It wasn't too far of a distance to get to Tommy.

A ladder down a floor, another ladder down a floor, and finally- you stood over the ladder down to the last floor. A floor previously unknown to both you and Techno.

How long had he been here?

A day? A week?

How long was he this close with you having no knowledge of him?

You hovered near it, still considering avoiding any kind of conflict, but after a moment of running circles in your head, you decided.

Tommy was your friend.

Whether he wanted to ignore you or not, the least you can do is see how he's doing.

See if he actually wants you snooping around his mental health.

With a sigh, you sit down on your knees. The cold stone of the basement sent a shiver up your spine, but regardless, you raised a hand and loudly knocked on the ladder.

It felt rude to enter without warning.

"Hey- it's me!" You grimace at how awkward that sounded, "You know- the sunbathing weirdo who drinks tea and hot chocolate."

There's silence.

A long, contemplating silence.

You could almost picture the expression he could have on. Maybe still bitter about something? Confusion? Maybe vulnerable now that no one could stare at him while he panics?

When you got no response, you sighed, ready to turn back around and give him his space.

But then-

"Yeah, fuckin weirdo alright-"

A snarky voice says, and immediately you crouch back down with a smile.

"Hardy har- says the person who stakes out in other people's basements." You hope the playful bite to your tone of voice is obvious.

Another brief moment of silence.

"Bitch-"

He retorts.

"Chicken." You reply.

"Double mega bitch-"

You crack a laugh- "Double mega?? Come on, I deserve more creativity then that."

There's a rustling noise as he suddenly starts moving, the ladder creaks and his squinted pissy face is popping up and glaring at you, "Cock and balls." He blankly says, lifting two hands off the ladder to double flip you off. To which he almost falls off and quickly catches himself with one of his hands.

You break out into laughter.

What a fuckin dummy.

The harsh glare on his face splits- torn between wanting to look pissed off and wanting to laugh with you-

He settles for rolling his eyes and letting out a few jeering laughs.

You calm yourself placing a hand to your chest as though to catch your breath before looking him dead on in his baby blue eyes.

His face is contorted again.

That same bitter look melting onto his face. Something fond almost tried wiggling in with the smile- but he was trying desperately to wrangle it in.

'What happened?'

Was the only thing you wanted to ask, and know, and help with.

But you just-

Couldn't.

It felt- sensitive- and forcing it out of him felt insensitive.

"You're still a little gremlin." You smile.

"You're still a dense bitch."

Another smaller laugh from you, "Yeah. I can't really deny that."

The tension grows harsher.

He wants to say something, you want to ask him something- but neither of you knew how to approach it.

How does one take the leap off something they've never had to leap off before?

With Tommy you never really had to question if something would hurt him- he was a tough nut and straight up said what was bothering him- but now...?

Looking so weary? It seemed anything would just... send him reeling into his own head.

What could have made him so... closed off?

Thankfully- it seemed you didn't need to break the silence.

He did it himself, with a low, strangely raw tone of voice.

"...Why didn't you come to my party...?" Always the first one to cast the stone.

The look of confusion that rises to your face must be obvious, as not a moment after he said it the glare gets ten times harsher.

"Party?" You cluelessly say.

"Yes. My beach party. I sent an invite to you."

"I never got an invite-" you say- unsure how to cross the fact that- you genuinely didn't get one.

He didn't seem to believe you, nearly sinking in on himself at his spot on the ladder.

"I'm being serious Tommy." Your voice is soft. Quiet. You feel you might cry if you force it too loud, and you're almost positive he can hear the warble in it, but when your eyes meet his, he flinches away- nearly growling as he climbs down the ladder and blocks the hole up as he goes.

Oh geez.

Your chest ached.

Fucking-

Whatever the fuck-

It hurt-

You just want to know he's happy- but he just-

The tears briefly flood your vision, but you're quick and harsh to rub them away.

You can't just sit here and wallow.

Every second you're not spending trying to help Tommy, he could be suffering ten times more.

So with a steady breath to calm yourself, you mine down and climb the ladder down after him.

The first tentative step you take into the room is quiet. Stone against shoe. There was a bed, put a level down as though to make it part of the floor. Random items were strewn everywhere- all items recognizably Technos.

But aside from items, there were feathers.

Feathers everywhere- mainly centered around the bed- but what concerned you about the feathers wasn't the fact that they were there, but how...

Just-

...

