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It was supposed to be a fun night.
The family had nights together often - since the addition of Tubbo, making them a family of 5, they’d made family nights a more often occurrence, because they were all so busy that they never got to spend quality time together, where they could sit down for more than just a short time like they did at meal times and have genuine conversations, maybe even play some games or watch a movie.
The tradition started when Techno and Wilbur were initially adopted - Phil thought it would help them adjust to the fact they had a safe home at last, using it as a way to gradually make the twin boys feel safer. Then Tommy had been adopted, and then Tubbo- and now here they were. Despite how they’d all settled, it was tradition now, routine, and none of them wanted to see it break.
They’d all come from less than ideal backgrounds, having individually experienced their fair share of traumas, ranging from poor living conditions, to family, to previous foster homes that had turned sour. It was fair to say that they all had their issues, where now they finally had the space, time and understanding from a parent who loved them for them to heal and recover.
Recovery wasn’t linear though- that was for sure. The statement was certainly true to Techno.
Techno had been deemed a problem child since the start. He and his twin, Wilbur, had come from a very unstable background - one with a lot of violence. The two had been exposed to many things a child shouldn’t ever have to see, especially not at such a young age. Trauma affected the two of them in different ways when they had been taken away from the situation and had time to process - Wilbur had become quiet and withdrawn, and Techno had become openly aggressive, attempting to attack anyone who even looked at him the wrong way, or anyone who got close to Wilbur in a way he didn’t trust (which at the time was every way, including the social workers who were trying to do their job).
Techno had simmered down since, slowly learning coping mechanisms after being put in therapy. He was still angry, he could still lash out at people, but he’d generally mellowed out and was much more of a calm person, so much that you wouldn’t think he was the same person, the same broken kid who came to Phil all those years ago- aggressive and violent and so, so angry at the world. But Phil had been patient - unlike any other foster home that had tried to take him and Wilbur in, of which they promptly got kicked out of all of them within days of being there, weeks if they were lucky. Phil… he understood.
With that trauma and all that anger came other issues alongside them too, namely Techno’s ADHD and anxiety. Because of these factors, he had very low social energy, so it wasn’t a surprise when he didn’t speak much besides a few words to his family after a long day of social interaction or withdrew himself to recharge when things got too much and he became too exhausted to cope with interacting. His family understood, of course, giving him the time he needed, respecting his boundaries. He’d forever be grateful.
And then there were the voices.
Lovingly named his ‘chat’, it seemed there was always a constant stream of voices in his head. All different varieties, all sounding different in tone, pitch and volume, some nothing more than quiet whispers and others booming over all the others. Some of them were nice, some of them were horrible, some would tell him to do unspeakable things that made him feel physically ill. Sometimes, it was quiet, acting like a quiet commentary, and other times, it was overbearing, overwhelming, like a heavy hand on his shoulder.
Tonight was one of those times.
Techno had left the family night a while ago, mumbling that he was exhausted and that he was going to bed because he needed to recharge because social interaction was too overwhelming, and he’d received a friendly round of “good nights” from his family before heading to his room. He’d deal with this alone, just like he always did.
His family knew of the voices, Phil knew of the voices. They’d been present since he was a child, growing increasingly worse as he reached his teenage years, around when he had been adopted. It was on his case file. But his father never pushed. He was thankful for that, because he would never repeat the vile things they told him to do.
He stumbled into his room, letting the mask of calm slip, shaking as he struggled to close his door behind him, tangling his fingers through his long pink hair and making his way straight to his bed, collapsing down. He stayed like that for a while, spaced out, trapped in his own mind, and it was almost as if a thick fog had overcome his brain and trapped his ability to do anything other than think .
