Techno doesn't know what else he can do to send a message to these people.

Locking himself in his room constantly doesn't seem to work like it did with other foster families. Those caught onto the fact that he wanted to be alone pretty quickly, leaving Techno to his own devices unless they wanted something from him. But Phil and Kristin keep inviting him to do stuff, no matter how often Techno refuses. Board games or movie nights at home. Trips to the park or the arcade on the weekends.

And they're not forcing him either.

Techno almost wishes they were, then he could get angry at them and consider them bad people. Like the families he stayed with before, who saw Techno's presence as an excuse to play at being the picture-perfect family. There, the requests were honestly more like ill-disguised commands. They would ask Techno to do stuff, but they weren't really asking. They were telling him.

Phil and Kristin - even Wilbur and Tommy to a certain extent - are actually asking. Every time they ask, Techno will let them down. Every time, they ask again the next day. It is starting to drive him mad.

There's simply no way they want him to be part of the family that badly.

Tommy especially doesn't get the memo that he still only has one older brother and his name definitely isn't Techno.

"Techno, can you help me with my homework?"

The question is almost immediately followed by a series of additional knocks. Techno is just glad he'd locked the door because Tommy also rattled the knob earlier. "Is it math again?" Techno asks from where he's sitting at his desk.

He's not as good at math. Maybe he can send Tommy to bother Wilbur instead…

"It's history," Tommy whines. Techno can hear from the sound of his voice he's bodily leaning against the door, probably making a very pathetic and adorable face. It makes Techno frown at his dumb calculator. "It's this stupid essay I have to write about some dead guy?"

"Most of history is about dead guys," Techno tells him automatically. He hears Tommy laugh. Techno coughs into his cupped hands, hoping Tommy can't hear. "Uh, yeah, I'll be right down, I guess."

He doesn't want to help Tommy, it sounds like a pain. But Tommy has been nice to him, Techno supposes. It's not Tommy's fault that Techno is trying not to settle too much into this temporary arrangement. Also, Phil and Kristin will be happy with him if he plays nice. They always smile so sincerely when Techno sets the table or takes out the trash.

He hasn't told them they're just old habits. In his previous foster home, there was no chore chart. Techno was supposed to 'see work' when there was any and take it upon himself to do it. And if he didn't, he'd get scolded or worse. With the Craft's, the only chore he has is helping with the dishes every other day. Wilbur has the same chore, so they alternate. Tommy is too young to help with the dishes, he enjoys unloading the groceries with Kristin.

Techno gets up and heads to the little bedside table he has. The top drawer can lock, though Techno leaves it open because that's less suspicious. He reaches inside and digs through some other stuff he put there as a distraction - socks and underwear. Buried beneath he hid the inhaler he stole from Wilbur. The white cartridge inside has been replaced with a pale yellow one Schlatt sells him.

The defoliant burns in his mouth, down his throat. Techno hates the taste it leaves behind, like licking copper coins. It took him by surprise the first time he used the inhaler. But it does help. His coughing fits aren't as bad. He hasn't puked up a flower in days.

Downstairs, Tommy is sitting at the kitchen table. He's frowning at an empty sheet of paper like it has personally offended him. Techno can see that Kristin is outside, working in the garden again. Wilbur and Phil aren't home. They had to go to the doctor's for something or another. Techno thinks it might be a check-up for Wilbur's asthma but he honestly zoned out through most of breakfast again.

That does mean it's quiet, with no music from the radio or the TV on in the background. Techno prefers it that way.

"Okay, who do you need to write about?" Techno asks, pushing his chair a bit closer to Tommy's.

"I don't know, some guy and his peas."

"How specific," Techno mutters sarcastically, taking the book from Tommy's hands. Tommy laughs again. He always does, as if Techno is the funniest person ever. Techno swallows and scans the text. "Gregor Mendel," he reads out loud. "You're right, that is the guy with his peas."

"Told you so," Tommy says smugly. He starts to play Connect Four against himself in one of the squares in his textbook. Somehow, he's losing.

