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Phil’s been fostering for a while now.
Generally it’s been pretty easy. They mostly just bring him avian kids, and all avians have the same basic instincts (except that one ostrich kid- he was weird, to Phil’s corvid instincts). But mostly they just stay for a few weeks or a couple months, and then move on home or to the next long-term foster.
When they tell him they’re bringing him a rabbit hybrid, Phil sits down to do some research.
There’s not a whole lot out there. A couple articles on rabbit hybrids’ family structures, YouTube tutorials for proper ear care and grooming, a couple blog posts about emotional needs.
Cute a lot of the blog posts say, people gushing over adopted children or children’s classmates or random other kids. Bunny hybrids are so cute!
Phil’s first thought when he sees the kid on his front porch is anything but.
He’s tiny- he’s thirteen, his social worker had said, but he’s closer in size to a nine year old, in the way of rabbit hybrids. He looks even smaller by the way he’s hunched in on himself, hidden in a too-big, threadbare hoodie.
He looks tiny and scared, and Phil’s heart pings with worry.
“Come on in,” he says quietly.
The social worker’s hand lands on the kid’s back. He flinches away, going inside and following Phil’s gesture to the couch.
The social worker hands Phil the file and leaves before he can even say anything. He feels a bit lost- most of the social workers tell him a bit about the kid and what they need, whether they’ve had trauma in past houses. Occasionally workers who haven’t met him before will do a quick check of the house, but Phil has a good reputation and a good rapport with Social Services, and most don’t bother.
He doesn’t like to read the kids’ files. Most of what’s in there isn’t Phil’s business, he’s just providing a temporary home for kids who are on their way to reunification or adoption or just the next long-term foster home.
He glances at the kid, who still hasn’t moved, and sits down at the kitchen island to glance at the first page.
The kid’s name is Technoblade. He was removed from his biological family (his warren, Phil thinks the term is) when he was two, due to neglect. His ten siblings (gods, ten, they really weren’t kidding about rabbits and big families) were also removed. Phil wonders briefly if Technoblade misses them, or even remembers them at all.
His file is marked with a flight risk warning. It’s always a toss-up as to whether the kid is actually going to run away, or if they just ran one time to get away from a particularly bad foster parent, but the actual strategy for dealing with it is much the same- Phil keeps the house locked up most of the time anyway for safety, and he mentions in his talk with the kid that they’re free to stay in their room the whole time if they want to, to give them less motivation to try to run.
There’s no mentions of it in his file, but Phil doesn’t doubt Technoblade has experienced at least some form of abuse. It’s unfortunately common in the system, to the point that every foster kid who’s been in his home has at least one tale to tell of a foster parent who hit them, or withheld medication, or was controlling about what they could eat, or a thousand other things.
Phil doesn’t read the descriptions of any of his placements. He puts the file aside and goes into the living room, squatting near the couch.
“Hey, mate, how’re you doin’?”
Technoblade blinks at him, mouth slightly parted, hood pulled down tightly over his head in a way that can’t be comfortable for his ears. He doesn’t say anything.
“I’m Philza, but you can call me Phil. What would you like me to call you?”
Still no answer. The poor kid looks like he’s going to be sick.
Phil has plenty of patience. “I’ve got a room for you,” he says. “Would you like to see it?”
Technoblade nods slightly, picking up the black garbage bag sitting by his feet. He follows Phil down the hall to the spare bedroom, standing frozen in the middle of the room when Phil backs away.
“The lock is broken,” Phil says, regretting leaving it so long, “but I’m gonna get it fixed soon. You can keep the door closed as much as you’d like. I won’t come in without knocking, or if you tell me not to. Dinner will be around six, but if you need something to eat before then, there’s a snack bin on the counter, you can have anything you want. I didn’t see anything in your file about allergies, are there any I should know about? Or even just foods you don’t like.”
Technoblade shakes his head. To be safe, Phil’s already planned to cook vegetarian while the kid is here- he doesn’t know about hybrids, but rabbits are strict herbivores, and it’s pretty safe to assume hybrids can’t eat meat either.
