Don't ask me to let go; I never will

by sircantus

Summary:

For the first time in years, Wilbur wakes up alone. The room is dark with the night, and silent without Techno’s soft snoring. When Wil looks to his side to search for his brother, he finds a little slip of paper instead.

On the paper, he finds a confession.

He finds that his brother has been bit.

(Or, zombie apocalypse AU in which Techno and Wilbur have grown dependent on each other through survival. Techno ends up getting bit, and as a result, he leaves Wilbur in a safe town so he won't put him at risk.

Wilbur doesn't agree with being left behind. They will stay together, through everything. Even something like this.)

Notes:

HEED THE MOTHERFUCKING TAGS. WE GOT CANNIBALISM ON THE ROAD

what fun. I always wanted to do morally dubious zombie stuff, it's a neato concept. Something about the trauma of a zombie apocalypse causing low morality really packs a punch.

Anyhow hope you enjoy this I'm havin fun with the twins they gonna be a little fucked up k bye

(Also here is your mandatory warning that this is dark sbi so therefore if you do not like that pls back up and leave adios thank you have a good day)

Chapter 1: Finding out

It takes three years until they finally find a safe town. 

 

In those three years of the apocalypse, with death at every turn, and danger always on their heels, Wilbur learns three things. 

 

One. 

 

Groups aren’t permanent. Through all the time he and Techno have spent on the road, they’ve found that most people tend to break apart over anything. Maybe it’ll be a missing can of food in their inventory, or a clash of personalities who can’t decide upon leadership. Maybe it’ll be the reveal of a coward who’s too afraid to shoot a gun, or a maniac who’s too willing to put down someone infected. 

 

Whatever it’ll be, it always leads to arguing, which leads into fighting, which leads into a messy dispute that more often than not will have someone end up dead on the ground. 

 

After that, it goes back into the only constant Wilbur knows. Him and his twin, on the road, looking for somewhere better to survive. 

 

Two. 

 

Survivors are not kind. The apocalypse has a distinct effect on people of which Wilbur’s seen time and time again. In the face of death, people grow desperate. And with desperation, comes  a certain loss of humanity. A kind smile could always offer extra food, but who’s to say that extra can of food won’t lead to Wilbur losing his life an hour later? He’s seen horrible things, experienced them firsthand, and after being tricked and lied to and left behind too many times to count, it’s only reasonable to take caution. 

 

Kindness is a rare thing these days. Trust is practically non-existent. Wilbur refuses to give either to anyone other than Techno anymore. 

 

After what he’s been through, after what people have tried to do to him and his brother, Wilbur’s learnt his lesson in keeping distance. 

 

Three. 

 

Wilbur and Techno stay together. No matter the circumstances, no matter the risk, they do not separate. If a horde is in their way, then they find a path around it, or they make a path through. If survivors are holding them back, then they leave them for the road and go look for people more useful. If one gets sick, the other nurses them back to health. If one is hungry, then they share their food. They keep watch for each other at night and stay close while traveling during the day. 

 

The end of the world has brought too much loss for Wilbur to even properly process. Whatever friends he had before are gone and dead. Their parents were the same. Anyone else that might’ve meant something to him have been torn away by the apocalypse around them. 

 

All that’s left is Techno. All Wilbur has anymore is him. In a world full of undead corpses and backstabbing strangers, Technoblade is his singular constant comfort to pull him through it. 

 

He can’t possibly count how many times they’ve saved each other’s lives. How many times they’ve been able to keep walking because of a familiar voice beside them. Wilbur’s sure that if Techno was never there, he would’ve become a zombie in the first month. 

 

Instead, he finds home. 

 

Through trial and error of going through crumbling towns and hostile bases, they find safety. A town given a name of l’manburg, with tall, strong walls, and a community who’s willing to take anyone in. 

 

There’s a surprising lack of tension between the people. There’s an abundance of food, of supplies. There’s growing gardens and functioning water systems, and even the start of an attempt at gaining electricity within the buildings again. 

 

When they go in, they’re welcomed with open arms. They’re given a secure room with a door that locks, and a bathroom that actually has running water. They’re given a warning to not waste it and be careful, but Wil lets it run in the sink for a minute anyway. It’s a sight he can’t help but be entranced by. 

 

For the first time in years, Wilbur actually gets a hot shower and clean clothes to go with it. Techno looks through their room as Wil marvels over the wonder of soap, and when Wilbur comes out with dirt no longer in his curls, he finds his brother sleeping on his bed, even though he was meant to have a shower right after Wil. 

 

Wilbur wakes him up with only a little bit of regret. (He whacks his brother over the head with a pillow.) Techno startles awake with a shriek, and Wilbur laughs, pushing Techno to go take advantage of what they’ve gained. That colored hair has been looking worse for wear these days, but after freeing it of mud, Wil finds the pink to be much brighter than before. It’s a nice sight. 

 

They settle in alright for the most part. It’s a good place, although it’s not as if the twins could ever shake off their wariness so quickly. 

 

The room they were given holds two beds, but they only ever use one. Both Wil and Techno huddle close at night, taking turns to keep an eye on the door with a gun sitting on the nightstand. The dinner offered every day is plentiful and delicious, so much so that Wilbur can never help but finish his plate a little too fast. They’re not sure if asking for seconds is allowed, so Techno offers up some of his, and Wil gratefully takes the extra snack from his plate. People pass by their room rather often to say a friendly hello, but they keep their door closed for the most part, not wanting to make any new friends. Eventually, people get the memo, and they’re left alone to their own devices.

 

Wilbur takes the time to play cards with Techno, making sure to attach the most outlandish bets he can think of, just to up the stakes. Techno goes with it with full energy at first, determined on not letting Wilbur win a claim on the bed for the night, or enforce a punishment of using cold water in the shower, but he falters by midday, and ends up having an early night. 

 

Wil lets him have it, and insists on taking the first watch. He brushes back Techno’s hair as he drifts off to sleep, and wonders if maybe everything has all begun to catch up and wear down on his brother. It would explain the mood. 

 

Three wonderful days pass within the town. Wilbur and Techno, as newcomers, are given a grace period of a week to rest before being given a job to carry their weight. Technoblade definitely takes advantage of that. He naps more than he ever has since they’ve started traveling on the road, and more often than not, Wilbur is left bored at his side, forced to either practice braiding on his hair again, or lay down and sleep with him. 

 

While it is a slow time, Wil is grateful for it. It’s calm, peaceful. Him and Techno aren’t bothered in the town, and there’s no worry of danger on their backs, not with the walls secured. The place puts him at ease, and while Wil’s always been alright with Techno at his side, he finds himself being truly content here. He finds himself without worry. 

 

But the joy doesn’t last. 

 

For the first time in years, Wilbur wakes up alone. The room is dark with the night, and silent without Techno’s soft snoring in his ears. When Wil looks to his side to search for his brother, he finds a little slip of paper instead. 

 

On the paper, he finds a confession. 

 

He finds out that his brother has been bit. 

 

Techno’s words are short and to the point, and Wilbur reads with burning eyes, curled in on himself at the edge of the bed, slowly taking in the fact that his brother is infected. And even more, with that sort of risk, he’s taken it upon himself to leave town so he can die away from people.

 

In his letter, he asks Wil to stay. To live happily in a place where he doesn’t need to worry about survival. He tells him to make friends with the people around them, to find a face to trust, since he won’t be there to protect him any longer. He tells him to take care of himself, to stay fed and to take advantage of everything the town has to offer, things that they would have never found out in the open. He tells-

 

He tells Wilbur he loves him. 

 

More than anything. And that he was glad to have to have him as a brother in a fucked up world like this. 

 

Wilbur reads over the words more than once. He repeats it in his head, over and over and over, until he’s broken with tears, falling onto the bed with a choked out wail. The paper in his hand crumples within his grip, and Wil feels his heart squeeze with pain. He struggles to take in air, and tries to find a way to swallow down the grief crushing him whole. 

 

Technoblade is as good as dead, out there. With a zombie bite on him, there’s no saving him. There’s no known cure. His time has been limited to how long the infection will set in, and that could take up to either a week, or maybe just a measly few days. With how he and Techno have been living here without problem, Wil wonders how long he had been fighting off the effects during all this time. 

 

He must’ve realized he was beginning to cross the point of fever, and took the chance to run while he was still awake and aware. He must’ve been biding his time. Trying to spend it all with Wil, trying to get just a few last days of hope. 

 

And isn’t that all the more crushing? That Wilbur was happy, perfectly happy here, not knowing that his brother was dying right beside him? He had assumed it was only exhaustion, the effects of coming off the road, but now- 

 

Now he knows better. 

 

Wilbur sits up, sucking in a deep breath and holding it in his lungs. He stares down at his feet, and tries to pull his thoughts together. Even with the words on paper, even with Techno’s honest confession of being infected, Wil can’t let himself truly believe it. He can’t imagine really having his twin be gone. They’ve had each other for so long, they’ve always had each other, now he has to be on his own? Now he has to be left behind?

 

But that’s not how it works. That’s not how they work, that’s not what they agreed on. They agreed on staying together, they agreed on being at each other’s side, never to abandon the other. They help each other, they protect each other, that’s what they do. That’s how they’ve lived, this entire time. 

 

So this- This isn’t right. 

 

Wilbur isn’t meant to be without Techno. And Techno isn’t meant to be without him. 

 

And yet, Techno still left. He still went, all because of a zombie getting a lucky bite in when they weren’t looking. The days before getting here were hectic. They had more than a few close calls, but one of them must’ve been the kicker.

 

Wilbur hates that he did not notice. He hates that he didn’t protect Techno from it. But what can he do about the past?

 

He has to focus on the now. 

 

He thinks of Techno out there, in the forest. No one to watch his back, no one to help him when the fever grows to be too much. He’s wandering out there, without backup, without support. 

 

After a second, Wil then realizes with a dawning horror that Techno will die out there alone. He will turn, just like every other zombie, but it’ll be completely alone.  

 

The thought makes something shatter within Wilbur. 

 

He takes the note within his hands again, smoothing it out to see the words properly. He reads it one more time, careful and considerate, taking in every little mark of pencil that his brother made while he had been sleeping. 

 

Then he rips the thing to pieces. He throws paper bits across the floor, then stands up to collect what he’ll need. He can’t take much, in the rush, but he’ll try to get the basics. A gun, to protect them both. Food, to feed them both. Water, to keep them hydrated. Along with a few other things that could help.  

 

With a backpack full of supplies and a gun in his back pocket, Wilbur steps over the remains of Techno’s note, and goes out the door. 

 

Nothing short of a zombie horde could ever stop him in his mission. 

Chapter 2: Reunion

 

Techno wanders for a while once he’s outside of the town walls. 

 

He’s familiar with the forest outside. He and Wil had camped in it for days before gathering up the courage to approach the town and ask for entry. They had taken refuge in a little old house hidden away through the trees, the walls and roof practically crumbling with age, but still enough to keep them safe. 

 

He feels tempted to make his way towards there to set up camp. But he also feels the need to linger close to the town as well. Half because he can’t bear to go so far from Wil, and half because he’s hoping the men on the wall will mistake him for a zombie and shoot him dead. That’ll grant him a quick death, rather than this slow pain that keeps creeping across his skin. 

 

It’s horrible. It hurts, like a constant burning ache, and Techno wishes his emotions weren’t feeling the same. He’s suffering inside and out, and it’s a miserable existence.

 

The night is quiet as he makes his way through the wild, and at one point, exhaustion hits him hard. Hard enough where he has to take a break, despite the fact he hadn’t even been walking for more than an hour. He shrugs off his light backpack and takes the chance to make a small fire. It could attract unwanted attention, but Techno’s already done for anyway, so he’ll take the warmth over the risk. 

 

Part of him wants to eat something as the fire roars. It was always a habit for him and Wil to share dinner over the fire when it hit night, and now he’s here, in the middle of the night with a fire before him. 

 

There’s no Wilbur at his side, though. He loses his appetite with the reminder. He doesn’t have much food anyway, so he might as well save it until he’s really starving. He didn’t take much, he didn’t want to go wasting food. Extra snacks aren’t needed when you’ve only got days left to live. 

 

Techno sighs, gritting his teeth through the slight terror in his chest. He’s never been all that afraid of death before. With everything he’s seen, it was more of just a fact of life, at this point. It was something that always happened, something that always caught up to people when they weren’t expecting it. 

 

And he wasn’t expecting it. He didn’t know what to do about it, when he realized. He felt the need to tell Wil, but they had been so close to finding l’manburg, and he refused to be the thing that slowed them down.

 

He likes to say his biggest fear in the apocalypse had always been the idea of his death causing Wilbur to go down with him. That fear was left to rest with the town finally being found. With the walls letting them in, and the community offering them a safe spot, he didn’t have any reason to be scared anymore. Wilbur would be okay here, and he could die satisfied. 

 

(But he knows lies to himself with that one. His biggest fear had always been to be without Wilbur. To have to leave him behind, or to be left behind. Here he sits in the worst nightmare imaginable, on his own, nothing to save him at all.) 

 

The fire flickers with warmth and crackles in Techno’s ears as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He considers the thought of taking this area to sleep for the time being. It’s a little too open for his tastes, though. He has no one to watch his back now, watch out for any rotting corpses coming his way. 

 

Even if he is a dead man walking, he’d rather not wake up to a zombie tearing him open. A slow death by turning oughta be less painful than that. 

 

He chooses to stay awake, and stares into the flames with only his brother on his mind. He imagines Wilbur in his best moments, his quiet singing voice, his hyper energy that seemed to come and go without any warning at all. He remembers Wilbur’s smile, Wilbur’s laugh. 

 

He feels guilt at leaving that behind. It hurts, more than anything. But he supposes that pain for him is better than making Wilbur watch him get killed within the town by the very people there. 

 

He doesn’t know their protocol for dealing with infected, but if it’s like all the others, then Techno knows he might as well just have been executed for some sort of crime against their laws. Pushed up against the wall with a gun at his head. 

 

That would’ve broken Wilbur. Would’ve killed him just as much as a bullet through his skull. This, Techno up and leaving, isn’t much better, but at least Wil doesn’t have to see him. At least there’s a chance of recovering, their last memories being something of a new start. 

 

Techno supposes that it’s good enough. He pretends like he’s satisfied with that. 

 

He drops his head forward and sighs into his hands with something frustrated, and he tells himself to not dare cry. There may not be anyone to see, but he still wants to stay strong. If not for nothing else, then for at least for Wilbur. 

 

When Techno lifts his head to look back at the fire, there’s a heavy sort of exhaustion on him. Iit weighs down so much that he fails to take notice of the soft footsteps coming behind him. Only when a gun presses to the back of his head does he realize he’s been snuck up on. 

 

“Don’t move.” Wilbur says, voice low and quiet against the night.

 

Techno’s breath hitches, frozen still with pure shock. The edge of the gun pushes against his head, making him tilt forward just a bit.

 

“Don’t you dare fucking move.” Wil repeats. 

 

Technoblade huffs, breathing in slowly before speaking with a slight shake on his words. “You gonna shoot me?” He asks, almost amused. As if. 

 

“I might.” Wilbur hisses, and oh yeah, Techno knows that tone. He’s heard that same tone when Wil’s shot people in the knee, or hit them over the head with a crowbar for daring to hurt him or Techno. He’s heard that tone when Wilbur goes sharp, ruthless, becoming the brutal survivor this world has shaped them out to be. 

 

He’s pissed off. Techno would be more worried about that anger being pointed at him, under better circumstances, but overall he just feels tired. And relieved, even though he shouldn’t be. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Techno asks, staring into the fire. “Did you not read my note?”

 

“I read it.” Wilbur answers, sounding as if he’s gritting his teeth together. 

 

“And?” Techno tilts his chin up. 

 

“Then I tore it up and went after you.” Wilbur speaks with such conviction that it leaves Techno reeling. He turns his head to look at Wil, only to be met with a foot kicking him in the shoulder. He goes sprawled out on the ground, falling onto his stomach with a groan.  

 

“Show me.” Wilbur demands, as soon as Techno pushes himself up to sit on his knees. Techno looks at him, and finds a gun still raised, aimed right at him. For a split second, he wants Wilbur to pull that trigger. Dying by his brother’s hand is something of a mercy. 

 

But then again. Having Wilbur be forced to kill him is an unimaginable weight. He could never ask that of him. Never. 

 

“Show me!” Wilbur yells, when Techno doesn’t respond to his order. 

 

“Show you what?” Techno asks dryly, leaning back on the dirt with a huff. 

 

“The bite.” Wilbur says, and Techno’s skin goes cold. “Show me. Or I swear, I’m going to shoot you in the foot.” 

 

“Would you really.” 

 

“Don’t fucking test me right now, Technoblade.” Wilbur takes a step forward, practically looming over Techno with how he’s still sitting on the ground. “Just let me see.” He persists, his voice going soft, and Technoblade feels a swoop of fear in his stomach. 

