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Techno feels sick to his stomach. Apparently, life hates him and wants to ruin their bimonthly family road trip.
It's pretty seldom that they even get to travel these days. With his older brother’s graduation day nearing, and his little brother starting grade school, everyone has been extremely busy.
Still, his father found a way to sort of force them to agree that going on vacation is the most suitable thing they ought to do in the complete middle of the school year. Sure, he has, like, ten tests upcoming, but it's no bother. The horizon seems beautiful from the tinted windows of the minivan. Maybe too beautiful, to the point where he feels like puking.
Wilbur nudges him with his elbow. “Do you see the cattle farm over there?”
“Nope,” Techno mutters, shaking his head.
“Stop forgetting your goddamn glasses,” Wilbur rolls his eyes. “This isn't Minecraft, you can't adjust your render distance in real life.”
“Incorrect. I can and I will adjust my render distance in real life.” Techno squints hard, ignoring the way it made his eyes start to water. He points out the window. “It worked. I see those sheep.”
“Those are plastic garbage pags..” Wilbur gives him a funny look. “Your eyesight is fucking horrid.”
“In my defense, yours is terrible too,” Techno points out.
“And in my defense, we are totally different. I was born with shitty vision, and you got yours from playing too much video games.”
“Look, the video games we bought from the school fair are actually decent-”
He gets cut off by a road bump, it rattles the whole minivan and he has no other choice but to grudgingly lean on the door.
His immune system didn't like that.
Techno looks away and lets out a deep breath as soon as the path turned into something much smoother, much easier to deal with.
Wilbur stares at him. The roughness of the concrete beneath the gyrating wheels of the vehicle doesn't seem to affect him that much. “You seem pale,” he narrows his eyes. “Aww, are you getting carsick?”
“Shut up,” Techno groans, folding his knees against his chest. If Wilbur doesn't stop being irritating, he will vomit all over him out of spite or something.
“I think Dad should relocate you to the trunk,” Wilbur suggests.
Techno blinks at him, confused. “..Heh?”
“Y’know, just in case you do the unthinkable.” Wilbur imitates a gagging motion.
“Just your luck, I'm holding it in by a thread.”
“Oh, no no no. Absolutely not. That's dangerous enough to call for some Ibuprofen. You are not throwing up while I'm in this car.”
The older tugs something out of the pocket of his backpack. He offers his brother a tablet.
“Take it, hurry.”
“And if I refuse-”
Wilbur doesn't miss a beat as he shoves it straight into the younger's mouth. Techno glares at him before reluctantly taking a sip of water to push the pill down his throat. For a moment, it jeopardizes to come back out, but then it drops and drowns within the awaiting acid in his gut that will curse him for the rest of this trip.
He clutches his stomach in an attempt to soothe it even for a nanosecond.
Wilbur's smug expression shifts to a concerned one. “You alright?”
“Go away.”
“I can't do that, we're in a moving vehicle.”
“You know what I meant.”
The brunette sighs. Being responsible was never his strong suit, yet he knows he'll feel guilty if his brother gets any more sicker than this. Wilbur puts his palm against Techno’s forehead. He tries to bat his hand away, but to no avail.
“Your temperature’s higher than usual. You don't feel chilly or anything, do you?”
“What do you think?” Techno eyes the air conditioner set to the maximum coolness. He wraps his arms around himself, internally wishing he had taken his hoodie out of his suitcase before Dad put it in the boot.
Wilbur hums knowingly. He turns the air conditioner down. His mind lingers on his hesitation before he faced his brother and opened his arms wide.
Techno tilts his head, and he's entirely sure his face is currently the embodiment of the question mark symbol.
“Come here. There's still four more hours before we arrive. I know I'll have to drag your dead weight up the hiking trail by the time we get there, you piece of shit.”
Techno still doesn't move a muscle. Given his limbs are probably starting to fall asleep faster than his own consciousness, Wilbur decides to be the one to nestle (or rather, wrestle) him into the warmest hug he could ever bring himself to give.
“I'm going to eradicate you,” Techno threatens.
“No thanks,” Wilbur presses his lips into a thin line. “Go to sleep and I'll wake you up. That'll suppress your murderous thoughts.”
“I don't wanna go to sleep though.”
“I'll tell Dad to turn the van back around if you don't.”
“Fine, you win this one.”
“Always do.”
“That's a lie.”
“Shhh, sleep.” Wilbur puts his arms around him and pulls him closer. The buzzing sound in Techno’s head starts to simmer down at the gentle motion. He feels every swerve of the vehicle send fizzing sensations through his veins, yet his brother decimates them with ease. The warmth holds him together and makes his eyelids droop.
His head drops onto the older's shoulder and Wilbur lets him. Wilbur always lets him.
Techno mumbles quietly. “Don't you dare tell Dad.”
“Don't worry, I'm not cruel enough to throw your facade away for you,” the brunette snorts. “If anything, you'd be the one to do that.”
Techno is too tired to comprehend what that means.
Wilbur pats his head, carding through the stray strands of hair sticking to his burning red cheeks. That sends his brain into a frenzy. And the more his brother does it, the more he gets lulled to sleep.
Wilbur worked his wonders again, seemingly, because the next time Techno woke up, Tommy was already drawing on his face with markers he pulled out from god-knows-where.