Phil makes Techno sit in the front seat of the car when they drive to the mall.

It's probably meant to make him happy, somehow. Techno supposes most kids like it when they get to sit in the front seat. It makes them feel important.

For Techno, it makes him feel weird and stiff and as if he can't move an inch or he'll distract Phil on accident, and then they'll end up driving into a tree. It would be a quicker and more merciful death than the clothes shopping has in store for him, meaning it becomes an appealing thought by the time they're halfway there. Anxiety burns in Techno's gut something fierce. Or maybe that's the cereal he had for breakfast disagreeing with his stomach.

Techno didn't know the brand, so he can't be sure. Another thing he hates about coming to live with a new family is all those strange new experiences. Even stupid mundane stuff like figuring out how the shower works is something Techno has become used to doing over and over and over again. Because every home is slightly different.

They drive by Tommy's school first. Kristin gets out so Tommy can scoot out of the middle seat and she helps him put on his backpack. He hugs her and she kisses the top of his head while squeezing back, filling Techno with abject horror. Are they going to expect him to do that when they drop him off in the mornings?

But when they get to Wilbur's high school - the same one Techno is enrolled in, though he won't have to start going until next week - Wilbur just hops out with a wave and a goodbye. Maybe he's too old for hugs? Techno has no clue when kids usually grow out of wanting physical affection from their parents, he's never wanted any.

Come to think of it, his touch aversion is definitely the reason for some of his placements not working out.

Techno expects Kristin to switch places with him at this point but she doesn't, stretching her legs in the backseat while on her phone, tapping away at the screen. Phil put the radio on now that Wilbur and Tommy aren't filling the car with their chatting, though he keeps the volume very low. Techno isn't going to complain, he's already close to overstimulated and they're not anywhere near the mall yet.

This is going to be a long day.

"So, what do you think you want for your room?" Phil asks suddenly. Uh oh, small talk.

"I don't know," he says. He has been staying with the Craft family for three days and Techno has not gotten any better at talking to them. He can manage when it's Wilbur or Tommy. They're kids, like Techno. Interacting with them is pretty straightforward. It doesn't require Techno to pick his brain for the right things to say at all times.

And they don't have the authority to kick Techno out of the house.

"There are some stores we can check out. It's probably easier when you can actually see what they have," Kristin says from behind him. Techno almost catches her eye in the rearview mirror and quickly looks away.

He leans into the door a bit more, subtly trying to pull up his knees. Curling up into a miserable ball while in a car and without Phil noticing is impossible, but Techno sure is going to try and approximate. He feels much more exposed around them than he does around Wilbur and Tommy. Much more vulnerable.

"Techno?" Phil asks - sounding on the edge of worry. Techno realizes he didn't acknowledge Kristin talking to him at all and that's very rude.

"I guess," he says. "I'm not very picky."

It's kind of a lie. Techno is extremely picky about everything, that's why he's such a chore for the families he stays at. But he has taught himself over time how to hide that pickiness and settle for the things he gets without being an ungrateful wretch and now most fosters wouldn't be able to tell the difference. Not that it does much, since he'll find something else to ruin the placement with. But it won't be home decor.

Kristin chuckles lightly, either finding his answer funny or maybe she's looking at something on her phone that made her laugh. "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue," Techno answers.

"Then we'll keep an eye out for blue stuff."

Techno bites his tongue and doesn't say out loud that he thinks that's kind of silly. Just because blue is his favorite color doesn't mean they should get him blue stuff. What about how much the items cost? That's way more important.

It's stupid to spend too much money on a kid you're not even going to keep around.

But he just presses his cheek against the window and closes his eyes. It's cold against his skin, revibrating in tune with the car's engine. Phil turns the music down a bit more, despite them being done talking. Techno forces his hands into his lap hard so he doesn't start to fidget again.

He wonders what Sam is doing.

