Archive of Our Own ^beta

He finds a letter stuffed into one of the books on his bookshelf, addressed to him in scraggly, messy handwriting that he knows all too well. The same handwriting signs a number of the crayon drawings buried in the bottom of his enderchest.

Hey.

The letter says, casual like its writer isn’t long dead. Like its writer’s ghost doesn’t linger in the basement of the cottage.

You’re sleeping right now. I think. I don’t really know. You don’t snore like Wilbur did. I don’t even know if you sleep.

He hadn’t really been sleeping at the time. There’d been a lot going on back then.

I really do want to thank you, but I know I won’t. Not verbally. You know I won’t either, probably. That’s not my brand, and you’re all about brands. Funny how you took in an orphan. Did you know I’m an orphan, Technoblade? You and Phil and Wilbur and Tubbo were the closest to family I had, and I don’t think a single one of you actually wants me. That fucking burns, big man. Right in my chest. Like heartbreak, or something. That’s pretty weak of me, huh?

When Wilbur had brought Tommy home all those years ago, some vague semblance of brotherhood binding them together, Techno hadn’t thought much of it. He didn’t really have to worry about Tommy all that much- not when he and Phil were constantly out on adventures. The few times they’d gone back and he’d interacted with Tommy, the kid had been loud. A little clingy, if he’s being honest. He hadn’t liked the boy very much.

I’m never going to tell you what he did to me. I’m never even going to tell me what he did to me. Easier to pretend it didn’t happen than to think about it too much. But he messed me up. He was supposed to be my friend, but he messed me up, and I don’t want to think about that. I can’t stop shaking, Tech-

He’d noticed that. The kid, as loud and dramatic and vulgar as he tried to be, Techno knew him. 

I’m so scared.

At least, a little bit.

I won’t tell you that. Hell, I’ll probably burn this as soon as we get back from L’Manburg tomorrow. Or I’ll keep it until I actually work up the nerve to thank you. You’ve done a lot for me, Techno. I’ve lost enough people to know that I need to admit that sometimes. 

There’s no date on the letter- he’s not sure which trip to New L’Manburg it was written before. Was it the last one? Was it the first one? 

I’m not going to think about the bad things. All I do is think about the bad things. All I do anymore is think. Maybe- hang on. I’m never going to let you read this letter, right? I might as well explain some shit to you, yeah? Or I can pretend that I’m explaining it to you. Like I’m practicing.

Dream would hit me. I’m sure you gathered that already, or maybe you’re just really really good at pretending things aren’t how they are. Knowing you, it’s the second option. Wilbur went insane right in front of you, Blade, and you just watched. You ended up using him, man. But you cried when he died. I know you did- I saw you. I don’t know if you just tricked yourself into thinking he’d be okay afterward, or if you ignored it for your own gain, or what. But you did. So I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re doing it again, too.

He should stop reading the letter. He really doesn’t even need to read it, anyway. Tommy has been dead for a long time- there’s no point in dredging up old feelings he didn’t even have. 

But yeah. He would- yeah. He would. So thank you for not hitting me. And thank you for not really yelling, either. You’ve never really been big on yelling. You raise your voice, sure, but you don’t yell. Thank you for not kicking me out. Thank you for never actually trying to take the things from me that I steal from you. I know I shouldn’t steal- I’m not stupid. I know I’m just testing my luck.

Techno honestly hadn’t thought the kid was self-aware. He never made it seem like- oh.

Maybe if I take enough, you’ll punish me like I deserve, yeah? Everyone is always punishing me. I don’t know how I keep doing things so wrong. Even when I’m not trying to do it wrong, I mess it up. It’s easier to mess up on purpose and know why I’m being punished than to not know why. At least this way you would have a reason. At least this way it would be justified.

He feels sick. With a deep, shuddering breath, Technoblade sinks into the seat by his fireplace. He’s glad he hadn’t eaten much for lunch.

You’re all I have left, you know? And I don’t even really have you. I know you’re just using me, too. I told you I’m not stupid. I wish that you weren’t, and I wish that you thought more of me, but I don’t really think I’m in a position to ask for much of anything. You didn’t have to take me in. You didn’t have to feed me and take care of me and all that other stuff. I don’t know why you did.

