Chapter Text
The second the bedroom door opens, Ranboo feels the world collapse around him.
Everything moves at once.
Colors are cascades of blurs, and noises are frequencies of colors in his burning head. The words Wilbur told him and Tommy, the reassurances against Tommy’s frustrated concern, die out as the world re-introduces itself at its worst event, and everything clears for Ranboo in a way that makes nothing clear at all. Still, everything moves like broken clockwork, and for the first time in his life, he can actually feel the Earth spin around the sun.
Like this, the bedroom door opens, and Ranboo is thrust into orbit.
Tubbo is standing at the end of the hall, hands shaking as he struggles to hold the phone up to his ear. Abandoning his previous attempt to keep Tommy and Ranboo in the room, Wilbur rushes forward to take the phone out of Tubbo’s hand and runs downstairs, shouting frantically to the person on the other line. Tubbo’s hand doesn’t move at all– frozen, frozen, even with no phone left there anymore. In similar fashion to his brother, Tommy surges towards Tubbo and grabs his arms, whispering his name to him, over and over, and trying to get his eyes to focus on him, but Tubbo is looking past him, past Ranboo , at nothing.
And Ranboo is frozen. Unsure of what to do, no task to latch onto. Everything is drowned out except Tubbo. Everything is loud. Stars are exploding and dying and burning out, and Ranboo can’t navigate the universe when the person grounding him is carrying out the star cycle, just like he said he would over the phone, with frozen figures and missed calls.
“Tubbs,” Tommy tries for the tenth time, voice panicked. “Talk to me. We’re right here. I’ve got you, I’m right here. If you can’t talk, you can type, I’ve got- Ranboo, your phone-”
Ranboo is moving before he can tell himself to, pulling out his phone to hand it to Tommy. He takes it, but before he can give it to Tubbo, Tubbo whispers, “I’m going to be sick, Tommy.”
“Okay, okay, I’ve got you.” Tommy shoves Ranboo’s phone back in his hands and wraps an arm around Tubbo, guiding him to the bathroom down the hall. “I’m right here, big guy. Ranboo, there’s a bottle of water and- and, there's medicine, not-nausea pills, ask Phil. I have to-”
“I know,” Ranboo says quickly, already turning to go down the stairs. “I’ll get it. I’ll be back.”
“Thank you,” Tommy barely gets out before he gets Tubbo into the bathroom, kicking the door with his foot.
Ranboo rushes down the stairs, holding onto the handrail as he realizes he doesn’t know how to navigate this house, nor who Phil is. Tommy’s father, he recognizes, but he doesn’t know anything about him. No, no, he has to focus– it’s anti-nausea, he needs anti-nausea in a place in a house with a person he knows nothing about. He has to help Tubbo, though, and he can do something as easy as this. Surely.
He hears voices in the kitchen and approaches it, despite the way that the yelling makes him want to hide. This must be where everything is. This is where he needs to go.
“He didn’t say what was happening!” Ranboo hears Wilbur yell, and as he carefully sets one socked foot on the tile, he can see three figures, all in varying states of stress. Wilbur, shouting and tugging at his hair as he tries to dial Quackity again on the phone, left hand hitting the table to exert his anxious energy. Techno, pacing and chewing his lip, face betraying his anxiety in a rare display. And the last man, presumably Phil, cursing under his breath as he leans against the kitchen counter, pale and clearly overwhelmed.
“How does Tubbo know Quackity?” Phil yells back, confused in a way that Ranboo is, too, but not in a reassuring way at all. “I thought they didn’t know each other! Why would he be calling Tubbo?”
“I don’t know.” Wilbur slams his hand down as the phone starts ringing again, as if he already knew by the time it first rang that Quackity wouldn’t pick up this time, either, that it is all futile. “I swear to your God, I have no idea.”
Phil covers his face with his hands, dragging them down slowly and leaving light red streaks that quickly fade. “And he didn’t tell you what was going on? Just that he needed Tubbo? And you didn’t ask any questions ?”
“I asked!” Wilbur argues. The phone passes through its second cycle of rings to the third, and Wilbur hits the table again. “He just said he needed Tubbo, that he was trying to call Tubbo, I tried to ask why he would need Tubbo but he just- he wouldn’t tell me! I don’t know why he needed Tubbo! For God’s sake, we just fucking broke up, I didn’t know he was going to call me at all! ”
“It’s fine, Wilbur,” Techno attempts to say, “We know, Wilbur, this isn’t on you-”
“My ex is hurt, my brothers are hurt, my brother’s friend is probably fucked up-” Wilbur starts calling again, pulling his phone back when Techno tries to grab it. “Why the fuck is this happening? How do I fix this?”