“Alright, well, I’m gonna go work on supper. If you want to stay in here, that’s okay, I can bring your dinner in here too if you want. Or you can come out to the dining room. It’s- whatever you’re more comfortable with is fine.”
Technoblade doesn’t leave his room all afternoon.
Phil makes a vegetable soup for dinner. He doesn’t know if the whole “rabbits love carrots” thing is true, but he adds extra anyway, just in case that’s the kid’s favorite food.
At six PM sharp, the bedroom door creaks open. Phil finishes setting the table, glancing over in time to see Technoblade freeze in the archway.
He’s taken off his hoodie. He isn’t as skinny as Phil might’ve expected, as most of his fosters usually are, but he’s still a bit on the wrong side of it. His t-shirt and jeans are worn, too, nearly to the point of having holes in them. His large ears are pressed back against his head- Phil hadn’t done any research on what ear positioning indicates, but it looks like a sign of stress or tension. Not a surprise. He’s also removed his shoes, socked feet a bit too long and narrow to be properly human.
“Hey,” Phil says after a second of taking the kid’s appearance in. “Dinner’s just about ready. You can sit wherever.”
Technoblade sits down gingerly, stiff and silent. He doesn’t look at Phil.
Dinner is a silent affair. Technoblade empties his bowl, and refuses Phil’s offer of seconds. He doesn’t get up- probably waiting for permission.
“I’m gonna go over the rules real quick,” Phil says. “There’s nothing major, it’s just ways for you to stay safe while you’re here.”
He didn’t realize Technoblade had relaxed until he stiffens again, hands clenching on the edge of the table.
Well, there’s very little Phil can do to change it now, he supposes.
“The main thing is just not to leave the house without letting me know where you’re going to be. Again, that helps me keep you safe, plus I need to know because I could get in trouble with your social worker if you got lost.” Phil clasps his hands on the table. “Like I said, the white bin on the kitchen counter is full of snacks. I restock it frequently, so don’t worry about taking too much, you can have whatever you want.”
Technoblade doesn’t look like he believes it- but then, that could just be his resting face, he’s looked pretty consistently tense this whole time.
“You can stay in your room as much as you want. I won’t come in without permission, unless I think you might be hurt and you’re not answering.” Phil thinks for a second, but rules about punishments don’t really seem to apply right now, not with a kid who doesn’t have a warning for violent behavior (like so many avian kids seem to get branded with, all because of their instincts). “And… I think that’s about it. If there’s anything you need because of your instincts, you can let me know. I don’t know a whole lot about mammalian hybrids, but I’m used to dealin’ with random stuff, so it’s just- whatever you need.”
Technoblade still doesn’t react, but a bit of the tension perhaps eases out of his body. It’s something, at least.
Phil gets up and starts about the process of putting away the leftovers, cleaning up the dirty dishes. As he passes behind Technoblade, he lightly places his hand on the top of the teen’s head- a mostly unconscious gesture, contact made dozens of times with a dozen different kids. Meaningless, just a ‘hey, this is where I’m at.’
Technoblade goes utterly stiff, crouching down a bit, ears flattening against his head. “D-don’t,” he breathes, creaky and nearly silent.
Phil yanks his hand away like he’s been burned, coming around to crouch around the corner of the table where Technoblade can see him. “Don’t what?” he asks. Cautious, quiet, hoping-
“P-lease,” Technoblade whispers. “Please don’t.”
He sounds utterly fucking terrified. He sounds like he’s begging, and Phil’s stomach flips like he’s going to vomit.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Phil says. He doubts it’s going to do much to ease the fear.
Technoblade presses back away from him, eyes wide and pupils blown, ears still pressed so flat against his head Phil can barely see them in his pink hair. “Please don’t. Please.”
