Chapter Text
When the alarm set on Ranboo’s bedside goes off and the murky between of starlight and dawn casts shadows past his window, he blinks his eyes open and immediately feels a heaviness.
Oh. Mm. It’s going to be like this , then.
He doesn’t have the best idea of what this is, he guesses, but it feels familiar. Some kind of old, faded feeling that isn’t his regular state, just something different, but also the same. It reminds him a little of some ordinary person walking through an office building, and there are all these cubicles, and there is only one for them, and they have no idea what’s happening anywhere else. A little less distinct, though, like said person hasn’t had their coffee yet and their chest and head are filled with cotton and they can’t figure out the boolean on their screen. It’s all too muddy, and an and is the same as an or and they can’t decipher it.
He reaches a lethargic hand over to turn off his alarm, his phone clearing to show that it’s fully charged with a few notifications on it. Mostly college emails, he thinks. He turns it off and sits up, rubbing at his eyes and glancing across his room.
His alarm went off, so he thinks that it’s probably a school day. But he also works on the weekend, he thinks, so maybe it just always goes off like that. He has a calendar hung up on the wall near his desk, but that’s far away, and he knows he has to get up either way but he doesn’t know what day it is but he needs to get up in order to figure that out but he doesn’t know what day it is.
Ranboo gets out of bed. Tired. God, he feels really tired. Did he sleep late last night or something?
He can’t remember. He can’t remember what he did yesterday. Maybe he could, if he put energy into it, but his brain feels like it’s filled with cotton and all that little space is being used to move his legs and if he stops to try and remember something then the rest of his body will crumble. And if his body crumbles, it will hurt, and he’ll get overwhelmed and lay stiff on the floor for hours because he’s too scared to move. Maybe.
Does he work in an office? That might explain this.
No, he doesn’t. He isn’t an adult, is he? He thinks he might live alone, and he has a job, and he’s tall, and his birthday is… well, it says he’s 17. He’s still not sure about it. He feels like he should be more sure about his birthday, but it’s not the only time someone’s tried to lie to him, and he doesn’t know who would know his birthday, anyway, so it might be wrong. Maybe he wasn’t born. Can that happen? Can you just wake up and not be born?
He thinks that happened to him.
So maybe he isn’t an adult or a teenager. That’s okay.
The calendar says it is a Friday. Ranboo frowns. So he has to go to… school, then?
He opens up his closet. Maybe he should wear a hoodie. It might be cold outside, but it might not be cold outside, and he doesn’t want to be badly dressed for the weather, but he also likes the feeling of it. The hoodie, that is. It feels nice on his skin, because it’s soft and it’s not too hot or sweaty, it’s just nice. And it’s kind of big on him, and that makes him feel better, so he gets that and he gets some jeans and he puts them both on and he doesn’t look at himself as he does, not because he has any issue with that but because the thought of looking at himself makes him want to think and he’s really tired and God it must be like 4 AM for him to be awake, this is really bad-
Why is he awake, again?
Ranboo goes back to the calendar, now dressed.
Oh. It’s Friday.
Or is it Thursday? Because the Thursday date is filled with a diagonal line, which is meant to signify that it is checked off. But there’s a pen on Ranboo’s desk, so maybe he woke up and checked off Thursday because today is Thursday. Which means that today is Thursday and tomorrow is Friday. Or maybe he forgot to check it off yesterday and he’s supposed to check off yesterday every morning, meaning it’s Saturday, meaning he doesn’t have to go to school.
He doesn’t know what day it is.
Hold on.
Ranboo opens his bedroom door and leaves it ajar behind him, walking through his apartment until he gets to the front door. He steps out and stands in the middle of the sidewalk.
It’s really cold. The hoodie was a bad idea. The sun hasn’t even risen yet. The calendar said it was almost November, didn’t it?
He walks around until he finally sees the recycling bin. He opens it carefully and sees that there’s very little in there. He does the same with the garbage can. That means that it isn’t Thursday, because if it was Thursday, then they would be full because the truck that goes around the neighborhood to clear out the bins always comes at 10 AM on Thursday here, and it’s been taken out already, meaning that either it’s 10 AM on Thursday, or it’s Friday and it just got taken out, and the sun isn’t out yet.
Content with the confirmation that it’s Friday, Ranboo goes back inside. He walks to his bedroom and picks up his phone, putting it in his jeans pocket. His phone screen says that it’s Friday on it too, which is good, just some extra confirmation that it is, in fact, Friday.
Ranboo picks up his backpack on the floor, but the main pocket is open. He frowns, then relaxes when he sees all the notebooks and materials on his desk, and decides to put all of them in because he knows which things are for what subject but he doesn’t know what classes he has today.
His backpack is very heavy. That can’t be right. He takes out two notebooks and one textbook out at random, and it feels lighter. But not too light. Satisfied, he zips up his backpack.
Why does he need a backpack again?
It’s Friday. Right. Of course. He has to get to school.
But first, he has to get dressed.
Ranboo takes off his hoodie, then pauses. He was going to wear this hoodie. Why did he sleep in it? Did he sleep in it?
He puts it back on. He thinks it’ll be okay.
In the kitchen, Ranboo notices that he has quite a lot of food. He also has a cat, which is sitting on the counter. The cat seems to not have a lot of food and water set out. That’s not good, so Ranboo gives the cat plenty of food and water, and then still feels bad, so he pets the cat a lot. He can’t really remember the cat’s name. Maybe the cat isn’t even real, and it’s some kind of sign to him. He knows a lot of cats have died in the area a few years ago. Maybe this is a reminder that he should look into that.
He pets the not-real cat and gives a thumbs up to it. It meows and hops off the counter.
And then, Ranboo can’t remember why he’s in the kitchen in the first place, but that’s okay. It’s not okay. It’s okay. It’s not okay. It has to be okay, because Ranboo’s head is filled with cotton and if it’s not okay, then he’ll shatter. But it’s not okay. Because he can’t remember why he’s in the kitchen. He doesn’t even know if this is his house, honestly, he just sort of thinks it is? But maybe it isn’t. He really hopes it is.
Ranboo shifts his shoulders, remembering he has a backpack. He nods to himself. It’s time to get to school.
On his way out, he makes sure to grab his keys and lock the door, but when he’s a few steps away from his house, he gets worried that the door isn’t locked. So he goes back and unlocks the door, and then steps inside, and then locks it. Then he tries to open it without his keys, and he can’t, because it’s locked. But then he has to unlock it again, because he’s scared that he can’t get back inside his house ever again, but turns out he can and so he closes the door. And then opens it, locks it, and tests it out again. Okay, the door is locked. Of course it is.
