This is for the whumptober prompts: Fever, "why didn't you tell us you were sick?", hiding an injury, lying, nausea, "it's fine, I'm not hungry anyway."
"How much money do you have riding on this one?"
Schlatt let out a little laugh at the question, cigarette smoke escaping with the exhale. He immediately put the end back in his mouth for another deep breath, letting it sit in his lungs while watching Techno closely.
There was something about that gaze, curious but predatory. As if he was thinking about how to take the first bite of a particularly tasty meal. All consideration with sharp edges.
Then he sat back, waving Techno away with the same hand he was using to smoke. "I don't think that's anything you have to worry your pretty little head about, champ. You know my rates."
Techno looked down at his hands, fiddling with the wrapping around his fingers meant to keep them from breaking on impact. "I need more money."
"Don't we all," Schlatt said. The way his lips parted for a grin that showed too many teeth was particularly unpleasant.
"I'm serious," Techno pressed. He raised his chin, to finally meet Schlatt's eyes properly so he could show he wasn't messing around. "If I can't earn more, then what's even the point of me being here? I could just walk out."
And how quickly Schlatt's face fell was almost satisfying.
Techno knew his own worth. He knew that his little partnership with Schlatt was symbiotic, it went both ways. Schlatt might be the one who allowed Techno to make the cash he so desperately needed, without Techno Schlatt had no business to run.
They needed each other.
"You're ambitious," Schlatt said. "I like that in a guy." It did not sound like a compliment.
"How much money do you have riding on this one?" Techno repeated.
"I usually go all in on you. The highest bid on regular matches caps off at two hundred bucks." Getting up, Schlatt checked his phone and crossed the room, a wordless signal for Techno to follow. His next match would start soon.
"And you take half of that."
Schlatt grinned at him. There was a challenge in the next words. "Like I said, you know my rates."
Techno wasn't going to argue. If it weren't for Schlatt, Techno wouldn't ever be able to walk through the door at a place like this. That's how it went with illegal gambling. You had to know a guy on the inside first. If they trusted you, they could get you an address. They could get your name on a list somewhere.
Techno didn't trust Schlatt. He knew the feeling was mutual. But Schlatt had gotten his name on the list. And for that, Techno was grateful.
Again, it was symbiotic. Schlatt wouldn't last half a minute in the ring without getting knocked on his ass, he knew that much.
"What about other matches?" Techno asked.
They walked out into the hallway, the smell of sweat lingered heavily in the air. Techno still preferred it to the dressing room Schlatt had commandeered for his fighters. The smog of cigarettes crept against the ceiling there and made Techno's lungs ache.
"I don't think you're up for those, kid." Schlatt laughed as if it was funny. Techno was just a small fish looking to play with the big boys to him. "You're good, I ain't denying that. But you're young, these guys see you as inexperienced fresh meat. You gotta build your way up to it."
Techno stopped walking, kind of enjoying the way it made Schlatt falter. Oh, what would Techno refusing to step out into the ring do to Schlatt's reputation? Nothing good, surely.
"How much is the cap on other matches," he demanded to know.
Schlatt sighed, the scowl on his face reminded Techno oddly of his father. He shook that thought immediately, not wanting to think of Phil in a place like this. Phil would absolutely freak out if he knew what Techno got up to on his spare nights. It was better if he kept thinking Techno had a book club at the school library a little longer.
"Cage fights start at five hundred," Schlatt said. "All the way up to a thousand if you know the right people."
And Schlatt always knew the right people.
"I want in," Techno said. He could see the protest on Schlatt's lips, so he pressed before refusal could come. "I want in, or I'm cutting loose. There's other ways to earn a quick buck."
"No, there's really not," Schlatt said with some disbelief. But his eyes had regained that calculating quality, so he was certainly taking Techno's threat to heart.
Techno had never told Schlatt how badly he needed the money.
He knew there might come a time like this when negotiations needed to be made. And he was clever enough to keep some cards close to his chest. Techno couldn't deny that he wanted to earn - quite a bit if he could. Schlatt didn't need to know why though. For all he knew, Techno could be wasting it all on booze or drugs or paying other people to write his college essays for him. Schlatt wouldn't care.
Techno stared at him and the other man stared back. Then Schlatt sighed.
"I'll see what I can do for next time," he said. "Now, get in there and kick some ass before we're both in trouble for throwing a match."