Phil backs away further, raising his hands. “I won’t touch you,” he says. “You’re safe here, Technoblade. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”
Technoblade keeps staring at him, chest heaving with the force of his breaths. Suddenly he shoves his chair back from the table, stumbling away, still staring at Phil. Phil stays exactly where he is, completely motionless.
Finally Technoblade turns and runs. The bedroom door slams behind him.
Phil lets his hands drop, staring blankly after him.
Oh, gods. That kid has been through something horrific, and Phil can only imagine what it was.
- - -
Techno shoots under the bed, curling up among the darkness and dust, his whole body ricocheting with panic.
He- he- he doesn’t understand what’s happening. He doesn’t know why- why-
Phil touched him. That- he gets touched a lot. He’s supposed to sit there and take it, be still and soft and quiet, be the cute little bunny he is.
He’s not supposed to freeze up, he’s not supposed to beg for it not to happen. He’s not supposed to run away.
Techno just didn’t- he didn’t want it to start on the first night. He couldn’t take it, so soon after what his last foster father did. So soon after getting out of the hospital. His whole body still aches, but especially… well.
He knows that sooner or later, it’ll turn bad. It always does. Even in foster homes where it was just too-tight hugs when he didn’t expect them, or kisses all over his ‘cute little face’, or hands running through his hair. Things that don’t hurt, shouldn’t hurt. It always happens, in every foster home he’s ever been placed in.
His hands curl in his hair, tugging. He didn’t- he doesn’t understand.
Phil touched his head, but he took his hand away as soon as Techno said don’t. He didn’t drag his fingers through Techno’s pretty pink hair, didn’t pet over his fuzzy, so-soft ears, didn’t let his hand drift down to linger in places Techno doesn’t want to be touched.
Phil stopped touching him as soon as Techno asked him to, and Techno…
No one has ever done that. With most people Techno wouldn’t even ask, would know already that it would be useless. Tonight, he just… he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t- not on the first night of the new placement, not so soon after that.
He should’ve stayed still and quiet and soft, he should’ve let Phil touch him however he wanted, should’ve just sat there and taken it like he’s supposed to.
Instead, he’s curled up under the bed, shaking with adrenaline and terror. Instead, he begged Phil not to touch him, and then he ran.
He barely sleeps that night. When he finally crawls out from under the bed, it’s time to get ready for school.
He didn’t get lucky enough to be moved to another town. He didn’t get lucky enough to even be moved to another school district.
So Techno picks the dust bunnies (the irony is not lost on him) out of his hair and fur, and puts on his hoodie and sneakers, and trudges down the hall.
Phil is in the kitchen already. Techno freezes up, gripping the strap of his backpack.
Phil turns. “Shit!” he exclaims, pressing one hand over his heart. “You scared me, mate.”
Techno scared him. As if Phil isn’t three times his size, as if he’s not an adult alone in a house with a cute little bunny. As if that light nothing touch couldn’t turn bruising, couldn’t turn bad, at any second.
“Anyway-” Phil shakes his wings out a little, untensing. “I wanted to apologize for last night. I shouldn’t have touched you without your permission or a warning, and going forward, I won’t touch you again unless you say it’s okay.”
…what?
That- no. That can’t be true. That’s just something he’s saying to get Techno to let his guard down, to make it feel worse when he starts touching him. They all do. They always do.
Phil’s silent for a minute, just watching him. Finally he shifts awkwardly. “You wanna grab some breakfast?”
He is hungry, but he’s not going to eat. It’s too hard face school with food in his stomach. He’d just puke it all up.
Techno shakes his head and goes out to the bus stop.
Cassius is waiting when Techno reaches his locker.
Cassius is always waiting.
Today is about the usual. Cassius shoves him into the bathroom and does what he wants to. Techno throws up thin, watery stomach acid into the toilet, wipes his mouth with toilet paper, and goes to class.
He drifts through the day, doing almost nothing at all. He’s failing most of his classes but he can’t bring himself to care, because it’s not like anybody else does.
