Part of my collection of hurt!Techno Febuwhump oneshots. These can all be read as standalone.

Febuwhump prompt: "You're safe now"

Technoblade often wondered if Wilbur would forgive him, should he take the easy way out.

He supposed it was a silly thing to be worried about considering Techno wasn't the type of person to believe in any sort of afterlife. He didn't think that if he died, Wilbur would be waiting for him at the pearly gates of heaven or anything like that. And even if that were the case, surely Techno would be sent straight down to hell instead. He'd done a lot of terrible things since losing Wilbur, he had accepted a long time ago that he would never see his brother again.

But it still chipped away at him, that heavy feeling of guilt hanging over him with the phantom weight of Wilbur's hand on his shoulder every time Techno made sure he had one bullet left in his gun.

Wilbur had died and with him the one thing that kept Techno going.

And maybe it would turn him into a hypocrite but Technoblade was just so tired. For the past two years - or however long it had been. Keeping track of time passing during the apocalypse was kinda impossible, so all Techno had was his best estimation - he'd endured because survival instincts were a hard thing to shake. And he knew that if Wilbur was here, he'd tell Techno to keep going, to not throw his darn life away so easily, to simply put one foot in front of the other day after day. Wilbur would tell him that there were still things worth living for.

Wilbur was always the more optimistic one out of the two of them.

So far he'd survived simply because it felt like the right thing to do - the only thing he could do. Like it would be disrespecting Wilbur's memory if he gave up or something. But he simply didn't fear death as much anymore. Not when there were much worse things that could happen to him.

Techno didn't want to become one of them.

They disgusted him, bodies emaciated and rotten, shambling from place to place. Techno often watched them from a safe spot, not knowing if he wanted to see Wilbur's face in the crowd. Probably not. If he did, Techno would need to kill him. It was better for him to imagine his brother had escaped such a fate, naive as it was.

His memories of that day haunted him.

Wilbur's hand pulled out of his grasp, swept away from him. Techno wanted to hold on but he couldn't. They were only supposed to be split up for a few minutes. For months Techno had barely let his twin out of his sight but suddenly Wilbur was gone. There was too much noise, too many people. Survivors shooting at each other. Screaming, fire. This settlement was supposed to be safe. Then zombies started breaking through the walls.

They'd agreed beforehand where they would meet in case something like this happened but all Techno found once he got there was his brother's leg.

He couldn't look at the torn-off limb for more than a second before the overwhelming need to puke made him turn away and vomit his guts out into a bush. But what replaced that hollow feeling was so much worse.

Wilbur had made it to their agreed spot and Techno had been too slow. He'd failed in protecting his brother. Wilbur had died all by himself because Techno wasn't strong enough, wasn't fast enough, wasn't smart enough to get there sooner. Because Techno had allowed them to be swept up in that panicked crowd.

(Techno was responsible for Wilbur's death)

In his dreams, the memory of the last time he saw Wilbur's face came back to him. Cheeks flushed, eyes wide. That fearful expression, his arm still reaching for Techno despite the chaos around them, trying to get to him so desperately. Then Techno imagined that same face with chunks of flesh missing and the eyeballs falling out of the sockets. Techno woke up in a cold sweat more often than not.

While at night he sat at Wilbur's empty grave and begged for forgiveness, during the day he kept running.

His feet thumped against the pavement, lungs crying out for a moment of respite. They burned with his shallow exhales, stinging fiercely. Techno thought of Wilbur. He thought of the inhalers they'd gone through so much trouble to safekeep for him. How in the end it was all pointless.

Techno hit a dead end, the alley ending abruptly at a chainlink fence. He could hear the horde approaching behind him, slow but steady. By the time he turned around, two of them were already lumbering towards him.

The gun felt heavy on his hip. One bullet…

Seeing no other way out, Techno climbed the fence. His bag was filled with supplies and weighed him down, his fingers were slick with sweat. When he got to the top he managed to heave one leg over only for the shoelaces on his other foot to get caught in the metal wiring. Techno cursed under his breath and pulled harder, hands struggling to hold onto the top and keep stable.

A zombie slammed into the fence below him, arms outstretched in an aimless blind attempt to grab him. It couldn't quite reach, but its body jolted the entire railing, making Techno lose his balance. He tumbled down the other end. Techno's leg dragged over and across the fence in the process and he screamed when it made one of the jagged pieces of metal rip through his pants and into his leg, tearing open the skin.