Techno tried to be very quiet when he opened the front door, but the hinges had creaked for almost a decade and Phil never bothered to fix them. As he pushed into the darkness of their hallway, it made that horrible noise again. And Techno couldn't entirely stop himself from cringing.
"Techno?"
Crap. Phil's voice sounded dazed, but aware enough to definitely catch Techno in the act of sneaking inside. Techno had been hoping his dad would be sleeping over at the hospital tonight and he could slip in unnoticed, then he could just not mention how late he came home and Phil would be none the wiser. No such luck.
"Fuck, my neck hurts. I shouldn't fall asleep on the couch." Phil squinted at him from the doorway that led to the living room, looking a little worse for wear. He was still in his clothes, all wrinkled from the odd position he had slept in. And his hair was standing up in weird little peaks.
"Yeah, that's what you get for being an old man," Techno said half-heartedly as he closed the front door behind him.
The fact that Phil let that joke pass by without comment should be a good indicator he was only partly awake. "How late is it? Didn't your book club end at eight?"
"We got a bit caught up in discussing the theoretics of faster-than-light travel," Techno said quickly, the excuse rolling smoothly off his tongue. "And then I walked Ranboo home since it was dark already."
Distantly, Techno felt a little bad for using the kid as a scapegoat. But Ranboo was a junior and one of the 'weird' kids at school so Techno doubted Phil would go talking to him to verify Techno's story. Plus, lying that he was late because he was helping out the underdog would tug right at Phil's heartstrings.
Sure enough, a soft smile pulled on Phil's lips before he smothered a yawn in his palm. "That's fine, but can you at least text me next time? I was waiting up for you."
"My phone died and I forgot my charger," Techno lied. "I thought you were sleeping over at the hospital anyway."
"Wilbur basically kicked me out. He wanted me to check in with you guys," Phil said with a little laugh. It sounded pained more than amused. Techno swallowed.
"We're not the ones who are dying," he muttered.
"Wilbur's not dying." Techno flinched a bit at Phil raising his voice at him. It made an apologetic look pass over Phil's features, but he crossed his arms and continued a little quieter. "Wilbur's not dying, Techno. We'll just… We'll figure something out. The treatment-"
"I'm tired, I'm going to bed." Techno brushed past Phil, taking the stairs two at a time.
He didn't want to stand there and listen to Phil talk about a treatment they couldn't afford. About how Wilbur's lungs were choking the life out of him because of some stupid birth defect that could pop up unannounced for no reason at all so many years later, and which had a relatively simple fix if only they could pay for the surgery.
"Techno!"
"I'll bring my charger next time," Techno said over his shoulder quickly, before rushing to his room. His knuckles hurt, but with Phil awake Techno didn't want to risk going down to get an ice pack. He'd just have to deal.
He was already one-third of the way to saving up the money for Wilbur's treatment. And if Schlatt could get him into those other matches, he'd get there twice as fast.
Techno would be able to help his family and Phil wouldn't ever need to find out about what he was doing.
One thing Techno hated more than anything about the room where his matches took place, was the way sound bounced around the hall. Who could have guessed empty warehouses were a great place for acoustics? Maybe once Wilbur left the hospital, he could bring his band there for practice. Then Techno wouldn't need to wear his noise-canceling headphones as much.
Though after all this time, Techno really missed lying in his bed listening to Wilbur playing music through the wall.
This room was large and vaguely rectangular in shape, though one end was mostly filled with crates, trash, and other crap. Large pieces of black fabric draped from the ceiling made a poor attempt at shielding it from view, though hardly anybody would care for such a thing. They were all here for the money, the bloodshed. Nobody thought they were stepping into a professionally run establishment.
Schlatt never told Techno who actually ran this place. Maybe it was better for him not to know.
The arena itself wasn't much more than a raised stage made of plywood and plastic coverings, with metal benches set up around it to give the impression of a spectator's zone. For what Schlatt had so generously described as 'cage fights', somebody had gone around the ring's perimeter and pushed metal pieces of chain link against the sides, fastened with zip ties and barbed wire. It seemed to Techno that a few kicks aimed at the wrong supporting structure could bring the whole thing down, but he supposed that was not the point. People just wanted to see two guys beat the crap out of each other while drinking beer and betting fortunes.
"Remember what I told you," Schlatt said in his ear. He was kind of squeezing Techno's shoulders in the poorest attempt at a massage any trainer ever gave their fighters, closer to hurting him than doing anything for his sore muscles. Techno ignored it, concentrating on taking deep breaths. "First impressions matter in this industry, kid, so you better go out there and make it look good."
