Chapter Text
They managed to stay together for a couple more days. It was strained, but they managed it.
The days felt long, just as long as the ones before—though this time for a different reason. They were long, as Techno observed Tommy from afar, as he heard the way Tommy would stay up late in the night working on projects, rustling about in the main living area as the moon rose high into the sky. They were long, as Techno watched the way Tommy would stagger out to eat breakfast every morning, his eyes red and strained and surrounded by purple bags. He didn’t bring it up, but Techno still noticed it all, even as Tommy pretended things had always been this way.
Tommy, overall, was much more reserved during that time. He focused on other things, kept distance from Techno when he could.
Techno would catch him furiously sewing up the holes in his old clothing, a determined tilt to his eyebrows as he stitched, his fingers quickly becoming wrapped in bandages as the days passed. Another time, Techno would see the way that Tommy would watch him, from the corner of his eye, as Techno used the newly-stolen brewing stand. There was a sad look on his face for that one, but Techno did his best to brush it away. For both of their sakes.
With all of it together, one thing was abundantly clear:
Tommy wasn’t staying.
Techno could gather that much.
If the clothes weren’t a sign—far more suited for warmer climates, not for those who intended to stay holed up in the arctic tundra—then the way Tommy looked around the place was. His eyes were filled with longing and failed hope, his hands grasping for nothing and balling up tight at his side as he stomped from room to room.
The days were long, as Techno watched Tommy pull away and prepare to leave.
“The discs,” Tommy explained, when asked. Techno supposed the move made sense—though the music discs were far from meaningful to Techno, they meant a lot more to Tommy. They represented everything Tommy was still clinging to: a chance at stable friendships, the companionship and loyalty those friendships brought, and the feeling of safety. They showed what it meant to defeat Dream, above all else. Techno had no gripes with that goal, as Tommy drifted away.
Distantly, though, Techno knew that those things, all the things Tommy was now seeking out, were the same things he’d sought out in Techno. The same things he hadn’t found, or had lost, when living out there.
Techno understood it.
But that didn’t mean he liked it.
Still, though, he kept his resentment with it, with this whole situation, to himself.
Come the day of the festival, Techno found his sadness sharpened when Tommy turned his back on him—it was inevitable, but it still hurt nonetheless, to see Tommy go that way. Techno didn’t blame him, but that didn’t mean he liked it. A sense of betrayal, spurred on by those complicated feelings, stirred up in his chest.
Tommy joined Tubbo, the two of them standing side by side as Tommy donned his mended clothes and lended armor, and Techno was left to stand there and watch.
Techno did his best to brush his resentment to the side, again. It hurt deep in his chest, the sting of betrayal and distrust as Tommy failed to look him in the eyes, even though Techno knew it was only the natural course of things. This allyship with Tubbo was, as were the discs, Tommy seeking out things that had once existed, before time yanked them away—a friendship, companionship, and safety that Techno couldn’t quite provide.
Techno’s anger and sadness came to a head during Doomsday. He let himself burn white, hot and begrudging, as TNT and wither skulls rained down.
And he found that he didn’t regret a single thing he’d said.
Tommy had chosen L’Manburg—the same L’Manburg had done unfathomable things to them both. It would be best, for Tommy and Techno himself, if it was reduced to nothing more than a whole in the ground.
Tommy would hate him for it, but the way Techno saw it, it had to be done. It was for Tommy’s own good. Techno took out his anger at the situation on the very place that had set the events into motion—the very place that Tommy had always gone back to, time and time again. The place that Tommy would continue to go back to, unless Techno stepped in.
Sure, Techno hated the way that Tommy looked at him on Doomsday, but he covered it up with yelling and anger, even as Tommy fought to defend Tubbo and L’Manburg and everyone that had hurt him and-
He found that he cared for Tommy, still, as he aimed his crossbow at his chest. He cared for Tommy, as Phil spit out excuses at Techno’s side, as Tommy ignored them and tried, in vain, to save the land that he still cared for.
Things weren’t fixed, after Doomsday.
The favor still hung over Techno’s head, as he left the smoking crater behind. But it didn’t feel quite so heavy, now. And, sure, Tommy would only look towards Techno with deep resentment, now—maybe that would change in the future, but Techno didn’t hold up hope, and his own anger still burned hot in his head. Doomsday, and the events that led up to it, didn’t change much of anything at all.
Techno didn’t regret any of it. He didn’t regret much that came before, either. Looking back, there wasn’t anything he could’ve changed.
He cared for Tommy, still. And he hoped, somewhere along the line, that Tommy would care for him again—sometime later, when Dream wasn’t dangling Techno’s free will over his head, when things were peaceful and Techno could provide the peace he’d wanted to promise to Tommy.
For now, though, they were apart. Techno went back to his snowy home far away, Phil by his side, and he surrounded himself with people that Dream couldn’t have control over, through some material possessions or through Techno’s will. He built something better, in L’Manburg’s wake—in Tommy’s wake.
Secretly, he hoped that Tommy would come back. Secretly, he wanted Tommy to come back, even as he resented his actions.
But, for now, Techno was content to be apart.