The pain was a sharp stab, taking over his senses. He barely noticed his back slamming into the ground through the agony. Techno gasped, eyes skewed shut and only able to concentrate on not blacking out for a moment.

Then he felt a tug on his foot.

The zombie had wormed its long arms through the gaps in the fence, uncaring that it had ripped off part of its own flesh in the process, and was trying to reel him in. Techno pulled his uninjured leg back and kicked at it, again and again until its head snapped to the side and it loosened its grip. Techno crawled back, chest heaving.

He tried to stand only for his leg to flare with more pain in protest. Techno stumbled but didn't fall, leaning onto a wall to keep upright.

This was bad.

The cut was much deeper than Techno expected. Blood was already soaking through his pants and dripping down his leg. Blinking down at it, Techno tried to remember his old biology classes. Could he have nicked a major artery? Bleeding out would be pretty cringe - especially considering all else he'd survived. He quickly ripped a piece of fabric from the hoodie in his bag and tied it around his leg, high on his thigh above the wound. It hurt, but hopefully it would allow him to get to safety without dying.

He had to keep moving.

Techno followed the alley out onto the street, crouching behind a car. More zombies shambled around in the burning sun, fouling the air with their stench. Techno wanted to get out of the city, he'd only come there because he was running low on supplies. He had a backpack full of food for his troubles, now it was time to head back to the suburbs. It was often safer there.

Gripping the knife he kept on his belt, he started weaving between the vehicles that littered the road.

Techno was always sparse with his bullets, but usually he kept a melee weapon or two on hand. He'd lost his baseball bat on the other side of the fence, rendering him basically defenseless. So he limped slowly along, trying to make as little noise as humanely possible. Most infected were blind. Eyes were the first thing to rot. Their hearing was sharp though, sharper than the average person's. Techno had learned to keep quiet pretty quickly.

From beneath one of the cars, a hand reached for his ankle. Techno caught the movement from the corner of his eye and jumped over it, twisting around to avoid the zombie's prying fingers. He hissed when shifting his weight onto his other leg made another twinge of pain run through him, shooting up his hip. Techno tripped back - and right into another car behind him.

It immediately blared alive with a shrill alarm.

How the heck had Techno managed to bump into the only vehicle on the planet that still had an intact battery?

Shrieks erupted around him as every single infected in a five-mile radius must have picked up on the noise, frantic at the promise of new prey. There weren't many humans left. The zombies that remained wasted away or feasted on corpses, on animals, on each other. Fresh meat sent them into a frenzy.

Techno started running.

There were so many of them - too many. His leg burned, the injury started to feel like it was being torn open over and over again. Tears pricked at his eyes and Techno bit his tongue until he could taste blood in his throat, but he didn't stop moving. He couldn't stop, he would die.

(If he didn't know any better, he would swear he could hear that one remaining bullet rattling around in the gun's chamber, calling for him)

Claws snatched onto his bag, pulling. Techno turned around and plunged his knife into the zombie's neck. It growled louder, unlocking its jaw to snap at his arms. Its teeth came within inches of biting him but Techno used his elbow to slam into their throat and throw them off.

It collapsed into the ground but still tried to grapple upright on shattered kneecaps.

Techno watched them and wanted to scream, so sick of it all.

Another one tried to grab for him, nails dragging along his neck. They caught onto one of the straps over his shoulder instead, trying to jank him along. Techno chucked off his bag and took off running again.

But he was slowing down. His leg hurt too much to keep this up and his head spun with blood loss. He was dizzy and tired and thirsty and there was nowhere to go. There were apartment blocks on every side and more zombies wherever he looked.

Techno stumbled and this time he couldn't catch himself, sprawling face-first onto the asphalt.

His knees were scraped raw even through his jeans. His hands grazed the pavement, red and aching. Techno's leg spasmed, dragging uselessly as the muscle screamed for respite. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get it to straighten again. Techno flipped himself over, crawling backward. More infected were steadily approaching and as Techno dragged himself away he could see the smear of blood he was leaving behind.

His back hit a wall, and the sweat on the nape of his neck stung his skin as it rubbed against the rough brickwork. Techno was in so much pain he couldn't really think straight. All he knew was that he was about to die.

(Well, at least Wilbur couldn't say Techno didn't try his darn hardest)

He reached for his waistband, for his gun. For that one bullet that would end his suffering and release him from this bleak existence. Maybe Techno should be concerned that his hands weren't shaking, or that relief was flooding the small parts of his brain still struggling to work through the pain. As if he'd been looking for an excuse to do this.

