Chapter Text
Dream: hey
Dream: sorry if I had been a little harsh on you last time we talked. I know you’re trying your best
Dream: if you ever need help from me, just ask for it, alright? Anything.
Dream: we’re friends, aren’t we?
--
Ranboo is halfway through the parking lot, vacant of people aside from a few of his classmates also in research and teachers with a class period off, when he notices that Tubbo is standing beside his car, headphones in his ears.
To be honest, Ranboo probably wouldn’t be that surprised if he saw Tubbo beside his car in any other circumstance. The two of them have gotten to the point where sometimes, Tubbo is just around, asking for a ride back home or just a general drive around town. It has started to happen more frequently, and only two days ago, Tubbo called Ranboo on the brink of a panic attack to pick him up, so… it’s not really a new thing, anymore.
That being said, he thinks it’s pretty fair to be surprised that Tubbo is beside his car during Ranboo’s research block. Which is still during school hours. Meaning, Tubbo should definitely be in class right now.
Ranboo starts walking quicker to his car, stopping right in front of Tubbo, who benignly takes out his earbuds and greets him cheerfully with, “Hi, Ranboo!”
“What are you doing beside my car?” Ranboo asks. He fumbles to get his keys out because, even if Tubbo should definitely not be out here, he gets the feeling he won’t win that argument with him.
Tubbo shrugs. “Wanted to hang out with you. I’m skipping chemistry right now, but I’m doing good there, so, eh. Plus, we have a sub today, so I got Jack to cover for me and say I have an appointment.” Ranboo unlocks the car, and within seconds, Tubbo is comfortably sitting in the passenger seat and grinning cheekily at Ranboo. “You are my appointment, Ranboo,” he says in what was likely meant to be a serious tone.
“That’s a little terrifying,” Ranboo replies nonchalantly, starting the car and beginning to back out of the parking lot. He resists the urge to put his arm on Tubbo’s chair to look behind him, because that would be an invasion of personal space, so he just cranes his neck awkwardly to confirm he’s clear to go. “I definitely should not be encouraging this- and definitely, uh, don’t keep skipping your classes, but-”
“The car has already started, boss man,” Tubbo finishes.
Ranboo sighs. “Right.”
He must sound unconvinced, because Tubbo rolls his eyes. In a joking way, though, Ranboo thinks. Tubbo retorts excitedly, “I want to know what you do during your research block!” He yanks his earbuds out of his phone and starts scrolling through the songs he has. Seems like it’s not a CD day which, to be fair, they’ve been listening to a lot of that, and Ranboo’s been listening to those discs for as long as he remembers, so. More recent stuff is appreciated. “Do you go to some big lab? Put on latex gloves over your normal gloves? I want to know! ”
“Nothing that exciting, unfortunately.” God, navigating through the school parking lot is hell. It makes driving down the highway at midnight while sobbing your eyes out look easy . “I’m working on a photography project. It’s not- the research part of it is about, like, the psychology behind photography and stuff. I still need to, uh, finalize my research question and everything pretty- pretty soon, actually, but it- it requires a lot of photos, so. I mostly just procrastinate the hard part and take photos.”
A rap song Ranboo doesn’t recognize starts playing, and Tubbo sits up at what Ranboo’s saying, eyes shining. “That sounds sick! What kinds of photos are you taking?”
“Nothing very specific?” Ranboo’s heart lifts at the thought of someone being genuinely interested in his photography work, but simultaneously pulls with the guilt of knowing that he’s only telling Tubbo one part of the story behind his photography. That there’s something glaringly off about what he does, but Tubbo has no idea.
He swallows and continues, “Just- sort of seeing the aesthetics behind photographs and how people, uh, react to it. Like, the emotional response. So, really any kind of photograph is on the table.”
“Sick!” Tubbo kicks his feet up on the car dashboard, which Ranboo feels like he should complain about, but he thinks Tubbo’s sneakers are suffering more than his car ever could. “So, where are we off to?”
That’s a good question. One Ranboo thought to consider ahead of time, thankfully, because otherwise this could be a little awkward.
“A church.”
Ranboo has never gone to this church himself, but it’s been on his mind in terms of photography locations. Truth be told, he wasn’t planning on coming here today initially, but it’s an easy place to pick and much better than where he was actually going to go, considering Tubbo’s in the car with him. “It’s kind of far from the school, so I hope that’s okay with you. I can drop you home whenever you want me to.”
“Nah, I’m sticking it through,” Tubbo says. “You’re stuck with me until you’re done taking photos.”
Ranboo fakes a tired sigh. “Fine.”
Tubbo giggles. “You’re never getting rid of me.”
“That’s a bit concerning, I think.”
“Nope!”
“Oh, well, then I guess it isn’t.”
“Yup!”
“This is going to be a long car ride, isn’t it?”
“You’re happy to have me, admit it.”
“Yeah.” Ranboo glances over at Tubbo. He’s beaming brightly, and a single curl of his hair is touching his freckled cheek, and Ranboo is suddenly struck with a feeling of fondness, so strong it’s almost startling . He averts his eyes and looks back at the road, a small, stupid smile across his own face. “I am.”
Tubbo laughs. “Sap.”
Ranboo doesn’t reply, and after a few seconds Tubbo picks up on that, leaning back against his seat and turning the music up, now onto a more sweet-sounding alternative song.
The music says, “And I know that we just met, but can you take me everywhere you’ve ever been?”