By the time they get to the mall, Techno has dozed off into an uncomfortable half-sleep. He can't sleep properly in the new bed yet, it always takes him a while to get used to after he moves foster homes. So he has spent the last couple of days walking around severely sleep-deprived. He's not exactly surprised that the quiet humming of the car managed to do the trick for him.

He is surprised when Phil reaches out to gently shake him away by the shoulder.

Techno flinches so hard he bangs his forehead against the glass. Not his finest moment and it's only a little bit softened by the fact that neither Phil nor Kristin mentions it as Techno rubs at the red mark on his skin. The pity in their eyes is hard enough to bear, if Phil would have apologized for startling him Techno might have just started to scream.

He quickly opens the door so he can get out of the car and onto his feet, shaking off the unpleasant lingering of Phil's touch with a full-body shudder and a few flaps of his hands that neither adult comments on.

"It's usually quieter here before lunch, so there shouldn't be too many people," Phil says as they head on inside. "But if you do lose us, there's a little kiosk at the food court in the middle of the mall. We can meet there."

Techno nods, though he'd probably be more surprised if he does somehow manage to get lost in here. The mall isn't exactly big, a relief because Techno won't have to sit through an entire day of them walking from store to store. It has two stories and a big set of escalators near the kiosk Phil mentioned, but the layout is pretty straightforward. Some people loiter around, mostly older folks who don't have school or work and a couple of teens who might be skipping class. Techno sticks close to Phil just to be safe.

"Where are we going first?" Kristin asks. Techno is very happy she's not looking at him because he has no clue.

"Clothes first and then we circle around for the other stuff?" Phil suggests. "One is more important than the other. You can't live in the same outfit forever."

Techno would love to wear the exact same outfit forever, actually. It fits him and it's comfortable, it doesn't have any scratchy bits or annoying buttons. And there's a zipper on the hoodie he can mess with when he gets nervous.

But he doesn't say any of that, just follows Phil and Kristin as they walk with purpose toward a big clothing store on the other side of the mall. It probably is where they get clothes for Wilbur and Tommy too. It does seem to try and appeal to a younger crowd.

Soon, Techno feels lost in a sea of choices he doesn't want to make. The amount of options is downright overwhelming and Techno isn't used to being encouraged to voice his opinion. Every time Phil or Kristin holds something up to show him and ask what he thinks, he can only shrug vaguely and try not to beg them to just pick whatever they want - like other foster parents did. They would always grab what they wanted Techno to wear and called it a day. Why can't Kristin and Phil be like that too?

After a while, Phil has been tasked with carrying an almost comical stack of jeans, shirts, jumpers, and hoodies. Kristin shoves a plastic pack of underwear into his arms too, nodding to herself in satisfaction.

"There, that should have you settled for a while." She looks at Techno and smiles. "Was there anything else that caught your eye?"

Techno shakes his head. He has barely been looking around, honestly.

"What about the textures? Nothing that will bother you?" Phil prods.

Oh right, Techno forgot they talked about that at dinner. He steps forward and kind of awkwardly rubs his hand over the stack of clothes.

"I don't know," he admits after a moment. "I usually can't tell unless I'm wearing them."

"That's fine, the changing rooms are right over there." Kristin nods at the back of the store. "We can try these on and you can tell us what you think."

Techno's entire body goes rigid. He pulls his arm back, holding it against his own side so stiffly his shoulder hurts. "No," he says - though it comes out more like a pathetic squeak than a proper word. He regrets it the moment it has left his mouth too.

It's too late to take back though. Kristin raises her eyebrow at him. "No?"

Techno tucks his chin into his chest, tracing the pattern on the tile floor with his eyes to calm himself down. He can feel their eyes burning into the top of his head. "I can't- I don't like changing rooms," Techno says. It's a more agreeable answer than 'making me go in there will make me have a meltdown' so that's what he goes with.

"Oh," Kristin says. It doesn't sound like a bad 'oh'. If anything, it sounds slightly guilty. As if it's her fault for not considering that. It's also the complete opposite of the anger Techno was expecting, the exasperated sighs and grabbing of his arm while they drag him off to get changed anyway because he has to stop being such a baby about these things. Them hissing in his ear that he better not embarrass them in public.