 

He- He doesn’t want to. He really doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to look at it, or show Wilbur at all. He doesn’t want to scare him, force him to remember the sight of an infection. But he’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t listen, Wilbur’s going to end up looking for it anyway, so he relents. 

 

He tugs up his shirt to show the skin underneath, turning his body so Wilbur can see the bite mark dug into his side. The area around it has grown worse, and Techno struggles to breath as he sees that a sickly sort of gray has begun spreading on his torso. He hasn’t been checking it lately. He didn’t know it got that bad. 

 

Wilbur lowers his gun, making a wounded noise at the back of his throat. 

 

“Fuck.” He says, barely a whisper. Techno yanks his shirt back down, but the damage has been done. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Technoblade!”

 

Techno doesn’t bother to answer, and Wilbur steps away to pace around for a moment, hands held to his head as he processes the fact Techno was telling the full truth. He’s infected, and on top of that, he’s been bit somewhere that can’t be amputated. He can’t be saved. He’s grown worse already, by the looks of it, and- 

 

“Fuck!” Wilbur cries again, crouching down and hiding his face into his knees, arms over his head. “No, no…” He sobs, voice cracking with pure grief.  

 

Techno grimaces at the sight of his brother curled up on the ground. He goes to move closer, holding a hand out. 

 

“Damn it all.” Wilbur chokes out, muffled into his knees. 

 

“Wilbur.” Techno says, and Wilbur’s head suddenly jerks up, his wide eyes brimming with tears. 

 

He turns to Techno with his face full of fear, and Techno watches as it turns into something of anger once again, shifting too quickly. Much too quickly to be okay. 

 

Wilbur stands to his feet in one graceful motion, and he turns the gun back on Techno. Techno doesn’t move from where he is, tilting his head to the side in a silent question. The weapon pointed at him doesn’t scare him, exactly, not with Wil holding it, but it makes him uneasy. Wil looks furious, but also just so scared. He doesn’t know what he can do to make it better. 

 

“You’re bit.” Wilbur whispers. It’s not a question, but Techno nods anyway. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Techno knows it’s not needed, but he has to say it. It’s not his fault he got bit, but he still chose to leave. He chose to hide it. He chose to go about it like this, and for that, he needs to at least give an apology.

 

“It’s ok.” Wilbur shakes his head, as if Techno just made a mistake. “We’ll- we’ll figure it out. It’s going to be ok.” 

 

“Wilbur.” Techno gives him a look. 

 

“We’re going to figure it out.” Wilbur insists, and he shrugs off his backpack, placing it down onto the ground at his feet. He keeps the gun pointed as he searches through for what he needs.

 

After a moment, he pulls out a bundle of rope. Techno stares at it with something of confusion. Wilbur stands up again. 

 

“I know you’re going to worry yourself of putting me at risk by turning. I gathered that much from you leaving. So, since we’re staying out here, we’ll take whatever precautions we can. This is the best I could think of.” Wilbur raises the rope as some sort of offering, and Techno stares at it with a slow dawning realization. 

 

He looks back up at his brother with a slight shake of his head. “Wilbur.” He says, like a warning. 

 

“I’m not going back to the town.” 

 

“Wil.” Techno tries again, letting his panic seep right into his words. “Listen to me.” 

 

Wilbur raises his eyebrows, as if interested. 

 

“This isn’t- you know I’m going to turn.” Technoblade gasps, scooting back. “It’d make more sense for you to just shoot me and be done with it.” 

 

Wilbur hums. “It would.” He speaks like the words hurt him, and Techno feels slight guilt at saying such a thing. But then Wil puts the gun away, and he uses his free hand to unravel the rope before him.

 

“But I’m sentimental.” Wil continues. “And also a little petty.” His lips quirk up in a barely there smile, but Techno doesn’t care for the joke. He’s only left in the fear of Wilbur stubbornly staying around, even if Techno is literally on a timer to become a murderous walking corpse. 

 

“Wilbur.” Techno says, one last time, as if it’ll snap him to his senses. He braces his hands against the ground, ready to push himself onto his feet. 

 

“Techno.” Wilbur responds, and he suddenly jumps forward. Technoblade dodges away and rolls across the dirt. He works on getting his feet underneath him to begin running, but the exhaustion still hasn’t left from before, and he stumbles at getting up. 

 

Wilbur’s quicker than him, without infection, so he catches up without much effort and slams right into Techno’s back, taking them both tumbling down. Technoblade yells as Wilbur takes the brunt of the fall and then drags him closer, turning him over and pinning him into the ground. 

 

“Wil!” Techno kicks his legs, reaching back and pushing his palm at his brother’s face. Wilbur makes an annoyed noise, whacking at his hand. He rubs away what little dirt was smeared onto his cheek. “This isn’t going to help anything!” 

 

“Maybe it won’t.” Wilbur responds, grabbing at his wrist and yanking it behind his back, Technoblade yelling again from the slight strain of having his arm twisted. He tries his best to not let his hands be pulled together, but fails miserably. Wilbur’s more healthy than he could ever hope to be, so it’s not a hard fight. “I don’t care. We have rules, Techno, you said we were going to stay together-” 

 

“-not through death!” Techno protests. “I don’t want you to die with me!”

 

“That’s not your decision to fucking make!” Wilbur wraps a ring of rope over Techno’s wrists, cutting it with a pocket knife and tying it tightly. “And this isn’t about dying together. This is about you leaving me.” Wilbur pulls a longer piece of rope to tie around Techno’s torso, so as to keep his arms restrained. 

 

“Stop it.” Techno breathes out, resting his forehead against the dirt, panting out with fatigue. He tries to lean away from the rope getting wrapped over his elbows, but to no avail. 

 

“I’m not letting you go.” Wilbur promises, tugging at the rope to tighten it up. “Do you understand that? I am not losing you. Even like this, we are staying together, and I’m not letting you break that, do you understand?” 

 

Wilbur finishes tying a knot out behind Techno, resting his hands on his back, just above the rope. Techno turns his head to rest his cheek against the ground, and he looks back at Wilbur with a near scowl. 

 

“You’re not doing this.” 

 

“You know, I really feel like that’s not something you can decide about, Technoblade, being tied up and all.” Wilbur pats at Techno’s shoulders, before helping him roll on his side so he can look at him better. “Is it okay? Not too tight?”

 

“Way too tight. Can’t breathe.” Techno chokes out, tilting his chin up. “Loosen them?”

 

Wilbur smiles, hitting gently at Techno’s cheek. “Good try. But no. You still do that weird frown when you lie.” He points a finger at his own lips, trying to mimic it. 

 

“Worth a shot.” Techno huffs, laying his head back down and closing his eyes. “It’s fine.” He begrudgingly responds, if only because he knows Wilbur will pester him for an answer if he doesn’t give one. 

 

“Great. Come here, let’s move by the fire.” Wilbur says, and he grabs at Techno’s shirt and the rope restraining him, dragging him closer towards the fire. Techno kicks his legs as he’s moved, squirming in place, but it does nothing. Wilbur lays him down at a good spot by the warmth, and then goes to grab his and Techno’s backpacks.

 

“Okay.” Wilbur sits next to Techno, squeezing at his brother’s shoulder for a second before unzipping Techno’s bag. “Let’s see what we got.” 

 

Wilbur does continue to talk aloud as he begins to sort through what supplies they have, but Techno doesn’t really listen to it. He’s not meaning to give a silent treatment, really, but his head is spinning a bit from all the effort of trying to get away, and he has to close his eyes to steady himself. As he does, the world seems to grow quiet, and with Wilbur behind him, surely taking watch, his body takes that as a perfect opportunity to try drifting off to sleep. 

 

He tries to focus on simply just breathing, stubbornly holding onto consciousness. The fire is warm on his face, and Wilbur’s voice keeps echoing in his ears, like a familiar song. He lays there as Wilbur counts aloud what they have and how they can ration it, the action being practiced and quick. 

 

“Did you even take a gun?” Wilbur asks, sounding nearly offended. “Don’t fucking tell me you didn’t even bring a gun.” 

 

“Knife.” Is all Techno mutters out, and Wilbur makes a grunt, searching through Techno’s bag a bit more before finding said weapon. 

 

“Good to know you weren’t entirely defenseless.” Wilbur teases, and his tone is nothing but fond. He continues with sorting out materials, placing them back into the bags. 

 

By the time Wilbur’s done, Techno’s struggling to not pass out, and his eyes keep opening and closing with the sight of the fire before him. The world feels fuzzy, and his thoughts even more so. 

 

“Techno?” Wilbur asks, a hand resting on his side as he leans forward to look at Techno’s face. “Are you tired?” 

 

Technoblade closes his eyes with a huff. He feels the urge to jolt up and try to free himself again, but there’s no energy for it. He mostly just wants to sleep. 

 

 “Yeah.” He admits quietly, almost a murmur. 

 

Wilbur makes a low hum. “Okay. That’s alright. I’ll take watch. Sunrise isn’t too far, so when it’s morning, I’ll wake you up and then we’ll go.” 

 

“Go?” Techno mouths out, and he feels a hand pull through his hair. Wilbur goes to undo his braid, which by this point, has already mostly fallen apart. He begins brushing through it with his fingers, picking out any sticks or clumps of dirt that had gotten stuck to it while they were fighting. 

 

“Sweet dreams, Techno.” Wilbur says, and Techno grumbles back in response, feeling himself fall away into sleep.

Chapter 3: Argument

 

Morning comes slowly. The fire dies out over the course of the night, and Wilbur only has to deal with a few stray zombies here and there, stumbling out from the trees. 

 

He uses Techno’s knife to kill them off quietly, rather than use his gun as he always does. He’d rather not wake up Techno with a gunshot ringing through his ears. Clearly, he needs his rest. 

 

Wilbur doesn’t know how much longer he has left. Infection takes a person quick, and Techno’s already been pushing his limits within the town. He can’t have more than a few days, and that thought terrifies Wil. 

 

He’s going to watch his brother die. Watch his twin turn, return as some sort of unseeing, rotting creature with a constant murderous rage. Just like all the other monsters that stumble around them. 

 

Wil doesn’t want that for him. He doesn’t want Techno to become that, but what other choice is there? He could choose mercy. He could take a gun to Techno’s head, right now. Shoot him dead while he’s still sleeping, still blissfully unaware. 

 

But he can’t. He would never. He only just got his brother back, he can’t lose him to death, too. He will lose him to infection, but they have precious time before that, and he intends to use it, to cherish it. He’ll protect and take care of Techno to the best of his abilities, and when they get to the high point of the fever-

 

He’ll figure it out.  

 

He can figure it out when they get there. 

 

For now, he stays sitting in the quiet morning of the forest, birds chirping away in the trees with the sun warmly shining down. It’s nice weather for today. If he were back at town, he would’ve pestered Techno for them both to go for a walk, to enjoy the day. Instead, here, he’ll settle for simply sitting in it. They don’t need to walk. Techno has to save his energy. 

 

He focuses on brushing through Techno’s hair. It’s gotten dirty from him sleeping on the dirt ground, but it’s at least better than usual, since they had the privilege of showers back at l’manburg. Wilbur pulls out the braid he did the night before, and lays out the pink stands over his lap, making sure to not let it fall onto the floor. He gently tugs out any small tangles that he can see, and when it’s all smoothed out and without any knots, he braids it back together, into the signature hairstyle that Techno’s always worn. 

 

Wilbur won’t have this anymore when Techno’s gone. 

 

He swallows and pushes that thought away, tying the end of his brother’s hair and carefully draping it over his shoulder. He looks up and checks around for any movement of zombies nearby, and when he finds none,the coast clear, he looks back at Techno and gently shakes him awake. 

 

“Technoblade.” Wilbur whispers, leaning over him and watching him begin to stir. “Wake up.” 

 

Techno mutters something underneath his breath, and he slowly blinks his eyes open with a wince, eyes squeezing shut for a second more before fully opening again. Wilbur wonders if the rope has gotten too uncomfortable. He’d loosen it, but he’d rather hold off on it for the time being. He knows Techno’s always been a tricky one to keep restrained.  

 

A moment passes with Technoblade flexing his hands out behind him, and his eyes go wide as he realizes they’re bound tightly together. He freezes up, then begins to struggle, taking in a sharp, panicked breath. 

 

Fuck. Wilbur should’ve known this would set off memories. They’ve had their fair share of coming across bad people before, the last time Techno had gotten tied up, they escaped just barely, with more than a few bodies on the floor on their way out. He doesn’t like to think back on that, but what’s even worse is to remind Techno of that. 

 

Wilbur holds onto his shoulder again, and Techno flinches away. Wil doesn’t let it discourage him. 

 

“Techno, Techno-” Wil says, Techno turning his head to him with a hesitant expression. “It’s just me, it’s just me. It’s just us. It’s alright.” 

 

Techno stares at him with a shaky breath, but then as soon as he knows it’s Wil beside him, he settles, and he relaxes back into the ground, sighing out with a quick nod. 

 

“You’re alright.” Wilbur promises, and Techno turns over onto his back, looking up at the trees around them, seeming to remember everything of the night before. His expression slowly turns sour, and he lets his head fall back onto the ground with a suffering groan. 

 

“No, I’m not.” Technoblade denies, already sounding awfully grumpy for the morning. “Wilbur.” He says, like a warning.  

 

“Hi.” Wilbur greets him softly, not being able to keep a teasing smile off his face. “Pleasant morning we’re having.” 

 

“Not so pleasant if you’re tied up.” Techno retorts. 

 

“It’s for good reason.” Wilbur only shrugs, leaning backwards and putting his weight onto his palms. “I can’t have you running off, now can I? Bit dangerous for the environment, having a zombie wandering around-”

 

“There are literally zombies wandering around everywhere.”

 

“Yes, but those aren’t important.” Wilbur waves a hand through the air. “You are.” 

 

Techno huffs out in a way that Wilbur knows it means he just doesn’t have anything good to say in response, and he grins wide with a quiet laugh. Techno tries to frown, but the more he looks at Wilbur, the more he can’t help but grow this quiet, fond expression on his face. He closes his eyes again and sighs out with exasperation. 

 

“Are you hungry?” Wil asks. “We can eat here, or we can eat when we get to the cabin.” 

 

“That’s where we’re going?” Techno cracks open an eye, making an unimpressed look. “Why back there?” 

 

“It’s the closest secure place I can think of. And we’re very well not going back to town, now are we?” Wilbur looks off into the forest, keeping an eye and ear out for any zombies nearby. 

 

“You can.” Techno says, and Wilbur doesn’t turn his gaze back onto Techno. He only keeps staring out into the trees. “You should. You should go back.” 

 

Wilbur snorts. There’s not an ounce of amusement held in it. “I’m not.” 

 

Techno shifts in place for a moment, as if he’s trying to figure out something to do about the ropes on his wrist. After a second, he goes still again. “Wilbur-”

 

“No, Technoblade.” Wil snaps, and Techno pauses. “What the fuck would I need back at town? I’ve got- food, and- and water here.” He hits at the backpacks beside him. “We’ve got shelter up ahead. There’s a gun next to me and, and we can have a fire anywhere.” 

 

“And what about people? A group?”

 

“When have those ever been needed?” Wilbur scoffs, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them. 

 

“When we found out I won’t be here to watch your back anymore.” Techno answers without hesitation. Wilbur squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m not going to be here, Wil-” 

 

“You’re going to be fine.” Wilbur cuts him off, shaking his head. “You’re going to be fine.” He repeats, like he’s trying to convince them both. 

 

“I’m really not.” Techno deadpans, sounding mostly just inconvenienced. “I’m pretty sure the fever is already setting in.” 

 

Wilbur snaps his eyes open at that, and he looks at Techno, who’s just staring up into the sky with a blank expression. Wil reaches out to place a palm over his forehead, and Techno looks at him with an almost pitying gaze. 

 

He’s warm. Not too warm, not yet, but it’s something. Something he cannot ignore. 

 

Wilbur swallows roughly, moving his hand to brush hair out from Techno’s face. Techno tilts his head up into it, continuing to speak in that calm, matter of fact tone. 

 

“You need to go back, Wil. They’ll take care of you, okay? You tell them what happened, and I’m sure they’ll give you another grace period. They’ll keep you safe.” 

 

“I’m not-” Wilbur stammers a bit, shaking his head. “I’m not leaving you.” 

 

“You’re not.” Techno nods, just barely, his voice insistent. “You’re not, Wil, you’re not leaving me behind. This isn’t leaving me behind-”

 

“Yes it is!” 

 

“-I’m going to die. You’re just- You’re going to just let me rest.” Techno says slowly, like he’s not all that convinced about it himself. 

 

Wilbur pulls his hand away, leaning back with a frustrated noise. “Bullshit. Don’t- Don’t spin this into something righteous, Techno, it’s not. You’re asking me to leave you to die. That’s what you’re asking.” 

 

“And can’t you just listen?” Techno pleads. Wil laughs. 

 

“When have I ever done that?”