Maybe, Ranboo thinks, stupidly enough. Tubbo’s eyes are closed in the passenger seat, and it’s terrifying how, even when he’s being quiet, Tubbo can make car rides so much less lonely. And it’s only November, and neither of them really know each other, and yet,
Ranboo exhales softly. Maybe . If you’ll let me.
--
“Are we going to do some breaking and entering?”
“No! And- and don’t say that so loud, Jesus, there might be people in there-”
“You shouldn’t say that in front of a church, Ranboo.”
“You- oh my God. ”
“You’re a wrongen, aren’t you?”
“I will pay you to stop talking.”
Ranboo rolls his eyes as Tubbo wheezes behind him, finding his misery absolutely hysterical. This was a terrible, terrible idea. Ranboo should have gone with a nice park or something, or some kind of pretty neighborhood. Somewhere that two high schoolers would reasonably be in the early afternoon, and is also accommodating of the possible antics of these said high schoolers.
Taking Tubbo to a religious place was proving to be just the most terrible idea, actually.
The entire church is enclosed in a barbed fence aside from the main gate, which is obviously locked, considering that it’s 2:30 PM on a Wednesday and there’s not exactly a lot of demand for church services at this hour.
Ranboo obviously isn’t planning on scaling the fence or anything, to Tubbo’s disappointment, he’s sure. Dream’s disappointment too, maybe, which is never good-- oh, that’s such an understatement-- but, Ranboo isn’t about to break the law. He’s already an accomplice in breaking school rules, having Tubbo with him, and that’s honestly bad enough for him.
Also, in a less self-centered sense, he thinks it’s probably disrespectful to break into, trespass in, or otherwise bring chaos to a church.
Tubbo leans against the fence, which is not an action Ranboo can recommend, seeing as it’s spiky at the top and threatening to stab him, but he seems entirely non-concerned. “So, what are we going for, boss man?”
“Just external photographs, I think.” A church on an overcast day with a nice, old-fashioned sign in the front. Assuming he can photograph around the fence and everything, which his height definitely helps with, it’s a pretty good image to use for his research project.
He can take it to Dream, too, after he does a different sort of research on the place. It’s nothing like the abandoned church that’s about an hour or two from here, but he’ll save that one for another day. Preferably a day where he doesn’t have Tubbo with him, since, despite what Ranboo tries to preserve of his morality in places like this, it probably is considered a crime to go into an abandoned church. Even if nobody really cares and barely anyone is around to notice him, he doesn’t want to take Tubbo into that.
Ranboo stands on his toes for the first time in his life and tries to photograph above the fence. Tubbo watches him struggle with a smirk on his face, but Ranboo sort of manages to get a nice photo of the exterior of the church, at least. He also, by accident, gets an extremely blurry photo, but he thinks that the colors smeared across the photograph could be useful for the school part of this. The psychology behind slightly off images.
Or something like that.
The sign proves to be a bit trickier. He ends up having to walk around part of the perimeter to try and catch it at a good angle, but the fences still get in the way even then. He eventually resigns himself to the shot not looking great and takes about five more minutes trying to get the best looking picture possible between the cracks of the fences.
When he ends up getting his lukewarm photo, he walks back over to where Tubbo is, now sitting on the hood of his car chewing yellow-colored gum (he’s given up on asking questions). Tubbo perks up when he sees Ranboo coming back and asks, “Do you want some gum? It’s, like, pineapple flavored.”
“Sure.” Ranboo usually takes mint but he’s a little curious, honestly.
He accepts the gum and thanks Tubbo, putting it into his mouth and gesturing at the church. “I got all the photos, I think. Sorry, I know it took me less time to take the photos than to, uh, drive here in the first place. That’s… kind of just how it is.”
Tubbo shrugs. “Doesn’t bother me. Can we hang out here a little longer, though? School’s not done yet.”
Ranboo checks his phone. Tubbo’s right; they have about thirty minutes left of the day. “Okay. Do you want to just, uh, sit in the car in the parking lot for a while, or?”
“Yeah, that works fine.”
“Oh. Okay.” Tubbo has pretty simple wants, Ranboo’s starting to notice. He opens up the car again, and both of them settle inside, facing towards each other and playing some music again, though Tubbo lowers the volume so it’s more of an undercurrent than anything.
“Are you religious, Ranboo?” Tubbo asks, and it feels out of the blue at first until Ranboo realizes he dragged the other to a church with not much external context around it.
The most honest answer Ranboo can give Tubbo is that it’s complicated. But that’s not a satisfactory answer, not to either of them, and even a blanket statement like that doesn’t really sort out the nuances of it.
Religion as a construction is something Ranboo’s thought about sometimes, but not very often. The thought confuses him, honestly, with his convoluted perspectives on the world and all. He knows Niki is entirely non-religious, though she had been raised with religion, and Techno and Puffy both are religious, to different respective sects. Ranboo has talked to Techno about it before very casually, and it was nice to have an open conversation about something like that, but Ranboo… never really understood it all.
He’s always felt as if something is out there. But not necessarily that this something is divine. He’s never quite known how to explain to anyone that he feels as if the universe is created by this living, breathing entity, the same way that cities are, and mines, and cliffs. That the world is breathing, even the parts that aren’t. The sort of ideology that has troubled him for the longest time.
It’s far easier to say that he believes in God. And maybe he does. He’s long-since recognized that he has two separate lines of thought: what he believes when he’s having a good day, and what he believes on his bad days. Both times, there’s something out there; only on one of those occasions does it hate him.
It’s complicated.