Instead, Kristin considers for a moment and then visibly perks up. "Wait here, I'll be right back."

While she's gone, Phil rearranges the clothes in his arms slightly and grins at Techno. "Don't worry, mate. We're not going to make you do anything you don't want to."

Techno ignores him. He won't even deem such a lie with a response.

He wanders a few steps away from Phil, distracting himself with the nearest clothing rack. It has a bunch of sweaters on it, the kind that are a normal fabric on the outside but have a thin layer of fleece on the inside. Techno pinches it between fingers, feeling the soft fibers on his skin. The sweater is a light, pastel pink color. It might even be meant for girls, though Techno always thought that was really weird. Colors shouldn't be restricted to a single gender.

He used to have a pale pink sweater once. It was the knitted kind, itchy and terrible. Techno hated it but sometimes he would still wear it because he liked the color.

"Okay, so I asked about the return policy," Kristin says as she walks back up to them. "If we keep the tags on, it shouldn't be a problem to return anything. We can go home and you can try the clothes on there."

Techno blinks at her, feeling as if his brain must be short-circuiting. Or there might be another reason why he misheard.

"That's good," Phil says. "Did you hear that Techno?"

Techno tries not to pick at the sleeves of the sweater, nails catching on a loose thread. "Isn't that a lot of work?"

"What?" Kristin asks vaguely, already nudging Phil towards the cash register so they can pay.

"If you have to drive all the way home and then drive all the way back to exchange them," Techno says. "That would take a lot of time."

"Well, you said you can't use the changing room?" Kristin says slowly, waiting for him to give a confirming nod. "And you can't walk around in clothes that you can't stand, that would be ridiculous. So I thought this would work best for everyone."

When she puts it like that, it makes perfect sense. Techno can't deny it makes sense.

But that doesn't stop the tight, uncomfortable knot from forming in the pit of his stomach. That oddly detached feeling of wrongness that crawls down Techno's spine and makes him want to draw up his shoulders and hunch in on himself. Like he's doing something wrong just by existing.

"I guess," he mumbles. His lack of enthusiasm doesn't face Kristin, who notices the sweater he's still using as an improvised fidget toy.

"Do you like that one?" she asks.

"Hm?" Techno drops the fabric quickly. He doesn't want to get in trouble for damaging it.

"The color is really nice," Phil adds. "We can get that as well if you want?"

"I don't-"

"Nonsense," Kristin chirp, quickly sifting through the pile to find one that's Techno's size and folding it in half over her arm. "It's pretty, it'll suit you." Techno doesn't even have the energy to protest.

It all feels so wasteful. At least Tommy is younger than him, so he can get all these clothes later when Techno is sent away.

After paying for the clothes, they go to a small store that sells an assortment of knick-knacks they can use to decorate Techno's room with. Reluctantly and after ample encouragement that makes Techno start to feel guilty for not cooperating more easily, he picks out a few things to put in their basket. He picks out a little set of three cacti that he can put on his desk, a dark blue bed sheet that probably will be nicer than the gray ones he has now, and a lamp for his bedside table. They're paltry things, feeling small and insignificant. But with each one that Techno points out, Phil and Kristin smile wider at him. As if every one of his contributions is a small victory for them.

Techno certainly feels like he's losing in some sense.

Phil insists on getting him a bean bag too, for the empty corner of his room. So he can 'sit and read'. Techno doesn't mention that he hasn't unpacked a single book from his bag yet. He doesn't get the point of it.

He gets it even less when Kristin herds them into a hardware store.

"What shade do you prefer?" she asks, holding up one of those cards that has all the different gradients of blue on them. Techno can barely tell the difference between some of them, the hues all blend together and make him dizzy so he looks up at Phil instead. Searching for help in the face of Kristin's undeterred insistence on having him make these pointless decisions.

