𝗵𝗶𝗯𝗶𝘀𝗰𝘂𝘀 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ° ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐⁿᵒᵇˡᵃᵈᵉ

𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚎, 𝚘𝚗𝚎 | 九, 一

CHAPTER TW

flashbacks,
homophobia,
slight mentions
of emotional
manipulation

▪

There was nothing sweet about being sixteen, Techno had learned that almost a year ago.

His sixteenth wasn't cake-filled birthdays or riding bicycles at the crack of dawn like the ones he'd obsessively read in his books, no.

Sixteen for him was instead spent stealing kisses on an empty library with a boy whose face he barely remembers. It was a shit show of a year of humiliation and shame and hiding when one summer afternoon a person from his class finds them locked-lip and tells everyone after.

"I like you," it was a blurry moment, he can't remember but whenever he thinks about it for too long his heart aches, and not in the same way it did when he felt the boy put his hand on his cheek way back in August. It was a painful squeeze, like a tight grasp on a lemon and draining it out of its juices for a cool lemonade.

That boy drained him of his everything, leaving his heart shallow and empty.

"I like you but if you haven't kissed me back they wouldn't have known." He tells him. "Are you doing this on purpose? Do you like seeing me hurt?

"Dave, I thought that you liked me."

"I do, please don't leave--"

"I'm hurting and this is all your fault."

He remembers crocodile tears on red cheeks when people became too curious, "I didn't know what happened. He kissed me when we were alone, I couldn't push him away."

The boy he liked didn't bother standing up for him and left without a trace, dissappearing from the face of the earth and leaving him with the weight of both of their problems on his shoulders.

He was left with the grueling months of scrubbing his lips raw every night that he wakes up in a cold sweat, the nightmares of dainty fingers on his lips was not as tender as it used to be.

"Dave?" Wilbur shakes him out of his stupor that night and Wilbur will never forget the way his brother looked at him, his heart shattering when he sees the red on his eyes; a mixture of abrupt sleep and painful tears.

There was disgust and sharp venom on his tongue when he finally comes to his senses, a deep rooted hatred of himself when he tells his brother about the one August afternoon that changed his life for the worse.

It seemed so long ago but a year was not enough to heal a wound left by the cruel hands of someone that used to have your whole heart. He built walls around him but a swift kick to the bottom of the bricks sometimes crumbles the year long defense he built and Clay just made him spill something well-hidden without intending to.

He doesn't spare a single cent of thought for the blonde. Techno had always known him for just being Wilbur's friend that takes every single opportunity to talk to him for some god-knows-what reason ever since they were young. They weren't friends and it was better that way, he wouldn't really want to drag the poor boy to his own mess and cost him his standing on the social hierarchy on their school.

He knows it wasn't ill-intentioned but being on the defense for such a long time had become a reflex; he've had nosey people come up to him and spit whatever degratory bullshit they could grasp from their vocabulary, and the curious boys who treats him like a lab rat up for an experiment. It was almost like reading a script when he told Clay to fuck off.

Today was a long day.

Techno blinks back to focus his attention on the screen of his phone, the little green dot blinking to life next to Dream, a new acquaintance who managed to take up his free time more than he likes to. But as talkative as Dream was, Techno didn't really mind his company, especially now that he desperately needs the distraction before he spirals down into another hole of badly suppressed thoughts.

Tell me about it. It seems like life had both of us on its schedule today. He runs a hand through his hair, watching the three dots appear on his screen.

wanna talk about it? Came the reply after a few moments.

Not really, he types. I should be the one asking you that since technically it is my job.

The same three dots pop up at the side of his screen before dissappearing completely, the cycle continuing after a minute or so passes.

calling this your job sounds like we're not friends. Techno purses his lips, feeling the younger's worry through his screen. are we not?

Well... it's an arguable concept. He jokes lightheartedly, hoping that his humor translates well.

The reply comes as fast as he had expected, you're so mean!!! D:

I'm kidding. He types to which Dream childishly replies: smhsmhsmh!!!

What're you waiting for? Tell me about your day.

okay, you better get comfy because i talk a lot.

Techno feels a smile tug on his lips as he buries his back further on the blankets. It was comforting after a long day of worry on heavily sitting on his shoulders.

I'll be here listening. Type away.