Ranboo shifts a bit, tucking one leg up to his chest to face Tubbo better. “Not really, I don’t think. I mean, I…” believe in this prophecy, one that I’m part of, and there is something human in inhuman places, do you ever hear it breathing? “I think there’s… something out there. I just don’t know what it is. But… definitely something.”
“That tracks.” Tubbo mimics the same sitting position as Ranboo and looks just past his ear. “I dunno, I don’t really know if I buy that there’s something out there. I kinda think that, like, the world ends and we all go nowhere and our bodies decompose and stuff. All of that. Nothing saving us. You know?”
Ranboo half-laughs. “That’s depressing.”
“Oh, it is!” Tubbo cheerfully agrees.
“So, you think after death, we all just…” Ranboo pauses, trying to find the best word, before settling on the most direct one, “Die?”
“I think death sort of implies that, boss man,” Tubbo laughs, “but, yeah! I dunno, it would be cool if something came after. Like, Tommy and his whole family believes in an afterlife, and he’s told me a bit about it before, and I think all of that is really cool and all. I just… I dunno, I guess I just wonder, like. If there was some God out there, what has he been doing this whole time? You know?” Tubbo shrugs. “Maybe I’m just not big on reading a lot of books to figure it out. Not a big book guy. I reckon God should try chemistry.”
Ranboo exhales a laugh at the insinuation that Tubbo became an atheist because there were just too many books, but he’s still thinking about what Tubbo said, before, something that he’s never really been able to stop thinking about in the back of his mind. “I don’t, uh, read a lot of books either, really, but I- I think God is meant to be, uh. I think God is meant to be watching over us.”
That’s always been a terrifying thought to Ranboo, even though he knows it is meant to comfort him. The idea that there’s something out there that knows everything he’s ever done, every thought he’s ever had, it all terrifies him. It even kept him up at night when he was younger, he thinks, in the vague memories he has of times like that.
He remembers a night– and he must have been around eight, then– where he had his blanket pulled up to his chest, sitting outside in the grass at night. And he looked up at the stars, and the sky felt so big and he felt so small, and he wondered if God was up there, watching him, getting angry at him. Because when he was eight, he wasn’t good , and he was sniffling because it had been cold, and he wondered if he was dying. If he, eight-year-old Ranboo, was freezing to death, and God hated him.
The memory feels so close. And everything else feels so far.
Ranboo grounds himself back in the present, pressing his nails back into his palm, and he listens as Tubbo speaks, voice casual, yet tinted with a hint of bitterness, “That’s what Tommy says. But, I think that if there was a God out there watching us, it’s doing a pretty shit job of it.” Tubbo shrugs, resting his chin on his knee. “I can think of a few times where God could have helped out, y’know.”
“Oh,” Ranboo says, because he can’t quite think of what else to say to that.
Tubbo continues, the bitterness in his voice coming out clearer with every new word, “I mean, there was one time where I thought God was around, maybe, when I was a kid. But I think the more I look at it, there was absolutely nothing there. I think it’s better to learn to fend for yourself then think up a God, with all due respect, y’know.”
“It’s lonely, though.” It feels cold in the car, suddenly, and it’s only November. Almost nine years later, Ranboo still thinks of freezing when he thinks of God. “Having to take care of yourself, all on your own. Isn’t it?”
“I mean,” Tubbo pulls his other leg to his chest and leans forward, a wry smile on his face. “Yeah. Of course it’s lonely. But what else can you do? You’re still alone when you lean on God or whatever. Mans can’t do shit.”
“Maybe it’s okay to lean on someone, though.” Ranboo feels as if he’s convincing himself more than he’s convincing Tubbo. “Maybe that someone doesn’t have to be God. Just- just another human person who cares.”
Tubbo lifts his head and looks at Ranboo with those honest eyes, as if he understands everything Ranboo is keeping to himself in an instant, something equally terrifying as it is comforting. The way that Tubbo always is to Ranboo. Tubbo’s voice is even as he asks, “Do you take your own advice?”
Ranboo looks behind Tubbo. Near the church, there’s a suburban neighborhood with nice architecture and lavender pots. There are families in each one of them, Ranboo would have to guess, all with their own histories and beliefs and stresses. What if one of them had been in this car with Tubbo, instead? Would this conversation have happened? Would they make the same choices as Ranboo? Would they choose to take the advice and confide in Tubbo, the way that Ranboo knows he can’t?
Ranboo shakes his head, both to himself and as an answer to Tubbo’s question.
Tubbo nods.
“It’s just,” Ranboo tries to start, even though he knows he has nothing to say, “there- there are things you don’t- you don’t say. But I- I don’t think that means you have to, uh, go through it all alone, really. If- if there’s someone there willing to, uh, willing to help, then- then it’s good to let them in.”
“What if the one detail they need to know, the one thing you need help with more than anything, is the one thing you cannot tell anyone, no matter what?”
Ranboo catches Tubbo’s eyes, again.
He’s hit with a wave of sadness, almost suffocating, because he knows his own life and hates to think that someone like Tubbo, a far better person than Ranboo could ever dream to be, who deserves far more than he implies to have gotten, who has scars on his face and believes in permanent death and professes his loneliness with a smile-- that Tubbo, being every wonderful thing he is, could understand what Ranboo is thinking about, when Ranboo has deserved his loneliness by virtue of being terrible, whereas Tubbo- Tubbo doesn’t deserve a bad thing at all, Ranboo thinks. At all.
Winter has started in his car, the one he can’t remember taking a driving test for, and there’s unmistakable warmth between him and the person in the passenger’s seat, the sort of warmth that comes to lull someone as they slip unconscious and succumb to death.