Ranboo can’t stand it, standing on the sidelines, and he’s about to open his mouth when Techno finally sees him, his hazel eyes widening before he speaks over Wilbur’s panicked rambles and calls out, “Ranboo!” Everyone’s eyes latch onto Ranboo, and he feels his heart jump in his throat, but Techno persists anyway, “Are they okay?”
Phil’s eyes flicker across several different emotions– panic, concern, shock, confusion, frustration– before he finally gets out, “ You’re Ranboo? Where the fuck did you come from? When did you come here?”
“Not answering,” Wilbur cuts in again. “He’s not answering. Your God forgive me, Tech, Quackity isn’t picking up-”
“Wil, fucking breathe,” Phil says, and he rocks like a Newton’s cradle, stuck between reassuring his son and listening to what Ranboo responds with. “You’re fine, mate, this isn’t your fault, we’re all confused, here.”
Wilbur shakes his head and starts texting, instead, leg bouncing so high it continuously slams into the table.
“Tommy-“ Ranboo takes a deep breath, feeling light headed. “Tommy said- there’s a, there’s a medicine, it’s anti-nausea- Tubbo said he was feeling sick, I don’t- I don’t know what’s happening, I just- Tommy said get the medicine, Phil would have it, so I- I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“Ranboo,” Techno states, voice low and calm. “Breathe. You’re alright. We’ll get the medicine.”
Philza starts opening cabinets, muttering to himself until he pulls out the medicine and a glass, pouring water in it. Ranboo’s hands are so shaky, he hopes he doesn’t break the water glass. Then again, it’s probably better than him trying to open up a water bottle, since the effort would probably leave half of it spilling. God, he needs to calm himself down, because he can’t be spilling things, Tubbo is upstairs and he’s hurt, but Ranboo can’t calm down.
Techno told him to breathe, but it’s getting harder to.
“Thank you.” Ranboo hurriedly takes the glass and medicine. The water isn’t filled very high, so it’s not actually likely to spill, but Ranboo has to clasp his hand into a fist around the pill, so tight his hands turn paler than normal under his gloves. He’s not sure if his mind or hands will slip first. “I’ll- I can come down after, try to help, sorry-”
Techno shakes his head. “You’re fine , Ranboo-”
but Ranboo is already running up the stairs, chest aching from being just a step away from asphyxiation, and he opens the bathroom door by pushing it with his temple.
It’s a horrible sight, with the pale light from above the shower shining on the scene in the bathroom. Tubbo is sweating and pale, hair astray on his face, hand firmly grasped in Tommy’s. He’s struggling to breathe over the toilet bowl, with loud dry gags mixing with wet sobs, all sounding painful, almost as if he’s hacking something out– but no , there’s nothing, he doesn’t seem to have thrown up yet; the sound of his hitched breaths tears at Ranboo, still. The light makes the two of them look small against the floor, Tommy painted in his true gnawing anxiety, Tubbo a pure illustration of grief. And Ranboo, cutting through with his unkempt anxieties; his leg twitches with the instinct to capture the cross-section of this sorrow with a lens, but this isn’t mysteries and Ranboo shouldn’t be like this, shouldn’t be so tempted to capture the worst thing that’s struck them all in recent memory.
It’s devastation, one that Ranboo could never know.
All he knows is how to fiddle his index finger, but his gloves are poised to hold glass and the thick scent of film is replaced with minty sweat.
Tubbo doesn’t register Ranboo’s appearance, eyes glazed over and hardly looking at anything, but Tommy looks up and takes the medicine and water, setting them on the counter as he tries to turn Tubbo over with gentle encouragement under his breath. For a second, it strikes Ranboo hard enough that he could keel over: Tommy is watching his brother suffer, and he can’t fix it.
And neither can Ranboo. And being here is probably not helping, just an extra voice in a room already echoing with its own pain, unable to travel out through the vents or down through the drain and leave a good-hearted family alone.
“Do you- should I stay, or is it- where should I-“ Ranboo stammers out. He gave them the medicine and the water, but there’s nothing else he can do. He and Tommy can’t both reassure Tubbo at once, that’d be too much noise, and Ranboo doesn’t know Tubbo the way that Tommy does. This is the first time Ranboo has seen Tubbo in this state, but Tommy must have seen it before.
Between the two of them, Tommy is better at this. And Ranboo is better at… at…
Tommy shakes his head at Ranboo's non-statement, waiting for Tubbo to drink the water before responding, “You’re okay, just- go downstairs, get water yourself.”
“Okay.” That’s a task. That’s something. “Okay.”
Ranboo leaves the two brothers in the bathroom and goes downstairs again, head hurting like it will split in half and tears threatening to leave his eyes. He nearly runs into Boreas, who scares him to death, and it takes a few seconds to register the barking sounds. The animals must be catching on to the distress– Ranboo knows Springerle is in tune with Niki’s emotions to a scary degree– and there are so many of them in this house , they must all be thinking what Ranboo is. They must be wondering what is going on.