"Yeah, I can help with this," Techno says. Mendel's way of looking at genetics is baby stuff, Techno can probably explain it to Tommy in a way that the paper should be a breeze. Kind of funny that Tommy's school is doing this as part of a history lesson and not science or something. Or maybe they're teaching it twice.

Techno isn't sure. He missed out on a lot of normal education because he was bouncing around foster places or group homes. Sometimes he was homeschooled or followed online classes, so it could definitely be that things happen differently in an actual classroom.

"Aw, look at you two." Kristin has just walked through the open patio door. She's putting her hair in a ponytail to get it out from her face. Her cheeks are flushed red and she seems a bit sweaty from having worked outside all afternoon. "How's the homework going?"

"Techno's helping me!" Tommy says brightly.

"That's nice of him." After filling a glass of water for herself and draining it in a matter of seconds, Kristin then grabs a bottle of orange juice from the fridge. It's the non-pulpy kind that they started getting ever since Techno moved in. She refills her own glass first, then gets one for Tommy and Techno each. The matching ones.

Techno pretends to be very engrossed in the pages when she walks over to put them on the table in front of him.

"Techno is very kind to help you, but don't take advantage now." Kristin smiles at Techno gently and he feels forced to meet her gaze. "Don't let Tommy pawn off the bulk of the work on you," she adds.

"Hey?!" Tommy cries, outraged. "I'm not pawning off my work." He's pouting at Kristin for her comment but she ignores it.

No, she's too busy keeping her eyes on Techno. It's making him a bit uncomfortable, like he wants to fidget in his chair. Not the bad kind of fidgeting though, when he feels like he wants to bite or cry or scream his lungs out. This is a feeling of tight warmth that bursts in his chest and he doesn't think he should like it but he doesn't hate it either. It's all very confusing.

"It's okay," Techno mumbles, holding the book up so he can kind of use it as a shield and hide behind it. He doesn't feel as exposed that way. "I like helping."

"If you like helping, how about after you're done explaining some of the basics to Tommy and writing an outline for his essay, you come help me in the garden?"

Techno knows what Kristin is doing and it kind of makes him grin. Tommy probably would make Techno write the entire thing if he could and Techno wouldn't have fully minded. He's very used to letting people copy from him, all his old friends used to do so. And he let other foster siblings do it too. But Kristin wants to encourage Tommy to do the homework himself. And she doesn't want Tommy to take advantage of him.

His fingernails slightly dig into the paper as he grasps the book tighter. "Sure."

Tommy complains about it a little bit, which Techno doesn't take to heart. Wilbur always says annoying Tommy is funny. Techno didn't know if he understood that at first, but he definitely does now. And Tommy's annoyance is an easy thing to deal with. He's the type of kid who blows his anger out of proportion for other people's amusement. He huffs and hawks and then he's back to laughing again a moment later. He'll call Wilbur a bitch and then beg for Wilbur to play video games together.

Sometimes Techno almost wishes he could be the same.

Not exactly the same, maybe. But Tommy has such an easy time showing his emotions, even around Phil and Kristin. Techno does think his life would be a little easier if he could also do that. Maybe it would stop him from feeling like he's walking through a minefield all the time.

Then again, Tommy doesn't have to worry about being kicked out. Techno does.

When they're done with the outline and Tommy is writing the actual essay part of his homework, Techno goes outside. The sun is bright, it's that time during late spring when it almost feels like summer. Techno removes his jumper, carefully folding it and putting it onto one of the garden chairs. It's a jumper that Kristin and Phil bought for him, so he doesn't want to get it dirty.

Kristin is kneeling in the flowerbed again, much like the last time Techno came into the garden. She has one of those weird foam things so she doesn't hurt her knees. Techno walks over, crouching beside her.

"Oh, there you are." Kristin smiles at him. She's always smiling. "Do you actually want to help, or do you just want to watch? Because either is fine, so long as Tommy is doing his homework."