"You mean win the fight?" Techno asked.
"Frankly, I don't give a shit whether you win or not," Schlatt hissed. "But if you lose, make it spectacular."
Before Techno could ask what the heck that meant, he was shoved in the back and had to catch himself from tripping up the stairs. He grasped the railing, feeling the metal slightly slick with blood.
The makeshift cage was almost impressive from the inside. Somehow it hadn't looked as tall before, bending inwards and making Techno feel like he was being crowded in. And when somebody stepped into the arena opposite him, the space felt that much more cramped.
Techno exhaled.
His body had tensed up in anticipation of the fight. He wanted to relax because he knew he'd pay for it if he couldn't. The guy opposite him had a wide grin, and a nose that was slightly crooked. Maybe they had broken it in the arena before.
Fighting was nothing like fencing.
It felt stupid, that this was the comparison Techno's brain always grappled towards. He hadn't fenced in over five years. Techno told Phil he grew tired of it and wanted to try other things. In reality, Techno had seen Phil late at night trying to make the math work with Wilbur's medical bills spread out in front of him. And he'd felt an immeasurable amount of guilt.
Phil worked so hard to provide for them. Tommy didn't really have any expensive hobbies, he mainly played video games. Wilbur got his guitar as a teen and still played the same one. Techno's fencing gear did cost more than both their stuff combined.
And when a few years later, Wilbur's health started to take a turn, Techno was happy he'd made the decision. Even without his fencing and with the part-time library job Techno took up to pay for school bills before Phil could see them, the treatment was out of reach.
No, fighting was nothing like fencing, but his stamina and endurance were great because of his old training. Techno learned how to be fast, how to carry momentum. He knew how to anticipate a strike - whether it was by fist or fencing foil. He could put some power into his swings.
Techno gasped when a knee slammed into his stomach, making him bend double.
During normal fights, you were only supposed to use your hands and aim for the chest, arms, or face. It was bare-knuckle boxing, basically. No protection but a strict set of rules to keep things safe and fair. No beating on downed opponents, no kicking or biting, that sort of thing.
The guy he was up against wound their fingers into Techno's hair and used it as leverage to drag him across the ground, toward the edge of the arena. Techno scratched at their wrist for a moment, blinded by panic and pain. It lasted a second too long before he could get his bearings and grabbed onto their wrist more tightly instead, using it to pull them down, then up and over himself, throwing them - to loud cries from the audience.
Techno rolled on top of them, punching anything he could reach. He got the same treatment in return and one fist collided with his temple hard enough to seemingly leave his brain rattling around his skull.
Then they finally managed to push him off. Techno stumbled back, finding his balance against the metal railing. He bit his tongue when his arm dragged against the barbed wire, cutting in deep and tearing the skin open. The slick warmth of the blood helped him focus.
Make it spectacular, Schlatt's voice whispered in trickles down his spine.
Using his foot to push off from the lowest bar of the railing, Techno jumped up and brought his elbow down on the other guy's throat. It was a dirty move, not one from fencing but from the playground fights he got into back when kids still thought it was a smart idea to make fun of him for being in the foster system. Techno had beat another kid almost twice his age into the hospital once. Going by the audience screaming and hollering, it was just spectacular enough to garner some interest.
Schlatt pushed a dirty towel against his face and the cut in his arm when he stepped down out of the ring, and tattled on and on about the plans they could make now that he was in with the big leagues. Techno wasn't really listening, adrenaline settling over his ears with the faint buzz of static, like a TV set you forgot to turn off.
But he definitely appreciated the money pushed into his hands, crammed into an envelope with a million folds and stains of indeterminate origin. This would be enough to get Wilbur started on the treatment if Techno combined it with all his other earnings.
The pounding behind his temple didn't feel half as bad anymore. Though Techno retained that haze over his brain on the walk home and it wasn't until the next morning that he even remembered to patch up his injuries so Phil wouldn't notice when he handed him the money.
Maybe it said a thing or two about Phil's own desperation that he barely questioned Techno telling him he saved up from his part-time job. Techno wasn't going to complain. He could only sit on the couch with a faint smile on his face while Phil called the doctors at the hospital again.
"What happened to your face?"
Techno automatically reached up and then winced when his fingers touched the bruised skin around his lip. His cheek was a bit swollen too, the taste of blood lingering in the back of his throat.