Cassius doesn’t come find him during lunch, or after school, or on the bus. It’s a thin mercy and no kind of mercy at all, because at least when Cassius is hurting him Techno knows where he is, and what’s happening. When he’s not, Techno is always on edge, waiting for it to happen. Waiting for Cassius to drag him into the bathroom or a closet or under the bleachers.
Sometimes, he has to go home and wait for it to happen there, too.
He’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Phil to give up on playing nice and do what he wants, what every foster parent seems to want.
Phil isn’t waiting when Techno gets back to the house. He’s in the backyard, Techno notices when he glances out the window, kneeling in a patch of dirt and green things.
He has the irrational urge to go out and help Phil in the garden. Or nibble on the dandelions Phil’s pulling up.
He doesn’t do either thing. He goes down the hall to his room, shutting the door and putting his backpack down.
Idly he turns the lock on the doorknob. It’s broken, Phil said so, but…
It clicks, and the knob doesn’t turn when Techno tests it.
It’s-
What?
Phil- he fixed the lock. He said he was going to but why- why- why would he actually do that? Now Techno can lock the door, and…
And, nothing. He’d be willing to bet actual money (if he had any) that Phil has a key. So even if Techno did lock the door, Phil could get in. It wouldn’t stop him.
But he can’t be tense and terrified all the time, so Techno crawls back under the bed and basks in the feeling of false safety.
- - -
Techno (as Phil has learned his newest foster prefers to be called) has been here for two weeks, and Phil still doesn’t know what to make of him.
He’s touch-averse to an extreme. Not all that unusual, for foster kids, but still worrying. He’s quiet, and keeps to himself, and Phil would worry but he seems okay otherwise.
The invitation to a school function- some play or other- takes Phil a bit off guard, but he talks to Techno and the teen just shrugs, so Phil goes. He’d like to see Techno in a different environment, anyway. Find out if maybe he’s different at school, more relaxed.
Techno isn’t in the show. He’s silent, sitting stiffly in the seat beside Phil, ears flattened against his head again in a clear sign of anxiety.
It’s not till later in the day that Phil finds out why.
He’s not looking for Techno, that’s the thing. He hadn’t even noticed the teen had slipped away. He just needs to use the bathroom.
There are strange noises coming from one of the stalls. Phil doesn’t mean to intrude, but the door is open, and-
And Techno is in there.
Pinned against the stall divider by a much, much bigger kid, a kid who has one hand stuck down Techno’s pants and the other tangled in his hair. Techno isn’t moving, except for his shallow breaths. His eyes-
His eyes are dull, dead almost, and Phil snaps.
“Get off him,” he snarls, yanking the bigger kid away. A lot of things suddenly make sense, and Phil feels a bit nauseous, but mostly just utterly fucking furious.
Techno slips down against the wall a bit, chest still pressed against it. Phil waits until the bigger kid flees the bathroom, and turns to his kid, dropping into a crouch.
“Techno,” he breathes. “Mate, are you okay? What did he do to you?”
Techno barely reacts, but his gaze slowly tracks to Phil’s, and then he turns his head slightly away. Eyes closed, completely still, like-
Like he’s waiting for Phil to touch him, too.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Phil says, voice cracking. “You’re safe now, Techno. I’m here.”
Techno’s throat works. “P- please,” he chokes out. “Please, just- just get it over with.”
“I- no. No, mate, I’m not-”
“Please,” Techno repeats. Eyes squeezed shut, head turned away, still pressed against the wall between one bathroom stall and the next. “J- jus’- I won’t fight, I’ll hold still, I’ll be good-”
“Techno, I’m not- I’m not going to touch you.” Phil feels like he’s going to vomit. Gods how long has this been going on, how long has his classmate been sexually assaulting him? “I’m not going to let anybody lay a finger on you.”
Techno shudders, opening glazed eyes. Phil suddenly realizes he must be dissociating, his mind shut down to keep him safe while his body is- while he’s-
“You’re safe,” he repeats again. “I’m here now, and I’m not going to let anybody hurt you.”