"Lighter colors might be better," Phil offers with a nod at the pastel tints. "They make a room feel less crowded."

"Okay," Techno says, though it sounds more like a question.

With an expression that reads almost as compassion at Techno's inability to pick between three shades of blue, Kristin turns the card over to consider the colors for herself before singling one out. "This one will probably work. We can get two big tins."

They want to paint his room. They want to have his presence in their house leave a permanent mark, a stain that the next kid that comes along will need to cover up. Techno feels a little sick.

Maybe that's why Kristin tells them to go check out the bookstore while she puts their purchases in the car and picks up some groceries while she's at it. Techno is grateful for the respite, burying himself in the much more tedious activity of tracing along book spines. Techno likes the smell of books, especially old ones. Mildew clinging to the pages and making a nice little health hazard.

Techno would take dying of moldy lungs over ever having to pick a paint color again.

Phil is also looking at books, but he actually pulls them from the shelves to open them and leaf through them. Techno finds himself peeking at him from the corner of his eyes, trying to catch what books Phil is interested in. In the living room at the house, there's a big bookcase pushed up against the wall next to the TV. Wilbur mentioned they are all Phil's. Techno looked them over and was actually impressed with Phil's taste in literature.

Not that it means anything. What guy of Phil's age doesn't read fantasy and science fiction? Just because he has some really good authors in his collection doesn't betray good sense.

"This one seems pretty interesting," Phil says because - crap - Techno is not at all as subtle as he hoped and Phil totally caught him staring. "It's the first one in a series."

"I know," Techno says. Nonchalantly, he returns to scanning the covers in front of him. "It's one of my favorite series, actually."

He doesn't know why he adds it and as soon as he does his cheeks flare with heat embarrassingly. It doesn't help that Phil makes a surprised noise of amusement.

"Really? I'll have to check it out then." He tucks the book under his arm. "They have a collectors edition of the entire series too," he adds. "Do you own them?"

"I got them from the library when I read them," Techno says.

"We could get these for your room then," Phil starts. Techno thinks he will start puking if he doesn't do anything about the sudden malaise at the thought of Phil buying him a collection of books that cost well over a hundred bucks.

"No," he says firmly. "They'll suck to move to the next placement."

He didn't mean for it to slip out so candidly. But Techno can't deny that it's half the reason he doesn't want Phil to buy them for him, on top of the money thing. His current possessions barely fit in his bag. He wouldn't be able to cram in five books on top of it.

Phil doesn't say anything for a moment. Techno doesn't want to look at him, scared to see some sort of hurt on Phil's face. Guilt is easy to shake, blossoming in his throat and then swallowed down quickly.

Techno isn't trying to be mean. He just knows rejecting them now is better than them rejecting him later.

There's a small exhale from Phil. Then Techno hears him let out a huff close to a laugh. "Well, maybe for your birthday then? Sam told us it's in a couple of months."

Techno turns his back on Phil so he can check out some other books. They really are stubborn in presuming he'll still be around.

He doesn't say anything, and he still doesn't say anything when they leave and Kristin is waiting in the car with the groceries. She got him those toiletries they mentioned and stuff needed for school. Everything Techno could possibly need to settle in.

Then she pulls out a small object wrapped in paper. The sides are taped together to protect it from breaking during transport, but when Kristin folds up the edge, Techno can clearly see that it's glass.

A glass that matches the others they have at home, blue in color.

During the drive back, Techno sits in the back seat. He feels safe enough to pull his phone out there, and drafts at least a dozen texts he doesn't end up finishing. Each one sounding a bit more miserable, begging Sam to come get him.

Techno doesn't send a single one. He just leans his head against the window again and lets the soft hum of the engine pull him away from having to think about it.

Wilbur insists on helping him paint his room.