Ranboo gets out the keys he uses for his car and starts the car. He knows how to drive a car, which is good. He tries not to worry too much about the fact that he’s second-guessing whether he knows how to drive a car, and more-so tries to figure out where he’s going. He’s going to school, isn’t he?
He starts driving towards his school. The roads start looking familiar, and the stoplights seem the right length of long, so he must be on his way. But suddenly he’s seeing a lot of trees, and a long road, and no- that’s not right. That’s not right.
He parks on the side and gets out of the car, looking around.
No. This is right. He’s right.
Ranboo gets back inside the car and starts driving again. After a few minutes, which he spends humming to himself and tapping a beat against the side of the driver’s wheel, he pulls up to his school and maneuvers his way to the student parking lot, making sure that he’s parked in a good place so that nobody penalizes him or steals his things. He’s right. This is right. He’s right.
Before he can even make it out of the car, he is overcome by the realization that it’s not okay. He’s in his car alone, and he can’t feel the rest of his body, and it’s not okay, it’s not okay, it’s not okay. Is he sure that it’s Friday? It had been Friday a week ago, but now it’s Friday again. He hates Fridays. He hates Fridays. He hates Fridays. Fridays give him false hope. It’s Friday. It’s not okay. He can’t breathe. Oh God, he’s dying. He’s dying and nobody remembers him. He’s dying in a high school parking lot. He can’t take this anymore.
Entire body numb, he pushes himself out of the car and nearly collapses on the asphalt, picking himself up and taking slow, meandering steps towards the school. Nobody is outside of it. He must be doing something wrong. He must be early.
When he steps into the attendance office at the front of the school, it occurs to him that he is almost an entire hour late, and while this isn’t the first time he’s been late to school, he’s breaking a pretty long streak.
The administrator doesn’t even look disappointed. She just watches him stumble over his words apologizing, on the verge of tears, and tells him not to do it again. With a single point towards the door, he leaves, the entire world around him blurring as he tries to get to his class.
Ranboo gets lost trying to find the stairs to get to the English classroom, terrified that if he makes a wrong turn, he’ll be stuck forever. It’s terrifying enough to force him to run on muscle memory, conscious brain on autopilot as he drifts from panic attack to total dissociation. He doesn’t like this. His head is still full of cotton and he wants it to stop. Where is his class? Where is his class? Is this an office building?
His feet stop him in front of his class before he realizes where it’s located, and he gives the most timid of knocks. His hands feel like clay.
His teacher gives him a kind smile and accepts the attendance slip he hands her, and he slips into the room in a way that feels distinctly non-human as he tries to get in his chair without disrupting the lecture. He feels sick to his stomach, and nothing makes sense. He can’t think. How did he get here? How did he wake up? Why did he choose to wake up?
The class is going on, but Ranboo feels trapped. He’s still at home in his kitchen, isn’t he? No, no, he’s in bed. He’s in bed and he’s laying in bed and it’s warm and safe and his mind isn’t working. No. No, it’s the day before, and he’s at school and everything is okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.
Within seconds and after years, class ends, and Ranboo goes to stand up but notices that there’s a hand on his arm. Has it been there the entire time?
Tubbo looks concerned. “Ranboo, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Ranboo says, and his voice sounds wrong. Everything sounds wrong. He stands up, and Tubbo lets him, sparing another concerned look before the two of them leave the classroom and walk down the hallway. Tubbo keeps making to push further, but Ranboo keeps walking, even as the entire world focuses and unfocuses around him, and he feels so sick that he stops to dry heave in a bathroom before leaving and making it to his next class a minute late.
It’s a bad day. It’s okay. Everything has to get better.
He wants to crumble on the floor and lay there until he’s stiff for hours at a time, too afraid to move. He wants to sink and he wants to disappear because everything is so loud. He wants to remember how to stop being so afraid. He wants to remember how to stop being himself. He wants to remember himself. The nothingness hurts.
But it’s okay. It’s okay.
His teacher calls it a Thursday by accident, and Ranboo shuts his eyes so hard he starts to see stars.
--
By the time Ranboo gets home, he feels a little better.
Not very much. Everything still feels kind of blurry, but that’s mostly his memory, if anything. He’s less dissociated, which is the main good thing, because it makes the memory stuff difficult but bearable. It means less abrupt panic attacks that weren’t all that abrupt, really, but the trickling warning signs flew over his head with how out of it he had been. It’s an improvement.
It’s still a bad day.
By the time he gets home, though, he feels good enough to pick up the phone when Tubbo unexpectedly calls him.
Tubbo calls him in the kitchen as he’s trying to make a sandwich for himself, and he considers his disastrous lack of coordination for only a few seconds before deciding that he can probably make a sandwich one-handed and accepts the call.
“Hi, Tubbo,” he says. “Is something wrong?”
“What?” Tubbo sounds confused. Maybe that was the wrong way to introduce the conversation, actually. “No, man, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to say hi.”
“Oh!” That makes sense. “Hi, Tubbo.”
“Hi, Ranboo.”
There’s a pause, and Ranboo can hear shuffling come from the other line. He moves to sit down at the kitchen table, getting settled in time to hear Tubbo say, “Are you okay?”
Oh. “Yes, I’m okay. Sorry about earlier.”
“Stop apologizing, dumbass,” Tubbo scolds. “I was just, like. You looked a bit out of it at school, so. I wanted to check in to see if you were okay. And if you’re not okay, that’s chill too. I just- yeah. Wanted to say hi.”
“Hi, Tubbo,” Ranboo says, and realizes a second later that it’s the third time he’s said that on this phone call.
Tubbo, good-naturedly, goes with it. “Hi, Ranboo.”
“Today was just a bad day, I think.” When was the last time Ranboo said that out loud?
He’s told Niki a few times, and Niki’s really nice but whenever Ranboo says he’s having a bad day, hearing nice things sometimes makes him want to scream. Whatever Dream tends to respond with is worse, though, because it sticks with him-- albeit, he can’t remember much of it now. And Techno and him don’t talk about it, so.
On that note. Not the Techno one, the one before it, the Dream one. He needs to take photos, doesn’t he?
Already, the anxiety that comes from risking himself to go out and take photos comes trickling in. One of these days, it’s going to kill him. He doesn’t want to die. But seeing as he’s pretty sure people have died in this town before, it wouldn’t be surprising if he also died. But he really doesn’t want to die.
Oh, he’s on a phone call, isn’t he?
“Sorry,” he says, in the middle of Tubbo saying something. And then he realizes that’s rude. “I, uh, tuned out. I’m really sorry.”