“You- you can-” Techno sobs, dry and harsh. His hands go to the waistband of his pants, starting to pull them down. “I- I won’t, I won’t struggle, you can- I know- know you-”
“No, Techno, don’t- you don’t have to do that.” Phil knows Techno hates being touched- suddenly understands why- but he grabs Techno’s hands anyway, stopping him. “I’m not going to do that.”
“I know-” Techno’s breath hitches. “Know yo-ou want to-”
Phil does not let himself react the way he wants to, does not say what the fuck, no, of course I don’t. He does not curse out every person in Techno’s life who has made him think that it would ever be remotely okay for an adult to touch him like that- for anyone to do it if he didn’t want them to.
“Techno,” he says softly, “I’m not gonna touch you like that. I would never want to, and it would never be okay for me to do it.”
Somehow, that seems to get through to him. A bit of clarity enters his eyes, gaze focusing slightly. “Wh- what?”
“I am not going to touch you like that,” Phil repeats. “I do not want to, and I never would.”
“I- what?” Techno’s breath hitches again. “That- that doesn’t-”
Phil lets go of Techno’s wrists, pulling his hands back to rest on his own legs. They’re still sitting in a stall in a filthy public school bathroom, he realizes a bit hysterically, he’s going to need a very long, very hot shower later.
He’s still prepared to sit here and wait until Techno’s ready to leave.
“Are you hurt?” Phil asks after a while.
Techno slowly turns around, ears flattened against his head. His breathing is still shallow and shaky, he presses back against the wall again, but he’s facing Phil now, even more awareness in his eyes.
He shakes his head slightly. Phil shifts back a bit, keeping his hands pressed against his thighs. “You’re not hurt?”
The next shake of Techno’s head is a bit stronger. Phil nods slightly, exhaling. “Okay,” he says quietly, “okay, that’s good, mate. Do…”
He has no fucking clue what he’s supposed to do now. He just walked in on another student molesting his foster son, his kid just standing there and taking it like he’s used to it.
He should tell the principal. Get school administration involved and get the kid suspended or- or something. And- none of this was in Techno’s file, does his social worker have any idea about the abuse? It’s clearly been long-term, how could they not know-?
“Techno,” Phil says at last, “how about we find someplace else to go talk, okay? You’re not in any trouble,” he hastens to add, when Techno flinches. “I promise, this is not your fault, and I’m not going to touch you at all.”
Techno’s breath hitches again, but he nods. Phil gets up and moves away, giving Techno plenty of space. He comes out of the stall, zipping up his jeans- Phil nearly vomits again- and goes to the sink to wash his hands. Phil does the same, staying as far away from Techno as he can.
He leads Techno outside, to sit on the curb. Hoping that being outdoors will reassure Techno that Phil isn’t going to just grab him and- and-
“Techno, I need to ask you some questions,” Phil says quietly, sitting down with a little space between them. “They might be uncomfortable to answer, but I’m just trying to figure out what happened and how best to help you. You- you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
Techno pulls his hoodie sleeves over his hands. “Okay,” he whispers, staring away.
Phil takes another deep breath. “How long has this been goin’ on?” he asks.
Techno turns his head away. “You mean, just with Cassius, or…”
Phil’s stomach flips. “B- both, I guess?”
Techno pulls on one of his long ears, not hard enough that Phil thinks he has to stop him. “Cassius… a few years, I guess,” he mutters. “He, he was one of my foster siblings. When I was eight.”
And he’s thirteen now. Phil’s heart seizes in his chest. “Five years?” he asks, low.
Techno nods.
“Every day?”
“Yeah,” Techno mutters.
“And- and not with Cassius?”
“I don’t remember.” Techno sounds so tired and small. “Adults always hug me too tight, or give me too many kisses. Cause- cause bunnies are cute. You know. The rest is just… dunno when it started. It’s- I’m supposed to- to just be good. They’d hurt me worse if I was- if I didn’t. So I just let them.”