If there is a God, Ranboo thinks, maybe it is in this car.
Ranboo breaks eye contact with Tubbo, eyes averting to the mark on his cheek, a stray eyelash having fallen onto it, and by impulse that blurs its lines with instinct, he reaches a hand out to brush the eyelash off.
Before his cowardice can overtake him and he leaves Tubbo without an answer, because the God of this car knows that every instinct he has is telling him to start the car and play a CD and drive Tubbo back home, he swallows and forces out the answer, ringing in his ears with a deceiving truth, “I think- I think you can share- or, you can let someone help you, even if- even if they don’t understand. Even if you can’t make them understand.”
Tubbo tilts his head, something gentle across his expression. It’s almost vulnerable, if Ranboo understands a single thing at all. But then, his eyes meet Ranboo’s for the third or fourth time, maybe, and all of Ranboo’s internal comprehension darkens with a sole resistant spark.
“Yeah?” Tubbo says, voice soft, looking at Ranboo as if- as if-
Ranboo will never know the way that Tubbo looks at him, he thinks.
(This could be their Exhibit A).
“Yeah,” Ranboo replies nonetheless. “Yeah.”
“That sounds nice.” Tubbo adjusts to face the dashboard again, still looking over at Ranboo, and he takes it as a cue to start up the car. The two of them are done in this place. “I’d like to believe that, someday.”
And the spark starts a forest fire.
You can trust me, Ranboo wants to say, I may not understand, but I want to help, because I’ve never had a friend like you before, or a person like you at all, and I don’t want you to suffer when you’ve made my life so much better.
Please don’t trust me, Ranboo also wants to say, because there’s something wrong with me, and I’ll hurt you, because I don’t know how to control myself and I don’t know how to not be afraid of you and I don’t know how to be human.
If I was honest to you, would it stop the freezing?
The words are pooling in Ranboo’s throat, everything he wants to say drowning his vocal chords, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. Everyone thinks that I’ll crash this car, nobody believes I’ll live past 25, there’s something wrong with me, but you don’t know that, you can’t know that, but if I crashed this car, would you forgive me? Would that be okay?
Can we still be friends even when I don’t know who I am?
I’ve never had a friend like you before, I’m sorry, I’ve never had a friend like you before.
I don’t know who I am anymore, but it feels a little more okay when you’re here, and that must count for something, right? Without you, and Niki, and Techno, I feel alone, and I don’t know who I am when I’m alone.
I don’t want to scare you off, but I think everything changed when I met you.
Everything that Ranboo will never, ever say.
It’s wrong to be this attached to a friend you just met a month or two ago. It’s wrong to have all these thoughts and still not understand who you are. It’s wrong to want to be close to someone when he knows that he’s a terrible person. It’s wrong to be Ranboo and still want, when he knows the town he lives in is trying to swallow him up, and between photographs and parking lots, there’s no space for wanting.
For all of Ranboo’s life, he just wanted a friend that wasn’t there for a reason. All he’s ever wanted was for someone to want him without having to want him.
All he’s ever wanted was someone like Tubbo.
But ordinary people don’t say that.
And Ranboo cares for Tubbo too much to curse this, too.
“Me too,” Ranboo finally says. Far from the words he wants to say, closer to God than anything. “Me too.”
The car is filled with silence as the heating system kicks in, and as the minutes pass, Ranboo realizes that Tubbo isn’t playing any music. The sun is starting to set earlier these days, and the sky is already painted with streaks of pink and yellow. If the night sky in early winter is the house of something otherworldly, the afternoon sky in late autumn is the house of something human. Close enough to each other, but far away all the same.
When Ranboo hits a traffic light, he brakes, and lets go of the steering wheel with his right hand.
With his left, Tubbo reaches out to rest his hand over Ranboo’s.
Ranboo closes his eyes for a brief second, where all the world is still and living at once, and wonders if this is how the universe started.
“The people before Tommy,” Tubbo whispers, and Ranboo opens his eyes to look at him. He looks so sad , but his hand is over Ranboo’s, and that must be enough. “They made me want to believe in God. Then they killed it, when I was eleven. It burned. I thought I was going to hell, but I think I was going nowhere at all.”
And Ranboo doesn’t understand. He never could.
But Tubbo shared this with him, and Ranboo will never take that for granted.
Ranboo turns his palm up so it presses against Tubbo’s, and he stays silent.
Tubbo laughs, and it gets caught in his throat. “Tommy tells me God is everywhere, but God died the second I went nowhere. How does that make any sense at all?”
The light turns green, and Ranboo hesitates for half a second before accelerating. Tubbo doesn’t let go, and neither does Ranboo.
“I don’t like to talk about God,” Tubbo says, his voice breaking.
“Okay,” Ranboo tells him. “Okay.”
Tubbo breathes a sigh of relief, and he lets go of Ranboo’s hand. He opens the CD drawer and puts in the happy disc, crackling in the disc player before it starts up with a song, one that makes Tubbo hum, one that softens the tension in his eyes.
And Ranboo takes him home.
And they leave God in the car in the church parking lot-- close to this one, but far.
And neither of them have to talk about it again.
--
“Ranboo.”
Tommy is standing right over his desk, despite the fact that he definitely isn’t in this class with Ranboo. How did Tommy even get to the Advanced Psychology classroom? School is going to start in a few minutes? What? Why?
“Uh,” Ranboo starts. “Hi.”