Techno chuckles softly. "I can help."

"Nice. Take this." She hands him a little thing that looks similar to a rake. Just very small so it can fit in his hand. "If you want to even out the soil, that'd be helpful. I'm going to be planting cornflowers soon, but I need to make some space."

"Are you going to throw these out?" Techno asks, nodding at the flowers Kristin currently has in her garden. He uses the rake to drag little lines in the dirt. It's pretty fun to do, though he can't tell if he's doing it right.

"No, I'm thinking I'll just replant some closer together and if that's not enough, I'll uproot a couple and put them in flowerpots." Kristin clearly knows what she's talking about. Techno nods. "Would you want one?"

"A flower?" he asks.

"If I end up needing to move a few," Kristin says. "You could keep one in your room, with your cacti."

Techno considers it. "Maybe," he decides eventually. "What if I kill it, though?"

"I could teach you how to take care of it."

One of Kristin's hands gently grabs his wrist. Techno jolts, close to flinching away from her. But Kristin doesn't let that bother her. Her hold on him is loose and light yet somehow firm in its reassurance as she carefully guides him into raking the soil properly - the way she needs him to. Techno can feel his face flush up stupidly.

"I like your bracelet," Kristin says.

Techno's eyes flick toward it. The beads are kind of faded. When he got it, they were all painted in bright blue and purple colors. Over time, the paint faded or chipped off, so now you can very easily see the wood beneath with all the little grooves and stuff. Techno likes it because he can stim with it. He can slide the beads around or run his fingers over the uneven surface when he's nervous. Or sometimes he just pulls on it, messing with the stretchy piece of nylon string. And when he shakes his wrist, it makes a good noise that scratches his brain right.

There's one other thing that makes it special.

"Sam gave it to me," he says.

"He did?" Kristin lets go of his wrist so she can continue her own task, confident that Techno has gotten the hang of raking. When her fingers leave, the skin she touched feels too cold.

"A while ago."

Techno remembers that day better than most others. Maybe because it was one of the nicer days of his life. He got kicked out of a foster family again, he can't remember what for. Being hard to handle, probably. That was usually the reason. It was the middle of the night. Techno was in his pajamas and everything, socks getting wet on some suburban home's pavement.

Sam came to pick him up. He always did when Techno got in trouble.

Usually, Techno would be sent off to the nearest group home with a free bed or maybe a foster family that had opened their door to temporary emergency placements. For whatever reason - that particular night - none were available.

So he got to spend the night at Sam's apartment.

Techno had never been there before. Sam lived alone in the middle of the city. Techno recalls how the colorful lights looked zooming past the window of Sam's car, all blurred together and hard to see. They didn't go to sleep when they got to Sam's place either. Techno was eight years old and he'd drained most of his energy already with how much he had cried, smothering hiccups in the front of Sam's shirt and then after that into Steve's fur as he sat in the car. But he still refused to sleep. Sam put on a movie instead and they ate cereal together until Techno dozed off leaning against Sam's shoulder. Techno got a new home the next day, though he'd never felt safer anywhere than he did on that couch, with his plush polar bear clutched in his arms and Sam's body warmth next to him.

The bracelet was lying on Sam's coffee table back then.

"That old thing?" Sam said after noticing Techno playing with it, turning the beads over and over. "I don't really wear it anymore, got it forever ago. You can have it if you want."

Techno has held onto it for five years already. Sam never mentions it, though Techno notices him looking less sad whenever Techno is playing with it to calm himself down.

"That's very nice of him," Kristin says. "I'm glad you have somebody like Sam in your life."

Techno wonders why that's her first thought. He's too scared to ask.

He's also glad he's had somebody like Sam.

"Sign your name here."

The old lady behind the desk hands a pen to Techno. He has to stand on his tiptoes to be able to put his signature on the bottom of the form she slides over next. He's not even smaller than most kids his age, the desk is just that ridiculously tall.