“Oh, you’re fine, dude,” Tubbo reassures. “I was saying like, comforting shit, I guess. But I’m really bad with that stuff, so it was probably not worth hearing anyway.” He laughs.
Ranboo frowns. “Everything you say is worth hearing.”
“Oh.” Tubbo sounds taken aback. “I- yeah. Thanks.”
“Mhm, mhm.”
Ranboo had been making a sandwich, hadn’t he?
… Whatever. He can eat it later.
Ranboo stands up, grabbing his keys and taking a step outside. It’s really windy out here. He shakes his head, partly because of the cold and partly because he doesn’t even have his camera with him, and goes back inside. God, he’s so absent-minded. Or maybe just- just stupid, actually. This is just him being stupid. It’s a surprise Tubbo can tolerate calling him, with him being this stupid. Not Tubbo. Tubbo’s very smart. It’s Ranboo, really, Ranboo’s the stupid one.
Why is he holding his keys? He puts them down with a frown.
“You know,” Tubbo starts, and it makes Ranboo jump because Jesus, the other had gone so quiet for a second that he forgot he was there. “I feel like both of us have kind of been having shit days these past few days.”
Ranboo can agree with that. He goes back to the kitchen to finish making the sandwich, because he’s hungry now. “Mhm.”
“Do you wanna come over?” Tubbo asks, and Ranboo stops making the sandwich because that requires thinking. “Not tonight, that’s super last minute. But, like, I reckon you, me, Tommy, Wilbur, and Techno could like- I dunno. We can pick you up after work and take you to a cafe? Niki can come, too, if you want.”
A few observations.
One, that’s a lot of people and thinking about being around that amount of people makes him kind of want to cry.
Two, Tubbo will be there and in hindsight, Ranboo knows all of those people so he’s not sure why he would want to cry in the first place, considering those are all people that he knows and are even friends with, also Tubbo will be there and Tubbo makes everything better somehow.
Three, Ranboo really does not want Niki to come along, and she’ll still technically be doing things, but he would be an awful person if he left Niki out, so he really does not want to leave Niki out, but also he- he really doesn’t want Niki there. He likes Niki a lot, it’s just- he can’t. He can’t do it. Because he’s an awful person.
“Ranboo?” Tubbo checks in, voice quiet. “You there?”
“Yeah, sorry.” He doesn’t need a sandwich. He’s not really that hungry, anyway. “I, um, I would like that, I think. That’s- that sounds fun. Uh, I-” No, he can’t say the part about Niki, because then Tubbo will hate him for being mean and then Ranboo will be alone again.
“Sounds good!” Tubbo says cheerfully. “And, uh, yes or no on the whole Niki part?”
Uh oh. Ranboo braces himself, shutting his eyes, and says all in one breath, “Idon’twanttoexcludeNikibecauseIthinkshe’slovelybutifit’sokaymaybenotpleasesorrythanks.”
Tubbo pauses. And then, slowly, “... So is that, uh, a… no? Boss man?”
Ranboo sighs. “Yeah.”
“Oh, alright.” Tubbo doesn’t even sound that angry. Tubbo’s so nice. “Alright, I’ll let the gang know. After your shift, yeah?”
“Mhm.”
“Cool.” Tubbo sounds like he’s smiling, so Ranboo smiles too. “I’ll let you be, now, to, uh, do homework and shit. But I’ll see you!”
“See you!”
Tubbo hangs up.
Ranboo, still smiling, slides the phone in his back pocket, and then notices he’s hungry. There’s a sandwich on the countertop, though. So that’s good.
That’s really, really good.
--
Ranboo’s almost entirely forgotten about the fact that he’s hanging out with practically Tubbo’s entire family (?) until he sees a group of four different people trying to enter the bakery about ten minutes until closing.
Thankfully, not a lot of people are in the bakery, but still, there are at least a few and Ranboo’s sort of occupied trying to help them out, signaled to Tubbo by giving him a nondescript look and gesturing at the queue in front of the register.
Tubbo gives Ranboo a thumbs up and immediately tries to herd Tommy, Wilbur, and Techno out of the store. This only half works, seeing as Tommy has taken on the role of causing problems on purpose and is actively resisting Tubbo’s attempts, while Wilbur is asking, audible enough that some customers can hear, where Niki is, while Techno wasn’t even in the store in the first place. Ranboo can see him still standing outside, and as soon as Tubbo whisper-yells at them to stand outside, Techno rolls his eyes and starts walking straight into the parking lot before just… standing there.
And then Niki comes out, and she sees Wilbur, and her eyes light up, and she goes to give him a hug, and now Tubbo and Tommy are just staring at Ranboo while Techno is standing in the middle of the parking lot, and there’s too much going on for Ranboo to be able to reliably count this change correctly.
He makes do, anyway, somehow, and by the time the other customers are out, they’re only a few minutes until closing. Niki spares Ranboo a look and he nods in approval, tilting his head in the direction of the sign, and she flips it over and locks the bakery.
Meaning that they locked Techno outside.
He can handle it.
Ranboo lets out a deep exhale. Jesus Christ, there are far too many people trying to buy baked goods right now. And his boss is totally going to get on him for closing a few minutes early-- though, Niki honestly might not mention it, and if nobody complains about it then he’ll probably never notice. Niki practically runs the place, anyway, and she also seems extremely susceptible to getting distracted around her best friend, so this isn’t a surprise.
On that note, Tubbo comes up to the counter as Ranboo starts cleaning up the place. He winks at Ranboo and asks, “Are you open?”
Ranboo stares at him. “No, we uh, we just closed actually. Why?”
“Are you telling Ranboo to be more emotionally vulnerable?” Tommy asks, articulating each word. Tubbo shakes his head, but Tommy continues on in true Tommy fashion, and Ranboo resigns to leave him be. “Ranboo, man, we’ve talked about this. It’s okay to be emo. Well, it’s a little cringe, actually, I’ll be honest, but-”
“I was more going for the pick up line route,” Tubbo interrupts. “But I couldn’t think of a pick up line and it sort of went downhill from there.”
Tommy grins. “Tubbo, my man, why didn’t you tell me? I happen to be a God at pick up lines-”
“Tommy, shut up,” Wilbur says.
“He’s trying his best,” Niki defends, before looking outside. “Why is Techno standing in the middle of our parking lot?”
“Because he doesn’t get girls,” Tommy mutters.
Wilbur scoffs. “I bet Techno gets more girls than you, Tommy.”
Tommy puts his head in his hands. “That is awful. Never say that to me again, Wilbur. That was just awful.”