Phil feels like he’s about to burst into tears. “Fucking hell, mate, I’m so sorry,” he breathes. “That’s horrible. That should never have happened.”
“It’s- it’s whatever.”
“No, it’s- that shouldn’t have happened,” Phil gets out, throat tight. “Was it- was it your foster parents? That did that?”
Techno shrugs, then nods. His wariness around Phil, the way he’d reacted to that first casual touch, makes sickening sense.
“Does your social worker know?”
Another shrug. “Probably,” Techno rasps. “They drove me to the hospital after my last foster dad made me have sex with him. I was pretty hurt, he… I’m small, you know? And he was really rough.”
Oh, gods. Phil looks away for a second, covering his mouth with his hand.
He’s just thirteen. He’s so young, and he’s been being molested almost daily for the last five years, who knows how long before that- how many foster parents have hurt him? How many times did his social worker ignore signs of abuse, of extreme sexual abuse, how many times did they take him to the hospital for medical treatment and ignore what that treatment was needed for? Why the hell didn’t they put it in his file? Does anyone else know?
“Have you told anybody else?” Phil asks at last, quietly.
Techno shrugs again. Shakes his head. “They wouldn’t believe me,” he mutters. “My social worker never did. Or didn’t care.”
“I believe you.” Phil gazes at him, so small and curled up to look even smaller. “Techno, I think we need to talk to the police.”
He flinches, feet skidding on the pavement as his legs jolt away and then he pulls his knees closer. “I- I don’t think- it’s not, it’s just the way it is-”
“No, Techno, it’s not,” Phil says softly. “It’s wrong, and I want to help make it stop.”
Another flinch, but this time, Techno’s wide-eyed gaze turns to him. “You- you- you what? You can- you think you can make it stop?”
Phil’s heart just breaks. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make it stop.”
Techno hiccups, and then he’s crying, hiding his face in his arms. Phil doesn’t move closer, doesn’t reach to put an arm around him, because that would be the farthest thing from comforting to Techno.
He starts humming instead, some stupid pop song that’s been stuck in his head for weeks. Sits there, humming whatever songs come into his mind, for what feels like a long time.
Phil doesn’t call Techno’s social worker. He can’t. Not knowing- suspecting, anyway- that they knew what was happening to Techno and not only didn’t stop it, but didn’t even report it.
Instead, he calls Puffy. The social worker he has the best rapport with, the only one he considers a friend.
“Puffy,” he says, without preamble, “I have a foster kid in my home who’s experienced abuse that isn’t in his file, despite his social worker knowing, who do I call?”
For a beat, complete silence. “What kind of abuse?” Puffy asks after a second. “How severe, how long-term? Are you sure the worker knows?”
Phil glances down the hall at the closed door of Techno’s room. “Sexual,” he says. “He says he ended up in the hospital at the end of his last placement after the parent raped him. It’s been happening for at least five years, but he can’t remember when it started. And the worker drove him to the hospital for treatment after the rape.”
More silence. “Tell me the worker’s name and I’ll take care of it,” Puffy says, tone icy. “And the kid’s.”
Phil tells her, gazing at the closed door. “What’s going to happen to him?” he asks. “He- should we talk to the police?”
“Yes, though unless you know former parents’ names-”
“There’s ongoing abuse, too,” Phil says. “A kid at his school- former foster sibling.”
“Yes. Report it. Immediately. If they can’t keep the kid away from him, I’ll get you the paperwork needed to temporarily keep him out of school.” Puffy pauses. “Is he comfortable with you?”
“I- I hope so.” Phil grips his phone tighter. “He- it took me a minute, but I managed to get through to him that I wasn’t- that I’m not going to do that to him. And then he started telling me- I did have to ask, but he did tell me.”
“Alright. I’ll take care of things on this end. For now, yes, take him to talk to the police. The hospital, too, if he agrees, but that has to be his choice, otherwise the medical exams are just going to make things worse. You can give my number for any worker-related questions.”