When he finishes, she scrutinizes the paper for a moment to make sure everything is in order. Techno thinks that's a little funny. Do people often commit fraud when signing up for a library membership?

Perhaps this is one of those libraries that holds onto ancient books and special relics that people want to steal.

"Here you go." She puts a card down on the desk, actually out of reach from Techno because again - the desk is ridiculously tall. Phil picks it up for him instead and only grins when Techno snatches it from him maybe a bit too eagerly.

Phil also puts his hand on Techno's back to lead him away. Techno doesn't shrug it off for once.

"So, what part of the library do you want to check out first? I saw they have a young adult section upstairs?" Phil says.

Oh. Techno stops and he feels Phil's hand fall. He opens his mouth and closes it, hesitating.

Phil quickly continues. "Or you know what? You can go and have a look around by yourself. I need to pick out my own reading material anyway." He takes a step away from Techno.

Stupidly enough, it's guilt that clogs up Techno's throat. He doesn't want Phil to follow him around and hover over his shoulder while Techno looks at books. That sounds like the worst thing in the world. But he also feels bad about the slight edge of disappointment in Phil's voice. He probably thought this could be some weird bonding activity - helping Techno to pick out something to read. Techno doesn't get it.

It's been over a month and he still doesn't get it.

Why do all of them keep trying so hard? Why can't they accept that Techno doesn't want them to keep up the charade, so it'll be a lot less painful when they grow sick of him?

"You can text me if you need me, yeah?" Phil asks.

Techno pats his pocket, confirming he has his phone on him. "Got it."

Phil keeps smiling at him until they part ways.

Techno's gut swirls with nausea. He wishes these dumb thoughts and feelings would go away already. The shelves of books about Greek myth offer a worthwhile distraction. He runs his fingers along them and wonders if Phil will be annoyed should Techno pick three of them. The library card allows him to loan out ten books at a time, but maybe Phil wants Techno to stick to one. So he doesn't take up all that space in his room and so he doesn't come across as too needy.

On his next breath, Techno feels that tickle in his chest again. He coughs into his elbow, taking more gasping inhales into his lungs to accommodate the hacking. It doesn't help, only getting worse because every breath feels like it's scratching his throat raw right into his soft tissue. Techno fumbles for the inhaler in his pocket. He's glad he took it with him.

He was kinda scared to because what if Phil would notice? But it's better than Phil noticing him coughing and thinking he's sick.

Techno licks his lips afterward, the metallic pang heavy on his tongue. He's tired. The drugs help against the hanahaki, but the wheezing and struggling to breathe properly shakes his entire body and takes up a lot of energy. Instead of spending a lot of time picking out his books, Techno gets the first two that seem mildly interesting before calling it a day and heading down to the exit. He texts Phil to let him know he's done.

And when Phil insists on stopping for ice cream on their way home, Techno doesn't put up a fight. Even if the inhaler has left his mouth numb and unable to taste anything.

Techno's resolve has crumbled from days of Wilbur bothering him.

He feels very silly, standing in the band room and watching kids go over their sheet music or clean their instruments. Techno doesn't want to be here, and the fact that he's already getting some weird glances isn't helping matters any.

Wilbur is pretty much bouncing on the spot though. None of his friends are in band so he's excited to have Techno there.

"They won't have one," Techno says. The teacher went off to look in some forgotten supply closet probably because there weren't any violins kept in this room. It's not the most popular instrument, and the few students who do play violin have their own. A public high school isn't going to have a Stradivarius casually lying around to hand out. The violin is a kind of thing taught in private tutoring or after-school orchestras.

"They'll have one," Wilbur insists. "A couple of years ago they siphoned a shitton of money to the club after the school won a national talent show. They used it to buy all new materials."

"There's no way they used it to buy a violin."

The universe itself - as always very aware of irony and how much fun it is to rub Techno's words into his face - punishes his presumption a moment later when the teacher finally returns. His long hair is kept in a little bun that has come partly undone. Retrieving that violin must have been quite the adventure.