...

Some of them were almost bloody looking. All the smaller ones were dirty and mistreated, and with a start you noticed all the longer ones... weren't.... long....

What the fuck happened.

Your chest sank deep. At what could have happened- at all the possible things that could be wrong.

Dread was quick to tear at you- but you had to refocus. On what mattered, which was Tommy, curled in on himself next to a bell and a log.

His head was resting on his knees and he seemed sad? And angry? And confused? His shoulders were shaking, and his fists were clenched and straining like it was keeping everything in him to not lash out.

With hesitance, you walked closer to him.

Careful feet, making careful steps, until you stood a few inches from the bell, leaving ample space between his spot in the corner with the wood.

You sat down, back against the wall, facing forwards at the opposite side- staring at the dirty feathers that lay everywhere.

You had no words.

What were you supposed to say?

What could even make this situation better?

"....I...." You bit your tongue, "Are you....."

Again, you choked on words.

Asking him something felt like poking a leaning tower. Any small shift could have the whole thing collapsing on itself.

So, you did the opposite of poking.

You minded your business.

And you decided to try sharing stuff you've went through.

"You know-" you started with, "the last time I saw you was at L'manberg. I thought I was dead, and I thought the last thing I'd know was that you weren't safe."

You eyed the shivering mess that was Tommy for a second, before flicking back to the wall.

"I was so fucking helpless, and all I wanted to do was get you away from all the fighting, but I couldn't. I was limp and dumb and stupid for getting so overwhelmed by everything."

Everytime you paused the room was dead silent. No ambient outside noise of floor creaking. Too far underground for anything of the sort.

"I did almost die. For real. Not just- a brief moment of unconscious death- I genuinely-..." You threw your hands in a circle to find words before just slicing them over your neck and making a weird strangled noise.

"Techno saved me. From a mess he made. But saved me regardless. Spent who knows how long unconscious, even longer recovering." You idly rub at your collarbone, knowing that farther down lay the wound. It stung at the thought, "Still recovering."

Another glance to Tommy, and you notice he's stopped shaking. His fists are still clenched, but he seemed more present then before.

"It's been shitty. My life has been shit. Don't even get me started on the ordeal with house arrest, and hostage situations."

You heaved a sigh, not sure what else to say and finally just... sitting quietly.

You refused to look at Tommy- even if you heard him shuffle.

Eye contact was an intense thing in certain situations, and you didn't want to pressure him at all.

You heard a sniff, and then another shuffle- and the sound of someone rubbing at their face. You couldn't tell if it was in agitation, or sadness, but it happened.

"That sounds like shit." Said Tommy's croaky voice. An uneasy breath escaped him. Something you noticed he did when a lot of negative thoughts clouded him.

"It was." You say, finally taking a peek at Tommy to see he had his head off his knees, staring at the same wall you had been staring at.

You flick your eyes back to the wall, "Is it safe to assume you've had a helluvan amount of shit to go through too?"

Tommy let's out a broken laugh, "Shit? If you stepped in shit I fucking fell into a whole trough of manure."

"Jeez." You wince, "That sounds fucking sucky."

"Yeah." Tommy mumbles.

"Anyway I can help?"

"No."

You sigh, slumping against the wall even farther.

You wanted to help- no needed to help. It was your nature.

Your stupid, stupid nature-

"Hey-" you say, finally turning to Tommy and making eye contact, "I know you dont need it now, but just know that if you need help, you fucking ask me, okay? No matter how much shit both of us walk through, you're fucking family, okay??"

He gives you an angry disbelieving squint, mouth open and ready to retort, but you cut him off, "I don't care who you're fighting- I will be there the second you ask me to be."

The reaction was instantaneous. Two baby blue eyes fighting to stay angry before helplessly scrunching up- tears bubbling out faster then he can keep them in-

He stares at you with furrowed brows- still trying to keep up the bitterness he must be feeling.

Tears are streaming down his face, dripping off his jaw to sink into his clothing.

You inch towards him, just a smidgen, and hold your arms open-

The gesture.

The one you always give him when he's this unstable.

A hug.

A hug you always let him choose whether or not he wanted to return.

There's hesitation.

Defintly.

Like whatever he had gone through and refused to speak about made him that much more untrusting.

But after a moment of contemplating, his arms are thrown around your neck tears wet against your hair.