 

“Point.” Techno huffs. “Please.” He says, and Wilbur turns his back to Techno, scanning the trees around them once again. He holds a hand onto his gun, and listens to Techno’s voice in his ears. “Wilbur, please. You’re not going to get anything from this.” All he will do is suffer, seeing Techno like this. Techno knows that this will be nothing but torture for the both of them. 

 

Wilbur makes a disagreeing hum in the back of his throat. “I’m staying by your side-” 

 

“And for what?!” Techno yells, Wilbur flinching away. “To watch me die? To stay loyal? What are you going to do when I turn?”

 

“Techno.” Wilbur warns. 

 

“What are you going to do when I stop breathing, Wilbur? Are you going to kill me then? Shoot me when I’m a zombie?” 

 

“No.” Wil breathes out, like the very suggestion has struck him harshly. “Techno, no.” 

 

“What then?! Are you going to kill me now? Before I turn? When the fever fully hits?”

 

“I’m not killing you!”

 

“Then what.” Techno hisses. “What will you do when I’m dead?” 

 

“I’ll stay.” Wilbur swears, narrowing his eyes. He leans forward into his knees, hiding half his face away into the crook of his elbow. “I’m staying with you. We’re staying together, like how we said! Like how you promised?” 

 

Technoblade stares at the back of Wil’s head, and watches as he glances back, eyes watery with tears. 

 

“You did promise, remember? To stay.” 

 

(And wasn’t that a lifetime ago. A single morning filled with rain, the two of them hiding out in an old, zombie-infested city. They nearly lost their lives the day before, but that’s become such a normal now. 

 

Techno remembers the promise. He remembers curling up around Wilbur, as if to protect him from the dangers outside, and telling him they’ll stay together. Telling him they’ll stay like this, for as long as the fates allow it.)

 

“That was before this.” Techno weakly protests. 

 

“It doesn’t change anything.” Wilbur sighs. “I’m not- I’m not going to go committing suicide with you or anything, don’t worry.” He doesn’t sound too confident saying that. “I’m just- going to take care of you.” He speaks slowly, as if figuring out an idea in his head. 

 

“Even when I’m not me anymore?”

 

“You’re always you.” Wilbur insists. “Even if you turn, you’re still going to be you.” 

 

The words take a second to sink in. Techno sucks in a sharp breath, looking up at the sky with a twinge of horror. “You can’t just keep my corpse.”

 

“Who says I can’t?” Wilbur mutters, eyebrows raising in something like hope.  

 

“Wilbur.” Techno says, rolling onto his side to sit up. “Wil. You can’t.” 

 

“I can’t save you.” Wilbur admits, like the words hurt his throat to even say. “I can’t heal you, and I can’t kill you. But I can keep you.” He nods, as if relieved. 

 

Techno breathes out with a frantic shake of his head. “Wilbur.” 

 

“I can keep you around, then I- I don’t have to lose you.” Wil nods. He looks to Techno. “I’ll be careful about it-”

 

“Wilbur, no-” 

 

“-I’ll make sure you won’t hurt me, I promise. I can- I can figure something out in the cabin-”

 

“Wilbur!” Techno yells, and Wil’s words die off. “You can’t. You- You can’t. It’s not-” He pleads, trying to figure out how to make his brother see reason. Keeping a zombie around, that’s- that’s only asking for trouble. You don’t keep zombies. They’re rotting corpses, they’re shells of the person before, it wouldn’t do anything. It wouldn’t mean anything.  

 

“Wouldn’t you do the same?”  Willbur asks, turning to Techno and scooting closer. “Wouldn’t you- if we were switched-”

 

“No, I-” Techno turns away from Wilbur, but his voice falters. “That wouldn’t make any sense.” 

 

“You would.” Wilbur reaches forward, and he rests his forehead against the back of Techno’s neck, holding a hand over his shoulder. “You would, wouldn’t you?” He whispers it so softly, like it’s just a secret. 

 

Technoblade, even with how much he hates this situation at hand, he takes a minute to consider himself in Wilbur’s shoes. And like that, it all seems so much more understandable. It seems even reasonable. 

 

If he were to lose Wilbur, wouldn’t he want to keep something, anything of him? Even if it was just his reanimated body, no longer with memories? 

 

He wouldn’t be able to let go. Not like that. Not even to death. That’s always been such a fault for him, the fact that he can barely stand to let go. He left, he gave a note to Wil to make him stay behind in town, but did he really think that would hold him back?

 

(Wasn’t he hoping the entire time that Wilbur would end up following?)

 

“You would.” Wilbur repeats, and Techno barely nods. He breathes out slowly, and closes his eyes, wanting to rid himself of the realization that he will turn, and once he does, he won’t be killed. 

 

Something crunches off to the side, and Wilbur pulls away from Techno’s back, grabbing his gun and firing a bullet straight into a zombie’s skull, all in one quick motion. The body drops to the ground with a thump, and Techno grimaces at the sight. 

 

“Ah, hell.” Wilbur swears, lowering the gun as he realizes just how loud that must’ve been. He should’ve just gotten that with a knife. Would’ve been easier, too. 

 

“Well, that's as good a sign as any, let’s go.” Techno takes the chance to immediately move on from Emotions and instead focus on the task on hand. “Untie me.” He says, turning his head to Wil. 

 

“Absolutely not.” Wil refuses, getting to his feet with a groan, stretching his arms up. 

 

“Wha- Hey. Hey, hey, you cannot keep me tied up. I am complying.” 

 

“Yes!” Wilbur nods, raising a finger. “But I am also still angry with you. You are on time out.”

 

“Wilbur.” Techno deadpans. “Untie me.” 

 

“Nope.” Wil goes to get their backpacks from the ground, pulling each one over one shoulder. 

 

“Wil.” Techno begs. “At least the rope around my arms, come on.” 

 

“Hmm.” Wilbur makes a skeptical noise, staring down at Techno on the ground. 

 

“I am complying.”

 

“And I am petty.” Wilbur responds, although he still pulls a pocket knife anyhow. He crouches down before Techno and cuts off the rope around his torso, freeing his arms, but still leaving his hands bound behind his back. Techno points out his elbows in an attempt at stretching, and he sighs. “There. Good enough?”

“It’ll work.” Techno shrugs, and he lets Wilbur help him up to stand. With that, Wilbur pushes him forward, and they head on to leave the area and find the cabin from before. 

 

Chapter 4: Death

 

It takes a little while for them to get through the forest. 

 

Technoblade complains dryly the entire way, Wilbur pushing him along as his twin laments over 'being a hostage' and his lack of 'hand privileges'. Everytime he turns to ask to be untied, Wilbur pulls his gun from his backpack, and that ends the argument fairly quickly. 

 

(Which, really, makes no sense. They both know Wilbur could never shoot Techno, not even as a joke. But Wil thinks it's more about the cain instinct threat rather than any actual deadly action. Either way, Techno shuts up and keeps walking, until the minute passes and he begins complaining once more. It's insufferable. Will loves him for it.)

 

They don't encounter many zombies on the way, only one or two, and Wil takes care of them easily enough, having Techno stand back during it. Once it's over with, though, he keeps Techno in front of him, in sight at all times, never too far lest he does decide to make a run for it. 

 

He told Wil he'd comply, swore it with something painfully honest, but Wilbur cannot help but be distrustful. His trust has been shaken at being left behind, and until they make it right, he will keep Techno at arm's length for as long as he can. 

 

He would rather not take any chances. They have so little time. Technoblade is on a ticking clock, with the infection in his veins, and if Wilbur has to lose another second to Techno trying to foolishly 'protect' him, he's going to keep Techno tied down until he turns. 

 

Maybe that's a bit much. He's not that cruel. Or at least, not to Techno. He wouldn't do that to Techno. They both deserve something softer than a goodbye like that. 

 

They both find their way through the trees for the duration of the morning, tracing their steps from when they first came through with the goal of finding l'manburg. Now, they're going backwards, falling back to the beginning with the shitty shelter hidden away in the woods. 

 

The cabin is just as Wilbur remembered it. 

 

It's a small thing. It’s falling apart with cracks in the walls and holes in the roof, it’s probably got rats within its walls, and the front door is stained with old dried blood, but it's perfect. 

 

It's enough. 

 

"Stay here." Wilbur holds onto Techno's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks and walking ahead to the front door. "I'm going to check inside for anyone first." 

 

Techno shrugs as best he can with his hands still bound behind his back. Wilbur turns to him and stares for a long minute, and Techno sighs, taking the cue and sitting on the dirt floor. Only then does Will smile and head on into the cabin. 

 

He pushes the door open carefully, gun pulled from his backpack with his finger on the trigger. The hinges screech as he takes a slow step in, and that itself should be enough to alert anything that might be inside. 

 

Wilbur scans over the place. The cabin is only one room, made up of thin walls and creaky floorboards. There's a fireplace in the corner, filled with ash, a bed pushed against the wall, the blankets still how they left them last time, and a big wooden table in the middle of the room, which still holds random junk they didn't take along. 

 

Will glances over the room once more before going fully inside, and he circles around the table with a small hum, placing his gun down and picking through the pile that was organized before he left. A pile of bricks, a pile of rocks, a few bowls and spoons, and three worn out books that didn't manage to fit in their bags. It's a sad pile of scavenged supplies, but it was what they had. 

 

"This place doesn't look any better than how we left it." Techno's voice rings out, and Wilbur jumps, jerking his head up with a scream. Techno ignores the high pitched shriek. "In fact, I think it got worse."

 

"I told you to stay outside." Wilbur sighs, leaning forward on the table with his head hanging in exasperation. 

 

Techno raises his eyebrows with something unimpressed. "The place isn't that big. I'm pretty sure if there was someone in here, you would've shot a bullet by now."

 

Wilbur lifts his head with a frown. Techno's lips quirk up in a near smile. 

 

"Anyhow." Techno continues, walking forward to stand on the other side of the table, across from Wil. "About those hand privileges."

 

Wilbur tilts his head. "Yes?"

 

"I would like them returned. In the next minute, perhaps." He pauses. "My wrists hurt."

 

Wilbur crosses his arms over his chest with a huff and leans his weight back on his heels. Part of him feels guilty at that, but there is still that simmering anger at Techno for being an idiot, so he decides to continue being petty. 

 

"What makes you think you've earned them back?" He asks, Techno's face falling. 

 

"Well." He seems to try and think for a moment. I "I walked all the way over here. That was a lot of work."

 

"I walked right next to you."

 

"Yeah, but I did it with my hands tied behind my back."

 

"Why, then doesn't that mean you've become an expert?" Wilbur teases, moving around the table to head towards the door. He pulls it shut with a squeaky scream from the hinges, and then locks it with the rusted latch. There. For now, that'll do. No zombies will be stumbling their way in. 

 

Wilbur turns to Techno. Now for the not-yet-zombie.

 

"I've been thinking." Techno says, Wilbur giving a gasp that's so exaggerated it cannot be anything but fake. 

 

"Shocking. Especially with your current actions."

 

Techno glares at him. "Hey. I do have a brain. It hasn't rotted yet."

 

"Debatable."

 

"Anyway. Like I was saying. I've been thinking." Techno leans back against the table, head tilted back to stare at the ceiling. "I trust that I'm in my right mind right now. I'm still somewhat coherent. So I won't hurt you yet, and you can take these off."

 

Wilbur takes in the words truthfully, but he lingers on one bit. 

 

"...yet?"

 

Techno closes his eyes, taking in a slow, deep breath. 

 

"Yeah." He responds. He tries to go for a lighthearted tone, to keep that same bickering, but there's still a strain in his words. "Not yet. But when I do- uhm‐ turn, I-" He opens his eyes back up, mouth open wide with nothing coming out. He stammers, then stops. 

 

Wilbur nods in agreement anyway. 

 

"Okay." He says, and he pulls Techno to sit down on the bed. "Come on. I'll cut the rope off."

 

---

 

The time they spend feels doomed. Feels daunting, with each passing hour. Techno stays confined to the bed, Wilbur insisting for him to not push his limits. 

 

With how Techno hardly argues, he supposes he's in the right. 

 

They talk for most of the time. Low hushed whispers of what they've been through, what they've done. What they regretted. What they did not.

 

Wilbur finds himself with a strange sort of devotion. A strange type of protectiveness, at seeing his twin grow so tired, so sick. 

 

They reminisce over the lives they've taken. The people they've murdered in cold blood. Wilbur tells Techno he does not regret it. He tells him he would do it again, a hundred times over. Without hesitation. 

 

Techno makes a quip of that sounding awfully immoral. They both laugh it off, but with the way Techno squeezes his hand around Wil's, they know his answer too. 

 

Like with most things, they are the same. 

 

---

 

The first night falls with Techno falling alongside it. 

 

Technoblade settles into his fever at last, and it is devastating. He burns up like fire underneath Wilbur's fingertips, and his throat gains a raspy sort of note, no matter how much water Wil forces past his lips. 

 

He doesn't bother to leave the bed anymore. He tries to talk, tries to carry on their bickering, their jokes, but he always loses energy midway through, and Wilbur doesn't push him on. 

 

He knows he should. He should gather what he has, squeeze every last memory he can from Techno, but he can't bear to give him any more discomfort than he already is in. 

 

Wilbur stays at Techno's side. Either kneeling on the ground, or sitting on a stool, or curled up beside him underneath the blankets, he stays beside him. 

 

He tries to get Techno to eat. To drink. So maybe it'll help, give energy as he sleeps after. 

 

Technoblade doesn't listen to him. Doesn't take it. So Wilbur relents. 

 

He goes to sleep that night with a hand held within Techno's, the two of them sleeping close. Wilbur keeps watch for as long as he can, and then eventually falls to sleep alongside Techno.

 

They don't need a watch, anyway. No one will bother them in this damned cabin. 

 

---

 

Morning brings no hope with the warm sun. 

 

Techno slips into something even worse, and Wilbur can't help but wonder if this is the result of him holding it all back. The result of him trying to stay strong, stay holding on, then finally accepting his fate. 

 

It all hits too fast. Techno wakes up slowly, despite Wilbur calling into his ears, and his eyes are unfocused as he stares upon Wil. 

 

Wilbur tries to get him to eat. To drink, once again. 

 

When Techno does not, he tries to force it. Tries to pour water into his mouth, tries to hold food to his teeth. 

 

Technoblade doesn't struggle, but he doesn't comply either. It's a horrible middle, and Wilbur hates it. He hates it. 

 

---

 

Techno barely speaks when sundown comes by. 

 

His last whispers are Wilbur's name. Over and over, Wil's name. Like it's his last lifeline. 

 

Wilbur ties him to the bed frame and tells him to rest. 

 

What else is there to do?

 

---

 

Wilbur wakes up to stuttering breaths. 

 

It's the most horrifying noise he can imagine. 

 

"Techno?" He whispers out, eyes wide, but not yet moving his head from where it rests against his brother's side. As if maybe by not letting himself see it, he'll be able to delay it. Techno doesn't respond, only once again making that wheezy, struggling gasp for air over his head. 

 

Wilbur listens to it for a second, two, three, feeling his heart pound painfully against his chest. After a moment that feels like eternity, he pulls himself up from Techno's middle, and looks up to his face. 

 

He's worse than before. Too pale, too cold. Wilbur sits up beside him and holds his palms against his brother's cheeks to warm them up, but it's a futile attempt. All he's doing is holding him close, like a preparation for a goodbye. 

 

"Technoblade." Wilbur whispers his name again, leaning in close as if that'll make him hear his voice better. He leans over Techno, hands shaking against his face, heart slamming against his ribs with sickly fear. "Techno?"

 

Techno doesn't respond. Doesn't even twitch. He just keeps trying to get air, keeps failing, and all Wilbur can do is watch.

 

Watch him die. 

 

"No." Wil chokes out, barely shaking his head with horror. "No, no, no-" He leans forward, pressing his forehead against Techno's. "Technoblade. Tech, please."

 

There is no response. Only frail breathing that is slowly going out. Only a fever that has now gone cold. 

 

"I'm not ready." Wilbur confesses. "I'm not ready, I'm not ready, I'm not-" He sobs, chest heaving with it. How he wishes he could swap his lungs with Techno's. Swap his heart with his. Swap their bodies, swap their fates. 

 

"Techno, please, wake up, just a little more. Just a little more, okay? Let me say goodbye. Let me say goodbye to you." Wilbur pleads, as if he begs hard enough, Techno will grant him that wish. "Let me tell you I love you." Wilbur cries, and his own tears fall onto Techno's face. As if making him into a faulty mirror, a copy of Wilbur's state.

 

How Wilbur wishes they were the same. If they were the same, in every way, in every manner, then they would never have to be apart. 

 

Wilbur sobs over his brother's dying body, trembling with tears and curling in close, like he's trying to gather any sort of warmth, just like how they always did within winter. 

 

He weeps, taking in a shuddering breath that hurts, and he moves down to rest his head on Techno's chest, wrapping his arms around his torso in a desperate hug. 