He had sat up at some point after that, curling tightly into himself, steadily rocking back and forth as he subconsciously slipped back into the depths of the fog again. He clutched his favourite plushie tightly to his chest, running one hand over it slowly and trying to focus on the soft fabric and the comfort that it brought - he may be in his late teens by now, officially 17 years old, but indulging in childish things brought him happiness, and this specific plushie was his favourite. Phil had bought it for him when he was a few years younger, about 14 at the time, when they’d been walking down the high street and this particular plush had caught his eye. Of course, being full of teenage angst and having his walls built up high at the time, he’d eyed it with childish glee for a moment before quickly becoming deadpan again, but it was long enough for his father to notice and insist on buying it for him. It had been his favourite thing ever since that day.
Having it with him grounded him a little. It was a medium sized plushie of a pig, of course. Techno had always loved pigs and anything to do with them. It was pink, a similar pink to his hair, and it fit perfectly in his arms. He let himself get pulled deeper into the fog.
Faintly, he could hear someone saying his name from a distance. He didn’t want to move from his position. He was still rocking back and forth on the spot, curled in on himself protectively, but he felt as if he was stepping away from the thickest part of the fog. The voices were still overbearing, though. They screamed atrocities, begged for violence and action and blood and gore, begged for him to-
“Techno!” He was finally snapped enough out of the pit he’d dug himself into, looking up to see Tubbo. The door seemed to be left open just a crack. He had a look of relief on his face when Techno appeared to finally return to reality.
“Hey, Techno,” he started, softly, “Phil told me to come check on you before we go to bed to check if you need anything.” Fuck, how long had he been in the fog for?
Techno was unresponsive however, and Tubbo briefly frowned, before his face lit up as if he’d come to a realisation.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” He didn’t wait for a response before he beelined out of the room, and Techno wasn’t in the state of mind to comprehend his little brother’s antics right now. He tried to fight it, knowing he was needed, but he found himself slipping back into the fog anyways.
“Techno,” he heard his name again, pulling him from the depths for the second time today. He looked up, seeing Tubbo in front of him, a new addition in his hands this time. Seeing his oldest brother focus on him put a smile on his face.
“Look! I have a plushie too,” he happily held out the bee plush he had brought with him, not invading Techno’s personal space. He was trying to distract him from the voices. Tubbo knew something wasn’t right with him right now, so he tried his best to keep his mind from wandering back to whatever dark thoughts he’d gotten into before.
Techno looked surprised - he was wide eyed and frantic already, but he seemed to be caught off guard by this. Tubbo gestured if he could sit beside him on the bed, and Techno was in no place to say no, so he allowed him.
Tubbo sat with him for as long as he needed, talking about whatever came to mind - his plush, bee facts he knew, something stupid Wilbur had said, how Tommy had gotten pissed at a movie and had started swearing up a storm, and somehow, Techno found it was working . Tubbo’s voice cut through the voices, overpowering them to the point where he could focus on just what his brother was speaking to him about, being able to offer vague responses through grunts and hand gestures.
He started to find himself relaxing and uncurling just a bit from his rigid posture he had no recollection of getting himself into. He still stayed curled in on himself with his plush in his arms, but his body wasn’t as tense as it was previously, and instead of the thick fog of violence, he found himself wandering into a haze of warmth and safety.
He knew he was slipping now, and he was too tired from the chaos of the evening to fight it. Regressing was just one of the coping mechanisms he’d learned from his time in therapy, and after a lot of awkward situations where he’d been stuck in a limbo of being his big self and regressing, and a lot of tears and upset and confusion, it’d finally become something he could use to relax - the majority of the time. He would still suddenly drop drastically out of nowhere involuntarily when he had flashbacks or harsh emotions came to light, but his family understood - actually, all his siblings had ended up picking up the same coping mechanism, so it wasn’t a controversial topic in the house. Phil had been nothing but supportive to all of them since he found out, and they were all incredibly thankful for that.
Tubbo seemed to have noticed his brother slipping now, one of the telltale signs being how his eyes were droopy but kept them open regardless, and he was just happy what he’d tried to do worked . Tubbo was a few years younger than Techno and Wilbur and so was Tommy, but they didn’t mind, they were all so close to each other that they didn’t mind looking after one another.