You gently wrap your arms around him- like he was a little glass figurine ready to shatter-

"Fuck you-" he sniffles, "You're too genuine."

"Yeah, well fuck you- for worming your way into my little guarded heart." You say back.

You huff, and hug him just a little bit tighter, ready to give him a hefty squeeze and release him- but the moment you apply more force he winces- and you freeze.

You unwind your arms from around him, and give him the most bewildered expression you have.

"Are you hurt??"

"Bitc-" before he gets a word in edge wise to defend whatever he was going to defend all your worried thoughts come tumbling out.

"Are you hungry?? Gods- who knows if there's anything to actually eat in the middle of nowhere- or medical attention?? Potions to help with scratches and colds?? Oh my gosh who am I kidding- you've been god knows
where- of course you're hurt and hungry and-"

"NO. NO. NO. BITCH GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF." He cocks an eyebrow up, "You would know if I had any of those things if you visited-"

"Bruuhh- I would've if I could've-" you say.

"Too little too late bitch-"

"And you're suddenly ten times as vulgar as you used to be." You pause. Tommy pauses, one eyebrow cocking itself back up.

"Yeah nevermind, I take that back, you were always a vile little crime guy-"

You both let out a laugh.

Even though you both were so quick to brush over Tommy wincing, your mind still lingered on it. Lingered on what could've caused a little more force on a hug to make him tense.

The feathers everywhere weren't promising.

Your mind took that into account as well, squinting hard at Tommy.

"You sure you're all good?" You ask, voice soft in an attempt to not pressure him.

" 'M fine." He mutters, wiping his arm across his face and looking at the ground.

You purse your lips.

Should you say the word?

The accursed word that seemed to not want to cross your lips.

'Wings?'

You were thinking it.

Tommy had to of known you were thinking it.

No one wanted to say it.

Idly Tommy takes a golden apple out of his pocket- taking a bite out of it and making your eyebrows shoot up.

Oh yeah. He stole a bunch of Techno's stuff.

He probably shouldn't be eating that many golden apples. He does not need to get reliant on the absorption effect.

"Alright- we're going upstairs- Techno's making soup- this basements fucking cold- and the fire's real cozy-"

He can barely squawk out a noise of protest when you yoink the golden apple out of his hands and start heading up the ladder.

"Wh-?! You- UGH-" he begrudgingly stands up, only following you to be greedy for the apple. He's got loads more, but here he is swearing up and down at you and following you regardless.

You lead him all the way back up to the first floor- sighing in contentment the moment you feel the heat of the fireplace.

It smells really good up here- one glance at Techno with his sleeves rolled up, idly watching a pot, was enough to know why.

His pink braid had been sloppily pulled into a bun. So very poorly. It was still braided, from the looks of it it was the braid Phil put in. Nearly a week ago.

Which didn't surprise you. Techno focused more on the pressing issues of life then to if his hair is brushed.

At the noise of you and Tommy arriving, Techno tilted his head in your direction.

"Soup."

Techno says, voice blank and grumbly.

You parrot him with a 'soup' of your own before scuttling your way to the chest to search for usable tableware.

"Already grabbed some." Techno says, not even turning to see where you went, just somehow knowing that's what you were planning to grab.

"Where?"

"Anvil."

You huff, "We need a table. We have no counter space."

That word made a weird buzz happen in the back of your head. A happy buzz.

'We.'

Tommy shuffles farther into the room, once again put off with the clearly more comfortable level of conversing you and Techno have now.

Which was also strange to think about for yourself, but it was pleasant to just say things freely to someone, so you tried your best to leave thoughts as nothing more.

After a short moment, Techno grabs the handle of the pot, moving it over to the anvil and giving it one last stir. The bowls stacked near it had just enough room to not get knocked off.

Holy shit it smelled good.

What the heck.

When did he learn to cook-

Like- you knew he could cook, but did he get better or was that just your imagination?

In your curiosity, you weasel yourself up next to his bicep, staring at the pot that he was focused on.

It looked done, which made you question why was he was staring at it, but when you finally pried your eyes off the pot, and the visage of him holding the handle, the first thing you do is look up.

Red.

Eyes.

He's already looking at you, not bothering to look away when you make eyecontact.

"You look confused. And you know what?" He chuffs, "I'm not even gonna question it at this point."

His eyes flicker back to the pot, "...not even gonna question it."

Tommy makes himself known a second later when he reaches for the golden apple in your hand, huffing in agitation when you casually move your hand away from his gremlin grabbers. You don't even bother looking.