But a violin he does have. Or that's what Techno assumes is in the violin case he's carrying, at least.

"You were saying?" Wilbur sounds pretty conceited. Techno wonders if he could get away with punching him.

Before he can decide, the teacher puts the case on a desk in front of them and pops it open. "I had to do some digging. Turns out it's been a while since anybody has shown interest in the violin."

"I'm not surprised," Techno says. It's not something most kids would typically go for. Guitar and piano are the 'cool' instruments, they're what you see people play in the movies a lot. And bass or drums are popular if you want to be in a band. No normal thirteen-year-old lies awake at night dreaming of playing the violin unless they already have some connection to classical music.

Or if their foster parents forced them because it 'looks sophisticated'.

"Can you play it?" Wilbur asks, visibly perking up.

Techno looks around. Most of the other students are too busy with their own stuff to really notice them. "Right here?"

"It's important we find out if it's tuned properly. We might need to wax the bow too." The teacher takes it out of the case and easily holds it out to Techno, prompting him to take it. Techno's foster parents from back then hated it when he handled the instrument. They said he was too sloppy with it.

"It's probably fine," Techno says. But Wilbur won't stop staring at him and the teacher is busy pulling out rosin and a cloth. So they're really serious about this, huh?

With a sigh, Techno tucks the violin into place. He doesn't have a shoulder rest or a chin rest, maybe they're in the case somewhere. If he's only going to play for a little bit it doesn't matter though. Techno puts the bow to the strings and slowly drags it over them. He doesn't want to put too much pressure because he's trying to be relatively quiet.

Despite his best attempts, he knows some other kids are already gawking.

Hoping to get it over with relatively quickly, Techno plays some random sonata he learned at one point. It's not his best work, he's rusty from not having played for almost two years. His fingers cramp inflexible against the wood, he knows his motions aren't smooth enough to carry the notes through.

It's nice to play again, though.

Techno never chose to learn the violin and when his foster parents pushed him to perform on higher and higher levels it stressed him out enough that he started to hate the activity altogether. But before all that, when it was just him playing music… Techno liked it.

Wilbur claps for him when he's done, which is mortifying and stupid and only draws more attention towards them. And Techno wants to hate him for it but he can't.

"Sounds fine to me," Techno says hastily, shoving the violin back in its case - not as carefully as he should with such a delicate instrument.

"You're talented," the teacher says. He sounds so sincere about it too. "If you'd be interested in joining the club we-"

"I don't like to play in front of other people," Techno says quickly.

Wilbur frowns at him. There's something about that expression that makes Techno feel a need to cough into his elbow, trying to breathe through his nose so it doesn't hurt as badly.

"We also loan out our instruments," the teacher continues, unbothered. "There's a bit of paperwork for it, your parents will need to assign a consent form in case of damages. But you should consider it."

"Maybe," Techno shrugs.

At least Wilbur doesn't ask him to accompany him to band anymore after that. So that's one way Techno can stop constantly letting people down.

Wilbur has started texting him.

Techno supposes the locked door only sends a memo to people who are in the house with him. Wilbur enjoys texting him when he's out. Sometimes he sends Techno memes or silly pictures, or he's asking to see if Techno wants them to bring something back.

Like right now. Wilbur is out with Tommy and Phil at the grocery store. Apparently, that means Techno needs to get continuous updates about their great journey and questions on whether they need to bring anything back for him. He sighs when he's answered the latest one and turns the phone screen down on his desk. He can't concentrate like this.

Before he can get back to his homework, Techno flinches at a sharp stab of pain that runs through him.

He hunches over the desk, clenching his teeth so hard his jaw aches. The flowers sprouting inside his lungs painfully burrow their roots into Techno's soft tissue, tearing at his insides. He stumbles upright and to his bedside table again, so he can grab his medicine.

After one puff nothing more happens. He's run out.

Well, isn't that just great?

Techno throws the inhaler back into his drawer and falls onto the bed, clutching Steve to his chest.