Tubbo pats Tommy on the back sympathetically. Ranboo pats him on the back also, but after doing it twice he realizes it may be a bit weird, so he lets out an apologetic, nervous sound and gets back to wiping down the desk.
Niki opens the door after a few seconds, and Techno looks back. The two of them stare at each other blankly before Techno sighs and walks back into the bakery, taking a look around before saying, “Ready to go, Ranboo?”
“Where are you going?” Niki asks.
“Ranboo is lonely and tired so we are getting him coffee, because we are good friends,” Tommy explains, exceptionally badly.
Niki looks back at Ranboo, giving him a smile. It’s one of her soft ones, one that Ranboo can tell that she only reserves for people she really cares about. Whenever Ranboo sees it, he feels like he’s drowning in guilt. Especially with the way Niki comments, “Ranboo has friends! He stays up for a while, though, so he probably is tired.”
Ranboo breaks eye contact and says, under his breath, “We’re, um, going to a cafe.”
Niki hears it, because Niki always pays attention to the people she cares about. “Oh! That sounds like fun.”
“It does, until you realize Tommy’s going to be caffeinated,” Tubbo deadpans.
“Oh. I feel sorry for you, then,” Niki corrects.
“Thank you,” Tubbo replies tiredly, and for a second, Ranboo notices that he sounds really similar to Techno.
“Would you like to come, Niki?” Wilbur offers, and Ranboo pointedly returns to counting out the total money they got that day. “We’re just going to the local one, near my place and everything. I’d take us to the college one, but Techno says that’s gas money, so.”
Techno shrugs. “I’m right.” Mentally, he still looks like he’s standing outside in the parking lot, accidentally locked out. Ranboo can connect with that, sort of.
Wilbur waves him off. “Yeah, yeah.”
Niki smiles. “I’d love to, Wilbur. Unfortunately, I have something with Puffy, so-”
“Something?” Wilbur repeats.
“... Yes? Something.”
Wilbur raises his eyebrow and grins. “Something?”
Niki picks up a stack of napkins and hits him in the shoulder with it, which is monumentally ineffective. Her glare is a little more powerful, at least. “Oh, shut up.”
“Niki, can you give Tubbo some pick up lines?” Tommy inquires politely. “Tubbo is trying to pick up Ranboo while he’s working. Is that a workplace concern?”
“Tommy, I don’t fucking work here,” Tubbo argues. “How would that even be a workplace concern?”
“I don’t have any good pick up lines,” Niki replies. “Sorry. Oh, and Ranboo, I can help with the cleaning.”
Ranboo shakes his head, then realizes that might be rude and adds, “Oh, no, it’s really okay, I-”
Niki is walking over anyway. “You all are going out, it’s fine.”
“You are, too,” Ranboo very weakly counters, voice at a whisper. There are far too many pennies just sitting on his palms to be having this conversation right now.
“You look tired,” Niki says, which isn’t even strictly related but is very much throwing Ranboo off, which might be her point. “Respectfully, shut up and go have fun.”
Ranboo resigns, moving over to let Niki take over, but not without saying, “I think you can take the same advice.”
Niki opens her mouth to reply, but Tommy beats her to it by clearing his throat loudly and saying, “Okay, I have Googled some-”
“This bit of Tubbo flirting with Ranboo has gone on for, like, five minutes,” Wilbur complains.
Tubbo throws his hands up in the air. “It’s not even me doing it anymore! Tommy’s being a horrible hypothetical wingman.”
Ranboo cannot emotionally catch a break ever at all, can he?
“Someone call the cops.”
Everyone turns to look at Tommy, who has one finger pointed up in the air as he looks down at his- is that Tubbo’s, actually- someone’s phone.
“Because,” Tommy continues, slowly for dramatic purposes, “it has got to be illegal to look that good.”
“That was fucking terrible!” Tubbo shouts, reaching out to grab the phone. Tommy jerks it away, elbow accidentally hitting the wall and causing him to crumble over, even though the pain definitely wasn’t that bad and he most likely just hit his funny bone. Tubbo, either way, seems unimpressed.
While Tubbo and Tommy make incoherent yelling noises, Techno comments, “Who was that even directed towards?”
“Me, I think?” Ranboo replies.
“Ah.” Techno nods. “Sorry.”
Ranboo sighs and nods. “I appreciate it.”
“This is them uncaffeinated, Niki.” Wilbur is clearly fighting back a smile, replacing the expression with one of fake despondency. “This was a mistake, Niki.”
“If it helps,” she offers, “I think caffeinated Ranboo is, at his worst, just a bit more nervous than usual. No offense, Ranboo.”
“Well, I mean,” Ranboo feels, faintly, like he’s fighting for his entire life here. He immediately gives up his protest with one glance at whatever Tubbo and Tommy are doing on the floor right now, finally starting to stand up. This is hell. Ranboo’s excited. “You’re right. So.”
“Can we fuckin’ go now?” Tommy whines, arm slung around Tubbo’s shoulder, somehow. Tubbo looks a little like he still wants to kill Tommy, but he does spare Ranboo a look and gives him a thumbs up. Ranboo returns the gesture, earning a smile, which is nice. This is nice, now, actually.
“I would like a bit of quiet, I will admit,” Niki says.
Wilbur exhales sadly. “Niki hates me. Niki wants me dead.”
“That wouldn’t be a real shocker, I’ll be honest,” Techno points out nonchalantly.
“Fuck you, Technoblade.”
“Thanks, Wilbur.”
“We can go now, I think,” Ranboo confirms. “Let me just, uh, grab my things.”
“Ranboo, do you want to ride in the passenger seat?” Techno asks.
“Technoblade, I will fucking kill you.” Wilbur and Tommy say at the same time.
Techno rolls his eyes and gestures at Ranboo. “Listen, man, Ranboo’s like, eight feet tall and the least likely to blow up the car, I think. I’ll take a chance here, alright?”
“You never have to take a chance with me, Techno,” Tommy says earnestly.
Techno blinks. “I have no clue what that’s s’posed to mean.”
“Look,” Wilbur argues, “I’m the only one who knows how to get to the place, so I should be in the front.”
Tommy sighs, shaking his head. “Yes, but notice, nobody has asked me what I want, yet.”
“Wil, I own a GPS.” Tommy seems thoroughly displeased that Techno entirely ignored him, and judging by the hint of a smile on Techno’s face, his older brother is well aware of that fact. “I don’t need you tellin’ me where to go.”
Wilbur runs one hand through his hair. “Does Ranboo even know how to drive?”
“Yes,” Tubbo pipes in, for the first time in a few minutes. “Ranboo has literally driven me home, like, twice.”