"I'm assuming it's done?" You ask.

"Yeuup." Techno tilts the pot to let you get a look at it again, "Wow. Look. It's actual soup."

"Oh shut up-" you roll your eyes, shoving him with your body before grabbing a bowl.

You turn your eyes to Tommy, "Grab a bowl-"

Tommy doesn't say anything, but he does roll his eyes and comply.

It's strangely domestic, Techno dishing out scoops of potato soup and the warmth of the house working magic.

There weren't any seats- because- there just weren't, so you settled to sit by the fire in pelts of fur, patting the seat next to you to encourage Tommy to do the same.

To which he awkwardly did. And then Techno did as well.

All three of you settled down by the fire, soup in hand.

Tommy was hesitant.

You could tell.

He looked around, from Techno to you to the fire, picking at his arm and awkwardly staring at the bowl in his lap.

"You and potatoes man." Tommy says, spooning a few potatoes up and letting them fall back into the soup.

Techno only hums.

Tommy squints again, and you take the time to take a spoon full of soup.

Good soup.

"ALRIGHT AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO THINKS THIS IS FUCKING WEIRD." Tommy obnoxiously yells, before throwing a finger at Techno, "Since when do you just decide to cook things-" Tommy throws his arms in the air, "Why are we all sitting here right now??!"

"Because we're hungry?" You say.

"Because we're civilized people." Techno mumbles.

"Bitch- fuck- this is hella awkward." Tommy grumbles, finally shoving a spoonful of soup into his mouth and then freezing.

A small spark lit in his eye and he proceeded to shovel down the whole thing.

In the corner of your eyes you catch Techno sitting just a bit straighter.

Proud.

He took it as a compliment.

Tommy looks at his empty bowl after a moment, licking his lips before looking up at Techno and saying, "Taste like ass."

"Sure it does." Techno says.

With a huff and a grumble, Tommy stands up and proceeds to get another helping, sitting next to the pot instead of the fire. Clearly he was spooked off by whatever tension was over there.

"So- sleeping arrangements." You say.

"Basement." Tommy calls, and you shoot him a raised brow.

"The basement is cold Tommy. Really cold." You squint, "You do not want the basement."

"Bitch yes I do." Tommy snarks.

"He can take the basement." Techno mumbles.

"Well then at least take some blankets with you- and coats-" you make a start to get up and start doing that, but Techno places a hand on your shoulder to settle you.

"We'll get to that. Finish eating first."

Oh yeah.

You didn't finish your soup.

You look down at the half eaten soup, before taking another bite and mumbling back a, 'fine.'

It takes a little while longer to finish. The crackle of the fire soft as you all finish the meal.

Techno is the one who gathers up all the dishes- and the one who cleans them- and does all the things needed to be done.

You make yourself busy by gathering coats and furs, ferrying them to the basement before coming back up to look for more things to make him comfortable.

After the third trip down, with half the furs at the fireplace missing, Techno again, sets his hand on your shoulder and assures you Tommy's fine.

Which he was.

You were just fussing because you could.

The sky was getting darker- nighttime well and truly setting in.

It had to be at least 12 or 1 o' clock.

So with everything taken care of, you give a small, gentle, very gentle, hug to Tommy and wish him goodnight, watching him crawl back to the basement.

Techno idled for a bit more, before glancing at you.

Ah yes.

Sleeping arrangements.

Last time you were here, it was when you were injured, and bed hogging Techno's entire room.

You were better now.

You didn't need to be a bed hog anymore.

And in turn, you were already preparing to sleep in front of the fire place.

"So-" Techno starts.

"So." You say.

"I'll take the floor-"
"You can have the bed-"

You both freeze- having cut each other off with the exact opposite yet same statement.

Techno is the first to keep talking, "No, I'm takin the floor- I don't mind. I barely even sleep."

"Nuh." You say.

"Nuh?" Techno questioned, "I'm going to selectivly hear that as agreement."

"NUH." You scurry to the fireplace, slamming yourself down on what remains of the pelts, defiantly staring up at him.

He squints at you, pursing his lips and all but dragging a hand down his face.

"Nah na na na- listen- we're gonna talk this out like people, and not whatever it is you're tryna be."

"Nuh."

"That's it-"

With a harrumph, Techno bends down and grabs you before you can scramble away- hooking two hands under your arms and basically picking you up like a toddler.

