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Ranboo can’t sleep.
Every time he closes his eyes, he goes blank. None of the restfulness of sleep, none of the rejuvenation of a good dream. Ranboo goes to sleep and wakes up more tired than he was before, in a place that’s different than before, with new blisters on his feet, new dirt under longer nails, branches caught in his hair.
He’s gone through seven picks. He’s lost his beacon. He wakes up more exhausted every day, with no memory of how he got where he is. His feet ache and his hands shake and his voice cracks and his eyes flutter shut and with every passing moment he just wants more and more to rest.
During the day, Ranboo stays active, keeping himself moving for as long as he can. He builds, he digs, he plants, he bounces from place to place. Anything to keep his mind off of what’s going to happen.
At night, the fear creeps in.
Ranboo sits in the middle of his bed, head thumping back against the gold block in his headboard. Every night, he stares holes into his wall, counting things that make him himself.
One. Enderchest. His cat that he’s had almost since the very beginning, through L’Manberg and the explosion and the panic room and she was staring him down and scratching his shoe while Dream’s voice echoed in his head, why wouldn’t it stop, he was supposed to be safe in the panic room—
Two. His books. Maybe he doesn’t remember things well, but the books never lied although really how would he know if they did, he doesn’t know where he keeps going because the books say nothing, why do they say nothing—
Three. His armor. Ranboo’s worked long and hard for this armor, made it all himself but now it’s chipped, cracked, and when it rains he can feel pinpricks of fire where the water meets his skin, but isn’t that just a fraction of the punishment he deserves for betraying—
Four. Tubbo. Slowly, he’s accepting that Tubbo doesn’t hate him for his betrayal, doesn’t hold it against him. They spend long days and nights in Snowchester and the Nether, building walls and planting berries and saving zombified piglins. Ranboo finally drifts to sleep thinking of the friendship he’s fostered with Tubbo.
Five. Five doesn’t come until his eyes have fluttered shut for the last time. Five resonates in his head, opens his eyes, puppets his limbs, marches out of his house, wanders and digs and growls and walks.
Five flutters away on the breeze of sunrise the next morning, as Ranboo blinks into the bright light of the sun. He sighs, takes in the state he’s been left in, and starts the trek back to his house.