Techno leaves the kitchen and crosses Ranboo’s path, shouting past his shoulder, “Letting them outside so they stop yappin’- Ranboo, man, you gotta sit down.”
“I’m okay, just- get the pets, I’m okay, ” Ranboo lies, his shoulder colliding with Techno’s as he pushes past the heavy air back into the kitchen.
Wilbur is the one pacing now while Phil stands, face guarded from any interpretable emotion. Ranboo’s confused; does he not know what’s happening, either? It doesn’t seem like he does, but he’s Tubbo’s father. Or, at least his sort-of father, from the little- from the little Ranboo has gathered about all of this. Regardless, how does he not know? Why does nobody know? What is happening?
Phil sees Ranboo enter the room and smiles, the tips not reaching his weathered eyes. “Is he okay?”
“He’s- Tommy and Tubbo are in the bathroom, I- I think- Tubbo was hyperventilating and might be sick, but Tommy- Tommy’s helping, so that’s really good. And I-” Ranboo sucks in another breath, “Sorry, I can’t-”
“Ranboo, sit down,” Wilbur interjects, moving to put his arms firmly on his shoulders and guide him to a chair. It’s some kind of brotherly instinct kicking in, maybe, which is pathetic, because Ranboo’s hyperventilating in the kitchen of his best friend’s house and this has nothing to do with him . “Tommy knows what he’s doing, Tubbo’s going to be fine. You need to breathe.”
Ranboo nods shakily. He digs his nails into his wrists, trying to ground himself with the sting, but Wilbur reaches forward to unwind Ranboo’s fists and hold them. Hands trapped in Wilbur’s, Ranboo’s forced to try and breathe regularly, because there’s nothing he can ground himself with, except- he digs his knee into the underside of the table but no, it’s not enough, he has to start breathing, he’s going to pass out-
“You’re Tubbo’s friend, aren’t you?” Phil asks suddenly.
It seems like a terrible time for small talk, but Ranboo nods and heaves out another breath. Phil smiles, eyes still untouched, and says, “I’ve heard a lot about you. Weird circumstances for us to be meeting, ey? Techno told me you’re sort of prone to worrying, but I promise you, your friends will be alright.”
Why are you reassuring me, Ranboo wants to shout. Tubbo’s upstairs, I heard him trying to breathe, he’s suffocating, why is nobody doing anything? Why are you calling them my friends, they’re your sons, why are we talking about this?
“You’re going to be okay,” Wilbur tells Ranboo, stroking his thumb over Ranboo’s hands. It feels so dislodged and misplaced with the context, but Ranboo can’t speak well enough to really object to all of this, even when there are far more important things going on right now.
It seems like Wilbur still knows that, at least, with how his face is twisted with worry and his body is all tensed up. “A lot is going on,” he continues, “and I’ll be honest with you, Ranboo, none of us have the slightest clue what’s going on. We’re trying to get someone over who might know more, but- that’s kind of on him whether or not he shows. He’s- he’s real shit at that. Anyway- Anyway , listen, Ranboo,” Wilbur gives him a smile that’s clearly forced, and it’s far more comforting for its lack-of-comfort, compared to Phil’s easy-going face. “You’re a good guy, for being here and trying to help out. You just have to calm down, but you’re- you’re good, man.”
Ranboo shakes his head, opening his mouth to speak, but Wilbur cuts him off. “No, Ranboo, listen . I can tell you right now, when I was going through some shit, I could- I could have really used someone like you.” Something in Phil’s expression shifts behind Wilbur, but Ranboo refocuses his gaze, trying not to think too hard about it. “I know that when Tubbo feels better, he’ll really appreciate you having been here for him. Hell, I appreciate you being here, I bet Tommy does, too.”
“It’s just a waiting game, from here,” Wilbur concludes, “and that’s when you always want someone around, ‘cause shit picks up when the next move hits.”
Ranboo nods, even though he doesn’t understand. This all feels wrong, but it wouldn’t be his place to criticize, really. Ranboo avoids the endgames Wilbur’s alluding to by pushing past it and snapping pictures; he has no real concept of how this is meant to go. Even if this feels like the worst place to set his standard.
“Did you and Tubbo meet at the start of this year?” Phil walks to the edge of the kitchen to look out the front window, more distracted by what Ranboo guesses would be the possible presence of a car than anything else.
“Yeah,” Wilbur answers for Ranboo, thank God. “This is the guy Tubbo’s hung out with a lot. He dropped Tubbo off after he and Tommy went to Jack’s house, plus some other occasions I don’t recall. He’s cool.”
Phil nods. “It’s good having someone new in the house again.”