“A little more than that, I think?” Ranboo is unconfident in that, though.
“Can he parallel park?” Wilbur seems to be going into interrogation mode.
Ranboo just nods.
Wilbur frowns. “Shit, okay.”
“I love all of you,” Niki interrupts, “but please get out of the bakery.”
“Alright,” Techno easily agrees, walking out first as the rest of them file after him, Ranboo being the last to leave with one last wave to Niki. Once they’re outside, Techno runs the seating arrangement by them all one last time. “Ranboo in the front. Wilbur, I’m puttin’ you on babysitting duty. Tommy, I’d rather crash than have you in the front. Tubbo, it’s the height thing, we both know it.”
“Yeah,” Tubbo agrees miserably.
“Idea,” Tommy proposes, prompting an immediate groan from Wilbur. Tommy elbows him and continues. “What if I were to, hypothetically, murder Ranboo?”
“Please don’t do that,” Ranboo says, getting into the passenger seat. It is incredibly cramped, as Techno’s car always is. Which reminds Ranboo, his own car is sort of just sitting in the parking lot. That’s unfortunate, but then again, who is going to tow him? Niki? It can probably stay for a day.
“Yes, but, hear me out,” Tommy pushes.
Ranboo turns his head to look back at Tommy as he piles into the back, followed by Tubbo and Wilbur. “... Okay?”
“If I kill you, then I would have the front seat,” Tommy explains.
“That- that didn’t provide me with- with any more information than I had before?” It sounds more like a question coming out of Ranboo’s mouth than he meant for it to, but maybe that makes sense, because he is a little confused, admittedly. “I don’t- I don’t really mind why you’re killing me, just- it’s the killing part that’s an issue.”
“Oh, I see.” Tommy acknowledges maturely. Then, he asks, “Would it be better if Tubbo was killing you?”
Ranboo shakes his head. “How would that be better?”
“Friends,” Tubbo explains, which doesn’t actually explain anything at all, honestly.
“Ranboo,” Wilbur says, “how do you handle this?”
“I don’t usually get death threats, if it helps,” Ranboo answers.
“You’re living the good life here, man,” Techno jokes, backing out of the parking lot. “I’m fightin’ for my life out here. Tommy keeps wantin’ to kill me, I think Wilbur might snap if I’m bein’ honest, Tubbo keeps makin’ mac and cheese at like, 2 AM, I think it’s over for me.”
Ranboo forgets how comfortable it is to be around Techno, honestly. It always takes him off guard, even though he’s known him for a while. It’s just- it’s just really nice, huh?
He responds, “I kind of felt like I was fighting for my life inside the bakery. A lot was happening.”
“I think that’s the anxiety, man.”
Ranboo lets out a small laugh. “How could I have known?”
“Hold on,” Tubbo says from the backseat. “What does me making mac and cheese have to do with anything?”
“Seems kind of suspicious to me,” Techno says. “I dunno, man. One day it’s mac and cheese, next day it’s a nuclear weapon. It’s a microwave either way.”
“Did you ever take chemistry, Techno?”
“I think I had a solid D.”
“Oh. Fairs.”
Tommy sighs loudly. “Nobody has asked me how my day is going today, and frankly, I feel a little ignored.”
“How is your day going today, Tommy?” Tubbo asks.
“Well, you see,” Tommy perks up, a grin starting across his face, “I’ve been thinking about murder recently-”
“Oh, come on!” Ranboo says from the front, making Wilbur and Tubbo laugh. The serotonin of getting a laugh at something he said immediately overtakes the concern of Tommy’s detailed murder plot. Which, to be fair, it would be really funny if all the photography work with Dream revealed that Tommy was some serial killer or something. That’d be one way to solve the mysteries, that’s for sure.
There’s no silent moment in the car as Techno drives them to the cafe, Ranboo notices, and though he’s normally more of a fan of silence, it’s actually kind of nice. It’s nice feeling like he has friends, because he knew that Techno and Tubbo were his friends, but having Tommy and Wilbur there too is nice, also. It washes away the bad day he had on Friday entirely, which he thinks was the point of Tubbo inviting him out, and it’s just- it’s just nice.
It’ll probably be less nice when Tommy gets his hands on some coffee, admittedly, but… Ranboo will take the peace for now.
He thinks he could stand to feel a little more like this, maybe. He thinks he likes feeling loved.
--
“Ranboo, I got a pearl,” Tubbo says as they pile back into the car in the same formation as before. Tubbo is somehow miraculously balancing his bubble tea as he tries to crawl over Wilbur’s lap into the middle seat, eventually landing in the center and taking another sip. “I got a pearl! It was weird!”
“Thank you for letting me know,” Ranboo says in the front, sort of genuinely. Because it is endearing to listen to, but also, Ranboo’s not sure why it’s specifically directed at him.
Techno pulls out the cup holder, putting his decaffeinated coffee there while getting rid of a few receipts that found their way in the second one and making room for Ranboo to put his in the front. Ranboo thanks him and sets down his vanilla bean coffee. He likes it, albeit it’s a bit too sweet for his personal taste, but then again, Tubbo basically ordered it for him off of “the Ranboo energies”, in his words, because Ranboo was too nervous to think of something.
Tubbo also literally ordered it for him. As in, told the barista what he and Ranboo both wanted.
Ranboo doesn’t thank Tubbo for existing enough, he thinks.
In the back, Ranboo can hear Wilbur grumble, swallowing another bite of his chocolate muffin before muttering, “Niki makes these so much better. This is disgusting. What the fuck.”
“Yeah, yeah. Why’d you get it?” Techno asks, voice hinting that this might be a semi-frequent occurrence.
Wilbur doesn’t answer the question, instead ripping off a piece he hasn’t touched and handing it to Ranboo. “Ranboo, taste this, it’s shit.”
“Well now you’re just bullying the poor fucker.” Tommy sounds more empathetic to the muffin than he’s been to anything else in his life. Not that Ranboo really thinks that’s true, to be clear, Tommy is a very nice person-- it would just be funny if it was, so, he hopes that is the case.
Techno snorts in the front. “I think we’re past the bullying point, man.”
Ranboo takes a timid bite of the muffin. After a few seconds, he confirms, “It’s okay, but Niki’s are better.”
“I love this guy,” Wilbur says, taking a sip of the caramel latte he got. It seems so incredibly sweet, and Ranboo’s a little nervous that Tommy and Wilbur share the caffeinated brain cell. Though, to be fair, since Tommy only got a mango smoothie, things aren’t looking too bad in that department. “Tubbo, where’d you find him?”