But there was nothing there.

Techno grunted, panic overtaking his instincts. He looked around wildly, patting his own pockets.

Then he spotted the gun lying on the pavement where he had fallen.

As the infected stumbled towards him and Techno's situation sank in, he realized he couldn't crawl back for it. He'd be devoured before he could even get there, let alone use it to end his life. His vision had grown hazy, the sound of the undead reaching him dimly as if through water. He hung his head and closed his eyes.

Maybe he'd be passed out before the first bite and his last moments wouldn't be pure agony.

Gunshots seemed to reverberate in tune with the pounding between his temples, the rushing of his bloodstream. Techno felt his entire body twitch, but couldn't do more than try and raise his chin. He felt too weak for anything else.

A hand closed over his eyes.

He groaned, trying to push it away. Trying to escape despite how hopeless it was. As fingers curled around his shoulder Techno whined and pushed himself back against the wall, trying to pry his stuck eyelids open. He was scared. He didn't want to die.

Techno wanted his brother.

"Techno?"

His heart jumped inside his chest. He opened his eyes but he couldn't see anything, the sun was too bright and cast the figure leaning over him in shadows. They moved to kneel, quickly pulling him against them. Techno felt his tears soak into their shirt.

"You're okay, shhhh, Techno, you're okay." They held him like Wilbur would hold him. They sounded just like Wilbur too. "You're safe now."

His breath hitched and he nodded. He could feel the world fading around him, snuffed out like a candle. He was so exhausted by it all. He'd already failed his brother enough, failing Wilbur again by giving up now was breaking his heart.

But he didn't know how to keep going anymore.

"Hey, stay awake for me," the person who sounded like Wilbur but probably wasn't him said. He shook Techno's shoulder, but it only ended up lolling his head back and forth uselessly. Pain exploded behind his eyes with the motion. "Techno, please-"

Then there was nothing.

He floated in that strange sense of nothingness for several days.

It was a time during which Technoblade wasn't sure if he'd died or was alive. He didn't know which he would prefer either. Sometimes he swore he could hear Wilbur whispering soft reassurances to him and brushing his fingers through his hair, and when he did Techno was certain he'd have to have died. He must have been wrong about there not being an afterlife.

He was in a lot of pain, his leg throbbing with every pulse of his heartbeat. He was weak and fever-struck, and his body might be trying to start a forest fire in his ribcage. But Wilbur was there, with gentle touches and the slight ring of laughter when Techno angled his head into his brother's hand searching for more. And Techno knew he would lie there forever and suffer if it meant he got to keep Wilbur at his side a little longer.

Once, he managed to force his eyes open and Wilbur's face was there much like in his dreams. Except he wasn't rotten and disfigured. There was a new scar long Wilbur's cheeks and bags under his eyes, but Techno would trace every freckle and swear they hadn't changed at all from how his brother used to look. And he ached to reach out but could only languish in his frail, fevered state wishing for death to be a little slower. To allow him more seconds in a world where Wilbur still existed.

Between long hours of sleeping and his head feeling like somebody was using a spoon to scoop his brain out through his ears, Techno was in agony mostly. He curled up on his side and vomited all over himself more than once. Wet compresses were put to his forehead and cold glasses of water were pressed to his lips. Very occasionally when the pain reached a peak which had him vocally crying out until his throat hurt and he thought his skin would burst, a pinch of a syringe would bring relief. But not often.

There were other people. A woman with long, black hair kept in a ponytail would be by his side often, tending to his wounds, apologizing when it would make Techno flinch away from the hurt her help inadvertently caused. A blond man who always carried a rifle slung across his back brought by supplies and checked on him whenever he did. Rarely there was a little boy, but he was loud and made Techno wince from the headache, so he was often ushered out of the room rather quickly.

They walked through like visions in a dream. Techno looked at them and wondered if they were real. But when Wilbur held his hand, he supposed it didn't matter.

He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

When he opened them the next time, he felt lighter. Still absolutely miserable, the pain was pretty much the only thing his nerve endings would still process. But not as bad as before. And he could think a little bit beyond the pathetic little puddle his brain seemed to have been turned into.

Somebody poked at his face.

Techno jolted, then hissed when that small movement was enough to make everything hurt twice as much. He blinked rapidly, hoping to make the blur clear and see who was assaulting him. When he managed that, Techno was met with a toothy grin and two cornflower blue eyes.