You glared at him, suspended in the air, feet off the ground with not much else to do.

He chuffed at the glare in your face, not at all taking you seriously, throwing you over his shoulder and just casually walking up the ladder.

"Fuuuuck-" you couldn't breath right over his shoulder, and didn't trust him not to drop you, so you tensed and curled so hard looking for stable ground that you had one hand pressed down his back, and the other desperately grabbing near his side.

He laughed at your struggling.

But he didn't keep you on his shoulder longer then he needed to, merely slinging you off and setting you down.

Next to the bed.

He pointed a hand at it.

"Yours."

At your still defiant flicker of a glare, he rolled his eyes, and you rolled your eyes right back at him, opening your mouth and telling him exactly what you thought, "One of us is getting in that bed, and it's not me."

"Yup. Couldn't be me." Techno replies.

"You little-" with a growl, you grab his arm, pulling him to try and throw him on it, but he laughed and just held his ground.

"I'm pushing you- I'm pushing you right now-" you drop his arm and instead go to his side and try and shove him in, "You're gonna fall- and you're gonna go to sleep-"

He laughs again- and just stands there, again-

Tough fucker-

"If you-" he pauses to look down at you, voice the classic grumbly tone yet laced with a microscopic amount of amusement, "If you couldn't tell, I'm very amused right now."

With a wiggle, you shove one last time before Techno starts moving.

A dramatic swoop, he pretends to be injured- before swinging his arm out.

His arm hooks you- spinning you around until you were closest to the bed where he releases his hold and let's your own momentum carry you onto the bed.

Basically- he just swung threw you. After you tried shoving him with all your weight.

Fucker.

You try to sit up, but Techno grabs the blanket, pulling it out from under you, before throwing it over you.

"Techno- don't you dare try and tuck me in-"

Your growls were muffled as the blanket got pulled harshly across you, getting tucked into the sides of the bed.

You heard Techno laugh- at something you couldn't see because you had a blanket over your face.

There's a pause.

And then Techno peels some of the blanket down so your face could breathe.

He laughs again- your glare locked onto his face. His squinted red eyes, his dumb grin- with dumber sharp teeth- and the way his dumb braid was still pulled onto a bun- and the dumb way his shoulders shook as he thought watching you glare up at him was the funniest thing this week.

His laughter faded eventually. Grin remaining, a strangely soft look smeared all over him as he looked down at you.

"Get some sleep." He says, and turns to leave.

Or, well he did turn to leave.

Something stopped him.

With horror you notice it's your own hand that stopped him.

You couldn't feel more betrayed-

What the hell were you supposed to say??

'Sorry- for a second I wanted you to stand here longer with me- and my dumb hand acted on it-'

No.

That's not something that gets said.

So when he turns around with a curious look- you use your other hand to point at his head.

"Braid. The braid looks like it needs redone." You purse your lips, and the make grabby hand gestures at it- to try and convey the awkward thought, but he gets it enough, walking back over and sitting on the ground next to the bed.

You pat the bed.

You're not sitting on the ground- and Techno definitely isn't.

He rolls his eyes but complies- sitting on the bed, leaving his back completely open to you.

Something you doubt he let's happen often.

You're not sure where to start.

You didn't expect him to comply, much less seem so welcome to the idea.

But you guess Phil did it all the time, so maybe it's not that big of a deal to someone like Techno?

You hesitantly reach your hand up- touching the awkwardly made bun. He doesn't react- though you swear he looked tenser somehow.

After another brief moment of hesitation, you decide to just go for it- un-wrapping the bun as delicately as you could- unraveling the weird strangled look it had going for it.

He still seemed tense somehow- but you ignored it, pulling the band off the braid and unfurling it.

One notch at a time, you undid the braid- hair slowly poofying out the more you undid.

As soon as the last one came out, his hair was a poofy mess- and you couldn't stop yourself if you tried- you brought your hands up to the base of his scalp- 'organizing' the hair- when really you just used that as an excuse to pet him like you would a dog. It's a base instinct. You see the fluffy soft looking mass, you scratch it.

He leaned into your touch. Still completely silent. You didn't know if that was good or bad. You swore you heard a familiar popping purring noise somewhere, but you couldn't say for certain.