“Hey.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Did you, uh, need-”
“ Listen, man,” and oh, okay, there he goes, “you should come over. Like, properly come over to our house. Like. On Saturday.”
“Tommy, if I keep leaving work immediately after my shift, Niki’s going to evict me,” Ranboo hyperbolizes, because no, Niki definitely wouldn’t do that, but also, she could. So.
Tommy rolls his eyes. “But consider, I want you to come over.”
“I thought you hated me?” Ranboo blinks. “This feels, uh, counter-intuitive?”
“Oh, you stupid fuckin’ Psychology bitch, with your big fuckin’ words-” Tommy is in the Advanced Psychology classroom right now, does he not- “Yes, I hate you. But also, everyone else in my family loves you, because they have shit taste. And Phil does the whole- you know how dads go, like, ‘Oh, he seems absolutely brilliant, have him over,’ and that’s like, complete bullshit, but he says, ‘Tommy, be nice’ and Wilbur does the thing where he furrows his eyebrows, all like-” Tommy demonstrates, “-and he’s on Dad’s side, and what do I do, Ranboo?”
Ranboo stares at him. “You’re right, this does seem like, uh, a predicament.”
“At my house. 5 PM. Bring a Wii remote.”
“I don’t, uh, have any Wii remotes?”
“Oh, of fuckin’ course you don’t,” Tommy huffs. “You’re the worst. Absolutely awful. You know, I was talking to Techno, and-”
“Tommy, school starts in under a minute,” Ranboo cuts off.
Tommy pauses, and then screams, swearing loudly and immediately bolting out of the room.
Once he’s gone, the girl who sits beside Ranboo turns to look at him and asks, “Is that your friend?”
“I’m actually not sure,” he replies.
She nods slowly at him. “Sounds fun.”
“Yeah, I- I guess I have, um- I guess I have Saturday- Saturday plans now,” his voice dwindles as he finishes the sentence, until he’s whispering to himself, the joke entirely lost.
“Mhm,” she says, agreeably, definitely not having heard anything Ranboo said, and faces the front of the classroom again.
… Well. That’s one way to start a morning.
As class gets started and the teacher explains the Oedipus complex to a bunch of teenagers regrettably varying in self-restraint levels, Ranboo thinks that it may have not been the worst way to start his day, honestly. And, he would be lying if he wasn’t looking forward to seeing Tommy’s family on Saturday.
When the teacher wraps up class a few minutes early, Ranboo opens his phone under his desk and opens up Tommy’s contact, a number he’s recently gotten.
Ranboo: do you know what the Oedipus complex is, because I feel like you’d get a kick out of it
[
Tommy: No but hold on
Tommy: AHAHHAJHJASHJFD WHAT THE FUUUUCK
Tommy: I NEVER WANT TO READ ANYTHING AGAIN WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU
[
Ranboo: we had to learn about it in class today
[
Tommy: I bet you loved that didn’t you
[
Ranboo: it was terrible, actually, but kind of funny also
Ranboo: school-friendly attempt at explaining a pretty not-school-friendly psychology idea with an audience of teenagers living like 80 years after Freud
[
Tommy: so true king
Tommy: hey Ranboo guess what guess what Guess what
Tommy: School Ends In One Minute. Die.
[
Ranboo: that is just not true, actually
Tommy doesn’t reply, presumably getting his things to go to his next class, so Ranboo follows suit and makes his way to Calculus 1, leaving the Advanced Psychology classroom with a smile for the first time since the start of the year.
--
Ranboo’s phone rings while he’s listening to a random midwest emo playlist he found online, and he stops writing an answer to a psychology worksheet mid-word to look at the caller ID.
It’s Niki.
Ranboo picks up without any other hesitation. “Uh, hello?”
“Ranboo!” Niki greets happily. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m, uh, I’m alright.” Ranboo feels exceptionally awkward right now, anxiety starting up in his chest despite the conversation having just started. “I’m- I’m doing work right now, and, um. I, actually I should mention that I, ah, Tommy wanted me to come over again on Saturday, and I know that’s- that’s- he wants me to come over at 5 PM, but that’s really soon after my shift, and-”
“Ranboo,” Niki interrupts, and Ranboo braces himself for the worst. “Go spend time with him. Really.”
“Niki, I-”
“Seriously, you should. I think… I think that missing time with a friend to do work instead isn’t worth it. You should go, Ranboo. It’s… it’s really nice to see you making friends.”
Ranboo always forgets how kind Niki is until the two of them talk.
“Okay, um, I will, then. Uh, on that note, how’s, uh, how’s Puffy?”
“Oh, she’s wonderful.” Her tone brightens when she’s talking about the other, Ranboo notices. He always had the thought that Puffy and Niki might be in a relationship due to a few times Puffy’s let a stray phrase slip, but if Niki’s chosen not to tell him about it, he supposes there's a good reason for that. He’s more happy that Puffy makes Niki’s life better than anything else. “She’s really sweet to me, Ranboo, she really is. We also found out a few days ago that I can pick her up.”
Ranboo blinks. “You can pick her up?”
“Baking builds muscles,” Niki points out. “She’s strong, too, and has much more, hm, much more stamina . But, it turns out I’m better at picking people up. She tried to hold me like I hold Springerle.”
That’s certainly a mental image. And would have definitely been ineffective, the longer Ranboo thinks about it. “Interesting.”
“I could pick you up.”
“I’m 6’6, Niki,” Ranboo argues. “I don’t, uh, think you could do that. Just proportions wise.”
“You’re built like a noodle, Ranboo,” Niki states matter-of-factly.