 

Here, he hears Techno's dying breaths. Here, he hears his slowing heartbeat. 

 

Techno breathes, so very quietly, so very frail. Wilbur presses his face into his shirt, shaking with grief, and he gives all his attention to the last bits of life from his twin. 

 

He hears a slow, barely there inhale. A heartbeat. A small exhale. A heartbeat. A struggling inhale. A heartbeat. A single, last exhale. 

 

Then-

 

Nothing. 

 

Techno goes still. So still, so quiet. Perfectly silent. 

 

Wilbur freezes in place. 

 

He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling his heart ache with something unimaginable, and makes a tiny whine, which falls into a cry, which plummets into a wail.

 

He keeps his ear to Techno's chest. Keeps his hands held onto his shirt. He cries, uncaring of whatever will hear outside of the walls, only left with the knowledge that his brother is gone. 

 

Wilbur presses close to Techno, sobbing with desperation, and he waits painfully for the next thing. For Techno to come back. 

 

He knows how quick it works. How quickly a body can stand once again. Techno is restrained and held back properly, so Wilbur is not in danger, but he is held hostage by a terrible anticipation of waiting for his brother to awake from death to become a monster. 

 

Over his tears, time passes slowly. Wilbur counts the seconds, hopes with all his heart that Techno will he like all the others and will turn quick, come back without falter. 

 

A minute passes. 

 

Two. 

 

Three. 

 

Four, and five, until Wilbur's left with dread. He nearly goes to sit up, to look closer at his brother's dead face, but he's then kept still by the noise in his ear.

 

The precious, slow sound of a heartbeat.

 

Chapter 5: Revived

 

Technoblade doesn’t wake up.

 

No matter what Wilbur does, no matter how much he yells and pushes and begs and pleads, he keeps sleeping, keeps laying perfectly still, like a corpse held in time. He doesn’t revive like every other infected person, no, he sleeps. He rests. 

 

He won’t open his damn eyes. 

 

Wilbur stays at his side, like how he’s meant to be. He waits patiently, and keeps an eye on his brother, but he gets no good results. Techno sleeps, but he does not breathe. He doesn’t give a single breath. And yet, his heart still goes. 

 

It still keeps beating. Everytime Wilbur leans down to his chest to listen, he hears the constant noise of life in Techno’s chest. It’s a terrible taunt that yields nothing of worth, and how Wilbur wishes he had the courage to take a knife to his brother’s heart, just so he can revive into a zombie already. Just so he can have him back. 

 

He can’t, though. He’d rather let them both rot away in this little cabin for the rest of their days instead of ever bringing a knife to his twin’s skin.  

 

It’s just- this isn’t what they agreed on. This isn’t what Wilbur was hoping for, this isn’t what he was preparing for. He was willing to see a dead, rotting face. He was willing to see white, unseeing eyes, eyes that used to belong to his brother, yet would have nothing behind them any longer. He was willing to have a cold body beside him for the rest of his days, however little those might be. 

 

And this is different. 

 

Techno is not dead. He is not alive, not breathing, but he is not dead. It is a strange middle, and Wilbur doesn’t know what to do with it. He doesn’t know what Techno would want him to do. 

 

He curls up at his twin's side for the most of the night. He stays listening to the heartbeat against his ear, and he ends up falling asleep like that, drifting away into a fitful sort of rest. He dreams of Techno waking up, of Techno being at his side, like how they are supposed to be. He dreams of dying along with his brother, with rotting hands tearing him apart as if he is nothing more than just easy food. 

 

He wakes up screaming. 

 

The sun brings only a slight comfort, and Wilbur is left with only himself to try and calm down. 

 

Usually, with dreams like that, Techno will pull him into a hug and let them breathe together, letting him realize they’re alright. Here, Technoblade does no such thing. Here, Wilbur wakes up alone, and while his brother is sleeping right beside him, he knows he will not wake up to help. 

 

Technoblade stays still even as Wilbur checks his heartbeat again, a hand against his chest. He stays still when Wil calls his name, determined and yet frail, and he stays still when Wil pulls at his shirt to check upon the bite mark on his side. Techno doesn’t even flinch when Wilbur pokes a finger onto the infected skin, and Wilmakes a worried noise when he finds the bite mark to be practically impossible to find amongst all the discoloration. It looks as if the area around Techno’s ribs has been burnt to black, the skin having turned rough and rotten. 

 

Wilbur pulls Techno’s shirt down with a sick feeling in his stomach, his curiosity satisfied with horror. He leans back on the bed, and calls Techno’s name again. When he gets no answer, there is nothing to stop him from burying his hands into his palms and giving a frustrated, pained scream.

 

 It echoes off the cabin walls, and Wilbur has never felt so alone. 

 

---

 

Technoblade sleeps for three days. 

 

Three days pass, with Wilbur hardly ever venturing out the cabin, and instead confining himself to be at Techno’s side. He sings, for most of the time. A part of him hopes that Techno can still hear him, past the infection that’s putting him to rest. Maybe his voice will offer comfort. Maybe it’ll coax him back. 

 

He rations food and water carefully, and puts aside portions for Techno as well. Try as he might, Techno doesn’t quite eat, not even with how Wilbur shoves a few mouthfuls down his throat, but he does somewhat drink. With that, Wilbur’s taken the habit of trickling water past Techno’s lips when he deems it necessary. It gives him reassurance. It makes him feel as if he’s giving Techno a push, rather than being entirely helpless to whatever he is going through. 

 

A routine is made within those slow days. Wilbur wakes, then calls for Techno to wake up. When he does not, Wilbur eats, then tries to give Techno water. After that, he will sing. Maybe then, he’ll talk. Maybe then, he’ll do Techno’s hair again, or curl up at his side and let his thoughts swarm him into an unresponsive state. 

 

Then they’re both in the same boat. Stuck within a bed, completely ignorant of the world around them. Wilbur suffers during those moments, but he loves it all the same. It’s nearly enough, in those minutes. It’s almost as if they are dying together, and Wilbur has never really wanted anything more. He would have anything this world gives him, as long as Techno is there to take it as well. 

 

After those slow three days, Techno stirs. 

 

It is a short, quick thing, but it is something nevertheless.

 

Wil is singing when it happens. He sits at Techno’s side whispering a quiet song, and he holds a cold hand in his as the birds chirp from outside their thin, broken down walls. His words barely echo within the room, but it is striking either way when it comes to a sudden stop. 

 

His words freeze in place, stuck in his throat, and he stares at the hand in his palms, finding Techno’s fingers to be squeezing tightly around his. 

 

For a second, there is overwhelming joy. Relief and hope and glee all at once. For a second, there is fear. Hesitation and dread and caution with what may finally, finally come. 

 

But, even with Wilbur’s hesitant waiting, Techno does not wake up. He does not revive as an undead corpse. 

 

He squeezes Wilbur’s hand, like a reassurance, a comfort, a reminder, and when Wil calls his name, he lifts his chin as if giving an answer, before falling limp and slipping away once more. The loss of him again is painful, but the chance of recovery is bliss. 

 

Wilbur cries with Techno’s hand held close to his face that morning. He puts cold, worn down knuckles up against his closed eyes, as if maybe the tears he makes will make Techno reconsider and return just for a little while more. 

 

Time goes on. The days are slow, and Wilbur’s throat is sore with constant singing. 

 

Techno continues to stir. 

 

Bit by bit, he wakes up. 

 

He shifts in his rest during the night. He holds an arm around Wilbur like it is just second nature, and Wilbur holds him back so tightly it might hurt if he were still aware of his surroundings. 

 

He hums to Wil during a one-sided conversation. Like a near response, or an acknowledgement of Wilbur’s ramblings. Wil’s voice cracks with the next sentence, but he keeps talking either way. He wants to think that his words help. 

 

His heartbeat continues to stay as a constant, and Wilbur stays checking it nearly every single hour. It doesn’t falter, not once, not like how it did before.

 

A week later from when he had first died, Technoblade opens his eyes. 

 

Wilbur is there when he does. He kneels at Techno’s bedside with a broken voice, and he holds his brother’s cold hand in his, eyes wide with overwhelming disbelief. Techno stares up at the ceiling without a single breath from his lips, and only when he forces a huff through, does he seem to realize the situation at hand. 

 

When he turns his head to the side to look at Wil, the first thing he says is Wilbur’s name. 

 

It is nothing more than a hoarse whisper, but it is the first thing he says, either way. Wilbur sobs, then rushes to get water, fumbling with the supplies he’s stacked near the bed and keeping his hand held around Techno’s the entire time. 

 

He helps Techno sit up and sits by him, giving a bottle of fresh water.  Techno takes it like it is his saving grace. Wil watches with wonder as a man he thought dead begins to drink as if he’s survived through a burning desert. 

 

As soon as the bottle is empty, Wilbur hurries to grab a plate of food. Technoblade takes it without complaint, and he eats with no words exchanged between them. There is only Wilbur’s hand resting on his back, and their shoulders pressed closed together. It is enough. 

 

By the time Techno’s finished scarfing down his plate, he’s grown exhausted, and he looks at Wilbur with something nearly apologetic. He says a dry apology, along with a question of if he was missed, and Wilbur punches him in the arm then pulls him into a hug. 

 

He doesn’t let go. He lets them both fall back onto the bed, arms tangled with each other, and he stays curled around Techno until he falls back to sleep, getting well-deserved rest. 

 

As he slips a hand in between them to press at Techno’s chest, he finds the heartbeat to still be there. To still be steady. 

 

It stays steady. Techno wakes up again not too long after, and they talk with hushed whispers, Techno’s words sounding almost painful. He claims he doesn’t feel any pain, doesn’t feel much of anything, really, but Wilbur still tells him to rest. 

 

The air in the moment is calm. Full of relief and hope. 

 

Until Techno pulls away from Wilbur, leaning over the edge of the bed, puking out the very same food he ate only an hour before. 

 

---

 

There, that begins the new downward spiral. Techno is awake and aware, but he is starving. 

 

At first, Wil only thought that maybe it was the food. He assumed something must’ve gone bad, at the worst possible time, and so he just makes another meal once Techno’s recovered. 

 

But again, Technoblade doesn’t keep it down. He takes water just fine, takes it as often as Wilbur pushes it towards him, but everything he eats doesn’t manage to stay in his stomach. 

 

Eventually, after two days of Wilbur trying to sift through their limited options, and them keeping a bucket at their bedside, Techno begins to refuse to eat. Wilbur insists, but Technoblade turns away, and really, he can’t blame his brother for that. Everything they’re trying is just failing to sustain him, and Wilbur can’t change that, but he cannot let his twin just starve away too. 

 

He forces Techno to eat. He holds a plate in his lap and puts food to his teeth, but Techno doesn’t exactly take it. 

 

He spits it out. 

 

“You might as well be feeding me dirt.” He tells Wilbur, and the way he says it implies he was trying to go for a joke, but with the situation at hand, all it feels is like a reminder of how helpless they are. Of how helpless Wilbur is. 

 

He just got his brother back, and now he can’t even keep him. 

 

Now, he’ll watch him die an even slower death than infection. 

 

With the torn expression on Wil’s face, Technoblade eventually gives in, but fails all the same. He takes what he’s given and earnestly tries to make it work, but it always comes back up, and it always ends up as a waste. 

 

And Wilbur becomes desperate.

 

---

 

He goes out hunting, later that day. Their food has gotten dangerously low, with Technoblade throwing it all up, and Wilbur has to keep them both fed. 

 

He leaves with a knife in hand and a gun in his back pocket, and he goes out to the forest with a hug and well-wishes from Techno. 

 

The trees are no different from when Wilbur last saw them. They are quiet and he is alone, and he sneaks along with soft footsteps, looking for anything of value, anything to catch his eye. If he comes across a zombie, he’ll kill it off with his knife. If he sees an animal, he’ll shoot it down with a bullet. 

 

Using a gun isn’t sustainable for hunting, and he has to figure something better out soon, but he is in a vulnerable situation at the moment. He can focus on improvement when he’s figured out stability. 

 

A gunshot rings out past the trees, quick and sudden, and Wilbur jolts in place with it. His first instinct tells him to run and hide, but a gunshot means survivors. 

 

Survivors mean help. Supplies. 

 

They could have food. 

 

Wilbur makes his way to the sound, and thankfully for him, it wasn’t all that far. He peeks through the branches of a bush and crouches down low, and off past the trees, he finds two survivors. 

 

Two people. With a dead deer up ahead of them. 

 

Wil’s breath hitches with the sight, eyes going wide. So they were hunting too. With that rifle in their hands, and the animal dead on the ground, it seems that it wasn’t so hard to do. Wilbur watches close as they both talk with quiet conversation to each other, lingering in place and not yet going to retrieve their prize. 

 

Just as Wil is about to call out and make a move forward, something beats him to the punch. 

 

A low groan drags out through the air, and Wilbur ducks down, watching a zombie stumble out past the trees, its rotting arms stretched out. The people gasp in surprise at seeing it come near, and they raise that same rifle again to shoot it down. 

 

Wilbur notices something. 

 

The zombie comes from the same direction in which the deer had fallen. From where it was, it’d be so much easier to go for the deer as food, since it’s so much closer. 

 

But the zombie disregards it entirely. It walks over the deer, as if not even noticing the meat fit for a good meal. It goes only for the people, for the survivors. 

 

For the humans. 

 

Wilbur has to think. Has he ever seen a zombie go for anything else other than a human? What does a zombie always do? They always eat. They always eat away at dead human corpses, they always try their best to bite at any nearby survivors. 

 

Wilbur has never seen them try and bite at anything else. It is only ever humans. 

 

The echo of a gunshot rings in his ears as the zombie goes down, and the two survivors grumble over the encounter, quickly moving on to pick the deer up from the ground. 

 

Wilbur breathes in deep, staring at the fallen zombie collapsed onto the dirt ground. 

 

He knows how to feed Techno. 

 

And with that, he stands up from where he’s hiding, and pulls his gun, shooting at the survivor with the rifle and killing them with a bullet through the head. The other one turns with eyes wide with horror, and Wilbur aims before they can even move-

 

And he fires. 

 

Chapter 6: Hunger

 

Wilbur walks back to the cabin with two new backpacks over his shoulders, and plenty of supplies stuffed into his own bag. He holds a rifle in one hand and his bloody knife in the other.

 

The forest sounds too quiet against the sound of his footsteps. As if the trees know what he’s done. As if they’re judging the fact he spent a good twenty minutes dragging two bodies closer to base just so he can access their remains easier, in a spot that’s not so out in the open.

 

A normal, sane human being would feel a sort of guilt with the silence. A normal survivor would have racing thoughts in their head, regrets over what they’ve done. They’d tear themselves apart, maybe. Question their humanity and what they’ve become. 

 

But personally, Wilbur doesn’t give a fuck. 

 

He has killed several men before, to be fair. In much worse ways than with just a bullet. This isn’t anything different. It’s not a new experience.

 

He will do this a thousand times over again, if it is all for his brother’s sake. He would burn an entire town to the ground, the people and all, if that was what was needed. Because that’s what this is. That’s what it has always been. For Techno. 

 

On a deep down level, far inside him, he knows there’s something horrifically wrong about it all. There’s human blood staining his sleeves, and two heavy backpacks that do not belong to him weighing down on his shoulders. He should feel terrible. He should feel like a monster. 

 

But it also feels like a Tuesday. He’s since lost track of time since the apocalypse broke out, but if he’s going to take a lucky guess, while walking this path back home, he's going to say that today is a Tuesday.  That’s the only thing on his mind as he makes his way back. Other than Techno, which is always a constant, he’s left thinking about the possible days of the week, rather than the fact he just murdered two men in cold blood, for the off-chance of their bodies being good meat for his brother. 

 

When he gets near the cabin, he hides the backpacks and the rifle at the side of the house, amongst the dirt and some junk. He doesn’t want anyone to pass by and steal it while he’s not looking. He would take it in with him, to put it away properly, but-

 

He’s hesitant to bring it inside. 

 

He knows that it’s obvious evidence. No one just finds two full backpacks out in the middle of the woods, especially with still-wet blood on them. Well, one could, technically, but Wil knows the implications, and the questions that would come with it. He doesn’t want Techno to notice, to ask. He doesn’t want to lie to his twin’s face.  

 

Wilbur knows he would cross any bridge in this apocalypse for Technoblade. He would do anything, if pushed far enough. But Technoblade has always been the one to be more hesitant about things like that. More careful. 

 

He will follow Wil, to the ends of the earth if need be, but that devotion does not stop him from faltering, at moments. From hesitating. He still clings on to what the world was like before, holding out hope that humanity could still be a little decent. While Wilbur has let go of that, Techno is stubborn. 

 

Wil’s always been the most ruthless out of the two of them. He’s more sharp with his words, more rough around the edges. More willing to kill a man for crossing them. Not to say Techno hasn’t done the same, but if push came to shove, Wilbur is the first one to jump. 