Tubbo quickly drinks the rest of his tea and shoves the empty cup in Tommy’s lap, earning a noise of complaint from the latter but, as his mouth is currently filled with mango, he can’t really do much here without knocking over several other drinks in the process.
Tubbo takes this in stride with a content grin before answering Wilbur. “I literally don’t know. Ranboo literally came out of fucking nowhere.”
“Not for me,” Techno says. “I knew him before you did. Ha. Loser.”
“It’s only been a year or so with you though, too,” Ranboo points out. “And I didn’t know you had any family except an ambiguous, uh, younger brother who never showed up to tutoring-”
Tommy lets out a noise that Ranboo assumes was meant to translate to, “Oh, fuck you, bitch!”
Ranboo looks back and sees that Tommy took the rest of Wilbur’s muffin. That explains that, he guesses.
“Ranboo just appeared, I think,” Tubbo theorizes still. “He just decided to show up and get Tylenol and change my life before disappearing into the void or something.”
“Can I not just, like, stay alive today?” Ranboo asks. “Please? Tommy’s already murdering me, I don’t want to go to the void.”
“Too bad,” Tubbo replies with a grin.
Tommy does an audible swallow before confidently claiming, “Ranboo came from the goo.”
“I- I really don’t think I did, actually?” Ranboo says over Tubbo and Tommy’s laughter. “I don’t know what- what that would really entail, actually, but- I would say me appearing out of nowhere is a little more accurate than the- the goo.”
“But Ranboo,” Tubbo says, faintly in hysterics, “the goo. ”
“I think meeting Tubbo was a mistake for you, I’ll be honest,” Techno tells Ranboo, taking a sip of his coffee after he does so.
“I don’t think so,” Ranboo admits. Then, it sounds a bit too vulnerable, so he adds, “The goo is making me second-guess, though.”
Tubbo bursts into a new wave of laughter over the second appearance of the goo, and Tommy’s right along with him. It earns a laugh out of Ranboo as well, which cracks a smile from Techno, which… stirs nothing in Wilbur, evidently, because from what Ranboo can tell, he’s mumbling something under his breath about the coffee.
“Are you okay, Wilbur?” Ranboo checks, just to be sure.
Wilbur sighs. “I make better coffee. What the fuck.”
Techno shakes his head, faintly disappointed. “Wilbur, man, you’re bein’ a bit of a buzzkill, I’ll be honest.”
“It’s the mood stabilizers,” Wilbur accuses.
“... No, I don’t think it has to do with that. Mostly because you don’t take them.”
“Dammit.” Wilbur crosses his arms and huffs. “I forget you know my medical records.”
“Nah, I just, like,” Techno gestures in the air. “Pay minimal attention. To things. Y’know.”
“Techno, I take Prozac,” Tommy contributes, no longer laughing as heavily now but still grinning brightly.
Techno nods slowly. “That’s cool, bud. Hey, Ranboo, where are we taking you?”
Ranboo blinks, and looks out on the road. Oh, right. Ranboo probably isn’t meant to go home with them. Good point. “Uh, you can drop me off at the bakery, I think. My car is still there, so.”
“You’re telling me I could have had a gun if Ranboo drove his own car?” Tommy sounds deeply angry at this realization.
Ranboo does a double take, looking back at him in concern. “No-nobody said anything about you having a gun, actually, uh-”
“Shotgun,” Tubbo explains. “He means shotgun.”
“And it would have meant that Tubbo rode with Ranboo, probably,” Wilbur says, “so you’d be stuck with me and Tech.”
Tommy frowns. “Okay, that is fair. Ranboo, I don’t like you very much, but I forgive you.”
“... Thank you?” Is that meant to be a positive thing? Ranboo can’t tell, and he would rather not ask Tommy and find out, seeing as Tommy is under the impression that he’s getting a gun sometime soon, or something like that.
Tubbo grabs Tommy’s drink and takes a sip of it, wrinkling his nose. “I like mango stuff usually, but something traumatic happened to this mango.”
Tommy holds his drink protectively to his chest, whispering, “I like my traumatized mango. Stop being mean to it. I’ll kill Tubbo. Ranboo, can you kill Tubbo for me, please? I have a traumatized mango to raise, now.”
“I would rather not kill Tubbo, if that’s okay.”
“Pussy.”
“Well that’s just a little mean, actually.”
“Tommy, don’t call Ranboo a pussy,” Wilbur scolds.
“Wilbur, you’re a pussy,” Tommy responds.
Wilbur nods. “I don’t know what I was expecting, honestly.”
Tommy pouts. “Awh, don’t say that all- all disappointed, Wil, now I’m hurt!”
“Good.” Wilbur smiles. “Be hurt.”
“Techno, you’re my favorite older brother,” Tommy says.
“Yay.” Techno could not sound less unexcited. “Ranboo, we’re gettin’ close. You’ll be freed soon.”
“Thank you,” Ranboo says. “Excited to listen to 90s music and have a few moments of my life with, uh, without Tommy threatening me.”
“The music is good,” Tubbo adds, though it admittedly doesn’t touch much on what Ranboo was trying to get at. He gave it a good shot, though, and Ranboo’s glad to hear that he hasn’t been subjecting Tubbo to bad music unknowingly for a month or so.
Tommy squints. “Do you listen to A Welcoming Black Parade, by any chance?”
“Tommy,” Wilbur says, voice slightly nervous. “Tommy. Tommy, Welcome to the Black Parade , a song off of a My Chemical Romance album, is not a song from the 90s. Nor is it called… whatever that was. You knew this. Right, Tommy?”
“... Yes.” Ranboo can absolutely tell Tommy is lying. “I did know this. You are so right, brother.”
“Thank you, brother.” Wilbur sounds relieved regardless. “That’s not the best song from them, anyway, so I’d be disappointed if that’s all anyone ever got to hear. Their band isn’t a favorite of mine, but a few of their songs hit.”
“I’d, uh, agree with that,” Ranboo replies. “I don’t listen to them often, but a few are good. I’m- I’m actually less, uh- I listen to less emo music than I think Tommy thinks I do.”
“You wear black gloves and play CDs and I bet you loop sad Adele songs over and over every night,” Tommy deadpans.
“I don’t-” Ranboo turns to look at him, squinting, “I don’t listen to Adele?”
“Give me your Spotify,” Tommy demands. “I want to watch you listen to sad shit and go ‘Haha, look at Ranboo listening to sad shit’, and Tubbo will tell me to stop making fun of you, and then I will stop, but keep doing it in my head.”
Ranboo shakes his head, still looking at Tommy in faint concern, or something more lightheartedly adjacent to that. “Well, now I don’t think I will give you my Spotify, actually.”