He can feel the flowers wilting, peeling away from the flesh as they disintegrate into nothing. Schlatt warned him that it would hurt, that this would only provide a temporary solution. But man this sucks. Coughs keep bubbling from his throat, making his shoulders shake. Techno tries to muffle them into the soft fabric of Steve's fur. Kristin is downstairs, Techno can faintly hear the TV playing some show she likes to watch on her free days - and she shouldn't hear. When he's done, Techno pulls away and takes a rasping breath.

He looks down and Steve is staring back at him with one beady eye.

Techno sits up instantly, watching the other plastic eye he accidentally tore off fall into his lap. His fingers clasp around it, desperately. He ruined Steve. He should have been paying more attention.

Without thinking about it, Techno is already rushing down the stairs.

Kristin is sitting on the couch. She's engrossed enough in her show that Techno almost hopes she'll not notice how unsteadily he's breathing. "Do you have a needle and thread?" he asks.

Kristin looks up at him, surprised. Of course. She can't just be one of the dozens of fosters Techno had before. They would just wave him away, tell him where to find what he needs, and leave him to figure it out on his own.

"What do you need those for?" Even as she asks it, she's getting up and walking over to a little dresser in the corner. Techno watches her rummage through it.

"I uh," he hesitates, and swallows away his anxiety. It's kind of stupid to lie since Kristin is standing right there. And it's not like she hasn't noticed the polar bear plushie he holds in his arms. "One of Steve's eyes fell off."

Kristin doesn't seem to find what she's looking for right away. Her brow furrows, and for some reason that sends panic through him. The little eye feels like it will slip out of his sweaty palm and then it'll be gone together. Techno needs to fix Steve now!

"Found some," Kristin says triumphantly. She pulls a small pouch from the dresser, opening the zipper to reveal the sewing supplies inside. She walks over to Techno and then stops. He's not as good at concealing how he feels as he wants to be. "Hey, it's okay. We'll be able to patch him right up."

"Y-yeah." Techno nods. He's trying not to cry, or stim to get his frustration out.

"Do you want me to do it for you?" Kristin asks, voice soft. "I know you can do it yourself, but I'll be very careful, I promise."

Again, Techno nods. His hands will be shaking and he might mess up again. He doesn't want to mess up again. He feels his eyes sting and blinks several times.

Kristin takes Steve from him. It's like having a piece of his soul ripped away.

"Did Sam give him to you too?" Kristin asks gently, probably hoping to distract him. "He's cute. I'm sure I have some white thread in here, so you will hardly even notice."

"My parents gave him to me," Techno says.

Kristin doesn't falter, not for a moment. She smiles, very attentive in how she moves the needle, allowing Techno to watch her work. So he doesn't have to be as nervous about it. "Really?"

"Yeah, not long before they died."

Techno doesn't know why he said that. Maybe because he never says it out loud otherwise. But Steve is all he has left from them, so it's different.

In almost all the other foster homes that found out, they'd get angry about it. They told Techno he was too old to sleep with plushies. Or that he should use the toys they gave him instead, not this stuffy boring one.

Kristin doesn't say that.

She is quick but deft, sewing the eye back on in a matter of minutes. And then she hands Steve back to him with the biggest grin.

"There, good as new."

Techno wants to cry again, for a whole other reason.

But he stays tightlipped and nods. He mutters a quick thanks under his breath before hurrying upstairs again.

Because his lungs feel like they're being torn apart.

Like inside him there are a million little threads too and they're all snapping at the same time. And he's falling apart, ripping at the seams. Techno heaves into his trashcan this time because he didn't make it to the bathroom. He looks at the flowers there, they're fuzzy and strange and their pink-red color makes it hard to see how stained they are with blood. Worse than before. Techno's mouth tastes of iron and rot.

Astilbe, Techno will later find out by scrolling his phone, Steve held against his chin safely, has a meaning of patience and dedication to a loved one.

Kristin checks on him by slightly opening the door, but Techno pretends he's already sleeping.