 

He’s happy and kind when it’s just Techno by his side, just the two of them, but having enemies nearby-- that’s a different story. That tears away any softness he might have in the moment. That shows exactly what this apocalypse has done to him, has taken from him, and what he’ll do to keep what little he has left. 

 

Sometimes he’s wary of if that’ll scare Techno, the way he acts, but from what he’s seen, Technoblade needs him just as much as Wilbur needs him too. So, he will do this for both of them. 

 

He will feed Techno, no matter the cost. 

 

The door squeaks as Wilbur pushes it open, and he gives a light knocking pattern that he knows Techno will recognize, just so that there’s no worry whether or not a stranger has found their way in. 

 

“I’m back.” Wilbur calls, finding Techno curled up on the bed as if he might be asleep. There’s a frantic split second of Wilbur wanting to go check his heartbeat to see if he’s okay, but then Techno lifts his head to look towards the door, and there’s a wash of relief over his shoulders. He looks tired, a bit grumpy, if anything, but okay. Still somewhat alive and aware. 

 

Wilbur still walks over to Techno. He shuts the door quietly behind him, taking a chair and barricading it, before putting his backpack down on the table and walking over to the bedside. 

 

“Did you catch something?” Techno asks, sitting up and scooting to the side to let Wilbur have a spot beside him. His eyes fall onto the red stains on Wil’s sleeves as Wilbur reaches a hand out to press a palm against his chest. He holds on lightly to Wil’s wrist, almost amused at the action. “I just slept while you were gone.” 

 

“And you slept alright?” Wilbur asks, finding a comfort in the heartbeat he finds past Techno’s shirt. 

 

“As alright as an infected person could sleep.” Techno responds, and even with the way he tries to make it as a lighthearted joke, there is still something shaky underneath the words. Like he’s not sure how to take it. Not sure how to keep sleeping, when he was meant to be dead. 

 

Wilbur frowns with the sound of it. He lifts his hand and pinches Techno in the shoulder, just to be annoying. Techno whacks his hand away with a grumbling noise. Wil’s lips tilt up into a smile.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, Technoblade rubbing at his shoulder as Wil stands up off the bed to go grab his backpack from the table. 

 

“Starving.” Techno mutters. “But I could pass on dinner.” He says, flopping back down onto the bed as if he’s just going back to sleep to ignore any aching pains from his stomach. 

 

“No, you won’t.” Wilbur scolds, unzipping his back to look inside. He finds a few pieces of meat wrapped up in ripped cloth. He hadn’t exactly known how to harvest anything from a human body, but he did what he could. The legs were easy enough to cut through, and it seemed like a safe area. “You need to eat something.” 

 

Technoblade makes a vague unhappy noise in response, and Wilbur feels a pang of pity in his heart for his brother. Yeah, he wouldn’t be all that keen on eating if he knew he’d just be puking it back up an hour later too, but this one is going to be different. 

 

It has to be different. Wilbur’s not sure where to go from here if this doesn’t work. 

 

“I found a deer.” Wilbur tells Techno, lifting his bag off the table and heading over to the firepit to restart the flames. It’s still smoldering from a fire they had on earlier, so it’s not hard to let it burn brightly once more. 

 

Techno glances over his shoulder at Wilbur with surprise. “Wait, really?” He asks, staring at Wil’s back. “You shot one down?”

 

“It died with a bullet through the skull.” Wilbur says, keeping his voice light. Not a lie. It did die that way. 

 

“You’ve always been a good shot.” Techno praises, and Wilbur beams a bit with the words. It’s true. “Were you able to bring it back?” 

 

“I packed some meat in my bag.” Wilbur nods. Not a lie. “I could always go back for more later. I thought I’d just cook you some for right now.” 

 

“Ehh.” Techno sounds unsure. There’s a shuffle, like he’s laid back down to hide into his pillow. “You can have some.”

 

“This is for you.” Wilbur says, pulling his knife and a chunk of meat out from his bag. I do it all for you, he wants to add, but that’d be too much, even if it’s true. 

 

The fire roars before him as Wilbur unwraps the cloth, and he cuts just a small piece, as a start. He puts it to cook on an old plate they used to use before, and he searches for a fork amongst all their scattered supplies. 

 

He finds one easily enough, and as he does, he spares a look towards Techno, letting his attention fall onto the braid hanging off the bed. It looks alright for the most part, but Wilbur’s fingers itch to redo it again, just so he can have a sense of familiarity back in his palms. Everything has been too tense these past days. He needs comfort back. He needs his Techno back. 

 

He turns back to the meat cooking by the fire, and he kneels down by the warmth, humming in the back of his throat to pass the time. He’s tempted to sing, but he likes the quiet mood in the cabin. The sun outside has begun to set, and the room slowly takes on a dim light. Like a fragile calm before the storm. 

 

Wilbur hopes to any god above that the storm will not bring both their deaths. 

 

After a bit of time, with a slight rising smell of cooking meat, Wilbur takes the fork in hand and stabs the piece he’s got by the fire, bringing it out from the fire pit. 

 

He holds up the fork and blows at it, watching the steam float off into the air. It looks well done enough, so he stands to his feet with a satisfied hum, holding the fork carefully in his palm. He makes his way over to Technoblade’s bedside. 

 

“Techno.” Wil whispers, Technoblade giving a soft grunt. He’s awake, Wil knows it, but he’s keeping his eyes closed from sheer stubbornness. It’s understandable, considering how little of his meals have been kept down. “Here, try it.” 

 

He holds the fork over Techno’s face, Technoblade’s nose scrunching up at the smell of it. He cracks an eye open, trying to glare at Wil, but it lacks any heat. It’s not much against that determined little glint in his Wil’s gaze. 

 

“I’m not hungry.” Techno murmurs, but he still turns onto his back, squinting up at Wilbur with a frown. 

 

“Liar.” Wilbur snorts lightly. He pokes the food at Techno’s chin, just for a second. “Try it. Compliment my impeccable cooking skills.” 

 

“You held it over a fire for a couple of minutes. That’s not a skill.” Techno deadpans.

 

“Eat the damn food.” Wilbur jabs the fork at Techno’s face, and Technoblade laughs breathlessly with a small grin, trying to hold Wilbur’s arm back and tilt his head away. “You’re going to have my cooking and fucking like it!” 

 

“How am I supposed to eat it without any seasoning?” Techno asks, Wilbur scoffing and jabbing him in the side, causing Technoblade to flinch and laugh again. “It’s bland!” He argues. 

 

“You’re bland!” Wilbur says, jabbing at Techno once more. Techno tries to fight him off in a playful wrestling, but even if his heart is in it, his energy isn’t. He’s still weak from a lack of food, and it shows. It’s not hard for Wilbur to bat away his attempts at attacking his face. Techno, despite his efforts, ends up biting the piece of meat off the fork, just to get Wilbur to lean backwards and stop trying to squish him into the mattress. 

 

“Hot, hot.” He says as soon as he pulls away, Wilbur snickering as Techno holds a hand over his mouth, like he’s burning his tongue off. 

 

“I did just cook it.” Wil pokes the back of the fork into Techno’s side. Techno waves a hand at him to ward him off. 

 

“You couldn’t have let it cool down?” He complains, and he curls back up on his side then, his back towards Wil like he’s a defeated man. But he still chews the bite he’s been given, not spitting it out like how Wilbur would’ve thought. 

 

He had worried he’d have to pester for a while, or that Techno would notice something off the second he tried the food, but it all goes on without a hitch. Wil leans back with a silent deep breath. 

 

“Is it okay?” Wil asks, resting a hand onto the crook of Techno’s arm. “You think you can keep down a plate this time?” His heart picks up at the reminder of what exactly the food is, and how that might affect their chances. 

 

“I don’t know, Wil.” Techno answers, once he’s done chewing. “Time will tell.”  

 

Wilbur hums. Fair point. “I’ll cook a few more pieces.” He tells him, squeezing Techno’s arm before slipping off the bed and returning to the firepit. 

 

The night falls over the cabin as Wilbur cuts and cooks what more he has tucked away inside his bag. He reminds himself of the two backpacks hidden by the side of the cabin, and the rifle buried underneath shallow dirt. When morning comes, he’ll have to find a better place to put that. 

 

But as for now, he thinks he’s done with the effort of the day. For now, Techno will eat, and Wilbur will enjoy his company, with bloody hope still stained into his fingertips. 

 

He lets the fire burn out as he brings a plate to Techno. He nudges him to sit up and puts the food in his lap, taking a spot behind him so that he can finally brush through the mess of his braid. Techno stares down at the plate with a displeased sort of expression. His hand fiddles with the fork, like he can’t help but consider trying it, but he still doesn’t eat. 

 

“You said you were starving.” Wilbur notes, pulling off the rubber band from the end of Techno’s hair, and undoing his work from the day before. “So eat.” 

 

“I’m having second thoughts.” 

 

“Stop having them.” Wilbur tugs lightly at a tangle in between his fingers. “Who knows, maybe all the food we had on us was contaminated, or something. Fresh meat could work better.” 

 

“You ate fine, though.” Techno argues weakly. 

 

“Your stomach could be more sensitive, after everything. Maybe the infection-” He stops, mouth closing shut with his lips held in a thin line. “Maybe something changed when you came back.” 

 

“Maybe.” Technoblade repeats, and Wilbur brushes his fingernails down his scalp, gathering a bundle of hair in one palm, and then yanking at it lightly. Technoblade jolts, his head tilting back. “Watch it.” He says, glancing at Wil over his shoulder, finding a steady stare being given in return. 

 

“Eat, Techno.” Wilbur demands, the tone almost seeming like a warning. Techno’s hand curls tightly around the fork in reach, and he narrows his eyes at his brother with a frown. 

 

After a second, he relents, and turns back to the plate on his lap. Wil begins on the start of a braid as Technoblade slowly eats. He parts the hair into three sections, like always, then weaves them together, letting the familiar motion soothe him with the sound of quiet chewing. 

 

It’s not long before Wilbur’s done, having done this time and time again. He ties it back in an easy quick motion, and as soon as he lays the braid over Techno’s shoulder, Techno scoots to face towards him, holding up a piece of meat to his face. 

 

Wilbur blinks at it in surprise, pushing it away. “No thanks.” 

 

“You haven’t eaten, either.” Technoblade reasons, and Wil glances down at the plate, finding it to be empty. There’s nothing more. Of course Techno would save him a last bite. Something in Wilbur’s heart swoops with fondness at that thought. 

 

“I’m not the one who’s been throwing up.” Wilbur points out, but he takes the fork anyway with a soft smile. If he refuses, he knows Techno will be stubborn. He can’t very well throw the meat away. And he can’t quite force it down Techno’s throat, even if something in him wants to, out of pure brotherly spite. 

 

He knows it’s not deer. He knows exactly where it came from, where he got it. He knows he killed a man to get this, stabbed right through his damn legs so he could wrap up the pieces and take it home. 

 

But he raises it to his mouth and eats it anyway, just to keep the peace. To keep this soft hope that’s floating in between the both of them. It’s a calm night, so far. Who is he to break it, after he’s put so much effort into making it whole?

 

Techno’s face relaxes with Wilbur finishing off the meal, and that sight makes the meat between Wilbur’s teeth taste just that much better.

 

For Techno, Wil thinks, as he puts the fork down with a smile. 

 

---

 

Sleep comes quick for Wilbur that night.

 

Him and Techno talk to pass the time, curling up beside each other with the fire keeping the room lit, but eventually there comes a point where they both seem to agree that the day is done with. 

 

Technoblade sleeps near the edge of the bed, at his insistence. It makes sense, with the chance of dinner not staying down. Wilbur sleeps beside him, an arm slung over his waist and his head tucked right over his chest. The sound of his brother’s heartbeat is what pulls him to sleep, and the sound of breathing is what he wakes up to. 

 

The cabin is dark when he opens his eyes, the fire having burnt out. There’s no sign of any danger that might’ve woken him up, but there is a soft sound of wheezing over his head, which is unfamiliar. He can feel the expand of lungs filling with air underneath him, and he realizes with a startle that Techno hasn’t breathed since the day he died. 

 

He lifts his head up to find Techno awake, staring up at the roof with wide eyes. With the lack of light, it’s hard to make out his expression, but Wilbur can see the fear either way. 

 

“Techno.” Wil whispers, and Technoblade’s gaze falls down onto him, a near grimace crossing over his face. “Techno, Technoblade-” He goes to push himself up, trying to sit up to see better, but there’s an arm held over his back, and he can feel Techno’s fingers dig into the back of his shirt, like he’s scared that Wil’s going to leave. 

 

Wilbur supports himself onto his elbows, staying in a hunched down sort of kneeling position. It’s horrid for his spine, but it’s enough to keep him closer and let him try and see Techno better. 

 

“I can’t breathe.” Techno admits, barely a whisper. “I can’t- I don’t know.” He shakes his head, closing his eyes as he tries to take in another breath. It sounds like a struggling gasp, not quite fitting in his throat. 

 

Wilbur lifts himself closer to Techno’s face, leaning his forehead against his brother’s in an effort to steady him.

 

 “I don’t know how to-” Techno tries to talk, and he opens his eyes with another short gasp for air. Like he just can’t get the hang of it.

 

“You’re alright.” Wilbur reassures, holding a hand over Techno’s heart. It’s quick and panicked underneath his palm, but it's alive, and that’s all Wilbur needs to keep a calm mind.

 

“I’m not breathing.” Techno says, and it nearly sounds like a plea. A plea for Wilbur to fix it and make it all better. 

 

“It’s fine.” Wilbur shushes him. “You’re fine, you’re alive. You’re perfectly alive.” Alive as he can be. There’s discoloration all across the skin of his torso, and there’s a distinct lack of air in his lungs, but he lives. “Give me your hand.” 

 

“Wil.”

 

“Give me your hand, come on.” Wil pulls at his wrist, putting it over his own chest so that he can see that same beating heartbeat that’s been pushing Wilbur on for this past week. “You’re okay. You’re alive.” 

 

Techno stares down at their hands with a stuttering breath, and Wilbur squeezes Techno’s fingers. 

 

“You don’t need to breathe.” Wilbur says, very very softly, like he’s afraid of what Techno will do with hearing that sentence. But it seems to only help, because as Techno hears him, he goes still. Another wheeze comes through, like an accidental habit, but it stops, and he closes his eyes. 

 

Time ticks on slowly with the silence. A rush of hesitance runs through Wilbur at losing the sound of Techno’s gasps, but the hand holding onto his keeps him from any panic. It’s strange, having such a sign of life be gone. Techno seems fine without it, but it’s still so jarring. While asleep, he seems like a corpse. 

 

“Techno?” Wilbur whispers, and Technoblade opens his eyes back up, tilting his head to look at Wil. “Hey.” 

 

“Hey.” Techno says in response, and Wil sighs out in relief, flopping down back onto his spot beside his brother. He curls up there, clinging onto Technoblade like an overprotective octopus. “Sorry.” Technoblade mutters, and Wil huffs. 

 

“It’s alright.” Wilbur lifts his head, resting his cheek against Techno’s shoulder. “I think not breathing would take time to get used to.” There’s a heavy anxious weight at saying that aloud. It feels like the first time they’ve acknowledged it. Acknowledged that Techno’s changed.

 

“I thought I got it.” Technoblade says, sounding tired. “But I woke up trying to. Still habit.” 

 

“Hmm.” Wilbur pokes at the back of his palm as a silly form of comfort. “How late into the night do you think it is?” 

 

Technoblade pauses at the sudden question. He glances to the fire, finding it burnt out. “Early morning?” He guesses. 

 

“Yeah.” Wilbur closes his eyes. “And you haven’t thrown up, have you?” 

 

The arm around Wilbur’s back goes tight. “Oh.” 

 

Wil grins. The relief of the realization is wonderful. Finally, it feels as if everything in the world has fallen into place. Like all the terrible things have come to a stop, and he is reaping the rewards of his struggles. 

 

Finally, he has Technoblade right beside him, his survival guaranteed. Finally, they can live on in this little cabin, with a way to keep going. 

 

Wilbur now knows how to keep them going. 

 

The only problem now, he supposes, is breaking it to Techno. He can’t keep a secret forever, not from his brother. It is only a matter of time, but Wilbur knows he’ll understand. One way or another, he’ll learn to understand. He’s always been stubborn on clinging to morals, but maybe with this he’ll learn to let it go. Then they can both be the same. Rough around the edges and molded by the hellscape around them. 

 

They drift back to sleep with relief on their shoulders, hands held together over Techno’s heart. Wilbur has a passing thought of the rifle and the backpacks hidden away at the side of the house, and he tells himself he needs a better place to put those. Until he can nurse Techno back to full health, he’s going to need a better place to hide the evidence away. 

 

He leaves that problem for the morning. 