Wilbur’s grin is tight-lipped. “We’ve got real shit hospitality, don’t we?” It earns a laugh from Phil, hearty and thin and clawing out of his throat.
Ranboo feels faintly like he’s being picked at, being observed, being left out of the picture. Everything is so dizzying, and Ranboo knows a small dimly-lit bathroom is no place for a crowd of gangly adults plucking condolences from their dry lips, but surely a family emergency warrants- but then again, when Ranboo and Niki are in hard spots, they don’t huddle and share a glass of water, so what the hell does he know.
Amidst Ranboo’s haze of spiraling, Techno comes back into the room. He makes eye contact with Wilbur, who nods and stands up. The silent communication feels like moving pieces again, and Wilbur lets go of Ranboo’s hand so Techno can sit across from him, put his hands on his knees and heave out a wheezing breath. All small seconds of vulnerability, then stone-cold again. “I saw a car out in the front. It’s not Quackity’s. I’m guessin’ it’s yours, Ranboo?”
Ranboo nods, and Techno sighs. “Yeah, looked like it. Alright, you’re gonna hate me for this, but since your car’s out there, you do have a way of gettin’ home, right?”
Ranboo nods again, but, realizing what Techno’s getting at, abruptly shifts to shaking his head. “Yeah, but- but Tubbo-”
He can’t go home. Not when the people here could need him, even if he’s outside the bathroom and leaving himself as a messily breathing clot of unfamiliarity against white tiles. He almost seems like a curse, when he puts it like that, and this could be it, this could be him and his miraculous way of walking tragedy through doorways, and if that’s the case he can’t go, he can’t.
It’s selfish. He knows he’s being selfish. He knows that he doesn’t want to go home because he’d be trapped in his room, tearing his hair out, waiting for a call from Tubbo, Tommy, anybody, telling him that Tubbo is okay. He would rather be here, where he has a chance to directly help, rather than being at home, where he may be one less moving piece, yeah, but it would shift more pressure to the rest of the family. Unless, well, they are taking care of him right now and wasting time until Quackity shows up, but he- he-
“He’ll be okay,” Phil repeats, but Ranboo shakes his head. He can’t leave Tubbo like this, he has to help. Ranboo’s cursed, so this could all be his fault, he has to do something, he can still hear Tubbo’s breathing in his ear, why is Techno the mediator, why is Ranboo in the chair, why are Wilbur’s hands against his shoulders again-
“Okay, love, okay,” Wilbur amends, voice gentle but coated with tension. “Let’s go up, yeah? Let’s check on him.”
“You have to stay down,” Techno reminds Wilbur, “‘cause if Quackity comes over, you’re the only one who he’ll talk to aside from Tubbo. He won’t set aside his issues with me for this, I doubt it.”
“ Shit .” Wilbur lets go of Ranboo, running a hand through his hair. In parallel tracks to Ranboo, his anxiety is transparent when his one-minute purposes are ripped away. “Okay, okay- Ranboo, go upstairs, yeah? I’m sure Tubbo could use your company.”
Ranboo wants to, and he will, digging his heels into the floor as he pushes himself up. It feels like the kitchen is self-destructing, still, and Ranboo has to see Tubbo but he has to ask first, has to make sure that he’s not leaving a bomb to explode when his pocket was the place that dropped it. “Will you- will you all be okay?”
Wilbur’s face falls even more, and Ranboo can hear Phil sighing. Techno is the one who answers his question, voice taking the same tone as when he has to coach Ranboo through an essay prompt, when Ranboo casually admits to being stressed out of his mind with school and Techno has to be the one to push him to get a good grade anyway. “We’re adults, Ranboo, don’t worry about us. I think the three, y’know, teenagers are probably the ones everyone’s more concerned about right now.”
But I’m practically an adult, too, Ranboo thinks to say, but he knows that Techno is right– if not for Ranboo, then for Tubbo and Tommy– so he instead just nods and he takes off to run upstairs for the fourth time, face frigid with burning streaks even if he knows he has yet to cry.
When he goes upstairs, Tommy and Tubbo are on their way out of the bathroom, and they meet at a crossroads again in the middle of the hallway.
Tommy catches his eye and informs him, “Tubbo’s feeling a little better, so we’re going to his room. We-” There’s something that crosses Tommy’s expression, akin to guilt and confliction and something that requires more careful consideration under any other circumstance where they could budget the time, “-Can you stay with him, I have to talk to Wil, and I don’t want to-” Tommy cuts himself off, but Ranboo knows what the full sentence was: I don’t want to leave Tubbo alone . Tommy leaves that truth unaddressed, already reluctant enough with his decision, taking a deep breath and concluding with, “Yeah?”
Ranboo nods. “Yeah.”