Techno doesn't care, he didn't even really want to paint the room to begin with. But it turns out Phil and Kristin had talked it over before they headed to the mall together and already decided it was a good idea. So his input doesn't really matter. They mention faded colors (Techno doesn't know how eggshell can even fade) and some stains on the wall that had been there since they bought the house but that they never bothered to fix because the room was empty. After Phil and Kristin tape off the edges, they put on the first layer of paint. For the second layer, Wilbur and Techno are allowed to do it all by themselves. Wilbur is bouncing to get started, excitement dripping off him. It's the weekend and Tommy is at a friend's house, so it's just the two of them in the room.

On Techno's desk, there are two glasses of lemonade. Wilbur's yellow glass and his now matching blue one. Techno tries to ignore the strange flutter in his chest in favor of grabbing a paintbrush and getting to work.

It's not the worst thing in the world. Techno has a hard time knowing how to behave around Phil and Kristin, as he does with most adults. Especially ones that could easily kick him out so he won't have a roof over his head anymore. And Tommy is a bit too high-energy for Techno to feel comfortable. Wilbur is strangely excited about everything and while that perplexes Techno to no end, it's also something he knows how to handle. He's also pretty chill to talk to.

Wilbur tells him a lot about school, mainly his friends that he's definitely going to introduce Techno to come Monday. But he's also able to give Techno a heads up about what teachers are more strict or where he can sit for lunch. He asks about the shopping trip and doesn't interrupt while Techno awkwardly stumbles through the rather uneventful things he did yesterday. He shows Wilbur his cacti.

Wilbur's phone is playing music from some band he likes. It's not one Techno ever listened to before, but it's nice.

He can almost feel himself start to enjoy this.

"Oh shit, I nearly forgot." Wilbur doesn't say what slipped his mind, darting out of the room before Techno can ask. He's back a couple of seconds later, holding an alcohol marker. "Let's do it behind here," he says. Wilbur kneels on the floor next to his nightstand.

"Do what?" Techno asks. He watches as Wilbur slides his nightstand to the side a little. Phil said they only had to paint once over those parts of the wall since they were hidden by furniture. But Wilbur leans in closer, gesturing for Techno to sit next to him.

"We have to solidify our brotherhood," Wilbur says, pitching his voice very low. He must be making a joke. They're not brothers.

Techno scowls at the unpleasant noise the alcohol marker makes when it scratches against the wall. Wilbur writes his name in block letters. Like a toddler laying them out one by one on a Scrabble board. Then he holds the marker out for Techno to take.

"Go on," he pushes when Techno doesn't immediately move.

"Are we going to paint over this?" Techno asks wearily. He closes his hand around the marker slowly, handling it as if it was a dangerous tool. Wilbur's fingers brush against his.

"Duh!" Wilbur smirks wider. "But we're always going to know it's there. And that's what matters."

"Why?"

"Because." Wilbur is still grinning at him and Techno is blinking back, trying not to have him notice his hand is getting all sweaty and gross holding onto the marker too tight.

After a moment more Wilbur's smile drops and that's almost worse.

"I did the same with Tommy," Wilbur says then. "It's cool. Like we left a little piece behind of us being together."

Techno's thumb presses into the tip slightly, ink spreading onto the skin. Tainting him. He tips forward and then he's writing, just because he can't wait a moment longer. He writes his own name underneath Wilbur's - smaller and more shaky.

The fear is there though. Tight and curled up and making a hollow home out of his brain. Techno has to ask. "But what if I leave?"

And when Wilbur laughs it tears at him worse. Peels away some kind of layer Techno has been carefully maintaining for years.

"Don't worry about that," Wilbur says easily. As easy as anything. It must be nice to be the bio kid and never have to worry about what it feels like to be discarded. "They're like, totally sold on you. They have been for months."

"Months?" Techno echoes numbly. His ribcage hurts, shrinking on itself. Squeezing his heart too tight to breathe.

"Sam told us about you forever ago but you were staying with somebody else. And then there was some legal stuff because we already are fostering Tommy. So it took a while before you could come live with us." Wilbur nudges into him, elbow against elbow. Techno would recoil from the touch if all his muscles didn't feel locked up, unable to move. "We're glad you're here now though."