He smiled softly, taking the chance to shuffle a little closer, putting his hand gently on his arm and keeping the bee plush in his lap.
“You wanna put some comfy pyjamas on, Techie? I’m sure those clothes can’t be comfortable,” he said softly, knowing the nickname made Techno feel small and comforted. He got a lazy nod in response, and he gently patted his head before getting up, leaving the bee plush beside him as he went to go grab what he knew were Techno’s comfiest pair of pyjamas, which were of course pig themed.
He brought them back, handing them over to his brother and smiling softly, “you get dressed for me, kay? I’m gonna go talk to Phil while I wait. I’ll be back, promise.” He received another lazy nod and a sleepy smile in response as Techno moved to get up slowly, so he left him to it, leaving the door open ever so slightly, but not enough to see him.
He walked back to the living room where his family had been waiting for him for quite a while now - he’d spent about half an hour just grounding Techno and calming him down and now Wilbur, Tommy and Phil seemed to be very worried, but he reassured them with his best smile.
“Sorry I took so long,” Tubbo started, “he was in… a bit of a state when I checked on him, with the voices n’ stuff, but I managed to calm him down. He was really out of it.” His family seemed relieved to know that, though worry still bubbled away in them knowing he’d gotten into such a bad state of mind and felt as if he had to deal with it by himself.
“So… What is he doing now?” It was Wilbur who spoke up what everyone wanted to ask - Tubbo hadn’t clarified whether he’d finally gone to bed or not yet, so they were all a little nervous from now on edge they already were that he was going to fall back into the voices again.
However, Tubbo simply offered a smile, “He ended up slipping, so I left him to get changed into something comfy while I came and talked to you guys.”
A collective sigh of relief fell over the room, and worried expressions were replaced with smiles instead. Phil was the first to get up, taking the lead over the situation.
“I’ll go and see him, you kids can go to bed now if you want. I’m not stopping you if you want to stay up, it is a weekend,” Phil had never been a strict parent about going to bed, understanding personally the difficulty in going to bed on time and getting to sleep- it was something he’d struggled with since his teen years too. He tried to at least get them all into their rooms since midnight, but he was dealing with vulnerable teens with some pretty nasty traumas here, and he empathised with the struggle to feel safe alone at night.
Said kids did intend on going to bed when Tubbo got back, but knowing Techno was regressed gave them more energy- looking after each other was something they all greatly enjoyed doing, and they wanted to stay up for just a bit longer to help out. They knew their oldest brother would be exhausted after everything, so they presumed it wouldn’t be long. However, for now, they waited for their father.
Phil went upstairs and walked to Techno’s room, gently knocking on the door as to not scare him, and also to make sure the door stayed almost fully shut. He received a quiet hum in response, and smiled as he opened the door to see his son on his bed, his favourite pyjamas on with his favourite plush in his arms. He went to sit next to him, ruffling his pink hair gently and starting to speak.
“Hey Tech,” he spoke in a calm voice, the one he always used when any of them were regressed, “how’s my favourite little prince doing?”
That got a giggle out of Techno at least, and the sound was like music to Phil’s ears, happy that his son had calmed down and felt safer now.
“‘M okay…” he mumbled out in a voice that was slightly higher pitched than usual, just like he always did when he regressed. He seemed to be incredibly tired just by the tone of his voice.
“You sound tired, kiddo, I think it might be bedtime,” he chuckled softly, going to run his fingers through his son’s hair but he noticed how tangled it was, going to grab his hair brush and start brushing it gently.