“Please don’t give Tommy your Spotify,” Tubbo agrees. “I’m already fighting so hard to defend you.”
“What needs to be defended?” Ranboo gestures to his phone, then Tubbo. “The first time we hung out together, I played Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls, which is a perfectly fine song- ”
“Oh, you sappy fuck!” Tommy scowls. “You’re sick!”
“How does listening to Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls make me sick ?”
“I don’t know,” Tommy admits. “I’m just trying to blame you. Wil, back me up, here.”
Wilbur makes eye contact with Ranboo, which is intensely uncomfortable but admittedly a little funny in context, and says, “Ranboo, it’s going to be okay.”
Ranboo throws his hands up in the air. “I give up! I give up, actually, I-”
He’s cut off by Techno, playing Iris straight from his phone and causing Tommy to let out a variety of exasperated noises.
“Look, Ranboo’s gonna leave in, like, five seconds, here,” Techno defends. He’s right; they’re really, really close to the bakery, now. “I’m doin’ this for the bit, alright. And it’s a good song, anyway.”
“Techno, you’re the only one who cares for me,” Ranboo says.
Tubbo lets out a cough.
“Techno, you’re one of two people who care for me,” Ranboo amends.
Wilbur mentions, “I gave you part of my muffin.”
“You didn’t even like the muffin.”
“Yeah, okay,” Wilbur gives in.
“I don’t care for you, Ranboo,” Tommy verifies.
“Yep.” Ranboo nods. “Alright. That’s everyone accounted for.”
“Glad to hear it.” Techno pulls into the bakery. “Take your drink with you. None of us are going to finish it.”
“Okay.” He picks up the drink and waits until the car fully stops before opening the door. “Thank you guys, uh, for hanging out with me. This was really, really fun, so, uh. Thank you a lot, uh, yeah.”
“Yup!” Tubbo says from the backseat. “I’ll call you later!”
Ranboo gives him a thumbs up, putting it away as the rest of them chip in with their goodbyes, varying from, “See you” to “Good luck” to “Die”.
He waves at them one last time before going into his own car, watching from the rearview mirror as Wilbur eventually succeeds in getting into the passenger seat and Techno drives off, all of them still talking amongst themselves.
Ranboo smiles, leaving the car turned off as he opens up his phone and pulls open a notes app, typing out details about the entire day’s events. He knows he can wait until he gets home, which won’t take long, but he’s so scared of losing this happy feeling in his chest that he just gets it all out then and there, putting it into words. It takes about twenty minutes, strangely enough, to piece it all together, and by then he’s long since become the only car in the parking lot, with a phone sitting at a good 31% battery.
It’s then, conveniently or not so much, that Ranboo gets interrupted with a text from Dream.
Dream: hey meet me at the parking lot we went to last time, yeah? sorry for switching locations on you so much, I know it’s hard to keep track of
It is.
But it’s fine. Ranboo likes the message before turning on the GPS and starting to drive, dread already forming but at least being somewhat countered by the residual peace of the cafe with Tubbo’s family.
He doesn’t think anything can take away that bit of happiness, to be honest. Even if he feels worse later, it will still exist somewhere in him, or at least stored on his notes app. It may even be a memory that his brain decides to keep, something so important that he doesn’t lose it.
Because, even as he drives towards the person that he objectively knows cares for him more than anybody else, he still feels as if the people he just left are… more, even if they don’t care more or know him more, they just are more. Which is an awful thing to say, when implying Dream is lesser, but still. The feeling with them was different from the feeling with Dream, and Ranboo won’t forget that. Because it’s something important to him.
Tommy, Wilbur, Techno, and Tubbo are important to him.
And Ranboo feels like maybe, maybe, he can grow to rely on them.
--
“Someone’s in a good mood,” is the first thing Dream says when he sees Ranboo, who is trying to keep his expression under control but appears to be too transparent, still.
Dream doesn’t say it in a mean way, at least, so Ranboo figures it’s okay. It might even be more than okay, because Dream’s smiling, and sometimes he smiles when he’s mad but it doesn’t look like that. It looks like he’s genuinely happy for Ranboo, and it makes his heart soar.
“Yeah,” Ranboo replies, giving him a small smile back. “Are- are you?”
“Yeah, actually, thanks for asking,” Dream leans against the building, again, and Ranboo listens intently to his boss as he continues, “I skipped work to hang out with some friends, thinking about moving in with them and all that. Moving apartments is stressful, I can tell you that. It makes me miss being a teen like you are, but I guess I’m not that much older than you, am I?” Dream laughs, shaking his head to himself.
Ranboo doesn’t comment on the fact that he knows a little bit more about the stress of having an apartment than most teenagers would, instead letting out a slightly nervous laugh of his own and replying, “Yeah.”
“Anyway, sorry, back to business and everything.” Dream already has one hand in his pocket, and Ranboo tenses. Dream must notice it, because he laughs again and says, “There’s no reason to be so tense, Ranboo, come on. You took photos, right?”
“A few.” None that are really important, though. “I- I hadn’t seen much of anything, though, they’re just- just houses I took pictures of on- on my way home, and everything, so they’re- they’re not really- there’s not much there. Sorry.”
Dream hums, and Ranboo feels dread pool in his stomach when he realizes the other is disappointed. “I thought you cared more about this.”
“I do,” Ranboo reassures, heart in his throat. “I do, I promise, I’m sorry. I’ll do better. There just wasn’t much-”
“I don’t need excuses,” Dream interrupts, putting the money back in his own pocket and taking his hands out. “It’s just, it doesn’t seem like a lot is happening, lately, to me, and I know how passionate you are about this whole project, really, but it seems like you’re letting other things get in the way.” Dream tilts his head. “Do you not think there’s any point to this, anymore? I can’t say I would be surprised, and it’s not that I’m not open to the idea, but that would have been a bit of a waste of my time, wouldn’t it?” Dream takes a step forward, and Ranboo steps back, even if it puts him in the way of cars leaving the supermarket. “It seems like you’re slacking a little, here, with something as important as saving lives. Is that right?”
Ranboo takes a shaky breath in, trying to keep himself from hyperventilating. The last thing he wants to do is upset Dream more and make him sit through a panic attack, not when Dream’s already so angry.
Ranboo’s hands are trembling. He can’t think of what to say, or how to even make his voice work, so all he can muster is a weak, “I’m sorry.” It’s quiet enough to be drowned out by the cars, so he raises his voice to be less of a whisper. “I- there’s a point to this, it’s important work, I know, I’m sorry,” and he’s half-convincing Dream, half-convincing himself, “I just- no, no, it’s just my fault. I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”
“Good.” Dream’s face is still neutral, but he sounds a little less disappointed. Ranboo feels like he can breathe again, if only a little bit.