Notes:

what do you mean the chapter count went up. thats preposterous. no it didn't. you're crazy and don't know what you're talking about /gaslight

anyhow yeah dark!twinsduo, mostly dark!Wilbur for now, but then we get into Murder and Techno is like "ey yo wtf" until then he isn't bc lets be real, when ur codependent on ur twin brother in the zombie apocalypse ur probably gonna be like "okay fine lets have some murder" when push comes the shove. The push being wonky eating preferences!!

thank you for reading, leave a comment, eyyy macarena

Chapter 7: Downfall

 

Technoblade wakes up to the smell of cooking meat and the sound of soft, familiar humming. 

 

It’s a good way to wake up. 

 

When he blinks his eyes open, there’s sunlight coming in through the old cracked windows, and a blanket tucked carefully over his cold body. Part of his limbs have a quiet ache within them, something heavy and slow, but it’s easy enough to ignore with his focus being given only to Wilbur. 

 

Wilbur, who’s making them both breakfast. 

 

He’s eating while doing so. He probably made his own plate first before Techno’s, which makes sense. He got up first. Techno kinda feels bad about that, about sleeping in and making him take the load of both their chores, no matter how light it is at the moment. He doesn’t like Wilbur doing things on his own. It causes too much stress for Wilbur, and for himself in turn. They’re meant to lean on each other. 

 

Although, he supposes right now it’s reasonable. Excusable. He’s still…recovering. Still coping? 

 

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. His thoughts get too loud if he thinks about it too hard. 

 

So don’t think about it. He was sleeping, now he’s not, and Wilbur is singing. 

 

Or. Humming. He’s humming. Techno wishes he would sing. He kinda wants to hear his voice. 

 

He also kinda wants some of that deer he’s cooking. 

 

Wilbur leans back from where he had been poking on the fire, his humming stopping for a moment as he takes a bite from his plate put to the side. It looks mostly empty by now, which makes Techno wonder how long he’s been awake, if he’s nearly done with his own meal.

 

He takes a moment to just stare at his twin. To take in the way he’s perfectly content within this morning, making food with a song in his throat. The humming starts back up with a clink of a fork against an empty plate. The fire crackles softly. Techno’s heart beats on. 

 

“Hey.” Techno croaks out, his throat feeling dry. He’ll get water right now. He just wants his brother to look at him. 

 

Wilbur turns his head with a curious look, eyes wide. He chews with a blank face for a second, then smiles, looking impossibly fond. Alive. Safe. That is all that Techno wants. It’s all he needs.

 

“Hello.” Wilbur greets, quickly taking the food off the fire and putting it onto a plate. “I made you breakfast.” 

 

“I can see that.” Techno nods, lifting his head up from the pillow and watching Wilbur walk over. He sits beside Techno on the bed, poking him in the gut to get him to scoot for more space to sit. “You didn’t have to.” Techno continues, sitting up properly, reaching over to the side of the bed for a bottle of water that’s sitting on the floor. 

 

“I wanted to.” Wilbur grins. “You need a proper meal.” 

 

“I ate yesterday.”

 

“That doesn’t count.” 

 

Techno drinks his water and raises his eyebrows with an amused look. They’ve gone farther without eating, but he won’t give note to that. This is a special case. Excusable. If he points it out, he runs the risk of thinking about it. 

 

And he won’t think about it. 

 

“Uh-huh.” He simply nods, and takes the offered plate anyway. Wilbur seems far too giddy about it. “Did you poison this?” Techno asks, pointing at his food with a fork. 

 

“Yes.” Wilbur answers, not a hint of hesitation. “I just used my casual collection of poisons that I always have on hand-”

 

“Oh, yeah, of course-”

 

“-and thought, you know what would make this taste much better for my dear beloved brother? Cyanide.” 

 

Techno snorts. He jabs his fork into his food and begins to eat with a happy warmth curling up next to his heart. The breakfast doesn’t taste like much in his mouth, honestly. It’s…meat. 

 

It’s times like these when he misses seasoning. But it’s good either way. 

 

He pokes around with his meal for a good minute or so, a little wary of it as he chews for a while longer. His stomach threatens to become unsettled, but it rests soon enough as he eats his way through. At one point, he glances up to find Wilbur staring at him with a small smile on his face. It’s warm, fond. It’s also kinda creepy, but Techno’s used to Wilbur’s stares, so he just sees the fondness, and the slight worry carved underneath it. 

 

“What.” Technoblade stares back, waiting for Wilbur to look away. 

 

He doesn’t. “I- uh.” Wil tilts his head to the side, making a conflicted expression. “Hm.” 

 

Technoblade chews more slowly. He puts his fork down. 

 

“Well, don’t stop eating.” Wilbur insists, looking down at his plate. He gives an honest frown. Techno picks the fork back up. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Technoblade asks, tapping the edge of his fork onto his plate, letting the clicking noise sound out between them both. “Is something bothering you?” There is something. Techno can see it much more clearly now that he’s awake. Something is weighing on Wil’s shoulders, and that’s not right.

 

Wilbur seems panicked for a split second, then he shifts his expression into something more calm. “No.” He lies, giving another warm smile. 

 

Techno drops his fork, letting it clatter onto his plate. Wilbur blinks, then narrows his eyes into a stern look, and Techno narrows his eyes right back. 

 

“There’s something bothering you.” 

 

Wilbur leans back, the bed creaking underneath him. “...it’s not a bother, really. Not to me.” 

 

“What is it?” Techno asks, persistent regardless. 

 

Wilbur sighs. He looks at Techno’s food, and there’s a small furrow in his brow, a quiet sign of conflicting thoughts. He digs his hands into the bedsheets he’s sitting on. 

 

“It’s just-” Wilbur nearly stammers over his words. “This- this feels like our first normal morning after a long while.” He admits quickly, a blur of words.

 

Oh. 

 

A cold weight finds itself onto Techno’s lungs. He feels the urge to take a breath, despite not having a need for it. 

 

“You’re okay.” Wilbur continues, and it sounds like he’s reassuring himself. “We’re having breakfast, and you’re okay.” He looks to the ground, gaze downcast. 

 

“Yeah. I’m okay.” Techno agrees. He reaches a hand out, grabbing onto Wilbur’s wrist and squeezing. “We’re going to be alright from now on.” 

 

Wilbur smiles at the gesture. “We are.” He lifts his other hand to hold onto Techno’s wrist as well, curling his fingers tightly around it. “You’re not allowed to ever scare me like that ever again.” 

 

“Wasn’t exactly on purpose.” 

 

“I mean it.” Wilbur says, and there is something more in his voice. Techno lifts his chin and sees a hint of fear in his brother’s gaze. He wants nothing more than to wash it away and have it never return. “You are resting for the next few days, do you understand? I’ll go hunting. I’ll take care of the rest. You stay in here until I’m sure you won’t die on me.” 

 

Something uneasy sits in Techno’s throat at the thought of leaving Wilbur to do everything alone. Hunting can be relatively uneventful most times, but they do live near a settlement. People could be in these woods. 

 

“You can’t be out there on your own.” Techno tries to say. “We’re too close to others-”

 

“Well, you should’ve reconsidered  leaving me before saying such a thing, Techno.” Wilbur cuts him off, and the grip around his wrist goes even tighter. It’s a little uncomfortable, but Technoblade doesn’t shake it off. He tries to ignore the guilt running down his back.

 

“You were with the town. That wasn’t being on your own-”

 

“Don’t argue with me.” Wilbur hisses out, yanking Techno’s arm and making him lean in closer. Techno holds on to the plate in his lap, making sure it won’t fall. They sit frozen for a second, a tension rippling through the air. 

 

Then Wilbur leans towards him and presses his head up against his, their foreheads resting on each other. Techno closes his eyes. His brother is warm.

 

“Don’t argue.” Wil repeats, much softer this time. “I can’t manage it right now, so just don’t. Just let me take care of us for the time being. You know I can.” 

 

“I do know.” Techno confirms. The only issue is that he doesn’t want Wilbur to do that by himself. He doesn’t want his twin to bear the weight of survival for two. 

 

But he supposes there’s not a choice in the matter. When he opens his eyes, Wilbur looks set on his decision. He’s only waiting for Techno to nod along.

 

“So agree.” Wilbur says, his voice nothing more than a whisper. 

 

Techno flexes his hand from where it’s held in Wilbur’s grip, and he nods against his brother’s head with a solemn mood. “Okay.” He whispers back. “Okay, Wil.” 

 

“Okay.” Wilbur repeats back. There is still a worry hidden behind his eyes. Techno fears it’s something that he’ll never be able to get rid of. 

 

They stay there for a few seconds more, leaning against each other, then they pull apart, and Wilbur picks up Techno’s fork and places it back into his hand. He stands up to tend to the fire, and Techno sits back, poking at his food. 

 

The sound of humming finds its way back into the air. 

 

“Wilbur.” Techno calls, and Wil lifts his head from the fire. “Could you sing for me?”

 

And Wilbur smiles. 

 

----

 

The days pass slowly after that. Wilbur becomes productive. 

 

Technoblade stays in the cabin, passing the time with whatever little hobbies he can do. He carves wood for a while, with bits of bark that Wilbur brings him from outside. Wilbur works on chores, moving anything sturdy to rest on their walls so they have a stronger defense versus anything wanting to bash against them. When he comes back to check on his twin, Techno’s carved a little pig for him. He nearly cries over it with all the dramatics of being Wilbur. 

 

On another day, Technoblade paces through the room, rearranging everything in sight until there’s nothing to rearrange. He cleans what he can, repairs what he’s able. He tidies up the bed and organizes their supplies and sets out their weapons on the table in a neat little line, easy to grab, easy to use. Wilbur finds an old axe he found around the cabin and uses it to chop down wood from the forest. When he comes back with piles of chopped lumber, Techno helps him collect it into a stacked pile beside their fireplace.

 

The busy work is somewhat soothing, for a while. But there’s only so much one can do while in a little cabin, so Techno finds his actions getting repetitive. Useless. At one point,  Wilbur comes back one afternoon to see Techno redoing the pile of chopped wood, over and over into a different stacked pattern each time. 

 

He banishes him off into bedrest for it, insisting that either he carve some more sculptures, or he rests on the bed. Something about proper recovery, and all that jazz. Technoblade listens to his requests, but complains loudly throughout it each time his brother returns home. The annoyance on Wilbur’s face is the greatest joy life can give. 

 

While Techno stays on bedrest, drifting in and out of fitful sleep throughout the early mornings, Wilbur goes out of the cabin and hunts. He brings back what’s left of the deer from before, what he could salvage, and turns it into jerky beside the fireplace. Then he goes out looking for more. 

 

“We can manage with just this.” Techno tries to bargain, Wilbur hovering by the door with a gun already held in his hand.  “It’ll hold us out for a good week if we spread it out.” 

 

“I’d rather not have us both half-starve for a while.” Wilbur replies. “You need the food. Skipping meals would do you no good.” 

 

“I don’t need it that badly.” Techno mutters, ignoring the way his stomach is already craving the bits of meat stored to the side. He’s used to starving. He can let it be. 

 

“I am put in charge. I make the rules.” Wilbur declares, a teasing grin across his face as he lifts his chin up high. “The rules say Technoblade gets three meals a day.”

 

Techno makes a scoff. “That’s excessive.” 

 

“It’s the rules!” Wilbur only sings. He leaves the cabin either way, and Techno watches the door shut behind him. The cabin is left in silence, and Techno is left with his thoughts. 

 

He goes to sleep to avoid thinking. Because with thinking comes remembering, and Technoblade knows that most of his memories from the past years are not ones he’d want to reminisce over. The only thing he’d ever care to remember is Wilbur. 

 

When he wakes up, Wilbur is cooking fresh meat on the fire. A rabbit, he claims it is, back turned to him as he pokes at the food. He says it was caught on a trap set out there already, most likely due to the town near them. They surely won’t notice if Wilbur just takes a few. They saw the gardens there. They’ll live without a bit of livestock. 

 

Techno eats the dinner without complaint, a touch shameful that they’ve stolen someone else’s food, but also not very shameful at all, since they need it more. Wilbur looks happy and relaxed as he leans against Technoblade during sundown, and Techno feels fulfilled, in more than one way. 

 

The next day, Technoblade returns to the hobby of carving with a frightening passion, and Wilbur goes out to hunt again. Technoblade coaxes him to stay home for a rest day, since he’s been so busy for a while, but Wilbur only smiles and says he’ll have it another time. Just not today. 

 

Technoblade carves a bunny while he’s gone. The wood shavings fall all over the floor, and Technoblade lets them scatter. It’ll give him something to do, later on, when he has to sweep it up with a piece of cloth and something flat to carry it on. 

 

Wilbur comes back with another rabbit. It’s already cut up into pieces, stored away in Wilbur’s bag, and Wil’s excuse is that he tried grabbing it out of a trap, and fucked it up in the process. Not wanting to waste the possible meal, he just cut it while he was there, to save the trouble. 

 

Technoblade takes the explanation with a light snort. He doesn’t say anything about Wilbur’s clumsiness, but the laugh in his throat is a tease all in itself. Wilbur glares at him with a redness across his cheeks, and he starts up the fire to make dinner. 

 

They eat rabbit that night. They eat deer jerky the next morning. They eat the jerky again for dinner, then the rest of the rabbit from before. Technoblade doesn’t mind the constant meat for his meals, but it grows to be a bit much, so he ends up suggesting they grab one of their last few cans of beans from their supplies, which is still probably good. 

 

Wilbur refuses it with a knee jerk reaction, but when Techno complains about the lack of variety, he somewhat relents. He doesn’t let Techno eat the beans right out of the can (although Techno was tempted to wrestle it out of his palms and try it anyway), he instead makes a stew, filled with beans and meat.  

 

It’s not gourmet, but Techno will take it. Wilbur gives him a funny look for the entire night after they eat dinner, and when Techno asks about it, his lips curl up into a strange frown. 

 

“I want to try an experiment.” He tells Techno, searching through their nicely organized supply of food for another can of beans. “But fair warning, it might not end well.” 

 

“What.” Techno deadpans, because the only experiment he could ever imagine Wilbur doing are ones that end in maiming someone. (There was the one instance where they had been caught in a hostile base, stuck around a corner with armed enemies too close. Wilbur had repeated those same words of wanting to ‘try an experiment’ then he promptly figured out a way to make a molotov. Technoblade had taken the experiment results with glee. Explosions are always something to behold. The fire afterwards was a bit inconvenient though.)

 

“You know how…” Wilbur stammers, rolling his wrist. “-your stomach is sensitive?” 

 

Techno shrugs a shoulder. 

 

“I’m fairly sure meat solves the issue. Fresh meat, specifically.” Wilbur adds on quickly. “So I’m wondering, if you just ate something else, and not anything more…” 

 

“I’m not really keen on throwing up today, Wil.” Technoblade drawls, but squints his eyes at the can of beans with interest regardless. 

 

“You don’t have to do it. It would just narrow down what you can and can’t eat.” 

 

That would be useful, Techno supposes. Maybe the sickness with the food was just a- temporary thing. From the- the-

 

From when he wasn’t feeling well. If he could go back to eating normal, simple food, then Wilbur wouldn’t have to go out hunting so often. They could just hunker down with their supplies here. 

 

Technoblade agrees to try. He eats, complains about the taste of beans, and then nothing happens. The night gets late, Wilbur puts a bucket next to their bed, and they head to sleep. 

 

Techno pukes into the bucket midway through the night. Wilbur is there, holding his hair back, rubbing at his spine as Techno groans and laments over the loss of not being able to simply eat beans. 

 

“I guess you’re the opposite of a vegetarian.” Wilbur jokes lightly, fingers tapping nervously at the back of Techno’s neck. He’s warm against Technoblade’s skin, and Techno will never get used to the constant of it. “You’re an anti-vegan.”

 

“Carnivore.” Technoblade informs helpfully, before retching into the bucket again. “Goddammit.” He breathes out, when he’s all gone and worn out, and Wilbur’s already thrown out the bucket outside. 

 

“You ate the stew just fine, didn’t you?” Wilbur notes, looking at the pot in the fireplace, a bit warm with the fire burning low. “Or maybe you threw up with both the beans and the stew.” 

 

“We should’ve tested this out tomorrow.” Technoblade sighs, falling backward onto the bed with a suffering noise. 

 

“Do you want a bowl?” Wilbur asks, leaning over him and resting a hand onto the side of his elbow. 

 

“Wil, I am not eating anything right now.” 

 

Wilbur seems somewhat guilty about that, but he smooths his expression out easily enough, and scoots Techno over to claim his spot on the mattress soon after. “I’ll make a big breakfast, then.” 

 

“You’re spoilin’ us.” Techno mutters, letting himself get dragged close into Wilbur’s arms. He’s exhausted from losing his dinner. All he wants is to rest his head onto Wil’s shoulder and pass out. “You keep going out hunting.” 

 

“I do need to supply us with food.” Wilbur points out, resting his chin onto the crown of Techno’s head. 

 

“We have enough. You just keep making too many meals.” Technoblade raises a hand, and pats half-heartedly at Wilbur’s arm over his shoulders. “Skip hunting tomorrow. Or if we really need the food, then let me go with.” 