“Thank you. Thank you, Puffy.” Phil exhales raggedly. “I want- I don’t know what he’ll want, if he’d rather be somewhere else, or be safer somewhere else, but I want- I want to keep fostering him, if I can. I’ll go long-term for this kid if he wants that, if he’s okay with it.”
“We’ll have to talk to him, but yeah, I’ll see what I can do.”
“I promised him I’d try to make it stop.” The lump is back in Phil’s throat. “He- he’s been molested almost every day of his life, I promised him I’d try to make it stop, he sounded so- so-”
He can’t describe what he felt about that wild, desperate hope in Techno’s eyes. The way he broke down when Phil promised to try to stop the abuse.
- - -
Techno can hardly believe what’s happening. His head is spinning, it’s all- it’s been so much, so fast, in just a few days.
Phil saw him and Cassius. Phil didn’t touch him, even though Techno- stupid and hurt and terrified- Techno offered his body, the way he’s supposed to. And Phil didn’t touch him, except to grab his hands and stop him from pulling his pants down.
Phil took him to the police station and left the room when Techno asked him to, but waited there. Waited while Techno told an officer about the foster parents. About Cassius. While Techno pried himself apart and laid out every last detail of every assault he can remember. Who did it, and when, and what.
Phil isn’t with him now, but that’s because Techno’s sitting down with a new social worker.
He automatically trusts her a bit, because she’s a hybrid, too. He’s never met another hybrid, besides Phil. And most of the foster moms weren’t bad- there was one who hurt him, but he knew she was going to be horrible the second he met her; and there was that one who made him wear dresses and braided his hair and called him a pretty little girl- but most of the time it’s just been guys hurting him.
“Hi,” the woman says quietly. Techno thinks she’s a sheep hybrid, she has curled horns on her head and a mass of fluffy white curls. “My name is Puffy. I’m your new social worker.”
Techno sits down, curling up into a little ball. He’s exhausted, he feels horrible, he just wants to hide under the bed with his dust bunnies. “Techno,” he whispers.
“I know things have been really awful for you,” Puffy says quietly. “I know your last social worker was… well, not great, for lack of a better word.”
Techno huffs, resting his chin on his arms. “What gave you that idea?” he mutters.
Puffy doesn’t laugh at his dumb joke. When he glances up, her expression is sympathetic, sad. “Things are going to be different now,” she says quietly, like a promise. “Your file has been updated. It’s flagged for abuse, which means that any future placements will be even more carefully checked and more strictly monitored to make sure you’re not placed somewhere else you could be hurt.”
Techno’s stomach drops. He thought… it’s stupid, he supposes, but he- he-
“I thought I was stayin’ with Phil,” he whispers. “Is… is that not…”
“You can. Phil’s offered to make this a long-term placement, if that’s something you’d like, but it is completely up to you.”
Techno knows what his answer is going to be before she even stops speaking.
He doesn’t feel safe here, he’s never felt safe anywhere, but he-
And this is even more stupid. Because trust has only ever gotten Techno hurt, gotten him pinned to a wall or his mattress or the couch with hands in places he doesn’t want them to be.
And yet, Techno trusts Phil. Because Phil said he wouldn’t touch Techno, and he hasn’t. Because Phil didn’t touch him even when Techno- trapped in a muddled haze of instinct and ingrained conditioning- did what he was supposed to, said he wouldn’t struggle. Because Phil promised to make it stop, and so far, he’s done an awful lot to keep that promise.
Gods, the police even said a few of his old foster parents might be arrested. Techno thinks they even said Cassius might be too.
“I want to stay,” Techno whispers. “I want- I want to stay here. With Phil. He- he’s the only foster parent who’s never… who hasn’t…”
Who hasn’t demanded what Techno never wanted to give. Who’s never looked at him with that particular kind of hunger or felt him up or even called him cute. Who’s never cooed over his hybrid features or run greedy fingers through his hair or- he hadn’t even come close to brushing against Techno’s ears.
