but when he saw Techno staring at him, the first thing he did was announce that the head of the orphanage's hair had receded several more inches and his scalp was rather shiny. Techno had pressed for more information, but Wilbur had flatly refused and it wasn’t until later that evening he confessed that he was set to leave in less than a week.
From there, the two of them desperately scavenged together a half formed plan in the middle of the night, huddled under Techno’s thin blankets. And if Wilbur happened to fall asleep in his bed and Techno let him stay there then it was simply because he couldn’t be bothered to wake Wilbur up.
It was raining when they ran away. It was a fitting sort of moment of fate, parallel to the day that they had met all that time ago with Wilbur’s stupid coat dripping all over the floors. In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the smartest decision to leave in the pouring rain but it provided something vaguely adjacent to a cover, and it meant that everyone was still huddled away inside while Wilbur and Techno were sprinting for their lives outside.
They made it decently far, into the next town over. It was a long journey, but with Wilbur by his side the days did not feel particularly long at all. The rain had not lasted for a very long time, and once it had passed they took a quick break and laid Wilbur’s coat out to dry in the sun.
Of course, this was after Wilbur spent a prolonged period of time chasing Technoblade around with a piece of fabric that was far too soaked for Techno’s liking. The coat had been something of an umbrella in the day or two they’d been travelling for, Wilbur insisting his coat was waterproof.
After a while, they managed to build up a routine of sorts—Wilbur would distract the store owner and Techno would swipe some bread. It was around the fourth or fifth instance of them attempting to steal bread and getting caught that Wilbur first used his voice.
One moment Techno was panicking, thinking they would get caught and dragged back to the orphanage and separated forever and then the next moment Wilbur’s voice was cutting across the static in his head.
“Stop,” Wilbur had screamed except it did not come out like a scream and instead it came out honey smooth and seemed to almost hang in the air as the person confronting them froze like they were suspended in time.
It did not last for very long, and sooner rather than later the man had unfrozen and was propelled to the ground by his former momentum. Techno and Wilbur exchanged a confused glance, but they both knew an opportunity when they saw one and before long Techno had a firm grasp on the bread as the two of them ran for the treeline.
They got separated a few weeks later and Techno heard the voices for the first time. Wilbur found him alone. Wilbur later said he was scared, that Techno was sitting in a pool of blood surrounded by the bodies of fully grown men. Techno thought to himself that if he made Wilbur scared then he cannot possibly fathom going on like this for fear he might hurt Wilbur.
(Wilbur was not scared of Techno, he was scared for Techno.)
It’s alright though, because for now Techno has Wilbur by his side and the voices are quieter. Together, they travel for weeks or maybe months, it’s hard to tell. Every night is spent staring at the sky painted in lovely shades of red and yellow and Techno can not help but compare the yellow of the sky to the warm yellow of Wilbur’s sweater.
It is freedom, that is for sure.
But is it also happiness, or something remarkably close to it.
And then just like that Wilbur is gone and Techno does not particularly want to think about that moment ever again. He can remember it far too clearly for his liking, that sinking feeling you get in the pit of your stomach where it feels like the floor has dropped from under your feet and you’re not quite falling just yet but instead you are suspended thousands upon thousands of feet in the air with only a thread holding you in place and that is infinitely worse.
The falling comes afterwards, and the aftermath is something that Technoblade remembers just as well if not better. He remembers staring up at the sunset and seeing the soft yellow of Wilbur’s sweater except this time it was mixed with the crimson hues of blood.
The voices come back. They’re louder now, and they only want one thing. They want blood.
Techno’s resolve crumbles quickly. He gains something of a reputation, the Blood God being murmured in deepened alleyways. They say he could take down tens of men without even breaking a sweat, they say he has no motive behind his methods, they say he never dies.
Technoblade is not quite sure if those statements ring true or not, but it is what the world thinks of him as so they must be true. This is the path that fate, in all its cruel and malicious nature, has decided to place him on so this is the path that he will take.
So maybe, just maybe, when he meets Wilbur Soot once again on a rainy day in a cramped marketplace, maybe, just maybe this is fate as well.