Techno whined at that- he was never bratty at all, he was probably the most well behaved out of the 4 of them when he regressed, he tended to be very quiet and sluggish. He got excited sometimes, like when he got to play fight with his brothers when they’d slipped too, or like the time where Phil had helped him make a little sword out of cardboard and he had pretended to fight enemies with it to protect his family, but most of the time he was just very sleepy and near silent. It took a long time of learning and tears for everyone to pick up on the subtle body language signals he would give to indicate when he was sad, hungry, tired, thirsty, anything like that, but they got there in the end. Right now, he seemed to be fighting to keep awake, wanting to stay up.
“Hey, come on now,” Phil said as he finished brushing the kid’s hair and started braiding it carefully, “you know you’re sleepy, kid, I can see you fighting to stay awake.” He chuckled at the antics, watching Techno pout.
“...Can you n’ everyone read me a story?” His voice came out softer than before, less pouty now and accepting that he needed to get some sleep. His words were a little bit slurred together, but a combination of headspace and exhaustion did that to him.
“Of course we can, Tech,” he said as he finished braiding his hair, having taken him about a minute just because it was incredibly long and he wanted it to be comfortable and secure. “Let me go get everyone, okay? I promise you I’ll be right back, I’ll only be downstairs for a minute.”
With Techno seeming satisfied with that answer, he quickly got up and went back downstairs, explaining the situation to his sons, who seemed to be really happy about getting to help out. He left them to get things ready upstairs, and Phil quickly went to grab the sippy cup that Techno usually used while regressed, just filling it with water to make sure he was hydrated, unsure of the last time he had anything to drink.
Going back upstairs, he opened the door to his room and smiled again at the sight of all his kids together, laughing about something that he’d clearly missed out on, and Techno especially seemed happy. He made his way back to the bed, leaving the cup on the small table beside his bed with his lamp, and everyone seemed to calm down again. Wilbur was sat at the end of Techno’s bed and Tommy and Tubbo were sat on the floor, and Phil had to take a moment just to appreciate how peaceful things were and just how much he loved his little family.
“Alrighty, Tech, time to get in bed now,” he went to go and tuck his son in bed, but he stopped when he noticed him whining and tearing up, pouting up at him, and suddenly he was worried he did something seriously wrong. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong, little prince?”
He got a loud sniffle in response, balled up fists rubbing his eyes before Techno spoke up in a small voice, “I want Wil to tuck me in!”
Breathing out a sigh of relief, he chuckled softly, reaching for the cup he’d left on the side, “Alright, Wil can tuck you in as long as you drink a little bit for me, sound good?” He got a nod, even if he received another pouty look at first, taking the sippy cup and managing to drink quite a lot of it, initially drinking a little too fast and having to be slowed down. He just simply didn’t realise how thirsty he was, was all.
Phil gave his son a quick kiss on the forehead before moving out of the way, letting Wilbur handle this.
Wilbur got up hearing his name, smiling softly at Techno and moving closer, “c’mon, bedtime,” he said, as a prompt to try and get him to at least move himself into bed as he tried to lift him a little bit. He seemed to take the hint, moving enough so that the covers could be pulled back, where he laid down and let Wilbur tuck him in comfortably, making sure his little stuffed pig was in his arms, and he smiled softly as he was handed his pacifier, keeping quiet now.
He loved when Wilbur would tell him stories at bedtime because Wilbur had always been creative in many ways, including musically and when it came to storytelling. He could think of stories off the top of his head and talk about them for long enough that Techno would fall asleep to his voice.
Once he’d gotten started, Techno found his eyes closing as he listened to Tommy and Tubbo join in and contribute things to the story too, quiet laughter spreading through the room, and soon enough, he found himself drifting off knowing that he was safe and protected by his family.
They noticed him fall asleep soon after it had happened, and they took that as their hint to get up and finally go to bed themselves, with Phil following closely behind them. As they all went back to their rooms, the father stayed by the door, hand over the light switch, just briefly watching the peace on his eldest son’s face, the same son who had been through so much pain, and felt incredible relief that he could finally be happy, even just for a little while. He flicked the light switch.
“Goodnight, Techno.”