"Oh, good! You're alive!" It was the kid from his fever-induced hallucination.

Too drained to speak, Techno only managed to kind of tilt his head in confusion. The kid tilted his head too in response.

With all the vigor an eight-year-old might muster, he carefully put his hand on Techno's forehead. "No fever anymore, I think. You're kind of sweaty and gross though."

Finally, Techno managed a painful swallow and forced his throat to work. Man, he was parched. "What?"

"You've been sleeping for like, two weeks. How the fuck are you still tired?"

"Tommy!" A sharp voice rang out from the doorway. "I told you not to bother him, he needs his rest."

"He's not even resting, he's awake!" the kid - Tommy - defended himself. This made the owner of the voice walk into the room quickly, boots tapping across tile.

The woman smiled when she saw that he was indeed not unconscious anymore, wrinkles forming around her dark grey eyes when the relieved grin settled on her face. Techno licked his lips, trying not to cough a lung out.

"Who-" he tried, but was unsuccessful in the attempt. He blinked, his eyes felt unpleasantly grainy.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Don't try to talk, sweetheart, you're going to wear yourself out." She did the same thing Tommy did, pushing the back of her hand against the side of his neck to check his temperature. Techno tried not to frown at how cold it felt. "Your fever hasn't broken yet, but it's not as high as it was before. That's a good sign."

Techno swallowed and tried again. "Who are you?"

"My name is Kristin," the woman said, smile not faltering. "The little rascal here is Tommy." She reached out to ruffle his hair and Tommy scowled, pushing her hand away. She seemed more amused by this than annoyed. "How are you feeling?"

He had no clue how to answer that so Techno just lay there, marinating in how sick he was. He shrugged, not trusting his voice to work again without breaking.

"Let me check on your leg," Kristin said, carefully pushing back the blanket. Techno could see his wound was bandaged up, but even he could tell how red his skin was around that - a telltale sign of infection setting in. Kristin saw him looking at it and nodded while pushing the blanket back. "We feared tetanus for a while, but it was probably just sepsis. We didn't have a lot of sedatives on hand, I'm sorry. It's looking better now though."

Was she apologizing for them leaving him to stew in misery? Techno didn't really take that to heart, he was surprised another survivor was sharing their supplies with him at all. He kind of shrugged again.

But there was something on the back of his mind that he couldn't quite shake. His thoughts were just too loose and slippery to really grab hold of it.

"You should go back to sleep," Kristin told him, probably seeing how he was starting to have trouble keeping his eyes open.

Techno didn't see any reason to protest that. Exhaustion was pulling on him constantly, he didn't know if it was any use to resist. He was already on the brink of passing out again, body too worn out to keep fighting it.

But he swore he could hear Kristin speak when she turned to Tommy with a smile.

"Go tell Wilbur the good news."

When he woke up lucid, he shot upright in the bed. The sheets were thin, hospital-like. The room itself was homely though, more bedroom than infirmary. The window was boarded up and Techno couldn't look outside but he could tell the sun was shining.

He needed to find Wilbur.

He'd been so confused he hadn't even managed to connect the dots before. The woman and the boy were both from his dreams. Or not from his dreams. They were there, they were real. They were the ones who took care of them.

And Wilbur was here too. It felt impossible, and painful, and like the simple act of hoping was tearing his heart in two with grief all over again. But Techno refused to believe his hallucinations would be so cruel to him.

No, it couldn't-

He almost buckled as he got out of bed, his injured leg still too weak to carry his weight. But Techno was stubborn, and he'd endured worse before. So he simply bit through the pain and forced himself to walk. His throat was still dry and scratchy, but he had to call for his brother.

"Wilbur!" Techno stumbled into the hallway, disoriented and shaking. He'd only left the blanket behind him for a minute and he was trembling, freezing. His fever probably wasn't gone yet. Techno didn't care.

He leaned against the wall, trying to move forward. His leg ended up being dragged behind more than supporting his weight. Tears of either frustration or pain built in the corners of his eyes.

"Wilbur! Wilbur, please!"

Footsteps thundered up the stairs. Techno hadn't even realized he was on the second floor of a building until he heard them. He collapsed into a heap in the middle of the hallway when another pang of pain shot all the way up his spine. He could feel wetness against the bandages where he'd torn the wound open.

There was a man in front of him.

