goodnight.

.

warnings: wounds/injury, blood, oocness

===

Techno grunts, a hand gently clasped over his side. He can already feel the blood that soaks his palm through the tear in his shirt.

With his sword digging into the ground like an ice axe, he trudges on. His vision is spinning, and everything feels light—if Techno lets go of his sword, he might either float away or sink into the ground. The thought of being so close to safety only to give up makes him move faster.

Bad decision. He hisses as his side wails, faltering.

It's fine. He'll be fine. Just a few more steps, just a few more steps. He has to move.

"Techno!" A voice shouts, panicked. "Techno, where were y—holy shit! Oh fuck, oh fuck—c'mon, man, lean on me!" An arm over his shoulder, around his back. Assistance from the right, thankfully away from his wound. Brown clothes, lanky arms.

Techno closes his eyes, letting a little of his weight lean on Wilbur. The other curses colorfully, forcefully adjusting lest he fall. Together, with the combined force of Techno moving with his sword and Wilbur by his side, they enter home.

Blearily, Techno forces his eyes open as soon as the familiar heat of the living room hits him. He can spot a mess of green, black, and blond over there—probably Phil. He's in... the direction of the kitchen. Smells like dinner, some sort of potato soup. Did Techno really come back this late?

Wilbur wastes no time. "Phil!" He practically screams. It hurts. Wilbur tones himself down a little. "Phil, get the—the med stuff! Quick!"

The mess of color turns to them. "Wil, what—shit!"

It's rare for Phil to curse. Techno messed up that bad, huh.

Regardless, he forces his mouth to move and manages to say: "I g't th'—pearls. Nether."

"That doesn't matter, mate," The Phil colors say, darting off somewhere in a flurry of feathers. Wilbur sets him down on the couch wound-up, hands fretting for something to do. Techno thinks he can hear another rustle of feathers before Phil is next to Wilbur, holding up white objects.

Phil kneels down and starts gently pulling away the torn bits of Techno's shirt to expose the wound more. Wilbur makes a wounded noise. "God—Techno, what happened?"

"Wither skeletons," Techno replies. His hands and mind barely coordinated, he manages to take the Ender pearls he'd gotten from the trading Piglins out of his pouch. "'Ere. S'rry f'r bein' late."

"Mate," Phil exasperatedly says, using a feather-light touch to push his hand back down. "Later. Just don't move right now, alright? And get some rest. You've done enough."

Techno doesn't want to. He has to stay awake. He has to be alert. He has to... has to...

...He falls asleep.

===

Techno wakes with arms as stick-like as Wilbur's around his torso, a head of gold in his face, a warm body on his side, his shirt changed, and bandages wrapped around his middle. The body—person—on him snores quietly, arms gripping tighter around his torso. It doesn't hurt his wounded side, but Techno can barely breathe. Regardless, he doesn't dare shove Tommy off.

Especially under Wilbur's stare from the barely-ajar door.

"Ran here as soon as he heard about you being injured," the brunet whispers, entering. He silently steps towards a nearby loveseat, eventually sitting on it. "Even if he gets off, you won't be able to move for a few days; stitches, and all. Honestly, what were you thinking?"

"We were running out of pearls, though," Techno indignantly replies, just as quiet.

"Doesn't mean you have to kill yourself over them!"

Tommy stirs; both Techno and Wilbur go very, very still. The blond turns his head, drooling.

They're safe.

Wilbur sags in relief. Techno sighs.

"Look," the brunet continues, voice an even lower murmur, "just. You don't have to sacrifice your health for our needs, okay?"

Techno opens his mouth.

"Nope. Remember that Phil—once he's done re-making dinner—will be on your ass about this."

Wisely, Techno shuts his mouth.

Honestly, he might not even have enough energy to argue back. His mind feels heavy, and the warmth on his side is nice. Maybe going to the Nether had taken... more energy than... he thought...

===

When Techno wakes up again due to pain on his side, still at night—when did he even sleep?—Phil sits across from Wilbur. Tommy's still asleep—all of them are.

Techno smiles indulgently. He drifts off once more, setting a gentle hand on Tommy's back and letting himself rest.

===

a/n

You don't have to read this, but I felt like making an announcement about how much I owe Technoblade wasn't enough, so I'm writing this and a small oneshot even if the characters are OOC.

Originally, I had little interest in Minecraft. Sure, it was my childhood game, but I had the "we all grow up" mentality.

But then, my brother showed one of his videos on the living room TV.

At first, I had ignored it. But then, I had gained an interest as I watched him play more and more. I started getting hyped for his videos, started watching all of them over—I started to like Minecraft again.

Tommy had then popped up on my recommendations and that was when I officially fell in love with the game, but I could never forget that Techno started it all.

And now, here I am.

I can't thank Techno enough for introducing me to so many people. Can't thank him enough for showing me the good side of what is usually labeled as a toxic, kid-centric fandom. Can't thank him enough for changing my life.

Thank you, Techno. May you rest in peace.