"I ran into a door," Techno said as he walked into the room properly. The curtains were drawn, with the window left ajar. It washed out a little of the unpleasant odor of disinfectant and chemical cleaners. Wilbur had a bunch of flowers on the table next to his bed, sent by teachers and friends. Techno sometimes couldn't help but wonder how empty his room would be if their positions were reversed.
Maybe there'd be a nurse going around with spare flowers for all the poor sods who got none.
"You ran into a door?" Wilbur repeated back at him. His voice tilted a bit higher, betraying his doubt but also a laugh hiding beneath the surface.
"I was reading," Techno said. It wasn't true, but it probably wasn't hard for Wilbur to imagine Techno being so engrossed in a book that he was walking around blind and face-first into a door.
He expected Wilbur to laugh at him, call him clumsy maybe. Instead, he raised his arm slowly. It seemed to take a lot of effort, and it made the IV stuck in Wilbur's veins stick out to Techno more. "Come here."
Techno wanted to resist because he knew what Wilbur was getting up to. He knew, yet he still crumbled.
As soon as he was close enough, Wilbur used Techno's sleeve to tug him down into sitting on the bed and cupped his palm against Techno's cheek. Wilbur squinted to get a closer look. "Did you ice it?"
"I was at the library," Techno said. "It's fine, it barely even hurts."
"You're a bad fucking liar," Wilbur said before he dropped his arm again with a little sigh. There was something ironic about that which made Techno smile slightly.
"Give me some of your painkillers and we'll call it even."
"You know they're giving me the good stuff," Wilbur joked. He tapped the plastic tube. "Getting surgery allows certain perks."
"So you're telling me you're drugged out of your mind right now?" Techno asked lightly.
"I absolutely cannot feel my legs anymore," Wilbur answered in all seriousness. Before the facade crumbled and he chuckled. "Nah, it's not that bad. It was just an explorative procedure. They're not patching it up properly until next time."
Techno nodded. No matter what terms Wilbur used to describe it, he knew that it was a big deal. This first surgery was only the start of the treatment, but it was a serious step into getting Wilbur better and home.
"How was your book club this week?" Wilbur asked, shuffling so he was a bit closer to Techo and could lean against him. His breathing was slightly strained, closer to panting. He barely had sat up or moved around much. It was concerning. Techno tried not to frown as he started to answer the question.
They talked for a bit, mundane subjects to keep their minds off Wilbur's situation. Techno told Wilbur about the book club and the classes he was taking for his next semester. Wilbur showed Techno the online courses he had been doing from his bed. Wilbur asked about Tommy, he always did. Phil tried not to bring their youngest brother to the hospital too often.
After what had happened to Tommy's parents, it just wasn't a good place for the teen to be.
"She actually brought it by the other day, so I played it for a bit," Wilbur said. He was telling Techno about a handheld console one of his friends got. "I think it's on the table over there." He vaguely gestured at the mess of flowers, prompting Techno to grab it if he wanted.
Techno reached out his arm, accidentally bumping it against the table's edge. He bit back a noise of pain and pulled his arm back to his side.
"Techno? What happened?" Wilbur asked, clearly confused.
Techno could feel a bruise he got during the fight last night pulse angrily with fresh pain. It might be a sprain, but Techno hadn't bothered to check. His coordination had been off since he started to sign up for more fights and slept less.
"I hit my elbow," Techno complained. "That little bone that makes it feel terrible?"
Wilbur laughed. "Hate it when that happens. Anyway, scoot in and I'll show you how to play."
Techno sat on the bed properly, taking off his shoes so he could pull up his legs. His arm hurt pretty badly, but he tucked it into his side and bit his tongue.
It was all worth it when Wilbur smiled at him.
"I'm glad you came to visit but I can't wait until I get home."
Techno rested his head on Wilbur's shoulder. "Yeah, me too. Tommy is insufferable without you there."
That drew another grin from Wilbuur. "I think he's insufferable all the time."
Humming vaguely in answer, Techno closed his eyes. He fell asleep before Wilbur beat the first boss battle.
Techno scrunched up his face the moment he walked into the kitchen. The smell was intense, hitting him like a brick wall. It made Techno's stomach churn.
"Will you set the table?" Phil asked from his spot by the stove. "And call Tommy down. We're eating in five minutes."