Tommy steadies Tubbo before sprinting down the stairs, the caution he exhibited around Tubbo to be as gentle as possible entirely abandoned as the pent-up energy is displayed through panic. He doesn’t trip, thank God, and Ranboo loses his sight by the time he reaches the kitchen, so he focuses on Tubbo, who is stumbling towards Tommy’s bedroom. Ranboo follows close behind, making sure Tubbo doesn’t fall, either, and he gets the door for him as Tubbo goes inside.
The bedroom door shuts behind them, swallowing up the noise, and Tubbo and Ranboo both ungracefully sit on the edge of Tommy’s bed. They had just been here an hour ago, playing two truths and a lie, when Wilbur came in with that phone call, when everything fell apart.
Tubbo had been laughing, back then. Now, he just seems numb, vacant aside from the shallow, fast breathing Ranboo can see. It’s shockingly guarded, for one who’s received presumably tragic news. Ranboo hates to think that he’s fighting to keep his guard up even now, but then again, the first stage of any grief is the performance of trying not to feel it.
“I-” God, what does Ranboo even say? Nothing he could say right now would be enough, would fix everything. He’s not good at reassurance– Tubbo must have been mistaken all that time ago– Ranboo never has the slightest clue what to do. He just repeats what he tells himself until it starts to make sense, and it never sounds quite right, and there’s nothing he can promise Tubbo right now. He doesn’t know if he’ll be okay, he doesn’t know if everything’s fine, he doesn’t know if he can protect Tubbo.
But Ranboo has to try. “I’m here. You’re safe, Tubbo. I- I won’t let anything hurt you, okay? I…” Tubbo looks at him, still struggling to breathe, face streaked with tears. Ranboo’s heart breaks, but he has to keep it together. He wishes he could just take Tubbo’s pain, make this easier for the two of them, make the other laugh again. “I’m right here, it’s- I’m here, okay? You- I won’t let anything happen to you, Tubbo.”
“Can I…” Tubbo’s voice is raspy, and Ranboo immediately stops talking to hear his quiet words. Tubbo coughs trying to get out the rest of the sentence, but Ranboo shushes him. It had been a question, right? Tubbo was asking a question?
“You don’t have to ask,” he reassures. Ranboo would do anything for him– not just right now, but any time. The scariest part is that he knows he means that, that whatever it took to make Tubbo happy ever, he would do it. Especially now. “Just- just do it, it’s fine.”
Tubbo nods and, after a second, shifts his position so his head nudges Ranboo’s collarbone, a silent question for a hug. Without a second thought, Ranboo raises his arms to wrap around Tubbo, but he feels Tubbo stiffen and him ask, “Can you- not the arms, just- if that’s- sorry, I-”
Ranboo can’t even do this right.
“It’s okay, that’s my bad, it’s okay.” Ranboo lowers his arms and allows Tubbo to shift closer to him, gently upturning one of his palms in case Tubbo wants to hold his hand. He doesn’t think that’s too impeding, right? They’ve- they’ve done that before, so it would be okay. But these are all countless shots in the dark.
After a minute or so, Tubbo takes it, squeezing his hand hard as he tries to match his breathing to Ranboo’s– which may not be the best breathing to compare to, honestly, but it’s slower than Tubbo’s, even if only slightly, so it’s an improvement. At a loss for what to do with his other hand awkwardly laying behind the other, Ranboo raises it to run through Tubbo’s hair lightly, and Tubbo leans into the touch.
If anything is out there, Ranboo thinks as Tubbo breathes below him, please let me have this pain instead. I’ll pray, I’ll break, I’ll do whatever you want from me. Just take this from him. Anybody but him.
It’s Tubbo’s pain, and Ranboo knows no amount of praying can fix this. Still, in this nightmarish hour, Ranboo hopes that there’s still a chance. Tubbo is brilliant light, and Ranboo is the glow of flickering lights in a linoleum bathroom.
Don’t you do miracles? You’ve taken a lot from me, can’t you take a little more? Can’t you do it for him?
After a minute or two of deafening silence, Tubbo asks, “Is Quackity there?”
“No,” Ranboo responds. He doesn’t know when, or if at all, judging by Wilbur’s statement, Quackity is going to show up. He also doesn’t know why all of this hedges on that, why Tubbo can’t just tell any one of them what happened on the call, why this can’t be figured out before the pain sinks in. “Just your family. It’s okay.”
Tubbo nods and falls silent again, shutting his eyes against Ranboo’s chest.
The silence between them carries on for what feels like hours. Ranboo tries to listen into what is happening downstairs to try and piece something together, but it’s so quiet down there that he has no idea what could possibly be happening. Even with the context he has, it’s all so minimal and vague that it’s impossible to do much with it.