“Well, okay, that’s just a little rude, honestly.”
Niki laughs, and Ranboo smiles to himself. It’s nice talking to Niki. He wishes he didn’t feel so nervous about it all the time. Maybe it’s just easier when he’s on the phone, though, and doesn’t have to see her face and realize this person took me in and I took advantage of her kindness and she treats me like a brother but she deserves so much more and-
His smile fades.
He wonders if Niki feels this way about him. If phone calls are strained for her, too, if she struggles to talk to the other, to look Ranboo in the eye when he’s this guilty blotted mass in her apartment that feeds her cat and soaks up her rent money. Two strangers, forming a sibling-like relationship over what Ranboo would assume is a short period of time, and Ranboo can never forgive himself for the burden he must have imposed on her and yet forgot.
Niki probably doesn’t forgive him, either. Niki holds grudges, Ranboo knows that; Niki never forgets, because she cares fiercely for people and will hate them just as fiercely, too, if that’s what it takes. And usually, that’s easy to tell, but… she could hate Ranboo. She could hate him, and he’s too stupid to tell.
More than anything, it’s that final piece that kills him. That the guilt Ranboo feels over Niki goes the other way, when Niki doesn’t deserve a guilty conscience. Especially not over Ranboo.
“I have to finish up some homework,” Ranboo says abruptly, not a lie but definitely an excuse. “I’ll see you Saturday?”
If Niki notices, she says nothing. “Yes! I think I will be coming back to the apartment soon, too. I miss Springerle.”
“Springerle misses you.”
The smile is apparent in Niki’s voice. “I’ll come back Saturday, then?”
“Okay.” Because it is okay. And Springerle really does miss Niki, that was true, too. Springerle won’t sleep in the same bed as Ranboo most of the time– he’s too restless at night– but she’s going to be laying over Niki’s face for the next week when she’s back.
“Goodbye, Ranboo!”
“Bye, Niki.”
Niki hangs up, and Ranboo starts his music up again immediately after, going back to the worksheet.
If he takes a second to think more than he already has, he'll get upset. And if he gets upset, he can’t work.
So Ranboo doesn’t think about Niki, or the distance between them, and he’s okay.
He’s okay with that.
He’s okay.
--
It’s a quarter past midnight, and Ranboo is parking outside a hair salon and walking down a small hill.
The meadow Tubbo took him to the first time they hung out is a little less pretty at night, he realizes. There’s something about the sunlight, and maybe the company, that makes the place feel much more alive. Now, it’s just a little muddy in some areas, and the wildflowers are dying off, and there are warm-colored leaves everywhere.
Ranboo still thinks it’s one of the prettiest places in town.
He hadn’t brought his camera. He doesn’t want to busy himself taking photos when he knows the quality of them would be bad, anyway. It’s very late at night, and it’s cold, and the sky is full of stars, and more than anything, Ranboo just wants to be there. Laying on his back, staring at the sky, alone.
Never at peace, though. Of course.
The rustling of grass keeps jarring him, if he’s being honest. Every few seconds, he’s looking around to make sure that nobody has come out here to kidnap him, because to be fair, that would be a pretty plausible outcome. He’s a seventeen year old out in the middle of nowhere, all by himself, with very little to defend himself with. Easily, he could be taken off guard.
But, his impulse and desire to be out here, to get fresh air, to think… it made the possible danger worth it.
The stars are really pretty in this town. They aren’t as clear as they can be, he knows, and an unrealistic daydream of his was always to go up somewhere really North, where the sky is clear and the auroras are just in reach, and all the light reflects and all the constellations are clear. He yearns for that, because while he’s not interested too much in pursuing astronomy as a career or anything, nor does he know too much about astrology, he thinks it’s really neat. How there are other people out there, staring at the stars, following Polaris to come home.
It makes him feel a little less lonely, but a little small all the same.
He sighs, able to see his own breath from the cold. It isn’t freezing yet, and the sky has been clear today, but soon it will be frost season, then snowfall, and then dreary rain again. He doesn’t hate the winter; he likes having time off school to buy self-indulgent chocolate and have a very relaxed holiday season, with only two gifts to buy, and he prefers long-sleeved sweaters over cotton t-shirts anyway.
When he’s layered in sweaters and oversized jackets, and he can get away with wearing the high-waisted grey jeans Niki bought him months ago that he loves, and his gloves don’t come off as strange to other people anymore, he feels more okay with himself.
Not that he particularly hates his body or anything, but… he feels weird in it, sometimes. He doesn’t like letting the world see it, then. And having layers makes it all the more bearable.
The holidays might be more stressful this year, now that he has more friends and all, but he’s sort of excited all the same. He should start thinking of things to buy Tubbo and Tommy. Maybe he can find out more about them on Saturday? He doesn’t want to push, but he’s sort of excited to see.
If he’s being really hopeful… he thinks it would be nice to spend the holidays with Tubbo’s family. Niki gets along with them, and Puffy could come, and though Ranboo doesn’t always do well with too many people he doesn’t know, he would have Techno and Tubbo there, and he thinks it would be okay.
If the family would want him there at all.
But he’s about a month away from all that, so he can handle it then.
For now, he just looks up at the stars.
The same sky he had looked at when he was eight, presumably, though he may have not lived in this town back then. How it had been as cold as it was now, and the sky had been terrifying to him. He remembers being small, and though he must have grown fairly rapidly to have reached the height he is now, he was still so small back then. And it was all so daunting to him.
