Butterfly Reign

22. Tell Me About Your Lovely Day

Wilbur is afraid of water. 

That was one of the first things Techno rediscovered about his twin brother three years ago. It rained for days during their journey back to the capital; Wilbur had sat curled up on himself in the carriage, hands pressed against his ears so as not to hear the patter of raindrops outside. Techno would bring a lantern buzzing with warmth or another scratchy woolen blanket for Sally to wrap Wilbur and Fundy in. Watching as his brother's pale face smoothened into sleep, he'd return back to the saddle, soaked to the bone and shivering with exhaustion. 

Techno's brothers are similar in more ways than either of them would like to admit. Wilbur is too prideful to let anybody know of his fear; he didn’t have to say anything, however. Techno saw how his breath hitched, chest tightening, after Father asked him about the night he almost drowned. He noticed that the curtains of Wilbur's room were draped shut, and the next day the pond under his windows was drained, blue bells of honeywort planted in its place. Even the first time Sally had returned to Lmanburg without Wilbur, and his brother showed up at his doors, awkwardly struggling for words, Techno understood. 

"Do you want me to help wash your hair?" he asked, and Wilbur nodded silently, please. 

So many times Wilbur fell into panic when water had come too close to trickling into his nose or mouth; splattering and turning the tub over, he coughed and gagged until his throat was battered raw. On his worse days Techno is haunted with the memories of Wilbur's choked sobs as he mouthed, over and over again, "I can't breathe."

Those days are long behind. Sitting on a low stool, Wilbur tips his head backwards over a shallow tub of water, flinching only when a glass vial is uncorked a bit too close to his ear. Channeling all his concentration to circulating air in and out of his lungs, he has no energy to spare on weaving masks. That is Wilbur's true vulnerability: not that he trusts Techno's hands, gently rubbing shampoo into his hair, not to drown him, not admitting to the fear of every source of water bigger than a bucket, but that in his fluttering eyelids and lips for once relaxed out of a smirk, he looks almost Techno's brother, back from the time they still introduced one another proudly, "My twin."  

Techno doesn't want this moment to end, but no silence can last forever, except death. Their unspoken agreement to keep any conversation on hold is broken when Wilbur straightens his neck, eyelids falling closed with a deep sigh. 

"You're leaving again.”

Wilbur doesn’t ask, he states, so Techno doesn’t see any point in denying. "Bandit gangs have gotten bold in my absence. They’re robbing merchant wagons on unguarded roads. I must see to it that they’re exterminated as soon as possible.”

“Little use of our military if the smallest of inconveniences requires the general’s personal attendance,” Wilbur huffs, wincing when some water trickles down the collar of his shirt. “...Does Theseus know?”

A pang in his chest. Techno ignores it. “Not yet," he says. 

“He’s going to be dissapointed.”

Techno remembers Theseus' eyes, to the brim filled with hurt and fury. I’m not so sure about that, he is about to say, but then he takes a moment to look at Wilbur more closely. When did Wilbur ever worry about Techno leaving, or what Theseus felt about it? Usually he would be apathetic at best to hear that Techno is about to take the field again, and at worst saying, it’s long overdue.

It feels odd to keep a conversation with Wilbur. Techno thought that their interactions are bound to be limited to silent agreements and brief encounters for the rest of their lives, but here they are, talking as if they are stumbling blindly in a dark room, getting used again to the sound of each other’s voices. What are you really here for? Techno would ask, if he wasn’t so afraid of scaring Wilbur away.