There’s a person named Quackity. Somebody that everyone in this family seems to know, someone who used to date Wilbur but broke up with him inexplicably, in a way that Tubbo expected. More important than anything, Tubbo knew Quackity better than anybody thought he did, and he told Tubbo something important, something the others don’t know. Something Tubbo won’t say. Something they’re both trying to hide.
Is Ranboo supposed to know more about Quackity? Maybe Tubbo told Ranboo that he knew Quackity in some other way, and Ranboo just… forgot. Ranboo isn’t a trustworthy person, not in the way that Tubbo’s family thinks.
If he forgot something like that about Tubbo, though, he’d never forgive himself.
Regardless, Ranboo has no idea what is happening with what he can remember right now, and he feels out of place. This isn’t this house, this isn’t his family, this isn’t his situation or his people– well, Tubbo’s here, and Ranboo really cares about Tubbo, but he doesn’t get it. He can breathe, now– Tubbo listening to his breath helped that, somehow, and Tubbo is breathing a little better too, now, slowly but surely. Still, it doesn’t feel right, Ranboo being here. It feels like a whirlwind around him, and he’s hanging on for dear life– hell, all of them are, but Ranboo especially.
All he knows is that he wants them all to be okay, and that he has no idea how to do that aside from futile prayers and negotiating with prophecy.
Finally, intercepting the long silence, there’s a loud sound from downstairs.
It sounds like the front door opening, and soon after follows yelling. Ranboo can make out Wilbur’s voice the most, but there’s a voice he doesn’t recognize there, too, and from the way that Tubbo tenses in his hold, he realizes that it must be Quackity at the door.
He finally arrived, maybe something good can finally happen, but from the sound of it, it just feels like things are about to get worse .
Tubbo moves to straighten up beside Ranboo, and Ranboo catches a look at his expression. He looks so stressed, breathing normally but his face still wet from the tears he shed from exertion and his lip bleeding from biting it. He rests his head against his knees, putting his hands in his hair, and takes deep breaths.
Ranboo watches silently, not sure of what to do, until Tubbo whispers, “He’s going to come up here, isn’t he?” He already sounds like he knows the answer to his own question, with a flat tone in his voice and a tired sigh following after.
“... It’s likely,” Ranboo tells him honestly. He can’t lie to him, not now. “But, if you need me here, I will be here.”
Tubbo laughs to himself, a sound bitter and warped. “You don’t deserve to hear it.” He lets out another sigh, shaking his head and wiping at his face. “You’re too good.”
Ranboo would do anything, absolutely anything, if it could prove to Tubbo, in a way that he believes, that he’s a good person. Ranboo wishes on every star, to every God, to everything in the world, that one day, he can show Tubbo the way that he views him. How good he is, how kind and wonderful and beautiful and amazing he is. How Tubbo is some gift from the world to Ranboo, and how Tubbo doesn’t deserve any of this pain.
But the two of them aren’t stargazing right now. He can’t wish on stars, he can’t point to Sirius and say on this star, I swear that you are otherworldly. At the church, when the two of them talked about God: you are incredible, you’re the best person I’ve ever known. There’s nothing in the world that Ranboo can show the other to convince him, so he just has to try to make the other trust him.
Even if it means waiting however long it may take to convince Tubbo that he never deserved this pain.
“This isn’t about me being good or you being… however you see yourself,” Ranboo argues, reaching out to take one of Tubbo’s hands in his again. Tubbo looks up at him, eyes empty and resigned and unfocused, and Ranboo swallows before continuing, “It’s… I’m here for you. That’s not- that’s not the concern, it’s just… if he comes up, do you want me to be here? Not what I deserve, just… what do you want? ”
After a pause, Tubbo responds, “I don’t think you should be here for it. You… you should go home, I think. Your car is outside, isn’t it? You shouldn’t have had to be here.” His voice still sounds wrong when he speaks, too loud and then too soft. The sound of someone forcing their words. Ranboo wants to tell him that it’s okay for him not to speak, but from what it sounds like, Quackity will have questions for him, too, and… well. He might have to answer those. And Ranboo doesn’t want to give him false hope, even if it kills him to see the other act like he’s more put together than anybody else here combined.
“Will you be okay?” Ranboo presses, even though he knows what the answer would be. That his presence isn’t enough to take away the pain of the unknown thing happening to Tubbo, that this is all so far out of Ranboo’s control that it’s ridiculous to presume he would have any impact on it whatsoever.
And yet, Tubbo seems hesitant. He opens and then closes his mouth, struggling to find the right words. He seems like he’s finally close to an answer, opening his mouth with something conclusive, eyes locked on Ranboo’s, when the bedroom door suddenly opens for the second time that night.
Tubbo’s hand tightens in Ranboo’s as he turns to look at the person. At Quackity.