 

“ No .” Wilbur quickly replies. “To both. We keep having meals until I know you’re okay. And you stay here until I know you’re okay.” 

 

“I am okay.” Technoblade murmurs. He doesn’t sound all that sure of it. 

 

“I’m not convinced.” Wilbur whispers. “Until I’m convinced, we keep it like this.” 

 

“I’m going to go stir crazy.” 

 

“We can go chop wood together later in the day tomorrow.” Wilbur compromises. Techno hums, satisfied at that. As long as he’s got Wil. Then he’s fine. 

 

“Alright.” Technoblade closes his eyes, and falls to sleep in the warm embrace of his living brother. 

 

He wakes up to cooking meat. Eats to the sound of Wilbur singing, and then when he’s done, he watches Wilbur leave to go hunt. 

 

He carves wood. He makes a collection of carvings, with all the freetime he has. There’s the pig and bunny from before, but he’s also made a bird, a wolf. He makes a skull, then a boat, then some figurine that could be either him or Wil, he’s not sure. He carves a flower, and a soda can, and a dinosaur. He places them all around the cabin, giving it a little personal touch. It brings him joy. Distracts him from the thoughts in his head, and from the fact Wilbur lied when he said they could both go chop wood together. 

 

He’s not so broken up about it. He is, however, getting kinda claustrophobic in this place. 

 

He leaves the cabin when Wilbur is gone. Not to wander or explore or anything, just to- stand in the front lawn. Breathe in the air, feel the sun. He leans against the front door, a knife in his back pocket, and after a while, he heads back in. 

 

He carves a fox. A bear. A deer. 

 

Wilbur comes back with meat. It’s always cut up inside his bag, already in pieces, and while Techno says he should just bring the animal home, Wilbur says it’s become habit to cut his hunt apart right after he’s gotten it. Makes things easier, he says. All Techno thinks is that it’s making his backpack gross. 

 

Luckily, according to Wil, there’s a river not too far off. He washes his bag there, and washes himself up too, so he’s not a mess when he comes back to Techno. He collects water there to bring back. Finds a few greens, too, which they only ever use in stew, or as something mixed with bits of meat. 

 

Techno ponders for a moment on the meat thing. The assumption now is that he’s become a carnivore, thanks to the virus running through his veins. It’s more annoying than anything, but also intriguing in a way. For a second, Techno’s confused as to why he’d be confined to eating only meat, but then he remembers what zombies mainly go after, and he stops thinking. He regrets letting his curiosity wander. 

 

He stays busy with the cabin. He carves away and cleans up the shavings and tidies up what non-existent mess they have. He stands outside in the sun, growing farther and farther from the cabin door each day, with the excuse of wanting to stretch his legs. He doesn’t say a word of his outings to Wil. 

 

Wilbur returns one day saying he caught nothing in the forest, but he smells strangely of blood when he sleeps beside Technoblade that same night. Techno holds his brother close and buries his nose into his hair, and wonders why the smell of copper sticks to him so much. Maybe it’s from all the constant hunts. Maybe it’s a thing with himself, Techno’s nose being more sensitive. 

 

He chooses to just not think about it. 

 

Wil still frets over him most days and holds him tightly every night. Technoblade eats more than he has for months, and gains a rebellious streak in continuing to leave the cabin without Wilbur’s knowledge. The carvings around the cabin grow in number, until Techno becomes bored with carving out wood, and takes to the very walls around him. He digs in little designs beside their bed, pictures of stars and constellations that he learned long ago, when the world was kinder. He draws flowers and vines around their creaky little doorway, he scratches tiny doodles of pigs onto their rickety table. 

 

When Wilbur sees it, he says nothing of it. But he does give Techno a meaningful look, and they’ve been at each other’s side long enough to understand all the words that can go into a look. 

 

‘This is nice.’ Wilbur says, with a small grin as he runs his fingers over the indents in the table during dinner. 

 

‘Nerd.’ Wilbur insults, glancing up at the carved stars above their heads, a little hard to see with the fireplace going dim. 

 

‘We’re both home.’ Wilbur smiles, placing his axe down next to the doorway when he returns from an unsuccessful hunt. 

 

The days pass by. Technoblade feels content, but he’s waiting. Waiting for Wilbur to be convinced, waiting for the bedrest to be done with. He’s all rested up. He’s been fed and nursed to complete health. What he is ready for now is to help his brother, to protect him, to repay him somehow for the betrayal he gave so recently ago. 

 

Part of the reason he stayed in the cabin for so long is for that guilt sticking to his skin. He made Wilbur worry. He left Wilbur behind. Part of him can’t even forgive himself for that, but Wilbur seems willing to move past, so he does the same. He stays home. He lets the event fall behind them. 

 

He grows restless, one early morning, and sneaks out into the forest trees. 

 

It’s a sunny day. The weather is nice, Wilbur had just left to see what he could hunt, so Techno has time. He’s got an impatience in his chest that spurs him forward, so he walks away from the cabin door, and keeps on walking. 

 

He hits the treeline, moves underneath the shade, and it’s wonderful. It’s peaceful. Technoblade is happy with the cabin, don’t get him wrong, that place is home, with Wilbur and him living inside it, but when it’s just him, it gets- suffocating. Lonely. 

 

A few birds chirp out over Techno’s head as he steps over a root in his way. His hands drag across the tree trunks he passes, and he forces himself to take in a deep breath. The sensation is funny on his lungs. He shakes his head to try and be rid of it. 

 

The lack of a need for air reminds him again of the situation he’s been placed in. Of the way he’s wound up. He got unlucky, he failed to take into account just how much his brother clings to him, and then he died. 

 

And then- he came back. Just not in the way he was meant to. 

 

It’s a relief, in so many ways. Techno likes being alive, no matter how off it is. Being alive and capable of producing thought is kinda nice. But the most of it is the fact he’s allowed to stay with Wil. He can still be here for his brother, he can still protect him and hold him and share a meal with him next to their fire. He can still have him, have his smile and his songs and his joy. 

 

Wilbur is the only good thing Techno ever has in this godforsaken apocalypse. The thought of losing him was something inevitable, he was convinced of that, but here he is. Standing half-alive, having otherwise. 

 

Techno stumbles in his steps, blinking out of his thoughts and realizing he might’ve walked a tad too far for comfort. He goes to backtrack almost right away, not keen on being caught, but something catches his eye. 

 

There’s a splatter of something on a tree up ahead. It’s not bright red, but a dull brown, and Techno can only assume it’s nothing recently dead. His curiosity pulls him along, wanting to see what it could be, for just a second. 

 

Then the smell hits him. 

 

Something is rotting away nearby. 

 

Technoblade covers his nose and looks around, eyes dragging across the dried blood stained onto the tree trunk before him. He doesn’t see anything obvious, but upon closer inspection, there’s an unusual mound of dirt beside his feet, a poorly dug grave of some sort. 

 

Techno grimaces in slight sympathy. He pushes at the dirt mound with his shoe, and as he brushes away from the dirt, he reveals the part of the body kept very shallow underneath. He stares down at the sight of worn clothing, then he looks away with a short sigh. 

 

That could’ve been him. It could’ve been him at so many turns, at so many moments through this apocalypse. By all means, he should’ve had a bullet through him at least five times over by now. 

 

Wil’s always gotten him out of it, though. They’ve always pulled each other to cover, always took care of the threat before it became deadly. 

 

Technoblade steps away from the sad grave, his eyes catching on something colorful up ahead. There’s a voice on the back of his mind warning him to return home already, since he’s not even supposed to be out, but he can’t help but go look. He’s been in that cabin for so long. He’s been desperate for new sights. 

 

He walks into a small clearing, the dirt at the center dug out into a large ditch of sorts. Technoblade looks upon it with confusion, and he feels the confusion grow when he sees what’s inside. A feeling of dread drifts across his shoulders. 

 

There are- backpacks. In the ditch. Backpacks, and bags, and weapons. Things that the usual survivor would carry, when coming out here. Technoblade wouldn’t be concerned if someone was stashing their stuff here, for some reason, but that doesn’t feel like the case. 

 

Some of these backpacks are soaked in blood. It gives the implication that they were looted. 

 

Immediately, Techno’s heart sinks. Are there looters in this forest? Wilbur’s been running around with looters around him? 

 

He has an urge to go searching for his brother right now, to bring him home and insists on the two of them going hunting together from now on, but he’s then distracted by the sound of someone coming near, crunching footsteps coming up behind him. 

 

Technoblade turns, already taking a step to grab a weapon in the ditch, but then he pauses. 

 

“Techno?” Wilbur asks, purely confused. There’s blood covering his hands. A backpack that is not his own is held in his palm. It too, is covered in blood. 

 

Dirt is sticking to his knees, like he was kneeling down to do something. Maybe to bury something. 

 

Maybe to bury the remains of a dead body. 

 

Technoblade takes another step back, a sudden realization hitting him hard. Wilbur’s look of confusion shifts into something stern rather quickly, as he realizes his brother has wandered out from the safety of their cabin. 

 

“Technoblade.” Wil repeats, and Techno feels like an animal trapped in a snare. “What are you doing here.”

Chapter 8: Life

Notes:

UHG hey yall sorry for the long wait I was busy fighting my inner demons with a toothbrush and a dusty bottle of hand santizer. Not the best weapons against imposter-syndrome sounding thoughts, but like. It worked. Pogchamp, bitches.

Also twinduo are fucked up warning for uh all that shit. Huzzah, happy birthday.

“What are you doing outside?” Wilbur’s gaze is burning, digging its way into Techno’s skin. Technoblade can feel guilt roll down his back, along with the fear of having gotten caught red-handed at something he shouldn’t have been doing. He wants to look at the ground and hide his eyes behind his palms, wants to shrink and melt into the dirt around him so he can prevent a harsh scolding. 

 

He keeps his focus on Wilbur, though. His throat is tight when he speaks, but for his credit, it’s steady. 

 

“Taking a walk.” He says simply, and Wil’s eyes narrow. Technoblade bites his tongue, feeling as if that was the wrong answer. It probably was. But it’s the truth, he was only taking a walk. Can he be blamed, after being stuck in that cabin for so long? “I needed the air.”

 

“You don’t even breathe.” Wilbur lightly jokes, and for a second, the mood is lifted, and then it’s pulled even tighter. “You’re supposed to be resting-” 

 

“I have been resting for days.” Techno cuts him off. “I’m completely healed now, I don’t need to stay in the cabin.” 

 

Wilbur presses his lips together into a thin line for a moment. “Is that something you get to decide?” 

 

Technoblade has the urge to insist yes. But he knows for sure that is a wrong answer. 

 

He takes a step back instead, shifting himself so that he can give a long look to the ditch behind him. He glances over the bags, over the dried blood sticking to fabric, over weapons that were well-used, but are now stolen and tucked away into the dirt. Slowly, he turns his chin, looking back at Wil, looking pointedly at the bloody backpack he’s holding. 

 

The message is clear. 

 

“Techno.” Wilbur says. 

 

“What is this?” Techno asks quietly, eyes still stuck on the bloody bag. He sees Wilbur’s fingers curl tight around the strap of it, his hand nearly trembling. Then he relaxes, and Techno looks back at his face. His expression has gone carefully blank. 

 

Maybe, to a stranger, that would be enough. That would be convincing enough as to not let anything slip, to not let a single detail be given over. But this is Techno, and he knows his twin. He knows his habits, his expressions, his way of walking, manner of speech. He knows Wilbur. 

 

And he knows that a blank face means he’s hiding something. He’s nervous. 

 

Wilbur walks forward, stepping in front of Techno to throw the bag into the ditch. It lands with a thump, joining all the others. 

 

“Let’s go home.” He mutters, turning to walk away. Techno grabs him by the hand, stopping him in place. His fingers are sticky with blood, but Techno doesn’t really care. He’s touched worse. 

 

“Wil.” 

 

“You are not supposed to be outside.” Wilbur speaks harshly at him, but he doesn’t look Techno in the eyes. “You’re not supposed to be here, I told you, until I knew you were okay-”

 

“What is all of this?” Techno only asks again. “Why are all these things here?”

 

“I’m talking about you.”

 

“We can circle back to me.” Techno insists. He squeezes Wilbur’s hand. “I’d argue this is more pressing.” 

 

Wilbur looks at the ditch. There’s not a trace of guilt in his eyes. If anything, there might be a touch of pride. He shifts his jaw, then looks away with a slight shrug. “It’s- It’s hunting.” 

 

Technoblade tries to swallow down the tightness in his throat. It only helps a bit. “...Hunting?” He repeats, a sinking feeling of dread filling his stomach. 

 

“Yes.” Wilbur confesses, and he can’t bear to keep lying, not when he knows his brother has caught him now. “This is what I’ve been doing. I’ve been hunting, like I said. Just not for what you thought.” Wil glances up with a hesitant look, wary of the reaction he’ll get. He’s not surprised to see the shock in Techno’s eyes. He’s anxious with the fear that begins to grow alongside it. 

 

“Wilbur-” Technoblade opens his mouth, and stammers with nothing for a few seconds. “What do you-?” He looks at the ditch again. He looks at Wilbur’s hand in his, still bloodied, still wet. 

 

Techno isn’t dense. He makes the realization rather quick. He puts the pieces together, and grasps the picture as he sees it. It’s not the whole picture. There is something crucial he is missing, something he hasn’t been told, but dread takes him entirely and worry fills his heart. He takes an unneeded breath, suddenly upset. 

 

“You’ve been hunting after people-” Techno says, and Wilbur waits for the outrage, for the horror, for his hand to slip away- “-alone?”

 

Wilbur blinks. 

 

Oh.

 

Techno takes Wil’s other hand, and the fear is lingering on him, but it’s not at the implication of murder. Of course not, why did Wilbur think that was going to be where they broke? Techno’s taken lives before. The murder isn’t going to bother him any. It’s the cannibalism Wilbur worried about, now he recalls. 

 

Techno looks at him with wide eyes, holding his hands in his. There is only deep, raw concern written over his face, panic woven into it. Wilbur knows he should feel guilty for causing that look, but he can only feel content for the sight. His brother loves him, worries for him, so much so that he’ll overlook the morality of this with ease. Wil wonders if he’ll be able to do the same when he admits to what he’s been doing with the bodies. 

 

“Wil- We live near a settlement.” Techno starts, at the edge of being furious, nearly frantic. “We live near a fucking town , you’ve been picking people off as they come? Armed people?”

 

“I- I needed to.” Wilbur shakes his head. “I had to.” How does he say this? How does he break the truth? Technoblade has limits, Wilbur knows it. He’s going to have to push them. 

 

“For food?!” Techno goes on, sounding baffled. “We had enough! We could’ve done fine with the occasional animal, a few stolen traps here and there, going after people isn’t worth it!” What could’ve happened if those people fought back? What if they were a faster shooter, what if they cornered Wil, what if his brother never came back to him, all because of this stupid choice of trying to get more supplies? 

 

Techno doesn’t want to think about it. He can’t think about it. He can’t dare fathom the thought of his Wilbur never returning to him, because his dead body is sitting out there on the forest floor. 

 

“The animals wouldn’t have worked.” Wilbur isn’t meeting Techno’s eyes. “That- That wasn’t enough.” It wasn’t the right meat. Techno can’t eat it.

 

“It was plenty!” Technoblade yells. “We could’ve stretched the meat out and still stayed well-fed-”

 

“No, it wasn’t-” Fuck, how does Wil word it? How does he say it? “It’s not about the amount. Or- the amount does matter, I don’t- I can’t let you starve again. But with the animal meat-” He stops. His voice is lodged in his throat. 

 

“What with the animal meat?” Techno presses. “And I’m not starving again. I’ve been eating fine.” 

 

Wilbur stares down at their hands, seeing the way blood sticks to Techno’s palms, seeing how he’s dirtying Techno’s fingers without meaning to. That’s poetic, in a way. Wil’s pulling them both down into a harsher way of life, and he can’t even feel bad, because all he wants is for them to be together. 

 

He’s terrified at the possible reaction of this, though. It won’t tear them apart, but it’ll wound them. Techno will be bothered, and Wilbur will just have to smooth it out. 

 

“If it’s not the amount, then what is it?” Technoblade tugs at Wil, and Wilbur looks him in the eyes. “What’s wrong?” 

 

Wil can see the pure concern in his face. In the furrow of his brow, in the curve of his frown, it’s all so present. He’s such a good brother, and for that, Wilbur will do anything to keep him. He works past the stuck feeling in his throat, and speaks in a low, tense voice.

 

“You can’t eat it.” He says. “You can’t eat animal meat, Techno, and I couldn’t let you starve again.” He twists Techno’s fingers with his. “I couldn’t lose you again.” He mutters, more quietly. 

 

Techno gives a look of confusion at Wilbur, and Wil watches it slip into a slow realization, which gives away into a proper look of horror. 

 

Fear.

 

Wil feels it rub off on him. In comes the panic, for the both of them. Wilbur desperately tries to catch the fallout before it lands too hard. 