Now, he thinks it’s still a little scary. But not for the same reasons; he doesn’t believe that God is going to descend from the sky and kill him anymore. When Ranboo dies, it won’t be hypothermia, he can already predict that. Most likely, it will be a car crash or a murder. It won’t be under the night sky, not like this.
More than anything, the stars scare him because it grounds him. It’s oxymoronic, to say that the sky is grounding, but it reminds him that he’s still alive, right now. That he hasn’t entirely lost himself, that he has the stars as an anchor. That even if he loses his mind entirely to any myriad of complications, be it his memory or anything else, really, he can still see the same sky as always.
He can understand why Tubbo loves the sky so much.
Ranboo wonders, idly, if Tubbo will ever become the sky to him, someday.
He wraps his jacket closer around himself, taking another deep breath. He doesn’t remember all the constellations, but he can find the simple locations. He knows the Big and Small Dipper, and he can find Polaris and Sirius. Aside from that, he’s mostly hopeless, but it’s just enough to keep him entertained without being entirely sucked away into the sky.
His eyes catch the moon, and, for the strangest reason, he feels a twinge of sadness in him. There’s something about the moon when it’s in crescent-- waning today, he believes-- that reminds him of memories he can’t capture. A sense of absent longing, some kind of attachment to the crescent moon. He wishes he could remember more. He wishes the pieces he has of his childhood weren’t fickle, and weren’t simple things like playing piano, or stargazing, or having blackberries.
It makes him feel unreal, and frankly, a little terrified, because something could have happened to him when he was younger and he would have no idea, and may never understand it. Will he ever have enough money to see a psychologist? Will he ever be able to unravel his memories enough just to know who his parents are, or if the birth certificate is real? Will he ever have enough willpower to try and piece together the fragments of his past, when he knows that they must explain the reason he’s like this?
His mind must be protecting him from himself. And that’s such a terrifying thought, because Ranboo swears he hadn’t done anything wrong, but he has such ordinary fears and unordinary behaviors, and that must mean something.
And if there were something wrong with his younger self, how would he handle it? Dream, he knows, wouldn’t be surprised; Dream himself has told Ranboo, in passing, that he must have been a bit of a freak as a child. Ranboo knows there’s truth in that.
But Niki and Techno have never thought that, and were they to find out, what would they do? Techno is a moral person who values honesty, Ranboo knows that, and Niki is similar. Both hate liars, and Ranboo is a liar.
Is it worth sacrificing his own memory to be loved?
There’s an aching loneliness in Ranboo, all the time, when it doesn’t even make sense to be there. Be it because of his investigative work, or his inability to befriend people correctly, or his memory loss entirely, there’s this breathing, living, ugly creature inside him that pains him with the knowledge that in the end, he will die alone, as he was born alone, and he will always be alone even in company his entire life.
Ranboo would sacrifice himself to be loved. He craves it more than anything.
The tears on his cheeks start to freeze, and he quickly wipes them away, determined not to be the coward his eight-year-old self had been.
His phone buzzes in his pocket, and it feels like a sign to something. He isn’t certain what, but it withdraws it anyway, and a small smile forms across his face.
Tubbo: u up?
[
Ranboo: yes
[
Tubbo: wtf LOL
Tubbo: go to bed
[
Ranboo: I’m out stargazing, actually
[
Tubbo: WHY DIDN’T YOU INVITE ME >:(
[
Ranboo: i had assumed you would be asleep by now?
Ranboo: sorry though :C
[
Tubbo: it’s whateva
Tubbo: call me tho
Tubbo: hate typing and my fingers are cold as hell
Ranboo whispers, “Okay,” to himself, despite the fact that he’s alone in the meadow, and he rings Tubbo with a smile on his face.
“Hi, Tubbo,” he says as soon as the line picks up.
There’s a loud sound of static and crinkling as the phone presumably moves through wind, before it suddenly goes quiet again, and Tubbo lets out a breathless, “Hi. Sorry, I was on the roof but I’m inside now. Leaning out my window.”
“Oh.” Ranboo pauses, then his smile grows. “So you’re- you’re also stargazing?”
“Yup.” Tubbo’s grin is palpable in his voice. “The stars are real cool, boss man. You live on one of the bottom floors, though, so how are you seeing the stars?”
“I drove out, actually,” Ranboo explains. “Uh, to the- to the meadow you showed me, actually. Like, the place you showed me when we first hung out together? I’m there right now.”
There’s a short pause, and then Tubbo says, a little incredulous, “You went back?”
“Mhm! Yeah, I mean, there was no real occasion, I just- just wanted some fresh air, you know? And it’s a nice night, so.”
“Yeah, it is! It’s really cool out, boss man.” There’s the sound of rustling again. “Sorry, it’s cold. We should really stargaze together, though. Kind of hard to point out cool shit on the phone, y’know?”
Ranboo hums. “Mhm, mhm, I mean, if we find a day where there’s something really cool happening, like a meteor shower or something, we should- we should definitely do that then.”
Tubbo sighs contently. “That sounds so cool. I’ll hold you to it.”
“I’ll remember,” Ranboo replies, because he hopes he will, even if he knows he never could.
“Sick.” There’s a long silence between Ranboo and Tubbo, only filled with the quiet sounds of wind and general rustling, until Tubbo cuts through the silence again, “You know where Canis Major is?”
“It’s near Sirius, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. 7 hours, 20 degrees. Tommy likes that one, even if it’s not the coolest.” There’s fondness in Tubbo’s tone, even if small. “Big dog that Orion had, chasing after some hare or something, and Zeus thought he was cool and deserved to be in the sky.”