Then Dream sets a hand on his shoulder, and he feels trapped again. “I know it’s hard work, Ranboo. I mean, you’re a seventeen year old trying to unravel years of mysteries and problems and bullshit that this town has gone through, with only me to help you. I’m not saying we can’t do it, but I’m saying it’s hard work, and you’re going to have to put the time in if you really want to find something.”
“I will,” Ranboo replies, voice shaking. “I promise.”
“Remember what you found a while back?” Dream recalls. “Those newspaper articles about the murder, plus the people moving in to the house, plus what you found out about the new family. That whole ordeal?”
Ranboo remembers that, because Dream always mentions it. There had been a house that inexplicably went on sale in a very abrupt manner, and Ranboo had researched and found out that the first builder of the house had died under unknown circumstances before the house was done, causing someone else to have to take over. The first family to move in contained a mother, father, and a son, and the son had been studying forensic science. They ended up moving out abruptly, and another family came in-- two historians and their several pet dogs. And then they moved out, and the current family moved in-- they had been trying to move on past the murder of their relative, also a forensic scientist, by settling into a small town, in a house they knew nothing about.
Ranboo remembers telling Dream and showing him the photographs of the house and the family who moved in. It had been a little risky, since Dream encouraged him to join an open-house viewing of the place and sneak off to take the photographs where the builder had died, but the pride that Dream had when he saw what Ranboo managed to pull together had made it worth it.
It’s what made Dream start upping the payment and pushing for more photography than anything else. Better yet, it’s what made Dream believe in what Ranboo was saying, and that was a relief.
Everyone thought he was crazy, but he had proof to show that strange things were happening and that there had been unsolved mysteries, and someone finally believed him. He wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t crazy.
And then, like that, he never found anything like it again.
Everything fell in on Ranboo a month after he realized nothing else was happening. The story had just stopped, and no matter how much research he threw into it, they weren’t getting anywhere. Dream was recommending new leads, but they took him nowhere, either, and he was drowning in photographs, and one day, it just all crumbled on him. He had entirely shattered, because he was crazy, and nothing was going anywhere, and he couldn’t find anything. All he had was his own belief that something was wrong, but nothing was proving it. He was just delusional, and it hurt. It hurt so badly to know that he had gotten lucky once, but nothing else could explain the fear and unease he felt in his own town. Nothing could explain his missing past, or why he doesn’t recognize anyone, or even where Dream came from. Nothing explained anything.
He hasn’t stopped searching. But he’s always been afraid that maybe it all stops there. Maybe Dream is starting to realize that, too.
“That was good, Ranboo. I told my friends about it, and now we all know to be more careful,” Dream continues, over the static of Ranboo’s spiraling. “We need something like that again. Maybe we need to go back to newspapers, following a few people around, going places we don’t need to be.” Ranboo knows that by we , Dream means Ranboo, alone. “We can get something like that.”
“I don’t want to break the law,” Ranboo says, because trespassing and stalking would most definitely do that, and Ranboo really doesn’t want to do that.
Dream scoffs. “It’s worth it, Ranboo. Hell, tell me right now that you haven’t already broken the law. We both know you have. Why is it that when it’s for an honorable cause, you won’t do it?” Dream starts walking towards Ranboo again, and Ranboo can’t move back further because of the cars, and he feels trapped. “Tell me, Ranboo, where do you come from? How sure are you that we’re not going to find out, at the end of all this, that you’re at fault for all of this?”
“I don’t know,” Ranboo whispers, “please, I’m sorry, I don’t know.”
Dream takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes for a minute. “Of course you don’t know.”
After a minute, Dream opens his eyes and takes a step back, looking at Ranboo with a blank expression. “Go home, Ranboo. Get some rest. We’ll talk later.”
“Okay. I’ll, uh-”
“Just go.”
Ranboo nods, backing away before turning around and walking quickly to his car, blinking back the tears in his eyes. God, God , he’s pathetic. This is his fault, and he’s still crying. Dream could be entirely right, and all of this could be Ranboo’s fault, and he could deserve a fate worse than death, and he’s still crying. He’s awful. He’s awful, he’s the worst person to exist, actually, what’s wrong with him, why is he getting distracted from his job when his boss is the only one who cares about him? What’s wrong with him? How can someone be so awful?
He gets in his car, immediately starting to drive despite the tears in his eyes blurring his vision. What eventually ends up stopping the crying is him almost swerving into another car, which is absolutely idiotic of him and scares him out of crying.
And then he just feels numb.
As he should. As he absolutely should. This is all his fault.
How can Dream handle working with someone like Ranboo? How can Niki handle it, with the added knowledge that Ranboo is like a younger brother who can’t reciprocate the way she cares about him? How can Techno handle having to teach Ranboo despite the fact that he can hardly get his work done and is probably going to fail out of school no matter how hard he tries to study? How can Wilbur handle seeing Ranboo in his store and having to watch him be weird and uncomfortable? How can Tommy handle talking to Ranboo when he’s not funny and too awkward and too much?
How can Tubbo handle calling Ranboo and inviting him over? How can Tubbo handle sleeping on Ranboo’s shoulder, and trying to teach him to skip stones, and saving him a seat in the cafeteria, and telling him that he’s a good person, and texting him throughout the day? How can Tubbo handle any of that?
By the time Ranboo gets home, the happiness that came from spending time with Tubbo’s family has long since disappeared, as did the fear from being around an irritated Dream. All that’s left is a numbness, and his entire body feels heavy as he transcribes all of the day’s events, good and bad, into his notebook.
He has homework to do. He has work in the morning. He has more work on top of that, now. He has so much work to do.
Ranboo stands up, sluggishly going back into the kitchen. He had put the coffee in the fridge for the time it took to write everything down, not entirely certain what to do with it. He takes it out, now, and takes a long drink of it, for the caffeine and sugar in it.
There’s still time in the night, he thinks. There’s still some time left to get his homework done, to get ready for tomorrow’s work, to find some newspapers, and to come up with a way to apologize to everyone he’s ever met for existing.
He takes another sip and heads back to the bedroom.
Time isn’t what’s stopping him from half of it, he knows. But he’s still running out of time in the night, regardless, and it’s the only thing he can control. He can ration his time, tonight, he can fix things, he can be happy again, he can be productive again, he can control time.
And he can feel normal. And he can be normal. And he can be loved.
Even if everything he works for and everything he’s become defies that very concept. Even if it’s an effort in the futile.