Part of me hopes it’s because you like me, but I know that’s dumb. Nobody likes me, Technoblade. Wilbur tried to kill me on that podium. You told me to die. Tubbo exiled me. Dream- Dream made what he thought of me very clear. He was my friend, but he also wasn’t. He wasn’t. Phil never much liked me, anyway. He was only nice to me because Wilbur liked me, and we saw how that turned out.

Maybe this is how I was always supposed to be. Orphaned. No friends, no family. Killed by the same man over and over again. 

Honestly, Tech, I know I don’t have much of a shot. At anything. I know I’m going to lose all three of my lives. I hope it’s you that takes my last life. Or Phil or Tubbo or Quackity. Maybe even Fundy. Fuck, I’d settle for Sapnap. Anyone but Dream, okay? Please don’t let Dream kill me a third time.

He stops reading for a moment, setting the letter down to tuck his head into his hands. On the floor below, he can hear a ghost humming to itself. Techno feels sick to his stomach.

But I’m not going to pretend to be delusional. I know a lot of things. I have to observe to survive, and I know how this story ends. I actually really like reading, did you know? I’m going to have to pick someone, just like I always do. I’m going to have to pick you, who has given me shelter and kept me safe from Dream, or I’m going to have to pick Tubbo, who has been my best friend up until responsibility deemed otherwise. 

I’m going to have to pick you, and your Withers and war and safety, or I’m going to have to pick Tubbo, and his suits and peace and familiarity. 

In the end, Technoblade, please don’t be mad when I don’t pick you. 

He’d been so mad. So hurt and angry and-

I value you, truly. I do. After Wilbur and Tubbo, you’re the closest to a brother I think I’ve ever gotten. The closest to family I think I’ll ever get. But you have Phil, Techno, and I don’t. You are so strong and scary and I’m sure you’ll burn L’Manburg to the ground with or without my help, but I can’t let you take the only person who has ever loved me with it. You already took one of Tubbo’s lives. He only has one left. If I can help make sure you don’t take the last one, I will.

Maybe you’ll kill me for leaving you-

Oh, how he’d wanted to.

maybe you’ll spare me just to monologue in my face about something I probably already understand-

He’d wanted Tommy to understand that he was a person. That he couldn’t be used. ‘I know you’re just using me, too.’ Tommy had said. ‘you’re the closest to a brother I think I’ve ever gotten.’ he said. All things never said out loud. All things that seem so incredibly off-brand for Tommy. All things that are written in his unmistakable, sporadic handwriting. 

either way, Techno, I wish I could tell you that you mean a lot to me. Wilbur always told me I was too quick to trust. That I couldn’t trust anybody. If he didn’t want me to trust anyone, he shouldn’t have brought me home to all of you. He shouldn’t have made me think you guys loved us. He shouldn’t have made me think he loved me. But you mean a lot to me. You do.

I want to hate you so bad. After you killed Tubbo, and the Withers, and when you came to Logsted just to mock me. Hell, man, I want to hate you, but I can’t. It’s like there’s something all wrong in my brain. I should hate you. But I should also hate Dream. And I should hate Wilbur. But I don’t hate any of you. The only person I really hate is me.

There’s a break in the writing, a new color of ink. The next part is even harder to read, the words smeared as though he’d written faster than the ink could dry. Other words are blurred by droplets of water. 

I have to go fight Dream.

The letter says, and Techno sucks in a breath. He remembers that day vividly. 

(“Maybe I’ll apologize if I live.”)

I’m going to die, Technoblade.

He'd known he would die. He'd known and he'd still-

Maybe you’ll kill me if you catch me in your house. I know you hate me. 

He didn’t. He doesn’t. He never had. It’s hard to hate someone when you used to have to wash mud out of their hair. It’s hard to hate someone when they drew you pictures from the time they learned to talk. It’s hard to hate someone when you kept those pictures long after you thought you’d never see them again. 

I just don’t want Dream to kill me. Please don’t let Dream kill me. If you ever loved me at all, even a little bit, please don’t let Dream kill me. I don’t want to die by his hand.

Funny. That’s exactly how he’d died. 