“Huh. Cool.”
“I like Capricornus a lot. Not just ‘cause of that, like, zodiac sign shit. I just… I dunno. I think a sea goat in the sky is kind of cool. Goats are all pretty neat to me, anyway. I dunno, that sounds kind of weird in hindsight. Sorry.”
“No, no, I like hearing about it,” Ranboo reassures. “I think the constellations are really cool, I just don’t know a lot about them.”
“Yeah! Yeah, I don’t really- I’m not big on history or anything, I think history’s kind of shit- Techno would kill me if he heard me say that- but like, I think the mythology behind stars is sort of cool?” Tubbo lets out a soft exhale, and Ranboo realizes he’s hooked on every word the other is saying. “Like, ancient people and everything were out here, looking at the stars, and, like, they decided they were cool enough that they deserved to have stories. That the stars meant something to them, even if they’re big and far away and kind of out of our league, y’know. People gave ‘em meaning. I think that’s cool.”
“Mhm,” Ranboo agrees. “I- I think it’s nice to know other people are looking at the sky, too. And seeing the stars and everything.”
“I reckon it’d be cool to be a star.”
“Yeah?”
“Like, you’re born and you’re this tiny little star, right,” Tubbo describes, a passion in his voice, “and then you get bigger and bigger and hotter and hotter. And I’m obviously the hottest, so I reckon I’d be blue and everything. And then either you get too big and you blow up, or you sort of fizzle out and die. I reckon it’d be better to blow up.”
Ranboo’s smile falters. “Yeah?”
Tubbo’s tone doesn’t change at all. “But like, before you blow up and die and become a black hole, you’re like- you’re out there. And people look at you and give you names and remember you. So like, even when you’re dead, people still care, ‘cause you matter to the universe and shit like that.”
“You do,” Ranboo echoes, not sure if he’s repeating Tubbo’s statement or trying to convey something else.
“I think it’d be a good way to die,” Tubbo concludes.
“I- I guess so, yeah.”
There’s a long silence between them.
Ranboo takes a deep breath. “Are- are you alright?”
“I…” Tubbo starts, before exhaling, his voice a whisper. “I’ve been weird lately. I don’t know why I’m like this. Sorry.”
“Oh, no, it’s- it’s okay, really, I don’t mind, I just-” Ranboo sits up in the meadow, nudging his temple against the top of his phone. “Is everything okay? I can- I can listen.”
“Not much to listen to, boss man,” Tubbo reassures. “S’just me. Being all weird and shit.”
“Okay.”
Ranboo looks up at the sky as the line falls quiet again, and he traces the constellations with his eyes. He’s heard people can buy stars, and the thought is a little sad, to him, but it also is kind of comforting at once. Some arbitrary purchase that doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things, but is just a way of showing care to someone.
Ranboo would name a star after Tubbo, he thinks, if he had the money. Because he wonders if it would make Tubbo smile, or less weird, or whatever the problem may be. Ranboo thinks that would be worth it, to him. Doing that.
“You know,” Tubbo starts talking again, “I’m really, really glad you’re on the phone with me right now.”
Ranboo smiles, a touch melancholic, “I’m glad too, Tubbo, really. It’s… it’s nice talking to you.”
“You’re just a really cool person,” Tubbo continues. “Like, you’re- you’re cool. I’m glad I can like, do this shit, and not- and it’s not weird. Like we can just talk on the phone at 1 AM, and it’s not… yeah. You know?”
“I understand, I think.” I’m really glad you’re here. “You’re cool, too.”
“We can be cool together, yeah?”
“Why not?”
“That’s the spirit,” Tubbo laughs. “That’s- yup. That’s cool, I think.”
“Yeah.”
A gust of air rushes past Ranboo, and he tightens his jacket around him. A few seconds later, Tubbo says, “You really should head home, Ranboo. Sleep’s good, you know. You’ll fuck up your body if you don’t sleep.”
“Well, I don’t want to do that,” Ranboo agrees, pushing himself off the ground so that he’s standing. “Goodnight, then?”
Tubbo hums and whispers, voice tired, “Goodnight, Boo.”
Ranboo’s heart skips a beat at the nickname. “Goodnight, Tubbo. Sleep well.”
The phone clicks off.
Ranboo shoves it back into his pocket, walking up the steep hill to get back to his car and pausing at the top. He looks out again, over at the sky full of stars, and wonders if his eight-year-old self would be proud. Proud of him, for standing at the top, for looking at the stars and not being afraid. Or maybe proud of him for having a friend, for calling someone, for not being as alone anymore.
It’s easy to feel alone at night, Ranboo thinks, starting up his car and backing out of the parking space. It’s dark and it’s cold and there’s nobody out there but your voice and the millions of people staring at the stars alongside you.
And yet, you’re alive. You’re alive, and the stars came out of hiding for you, and there’s hope in that. There’s hope, somewhere, even when the loneliness in your chest threatens to eat you alive and tear you apart and make you suffer. There’s hope.
And Ranboo feels okay, tonight. He really does.
Because he came out to a field alone at night, staring at the constellations and crescent moon threatening to freeze him to death, and there was a boy on the other line who told him stories about the stars, who filled the quiet with himself and shows Ranboo what life feels like every passing day.
There are so many things Ranboo wants to say to Tubbo. He will never say them all, if he ever even manages to say one.
But Tubbo still listens. He may not understand, but he listens.
And Ranboo would like to believe that’s enough.