Puffy nods, eyes sad. “Like I said, Phil’s willing to foster you long-term. I get the feeling he’ll be glad to let you stay as long as you want to.”
There’s almost nothing Techno would like more.
He spends the rest of the day under the bed, pressed into the farthest corner of the tiny, tightly enclosed space. He feels safer there- not just his conscious mind, but his instincts like it too. Being in the dark, feeling like he’s underground, hidden away.
The next morning, though, when Techno wakes up, he realizes he’s supposed to go to school today.
He should’ve gone yesterday, too, technically, but Phil had called him out sick so he could talk to Puffy and get even the smallest reprieve. And today, he has to go back there. Without knowing, for sure, whether or not Cassius has been arrested, or had consequences of any kind.
Phil glances up when Techno shuffles into the kitchen. “Hey, mate,” he says with a small smile. “How’re you doing?”
Techno shrugs. His stomach is twisting into knots, but he sits down at the kitchen table and takes the glass of juice and piece of toast Phil sets in front of him, along with the little plastic cup of pills.
It turns out that his last foster dad gave him an STD- on top of two others he already had from a different foster parent. Which is- Techno doesn’t even know how to feel about it. It’s all a steaming pile of shit, his entire fucking life. What’s a little more?
What’s another reason to hate his social worker, who never put any of that information in his file, never told him, never filled the prescriptions for the medications he needed?
He chokes down the whole piece of toast, because the meds will just make him sick if he doesn’t eat, and then swallows down his pills with the juice.
“Do-” Techno’s voice catches in his throat. He watches a drop of liquid slide down the outside of the glass. “Do I have to go to school today?” he whispers.
“That depends.” Phil sets down a dish of scrambled eggs, sliding into the other chair. “Technically, yes, but if you need more time, I can call you out sick again.”
Techno’s chest hitches. He doesn’t know what he needs.
“I- will C- Cassius be there?”
Phil hesitates, which is an answer itself. “Yeah,” he says after a second, “probably. Detective Benson called me yesterday and said they weren’t able to charge him, somethin’ about his parents’ lawyer, but the school might’ve suspended him, I don’t know.”
Techno feels like crying. Or puking. He doesn’t do either.
“I can-” His voice catches. He doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t want to, he can’t face Cassius again. “I can go. I’ll be okay.”
He won’t be. Cassius will definitely touch him again- after missing a day, he’ll probably do worse- but that’s, it’s just life. It’s just what it is, and Techno can deal with it-
He doesn’t want to. Phil promised to make it stop, and it’s been a whole three days since anyone touched him like that- at least, with actual intent, because some of the doctors had had to, to collect samples for tests and check him for injuries, but at least that contact was clinical and precise and not meant to hurt him.
“You don’t have to go to school. I can- we can even get you transferred to a different place, if that would make you feel safer.”
“O- oh.” Techno’s breath hitches. “And- and- and they wouldn’t- find out? Nobody would have to know-”
“Nobody has to know if you don’t want them to.” Phil meets his gaze briefly. “Does- at your school, does anyone besides Cassius know?”
Techno shakes his head. Then shrugs, then nods. “He- one time, he and a couple of his friends, they-”
He can’t finish the sentence. Phil makes a soft, choked sound. “Oh, mate.”
Techno stares at the table. He doesn’t want to say it- but he does, at the same time, because Phil should know. He deserves to know about Techno’s baggage.
“They took turns,” he whispers. “He told them they could… they could use me, if they wanted to.”
“Oh, Techno.” Phil takes a shuddering breath. “Did…”
“Yeah. One of them, he… a few times.”
“I’m so sorry,” Phil murmurs. “That’s- it’s fucking horrible, mate, I’m so fucking sorry they did that to you.”
Techno curls back in on himself. “It… it doesn’t, it’s not…” He shrugs. “There was worse. That’s all.”
“It won’t happen again,” Phil says. “I swear, on my life, I’m not going to let anything like that happen to you again if I can prevent it.”
And Techno trusts him. He doesn’t know why, but he does.