Eventually, after enough scratching and petting, you couldn't justify treating him like a dog anymore- he probably already thought you were a fucking weirdo, but stopping now would at least save some dignity, so instead you properly tried brushing his hair. Without a brush- which made things extremely difficult, and time consuming, but Techno kept leaning into your touches- so maybe it wasn't that bad?

You straightened, and straightened, and kept gently tugging and pulling- sorting through the mess until it seemed like a reasonable time to begin braiding.

Tugging, swerving, farther down the hair- crossing and crossing until you reached the end.

After the band was back in place- you just sat there.

You finished what you used as an excuse.

Now what?

Techno was still silent, and still just sitting there.

Maybe he fell asleep.

You wouldn't mind.

You'd let him sleep there, and then you'd find your way back downstairs.

"Your hair's so long." You state, grabbing the tip of the braid and brushing it like a paint brush on your other hand.

He made an amused noise.

"I've been thinking about cutting it for awhile now."

"Really? Why?"

He shrugs, "Just seemed convenient."

"Something tells me you experienced something inconvenient."

He huffs, large shoulders swinging around as he twists to just flop back onto the bed, legs off the bed, head to the wall.

"I mean- when you're hair gets tugged by a bunch of people tryna kill you- it kinda sucks soo..."

"The Butcher army did that?"

He huffs in irritation, "...they call themselves an army- that's laughable."

"Does you're scalp hurt?" You question, leaning yourself down closer to his head, reaching your hand out to sooth his hair- as if that was something people regularly did.

"Nah." His voice grows small.

His red eyes are burning- a soft look dialating his eyes.

His breath fanned across your face, and with a jolt you realized how close you had yourself to him.

You don't bother to fix your posture though. Too busy gently thumbing at his hair.

"The thing that kinda hurts is this-" he says abruptly, lifting his arm up to show the massive gap of missing flesh in his bicep.

You wince- finally retracting your face, "Ouch. O u c h. Why- how-"

"Arm got caught in the iron bars when I reformed." He paused, voice nearly proud, "Ripped it out."

You huff an indignant breath of air.

"And that is why you get the bed."

His face deadlines, and immediately he makes movement to sit back up- to which you let out a war cry and use your body weight to force him back down.

You think the only reason it worked was surprise. Two hands pressed against his chest, your abdomen hovering over him as you made the closest face you could to vicious.

His mouth was partially agape, and you tried your best to look him in the eye- tusks and scars and flustered face all.

Everything in you felt warm. Where your hands met his chest, where his breath hit your face-

"The bed's yours-" You rush out, before scurrying to get off the bed- which is difficult as not a moment later Techno grabs your arm- the same one that got fucking chopped off.

The positions seem to have reversed. Techno was the one who seemed to be at a loss for words, hand attached to you like he wasn't sure why he even grabbed you in the first place.

Did... Techno feel like this when you grabbed him?

Did he feel stunned into silence- keening at the touch- something on the inside all but asking for more then just a hand.

Hands were safe.

The safest thing to touch with- the least- Personal.

Why were you hoping for more?

"Uh." Techno pauses. Still completely at a loss for words. You could almost see his head scrambling for answers.

"If you walk away, then I'm gonna walk away." He struggles out.

"You know what- fine-" you say.

"Really?" Techno gets off the bed, tilting his head as though he still expected resistance.

You wiggle your way under the blankets, and as soon as you're settled you sweep the blankets open and gesture at him to get in as well.

His brain clearly short circuits again, confusion abundant, even if his expression was blank.

"If both of us don't get the bed, then we both get the bed." You state like it's simple logic.

Which it is. It's incredibly simple logic, and if both of you were going to be so stubborn, it's the easiest solution.

Not like Techno has never slept in the same bed as you before. It's not that big of a deal.

You watch him walk to the candle, blowing it out and leaving the room dark.

It's no big deal.

You tell yourself that, but the moment he slips in, and the heat of him seeps through the blankets, you can't help but feel awkward. Awkward because it's kinda nice? And at the same time that achingly soft peice in the core of your being is melting even farther?

It was awkward.

But nice.

You think?

Maybe it was just because of having something there?

Yeah- you're flustered now.

What the hell was life anymore.

You were flustered because your friend- who mind you has done this before- is going to sleep next to you.

You can't see Techno's face. He's laying on his back- a polite distance from you, which isn't much because you both don't really fit in the bed.

"Night Techno."

"Nite." He voice was soft and grumbly, and so him.

The real struggle is actually falling asleep.