"Fuck, why did you-" he cut himself off quickly. "Come on, let's just get you up." He wasn't very tall but he still managed to stand up and lift Techno into his arms effortlessly. Probably because Techno was rather thin and gangly for his age. Malnutrition would do that to a person.

The man carried him to the bedroom Techno had just left, carefully putting him back on the bed. Techno refused to let go of his sleeve.

"Please," he said - he hated how pinched his voice was. For two years he'd kept himself from breaking like this, but Techno was sick and tired and all he wanted was to know for sure if he should continue feeling empty. "Please, I want my brother. Where's Wilbur?"

The man's face softened, grabbing his hand. "Oh, he's right here. He's here, mate, I can fetch him for you."

Techno nodded, dizzy with it. He didn't care about anything else. He just wanted to make sure this hadn't all been a cruel trick of his near-death imagination.

That Wilbur was really alive.

The man left and Techno sat there, sat with his fingers clenched in the sheets and his shoulders shaking and tears threatening to spill at any moment, feeling more wretched than he had in ages. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. Wilbur would laugh if he could see him, surely. Techno was supposed to be the strong one, the one who looked out for them both.

Here he was almost bawling like a baby because he woke up by himself.

"Techno?"

Wilbur's voice sent his mind reeling further.

They spent a solid five minutes just holding each other, grasping with desperation and a fear that if they let go now, they would never see each other again. As if this was a gift that could just as easily be ripped away. Techno traced his thumb across Wilbur's cheeks, across those freckles. Then he pressed his face into Wilbur's shoulder again and just kept it there.

"I thought you were dead," he said. But it felt almost like a sin to confess. As if Techno had failed his brother twice - once in not protecting him and again in giving up on him.

But Wilbur laughed, that careless little chuckle that was closer to an exhale of air. He had aged but didn't feel a day older.

"I almost did," he said. "It was uh, yeah it was pretty scary."

Techno nodded. He could definitely relate. "And I wasn't there…"

The guilt must be evident in his voice because Wilbur pushed back against his shoulders, looking him properly in the face. "Techno, listen to me- Listen." When Wilbur spoke he hadn't changed at all and yet they must have both matured a century. "You survived. I survived. That's all that matters. We're here now, okay?"

There was something painful and dark in his chest but Techno couldn't begin to decipher it. It reminded him of that single bullet, always waiting for him.

(He'd almost given up completely. He would have never seen Wilbur again if they had found him a day, an hour, a minute later)

But he was too tired to think so all Techno could do was reel Wilbur in for another embrace and breathe in his warmth, pretending he wouldn't have to think about that bullet ever again.

When he tried to pull Wilbur closer, his brother's knee thunked into the bedframe metallically. Wilbur pulled his leg up to join Techno on the bed.

That's when he noticed the prosthetic.

"Wilbur, what-" Techno shook his head.

"Techno, it's fine," Wilbur said, still holding his face. Trying to direct Techno's gaze away. But he couldn't.

"No, it's not fine. Tell me what happened."

Wilbur sighed. He lay down, pulling Techno down with him and covering them both in the blanket to keep Techno from shivering with fever. The fake leg felt cold against Techno's skin. He wanted to cry again but lacked the energy.

"When the settlement got attacked, I was bitten," Wilbur said, their foreheads were inches away from touching each other. "I tried to get to our meeting spot but… but it was pretty bad. I was waiting for you there when Phil and the others found me."

Techno could only nod, waiting for his brother to continue.

"They- they had to do this to save me from turning. But they couldn't wait around for you there, not if they wanted me to survive. So they took me with them."

"I'm glad they did," Techno managed to say, even if it sounded like a bit of a lie to his own ears.

(Wilbur lived, he lived and he suffered alone without Techno there to protect him. It tore up his insides)

"It took me months to recover and to learn how to walk again. We came back to the meeting spot sometimes but I guess you were already gone."

Techno closed his eyes. "I thought you were dead."

"I know," Wilbur said. And then, more fragile. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Techno answered.

He'd been strong for two years. Maybe it was okay if Wilbur saw him crumble.

"I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere," he said, whispering it into Techno's ear like a promise. "You're safe. We both are." His finger brushed through Techno's hair again. Like when they were little kids and their parents were alive and Techno woke up from a nightmare. Then they'd crawl up on Wilbur's top bunk because the monsters couldn't get them up there.

Techno had never felt that sheltered anywhere else. Except right then in Wilbur's arms.