Getting three plates from the cupboard, Techno glanced at what Phil was making. It was pasta and a tomato sauce, by the looks of it. Usually, some of Techno's favorite food. For some reason, the sight was enough to make him vaguely neasous today. Techno chalked it up to him not having slept well. He had tossed and turned all night, feverish and unable to get in a comfortable position. When he reached up to also get some glasses, he winced at the stretching hurting his arm too. He kept making it worse with each fight, it felt like.
Tommy stormed down the stairs two at a time, only making Techno's pounding headache worse. He couldn't really fault his brother for his high energy though.
"When is Wilbur being discharged?" were the first words out of Tommy's mouth before he even properly sat down.
"I'm talking to the doctor when I get there at noon," Phil said. "If everything checks out, he could come home with me right then and there. Otherwise, he'll have to stay for some additional tests."
"But he's coming home tomorrow for sure?" Tommy pressed. He held his plate out for Phil when their father put the pots on the table. Phil took it from him, starting to scoop pasta onto Tommy's plate.
"That's the plan," Phil confirmed. It was obvious he was in a good mood too. Techno couldn't remember the last time he had seen his dad without bags under his eyes or the notable lines of stress reflected on his face. Ever since Wilbur started his treatment, both Phil and Tommy had been doing so much better.
Techno couldn't help but feel proud, like some part of that was his doing.
"Techno, hand me your plate?" Phil asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Blinking out of his distraction, Techno quickly did as he was told. Phil watched him closely. Before he could ask if something was the matter though, Tommy opened his mouth again.
"We should decorate his room. Like, as a welcome home present. I think that'd be cool. We could get some banners and confetti."
"I'm not letting you throw confetti all over Wilbur's room," Phil said. "Especially not as he's coming home to recover from surgery. If he breathes that shit in he'll keel over and die."
"That's definitely not how confetti works," Tommy pointed out.
Techno pushed his food around with his fork, his stomach revolting and the very sight. Phil sat down and looked at him. "Techno, are you-"
His phone vibrated in his pocket and Techno pulled it out. It was a text from Schlatt.
"I have to go," Techno said while getting up.
"What?" Phil didn't look very happy with him. Techno wished he wouldn't need to lie like this. "Techno, you haven't even had dinner yet?"
"Ranboo has a situation," Techno said quickly. "It's fine, I'm not hungry anyway."
"The fuck do you mean 'a situation'?" Tommy asked. His irrational dislike for Ranboo was definitely a bit, but Techno didn't laugh.
"I'll put some aside for when you come back, okay?" Phil called after him. Techno didn't answer, shrugging into a jacket and throwing the door closed behind him.
Schlatt wouldn't text him unless it was important.
All Techno's other matches were arranged in advance. Schlatt had to have something big planned tonight. And something big meant larger betting pools, more money. Techno only needed a bit more to pay off the last remaining hospital bills, the debt from Wilbur's treatment. Then Phil would stop working so much and agonizing over bills and Tommy would stop locking himself in his room because he couldn't handle being confronted with Wilbur's sickness and Techno would have his family back.
One more match and it could all go back to normal.
The arena was more stuffy than usual, crowded and loud. Techno recoiled as soon as he entered but pushed through to get to the 'backstage' area. His mouth was dry, so Techno tried to lick his lips to remedy that. It only made him strangely dizzy.
Had these hallways always been so winding and hard to navigate?
"There you are!" Schlatt's voice cut through his brain like a knife through hot butter. Techno remained in the doorway of the little room they used, awkwardly holding the handle and swaying side to side. "You got a personal challenger, even I have to admit that's impressive."
"Thanks?" Techno said, though it sounds more like a question.
"They're on a time crunch, they're not from town. But they heard about your matches from the guys up top and want to give it a go." Schlatt stepped closer, finally closing his flip phone and giving Techno his undivided attention.
That was also when his face fell.
"What the fuck's the matter with you?" Schlatt asked.
"Nothing," Techno bit back testily, not appreciating Schlatt's tone. Not when he already felt like crap.
"Really? Cause you look like you got hit by a truck on the way over. You're not inspiring much confidence in me that you can win right now, kid."
"I can win," Techno said firmly. "I will win. I need that money."
"Yeah, you keep saying that. I'm not buying it though." Schlatt put his cigarette out in the tray they had put on the coffee table. "If you don't want me to call in another fighter, that's fine. It's your funeral."
He got up to walk past Techno, making Techno hastily shuffle out of the door and bump his back into the wall. His arm hurt so bad he physically jolted. Techno almost cried out from the pain, ending up biting his tongue instead.
Schlatt looked at him, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm fine," Techno said automatically. "I can fight."