Thank you for giving Ranboo a place to feel safe. I hate that he gets to have you and Phil when I didn’t, and I hate that he’s chosen to stay with you even though you just blew up his home, but I don’t hate you. Or him. At least, not a lot. Maybe a little bit, though. But only because I’m jealous. Do you like him more because he’s all messed up on the inside and not the outside, Techno? Was I too loud? Was that why you never liked me?

Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m on edge, if you couldn’t tell. Gotta fight Dream, haha. Dream who basically abused me for months on end. No. No. It wasn’t basically abuse, it just was. Puffy told me I need to address it for what it is if I want to get better. I don’t think that’ll work, but a guy can dream. Haha. Dream. I never did finish telling you what he did to me.

How long had Tommy been hiding in his house that second time before Techno found him? How had he had this much time to write?

I’m hiding in your basement right now. Your basement's basement, behind your villagers. They’re great company, and they won’t say anything about me being down here as long as I pay them. Which sucks because I don’t have much left -I’m very poor, Technoblade- but I’ll do what I must.

Being here is just an excuse to see you one last time, anyway. You and Phil and Ranboo. I’m going to die.

I was going to kill myself. I might still do it, if I don’t die here. It depends on how this all goes. If Tubbo dies and I don’t, I’ll kill myself. If I die and Tubbo doesn’t- well. I don’t really know. Hopefully, I never come back as a ghost. I don’t think I’d be a very happy ghost.

As though it’s been summoned, Tommy’s ghost floats out of the floor beside his desk with a smile on its face. It doesn’t speak, just hums a slow tune and twirls a strand of Technoblade’s hair around its finger. Chirp, Techno thinks he recognizes it. 

The ghost can’t speak, or it’s simply chosen not to. Either way, the ghost loiters around Techno’s house or in Snowchester, and when it can’t be found in those places, it can be seen lingering calf-deep in the waters surrounding Logstedshire. The water melts it, but it stands there anyway.

“Hullo, Toms,” he murmurs, the nickname feeling like acid on his tongue. He’d never called the boy that when he was alive, but it feels wrong to call the ghost Tommy. It doesn’t feel like Tommy. “You lookin’ for Ghostbur?”

The ghost nods, though it seems distracted as it weaves a small braid into the hair behind Techno’s ear. Right behind the braid with a strand of brown woven into it. Right in front of the braid with a strand of blond woven into it. It keeps humming, hunching over in that way that Tommy had started doing after he’d come out of exile. Making himself smaller.

“You should probably go find him then, yeah?”

Tommy’s ghost hums a little more before nodding. It thumbs at the three braids behind Techno’s ear for a moment, and then it slips between the paneling of the walls. 

The silence is new. Technoblade doesn’t like that Tommy’s ghost is quiet. At least Ghostbur displayed the sweetness that Wilbur had when he was younger. Tommy’s ghost is everything the little boy was not- was never.

Do you think people will be happier when I’m dead, Techno?

The answer, oddly enough, was no.

I think they will. Fuck it, I know they will. I don’t have much of anything to offer anyone anymore. I’ve got too much trauma now. I’m not as fun as I used to be. 

I think I might be okay with dying. Before exile, I don’t think I would have been. Before Wilbur died. I don’t know. I really don’t. I’m so tired, Technoblade. I can’t remember the last time I slept well. It honestly might’ve been back during the War for Independence. Before we even asked you for help.

Before Wilbur went fucking crazy.

I miss him. And I miss you, and Phil. And even though Tubbo’s waiting for me, I miss him, too.

I think I’ll go see you now. And I’ll leave this in one of your books so I have a reason to come back. I can’t let you find this and figure out how pathetic I am. Or that I’m self-aware. Or that I’m grateful for everything you did for me while I lived here, even if you did it for your own personal gain. Not that I ever had much to give to you. But thank you anyway, Techno.

I don’t really want to die. Honestly, I just want to live. But I’m okay with dying if it means everyone else will finally be happy. And it’s easier to tell myself that I’m okay with dying than to let myself acknowledge that I don’t want to die. 

I hope you get to be a good brother for Ranboo, Technoblade. Even though I know you’ll deny that you care about him. He’s got this way about him, big man. Just worms his way right in even when you don’t want him there.

He’s the only one who really visited me in exile. He made me feel like a person.

Take care of him for me, okay? Take care of yourself, too.

Thank you. For everything.