The first impression Ranboo gets of Quackity is that he looks absolutely exhausted, and yet somewhat brimming with a thousand emotions at once. His dark hair is a mess, and his eyes are red, with one of them clearly injured and scarred. It’s not a recent scar, thankfully, but it still raises a few questions Ranboo will never ask nor have answered. Quackity’s still wearing his boots and a coat over his pajamas in the dead of November– he must have not gotten dressed, leaving the house with whatever he had.
When he sees Tubbo, his body relaxes, yet a small cry comes from the back of his throat.
“ Tubbo ,” Quackity says, voice strangled. “And- and whoever the hell you are, I don’t know you- but Tubbo, I-”
Tubbo stands up, and Ranboo follows suit. He holds onto Tubbo’s hand as a tether for the both of them, but he knows that this is a private matter between the two of them. One that he’s intruding upon, but there’s no right time to leave, he would leave them be if there was a right time for it, but- but there isn’t. He can’t just walk out in the middle of this, so he’ll stay until Tubbo tells him otherwise.
“Quackity,” Tubbo states, his voice flat and controlled. It quivers, still, with the tremors from panicking for the past however-long, but it’s so much calmer than before. Guarded, maybe, is a better word. It’s almost scary, the stark change of it. “How did it happen?”
“It was his heart,” Quackity responds quickly, and it suddenly hits Ranboo what’s going on.
He should have known. He should have put the pieces together, with all his thoughts on grief. But he hadn’t expected, despite every detail in this situation that he should have anticipated, that this would be a matter of someone’s death.
He could collapse under the weight of this realization, but Quackity keeps speaking and Tubbo needs him, so he steels himself together. Death isn’t foreign to Ranboo, he can take this, he can take this because he has to. “All the fucking alcohol got to him, like I always said it would. I hadn’t- I didn’t know, I had just come back from Karl’s place, kicked me out, and I walked into the bedroom and he was- he was just-”
Tubbo’s expression is blank, but Ranboo can see him trying to hold his composure, trying to collect all the pieces of grief he must be feeling and pull himself together . “Oh.”
“I’m so fucking sorry, Tubbo-” Quackity starts to say, but from the hallway comes loud footsteps, and Ranboo hears Wilbur saying Quackity’s name over and over, and Quackity swears under his breath. “Sorry,” he says quickly, grabbing the door and tugging it closed as he leaves, “I’ll be back, Tubbo, I’ll explain everything, I gotta-”
Then, he’s gone, and it’s Ranboo and Tubbo again. It doesn’t last for very long, as Tubbo takes a deep breath and tells Ranboo, “I have to go. I have to- I have to fix this.”
There’s nothing to fix, Ranboo thinks, if this was really a death. It’s not your fault. But, that’s not the input Tubbo needs to hear, so he just nods and asks again, “Will you be okay?”
“I’ll call you tonight,” Tubbo replies as soon as the last sound leaves Ranboo’s lips. “I’ll try to, at least. It’s- I’m sorry you had to see this-”
“Tubbo,” Ranboo interrupts, trying to sound as gentle yet direct as he can. “You don’t have to apologize. If- if you need me, I’m there, okay? I- just, take care of yourself? Please.”
It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault, none of this is your fault, please know that, please understand that, you don’t have to be guarded, you’re just a teenager, it’s not your fault.
Tubbo’s eyes widen for a second at Ranboo’s statement, but as he concludes it, Tubbo nods, seemingly pulling himself together again. “I’ll be fine. I- I need to go talk to him, I’ll see you later, I promise. Thank you.”
Ranboo lets go of his hand, because it’s the only brave thing he’s had to do. “Of course.” Please be okay.
The two of them split: they go down the stairs together, but Tubbo goes with the rest of the family and Quackity in the kitchen, while Ranboo heads towards the door and pulls his shoes on.
He steps outside and closes the door, trying to be as quiet as possible, and finds all the noise of panic and frustration being snuffed out like the smoke of a candle swallowing up a whole house. Now, it’s just the wind and the faint sound of a train miles away from here, and Ranboo is fumbling to get his car keys out.
Before he can turn on his car and leave, though, the door opens behind him, and suddenly Tommy is out there with him, pale and tired. Overwhelmed, like Ranboo had seen the day that the three of them saw Wilbur in his store, and Wilbur was holding a pack of cigarettes.
Tommy must be exhausted. And Ranboo doesn’t know him very well at all, but he hopes he’s okay, too. He hopes that the pressure of everything doesn’t suffocate Tommy, too, and blow out his voice.
“Tubbo said I should go home,” Ranboo explains, hoping Tommy doesn’t get the wrong impression that Ranboo is just abandoning his best friend to his grief.
Thankfully, Tommy nods.
“You have your car, yeah? You can get home?”