Before he could blink Schlatt had reached out to put an assessing hand against his forehead. Techno's temperature made him scowl more deeply, never a good sign.
"Fuck… yeah, okay, let's just…" He looked around as if hoping to find something, but there was nobody in the hallway. Agitated, Schlatt combed his hand through his hair. "Shit," he cursed again. Then tapped something on his phone.
Techno leaned against the wall, suddenly finding it a lot more helpful to have that bear his weight rather than his shaky legs, and blinked blearily up at Schlatt. Was he in trouble?
"Where do you live?" Schlatt asked.
A small frown formed on Techno's face. He didn't think that was any of Schlatt's business really. Maybe he'd said that out loud because the older man sighed, exasperated. He grabbed Techno's arm - not gently but not exactly trying to hurt him either - to pull him along. Towards the exit.
Schlatt sighed again. "Either you tell me or I'm calling that emergency contact you gave me. Who is that anyway, your dad?"
"Don't," Techno tried, voice less certain. He forgot that Schlatt did ask for a single phone number, just in case something went seriously wrong during a fight. He'd promised only to use it in extreme emergencies.
"Where do you live?" Schlatt repeated. They had reached the parking lot, where the cold air made Techno shiver uncontrollably.
Wanting to avoid at all costs that Schlatt called Phil and spilled the entire story about how he'd been earning money, Techno told him.
He didn't expect Schlatt to haul him towards a car, opening the passenger door and shoving Techno inside. His movements were harsh, nothing kind. But something about the whole affair - with Schlatt muttering under his breath about how he had better things to do than look after some sick kid - was oddly caring.
Even when Techno closed his eyes because the scenery speeding by made him want to throw up and he offered a vague apology for this probably affecting Schlatt's reputation, all he got in reply was a grim laugh.
"Eh, don't worry about that, champ. I can deal with those pricks."
Techno wanted to say more but he was scared that if he opened his mouth he would really vomit.
Before long they pulled up in front of his house. Schlatt stepped out of the car to open the door for him, not commenting on how Techno stumbled on his feet trying to get upright. If he'd gone into the ring, he would have made a fool of himself. So maybe it was better for Schlatt's reputation in the long run that he hadn't.
"Are you going to make it or do I need to walk you to the front door?" Schlatt asked scathingly. Techno got the impression that this abrasiveness was meant to hide his true emotions. "Because I'm not your fucking high school sweetheart dropping you off after prom, you know."
"I'll make it," Techno said. "Thanks."
"Just make sure you don't come back unless you're in perfect form again."
Schlatt's car stayed where it was until Techno had managed to fumble his keys from his pockets and opened the door. Only when he closed it behind him, did he hear the engine rev to live and speed off into the distance.
"Techno?"
It was an odd mirror image of that first night two weeks ago. Except Phil did not look like a total mess this time. He hadn't slept, maybe he'd been up making a banner for Wilbur or something equally silly. And he was a lot more awake. Techno was the one who looked like crap.
"What happened? Are you okay?" Phil asked.
"Hmm," Techno hummed, leaning into Phil's touch as his father also checked his temperature by feeling his forehead.
"You're burning up," Phil said. "Techno, why didn't you tell me you were sick?"
"Wasn't this bad before," Techno mumbled. Phil wrapped an arm around his shoulders, starting to lead him to the living room.
"You should have called me," Phil said. Techno lacked the strength to come up with some excuse as to why he hadn't.
Thankfully Phil didn't press the issue, more concerned with getting Techno settled on the couch. He carefully put a blanket around him and tucked in the edges, before heading off to grab him some water and medicine. Techno thought about Wilbur, alone in his hospital room. He shuddered.
"Oh, I didn't get to tell you since you ran off in the middle of dinner," Phil said as he sat down beside Techno. "But I got a bonus at work today. Something about commending me for my extra hours. About time they fucking noticed, really."
Techno huffed a quiet laugh, leaning into the cushions. Phil pulled him a little closer, into a semi-embrace. It was nice.
Phil continued to talk more softly. "So I already put some aside to pay Wilbur's last hospital bills. Those should be coming in next month. I figured we could use the rest for something fun? Like, a trip with the whole family. It has been a while."
"That'd be pretty chill," Techno agreed. He still felt like crap. The painkillers were starting to kick in though.
"We'll figure it out," Phil said. "Yeah, we'll figure it out."
Without answering, Techno drifted off into sleep.