They wanted him.

That's the bottom line of what Wilbur is saying.

Unlike every other family that Techno has been placed with, this one was waiting for him. Not just any kid, him. They wanted him to be here. They wanted Techno.

He drops the marker and gets up. In being so hasty, he almost overcorrects and pitches backward, hitting his hip on the nightstand Wilbur moved aside earlier. Techno's fingers clench and unclench uselessly but there's nothing there. His chest aches.

What started as a slight tingle has blossomed into a cough, expanding beneath his sternum and pushing against it trying to break out. It hurts and Techno almost doubles over, hacking into his elbow. But when he inhales, oxygen refuses to do what it's supposed to.

He can't breathe properly.

"Techno?!" Wilbur starts to get up and he reaches out, warm skin against the searing coldness of Techno's body. He stumbles back, making a sound that's too pitifully close to a hiss.

"I need some water," Techno manages to bring out between more coughs. He's turning around before Wilbur can stop him. With every step, his legs wobble and his knees feel weaker.

Techno is really scared that he'll faint.

It wouldn't be the first time - probably not the last time either. Techno isn't unfamiliar with the pull of unconsciousness on his body. He's been starved so bad that he fainted on the way to school, so sleep-deprived that he passed out during the slightest physical activity. One time he was beaten by a foster parent so awfully he woke up in the hospital.

But he never choked on nothing before.

His legs finally give out on him when he gets to the bathroom, seconds after he manages to lock the door behind him. The tiles are freezing against his fingers and for a moment Techno simply stays there on all fours while pressing his forehead into the floor, the pain so formidable that it tears on his insides. He struggles for air, chest expanding and constricting around the fullness but failing to draw in a proper breath. Another series of hacks spirals him into pure agony.

Then the pain spikes, something shredding apart in Techno's lungs.

It surges up his throat accompanied by a wave of nausea so powerful Techno gags on instinct, trying to get rid of the sudden blockage. It burns through him, piercing and ripping apart more of his insides as it painstakingly forces its way up, up, up. Eventually, with a wet retch, it lands on the floor in front of him.

Tears have made Techno's vision blurry, but after blinking to clear them and rubbing the warm stickiness off his face, he can make out the flower he just coughed up.

The yellow petals are clumped together with thick globs of blood and a few flimsy pieces of flesh. Pieces of Techno that it tore out while it was expelled. The flower's roots are thin and wiry, clotted at the bottom where a moment ago they were still trying to anchor within his lungs.

All the emotions he has stubbornly pushed down for years are taking revenge on him with this unnatural growth, a flower burrowing into his chest.

Hanahaki disease.

Shakily, Techno stands up. He can breathe again, though every inhale tastes like iron on the back of his tongue. Techno walks over to the sink and grabs some tissues. Then he methodically wraps the flower in it, wipes up the excess blood spilled on the floor, and throws it in the toilet. Techno watches the water swirl red before he flushes it.

He brushes his teeth with the new toiletries they got at the mall, rinsing his mouth until he can almost delude himself into thinking the metallic aftertaste is caused by the toothpaste he isn't used to yet. With his free hand, Techno pulls out his phone and pulls up a website for flower meanings.

There are a ton of them online, all full of information that people suffering from Hanahaki disease might need. The type of flower says everything about the person who caused it and the emotions that are the proverbial (and literal) root of your suffering. Techno doesn't have to guess who he can blame for this. It's his own fault for lowering his guard around Wilbur's honest and disarming attitude.

He still scrolls until he finds a picture of the flower he just flushed. The long stem and little clusters of yellow petals are pretty recognizable.

Yellow Bouvardia, Techno reads. Enthusiasm. There's probably not a better word to describe Wilbur's approach to the situation. Harbingers of new beginnings, better times, and hope.

Techno grimaces around the leftover tang of blood on his lips.

Hope, huh?

He flushes the toilet a second time before heading back to his room, just to make extra sure all the evidence from his moment of weakness has been erased.