 

“What does that…?” Techno trails off, almost whispering. His words are shuddering. He gives an ever so slight shake of his head, as if refusing the thought in his mind. Maybe he jumped to the wrong conclusion. Maybe Wilbur is mispeaking. That must be what he’s hoping. “How do you know that? You’ve seen me eat, Wil.” 

 

“Yes.” Wilbur nods. “But that wasn’t animal meat I gave you.”

 

Technoblade jerks back, nearly letting go of Wil. Panic stabs into Wil’s heart, sharp and sudden. 

 

A thought now presses into his head. What if Techno truly can’t take this? What if he refuses it entirely, and then refuses to eat?

 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Wilbur can’t let that happen. He needs to smooth this over. He needs to calm him down, needs to make Techno understand. He can’t let this hurt them, he can’t let that fear in Techno’s gaze pull them both apart. 

 

“Do you remember when I first gave you food after you- you came back? When you woke up?” Wilbur asks suddenly, his words quick. He grasps at Techno’s wrists, staining blood into his skin. He holds on stubbornly, not willing to have Techno run off. 

 

Technoblade glances down at the action. He looks up at Wil, nodding silently. The expression on his face makes Wilbur’s stomach turn. He wants to soothe it, wants to hug Techno close, but the truth has to be put out first. Techno needs to understand.  

 

“You were sick. You got sick, no matter what I gave you. I-I tried feeding you anything I could, any of our supplies, but you couldn’t keep it down. Nothing was working and you were starving. You were starving. It-” Wilbur sucks in a sharp breath, his words shaky and quiet, like a scared confession. “It was like I was watching you die again. Just so much slower.”  

 

“Wil.” Technoblade breathes out, trying to interrupt. It’s hardly a whisper. 

 

“I had to do something, you know? I had to- fucking find something, so I thought, if you were infected, then normal food wouldn’t work. It had to be something zombies would eat. Something they go after. So I-” Wilbur can see the tense hold on Techno’s shoulders, the way his teeth grit together like he’s trying to bear a weight. The horror in his eyes is so vivid. It’s so much. “I-” Wilbur is fucking terrified of what it’s going to mean. 

 

“Wil.” Techno repeats. He speaks very, very softly. Very slowly. Like he’s got to focus hard to get his words out properly. “...What have I been eating?” 

 

Wilbur gives a smile, a small nervous chuckle escaping from his lips. He’s holding onto Techno’s wrists so, so tightly. He’s shaking. 

 

“Wilbur.” Technoblade repeats again. He speaks like he’s pleading for this to not be the truth. Wil wishes he could lie again and let him live in bliss, but it would never work. “What the fuck have I been eating?” 

 

“Technoblade.” Wilbur laughs out, nearly a sob. He looks so scared, in Techno’s eyes. And yet, pitying. Like he knows exactly what Techno’s about to start feeling. 

 

Maybe he does. They’ve always been good with each other’s feelings. They’ve always known each other. 

 

Techno swallows, trying to not feel choked. He feels sick, his gut unsettled past his skin.  He feels scared, just as scared as Wilbur looks, and his stomach gives a jolt.  

 

He looks at the backpacks in the ditch, all piled up, all dirty with blood. All of them belonged to people, once. But where did those bodies go? What counts as “food” for zombies? Techno knows the answer. 

 

He knows the answer, and Wilbur isn’t going to say it, because there’s no need. 

 

“Oh-” Techno yanks at his wrists, and takes a few steps back. Wilbur reaches out for him, but he ignores it. “Oh, god.” He chokes out. 

 

He holds a trembling hand to his mouth. He leans forward, feeling the sudden urge to puke. The only thing holding him back is the knee-jerk survival instinct to keep what little food he has. He can’t hold onto this, though. This- He can’t-

 

“It’s okay, it’s- it’s okay!” Wilbur steps closer, leaning down with him, holding his hands to Techno’s shoulders to keep him standing upright. “It’s alright. It’s fine! It- This was necessary!” 

 

Necessary? This was necessary? This is how Techno has been living? The entire time, all those days and mornings and quiet dinners, he was- unaware. He was chewing away on someone’s fucking flesh, eating the bodies of survivors who had been murdered by his brother. 

 

No. 

 

No, no-

 

Techno turns away. He pushes at Wilbur very suddenly, making him stumble back with a surprised grunt. He turns his back, not quite walking away, but just needing to not look at him. To not acknowledge this, to not think about it. 

 

Don’t think about it. 

 

Don’t think about it.

 

But he has to. He has to, because Wilbur’s been feeding him people the whole time, and he’s going to keep doing it. He’s going to keep doing it for as long as Techno is hungry.

 

Oh, god. For all the effort that Techno gives on trying to not think of what he’s become, it’s futile with the fact he’s been eating like a monster this entire time. 

 

“...Techno?” Wilbur anxiously calls, holding a gentle hand against Techno’s shoulder. Technoblade feels his palm, feels the warmth of it, the comfort, then he turns and shoves Wilbur again, making him stumble once more. 

 

“I can’t-” Techno keeps his hands held up, like a small shield from his brother. “I can’t do this. I can’t deal with you right now.” He spits out, hoping that will let Wil stay back. “Get back.” He snarls, thinking that will let him have some distance. 

 

But it’s the wrong thing to say. 

 

Wilbur stares at him with a hand half stretched out. The expression on his face, it’s- god, it’s haunting. He looks pale. He looks horrified. 

 

He takes a shuddering breath in, his bloodied hands shaking. “Tech. Techno-”

 

“Get back, Wil.” Technoblade insists, but he doesn’t sound so sure anymore. His voice has gone quiet, more desperate. He takes a single step back, like he means to run, and-

 

Wilbur lunges forward at him, grabbing onto his arm with a noise that sounds like a broken sob. 

 

"No, nonono-" Wilbur claws at Techno's sleeve, digging his fingers in and not letting go. It halts Technoblade's vague attempt at an escape. It makes him freeze. "Don't- don't leave me. Techno. Technoblade. "

 

"Let go." Techno tries to order, wanting to force some kind of threat into his tone. He just sounds shaky. Horribly frail. Somehow, he knows that no matter what he says, how he says it, it's not going to do anything. "Wilbur, let go!” He pulls at his arm, trying to break away. 

 

"No." Will hisses, and his fingers dig in tighter. 

 

"You're-” Techno winces. “You're hurting me-"

 

"Then don't go- just stop trying to go!" Wilbur tugs, making Techno stumble forward. Techno tugs back, trying to regain a step. He can’t leave. But he can’t stay. He's stuck in a horrible middle. He can’t make a decision. "You can't go, you can't!"

 

"Wil!" Techno pulls again, pushing his feet against the dirt, refusing to stand still, making Wilbur panic even harder. 

 

"You can't- You, you-" Wilbur stammers over his words, sounding as if a simple sentence is enough to hurt him badly. 

 

Technoblade wrenches his arm away from his brother, hitting a hand against Wil’s chest, forcing him to fall back. Wil hits the ground and sits back up within a second, scratching through the dirt to chase after Techno, to not let him get any farther than a few steps. Technoblade hesitates on running, and that lets Wilbur catch onto his hand, keeping a bruising grip while still on his knees. 

 

"Techno, don’t, no-!” Wil gasps out, and Techno opens his mouth, maybe to argue, maybe to yell, he’s not even sure. Wilbur beats him to the punch with a broken-sounding scream, just as Techno takes a single, small step back. “YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME AGAIN!" 

 

Techno freezes in place. 

 

There’s that guilt, that bone-deep sorrowful regret that Wilbur can no doubt see painted all over his face. An ache makes itself known deep in his chest, and Technoblade stares down at his brother, trying to ignore the nausea running through his stomach, the fear sinking into his bones. It’s not important now. His mind insists that it’s all an afterthought. 

 

Tears are brimming in his brother’s eyes, with his face scrunched up in pain like he's cutting through a limb. His hold on Techno hand hurts, and Techno would pull free, if it weren't for the fact that he knows it's going to set something off. 

 

It's going to set Wilbur off. 

 

They are on a teetering edge and Techno has realized it far too late. His chance for a temporary escape is out the damn window, Wilbur is too far gone for such an action like that. He’s grieving, suffering, right here, and Techno knows he would rather let himself die and rot away than add onto that pain. He’s stuck. He’s stuck, and it’s his own fault, because he didn’t fix this earlier. Rather, he ignored it entirely. He refused to think about it. 

 

Shit.

 

"I just got you back." Wilbur pleads, giving a small pitiful sob, his head hanging down. Techno wants to hug him. He wants to wrap him up in his arms and repeat apologies over and over again so he can wash out that upset look. 

 

He wants to cry and scream at the top of his lungs, run away and scratch at his half-dead skin, puke out the human remains that are rotting in his stomach now. 

 

"I-" Techno falters. He speaks gently, too vulnerable with his twin looking hurt. "I know.”

 

"Then why are you still trying to go?" Wilbur grits out, sounding much less pitiful in that sentence. There is anger bubbling underneath. Fury.

 

Technoblade can’t properly process it. He needs to do something, needs to say something, but his thoughts just aren’t forming quick enough. He’s at a loss of what to do.

 

The only sure thing he knows, from so many years of doing it, is that he has to comfort his brother, he has to pull him up off the ground and he has to hold him close. He has to. He needs to. 

 

But that ditch- that dirty ditch filled with remnants of other lives, evidence of people murdered, it’s still too close at his side. There’s so many bags within it. So many weapons that used to be held in warm hands. All if it is a loud reminder of what his brother has done. What he has done. 

 

All those bodies went somewhere. 

 

He feels sick again. 

 

Technoblade steadies himself, focusing intensely on the way Wil is digging his nails into his palm. "You-" He has to say something. He just has to have Wilbur leave him alone, just for a moment. Just for a second, for an opening. For a chance. 

 

Techno needs to breathe, even if his lungs don’t care for air anymore. He has to think , has to let the truth sink its claws in. Denial will do him nothing, now. 

 

"Wilbur, you-" 

 

"Let's go back to the cabin." Will offers, tilting his chin up, an awkward smile pointed at Techno. Techno’s heart is so fond for it. He wishes he could be more angry at Wil for what he’s done. "We can-” Wil hesitates. "Let's just talk back at home. Okay?"

 

Techno doesn’t want to talk. He wants to close his eyes and stop seeing it, stop tasting blood in between his teeth. He wants to leave behind the way something heavy sits on his skin, foreign and wrong. He wants to breathe in air through his lungs, and not let it feel like a mismatched habit. It’s a shame that wanting and having are such different things. 

 

"No." 

 

Wilbur’s eyes go wide. Technoblade doesn’t pull his hand away, as much as he’s tempted. He doesn’t think he could bear the betrayal on his brother’s face if he did. 

 

“No, we are talking about this here.” Techno’s voice shakes, and he leans down to Wil, speaking softer. “You’ve been killing people? You’ve been killing people, and feeding them to me.” 

 

“I was going to tell you.” Wilbur breathes out. “I was, I just- I needed to make sure you were alright.”

 

“This isn’t alright.“ Techno spits his words out through his teeth. 

 

Wilbur narrows his eyes, tears still sitting at the edges of his eyelids. “You’re fed.” He insists, like that is the most important thing. Maybe it is, to him. To Techno, morality is also pretty damn important. 

 

“At the cost of lives!” Techno laughs, a little hysterical with it. He pulls at his hand, and Wilbur lets go, only so that he can stand to his feet and follow Techno when he takes a step back. “At the cost of- These were people, Wilbur, those were people! You were hunting people!”

 

“We’ve done it before! We’ve killed others for their supplies back then, I know you remember, why is this any different?!” Wilbur yells back, shaking his head with a nervous chuckle bubbling at the end of his words. 

 

Techno scoffs, mouth opening and closing before giving a response. “Because you’re serving their organs for dinner everyday. You’re cutting them apart, scavenging on them like a zombie out on the road.” 

 

“Well, isn’t that fitting?” Wilbur asks. “You’re a zombie, Techno.” 

 

Techno clicks his jaw shut and squeezes his eyes closed. He forces a breath, and it sits too heavy. It sits too wrong. He doesn’t need air, and he’s reminded every single second. 

 

“I’m-” 

 

“You died. You died, and you came back, and that infection is still there. It never left.” Wilbur steps closer, and Technoblade opens his eyes, trying to step back. His feet don’t listen, they’ve become numb. He barely moves more than an inch. “You’ve seen the effects. I’ve seen the way you live, now. We adapt with what we get, that’s how we’ve gotten by. We take care of each other, that’s how we live. You needed food, so I hunted for it. I took care of you.” 

 

“But they’re people.” Techno insists weakly. Needed food or not, these are survivors with lives, with families and a will to live. Techno doesn’t have a taste for needless murder, it feels- tedious. Wrong. “These are living people you’re killing.”

 

“You’re my brother.” Wilbur stresses, like that’s all that matters, and Techno is an idiot for implying otherwise. “You’re my brother, Techno, I am- I am not losing you again.” He takes Techno by the face, bloody hands cradling him by the cheeks. “Never again.”

 

Techno wants to pull away, but he can’t make himself do it. He holds onto Wil’s hands, head tilted to the ground. He’s sick. He feels terribly sick, stomach twisting up, his throat tight, but he knows he won’t throw up the food. He can’t. 

 

Years of habits and years of surviving have led up to trapping him right here, standing still with his murderer of a brother. Guilt keeps him from running, and habit makes him lean into Wil’s palm, enjoying the warmth that can’t quite keep on his own skin. With a single glance to the ditch beside them both, a sense of wrongness runs down his spine again, cold and harsh. 

 

“We can’t…we can’t live like this.” Technoblade whispers. The wrongness is so much to bear. All these years of harboring disgust towards the walking corpses killing them all, and now Techno’s one of them. Now he and Wil are doing the same, killing humanity bit by bit, consuming them for hunger. “I can’t live with this.” 

 

“No, we have to.” Wilbur pleads. “You have to, I need you- I need you, Techno. I need you to live, and you need me. If you die again, I won’t bother trying to survive.” He forces Techno’s head up, pressing his forehead against his. He’s so warm against Techno’s skin. “Would you kill me with you?” He asks. 

 

“No.” Techno responds instantly, a jagged fear tearing through his chest. He couldn’t handle ever doing such a thing. “No, I can’t.” He repeats. 

 

“Then we have to do this. You have to stay with me.” Wilbur says. “And we have to keep you fed.” 

 

Technoblade closes his eyes again, giving a painful grimace. He squeezes his fingers around Wilbur’s wrists, touching his thumbs to the heartbeat that stays steady there. His brother is wonderfully alive, and Techno is…not. Regardless, they are together, and maybe, that’s all Techno should bother thinking about. 

 

“Will you keep hunting?” He asks, opening his eyes to stare towards the hole in the ground, the stolen bags piled together, worn down and bloodied.

 

“Of course.” There’s no trace of hesitation in Wil’s voice. That scares Techno. Not for the fact that people will die, but for the fact Wilbur will not give a second thought about the danger of it all. Hunting people is so much worse than hunting animals. At least animals just run. Humans are stubborn. Dangerous. 

 

“You can’t do it alone.” Technoblade finds himself insisting, needing to make sure Wilbur will be safe. “I won’t let you do it alone.” Even if the action makes him feel like a monster, even if it stains his hands with blood, he refuses to have Wilbur be put in danger. 

 

He will let himself be horrible. He will let himself be a walking, deadly corpse seeking dead meat. He will do it for Wil. He’ll do anything for Wil. 

 

“You don’t have to.” Wilbur offers. “You could just stay resting in the cabin.” His tone tilts in a way that’s teasing. 

 

“I’m not letting you go out alone ever again.” Technoblade promises. “You know how dangerous it is to go against people on your own, Wilbur, what the hell were you thinking-?” He scolds, and Wilbur only smiles, even with the sharp tone. 

 

“It was for a good cause.” He argues, and Technoblade just shakes his head, leaning into him, his skin frigid and dead against Wil’s. 

 

Wilbur laughs, the end of it sounding like a cry. He pulls Techno against him into a hug, tucking his head into the crook of his shoulder. He presses his hands to Techno’s head, to his back, to his arms, like he has to confirm that he has him. He breathes in a shaky gasp, and Techno is envious of it, yet so determined to keep that very breath going. He is dead and gone, but Wilbur isn’t. 

 

Technoblade wraps his arms around Wilbur in a vice grip, clinging to him, for he is truly his lifeline. 

 

Wilbur is his life, and he is Wil’s. For now, this is all he will think about. Nothing else. 

 

Notes:

These bitches codependent as FUCK. If you whack one across the head, the other will smash a chair into your skull like three seconds later. Brothers. Love to see it.

Notes:

I'm planning on having daily uploads for this one bc I have a good chunk of the fic already written out, but yknow. No promises. I'll try not to leave it uncompleted for too long!

Also thanks for reading, comments fuel my will to live, thank you and have a good day

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of to be human