Ranboo nods, pulling out his phone. It’s long past sundown, so the exact time isn’t the concern for him, but he has a lot of missed messages. Many from Niki, and many more from Dream. “Shoot,” he mumbles, because Dream doesn’t seem happy with him, and Niki seems really worried. And he needs to get home, but he wants to stay, he wants Tubbo to be okay, but there’s nothing Ranboo can do right now except leave.
“Is everything alright?” Tommy asks, following Ranboo as he starts walking to the car. He’s so kind to him, Tommy is, even if he tries to play up this bit of being rude to everything. Or maybe he just needs a distraction at the moment. Ranboo will take either.
“Just- I have texts from my boss, is all, he- he doesn’t seem happy,” Ranboo tries to vaguely explain, accidentally admitting too much information as he tries to get his car turned on. It’s much harder to do with shaky hands.
Tommy lets out a confused noise. “The bakery guy? What the fuck is his problem? You did your whole shift, didn’t you? If he’s being an ass to you about that, I’ll give you a piece of my mind. Nobody fucks with Tommy’s certified boys.”
“No- not that boss, my other one.” The car turns on, and Ranboo is freezing, and he’s so sick with worry he might throw up on the side of the road.
“You work somewhere else?” Tommy seems concerned, and thank God for Tommy, because he’s so caring when he needs to be, but Ranboo doesn’t want to explain this right now, doesn’t want to take the attention away from Tubbo when he needs it, just wants Tommy to take care of himself and Ranboo to drive home and find a way to fix this all.
So, he ends the conversation by quickly saying, “Yes, his name is Dream, independent payer, he’s upset- you should, you should go back to Tubbo, Tommy, it’s cold out here and I need to go home, and-” Ranboo looks to Tommy, and finds the sight of the other enough to cut off his speech.
Tommy’s eyes are wide.
It’s like a hurricane at its last wits. Tommy is going to fall apart, if the world doesn’t break down with them.
“-Tommy?” Ranboo calls out weakly. “What’s- what’s wrong, are you okay? Do I need to- I can get you inside, is- I have a jacket, I can-”
“What’s his name?”
Ranboo furrows his eyebrows, thrown off the rhythm they had tentatively set. How is this relevant right now? “Dream, or maybe that’s an alias, I have no idea– that doesn’t matter. Tommy, if you’re feeling sick, I need to get you inside, I-”
“What the fuck.” Tommy’s voice is trembling, and to Ranboo’s absolute horror , there are tears forming in his eyes.
Ranboo steps forward to try and break through to him, but Tommy suddenly pushes his shoulders back hard , and Ranboo hits the side of his car. Arm pressed against the small of his back, Ranboo tries to ask what’s going on, what went wrong, what Dream has to do with this, but Tommy starts talking again, sounding more panicked. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You- you- you knew him this whole time, and you still- you… I- How could you?”
“Tommy, I- I don’t understand,” Ranboo says honestly, desperately. “Please, let me get you inside. I- does this have to do with Quackity? I swear to God, I don’t know who Quackity is, I-”
Tommy shakes his head, tears falling down his face. “No. No, fuck you. Get the fuck out of here, I can’t- what’s wrong with you?” Tommy moves forward and pulls the driver’s side of the car door open, and he’s looking everywhere but Ranboo’s face. “I can’t fucking believe you. I- I let you- we were- I fucking trusted you, man, you were kind to Tubbo, I didn’t think- I- get the fuck out.”
Ranboo shakes his head, a cold seeping into his body that has nothing to do with the weather. “Tommy, explain to me what’s going on, I don’t- I don’t get it, I don’t know what I did wrong-”
“Oh, of course you don’t get it!” Tommy shouts, and Ranboo winces at the sound. For a second, regret crosses Tommy’s face, but he doubles-down on it and continues, “I bet you never fuckin’ know what you do wrong! You just hurt people and hurt people and you’re always- you- you- you- you- what is wrong with you? Why didn’t you say anything, I trusted you, I thought- I thought Tubbo had good picks in people, I didn’t- I let you into our fucking house! ”
“I can’t know what I did wrong if you don’t tell me, Tommy!” Ranboo’s voice raises in volume, his breathing picking up again. Both him and Tommy can’t breathe, and it feels like the entire city stopped breathing, too, that everything is dying around him, and Ranboo doesn’t understand. Maybe he is finally freezing to death, maybe God answered his prayers just to laugh in his face, or maybe none of this is real . It’s so disorienting that it has to be a nightmare, it has to be a nightmare, but he can still hear Tubbo fighting to breathe- “You can’t just- you can’t just yell at me and expect me to understand! I don’t- if this is about Dream, then the two of us, we don’t- he’s just my boss, he-”
“Has he ever told you what he- has he ever said what he did to me?” And this has to be a nightmare, because Tommy is sobbing and they were so happy only an hour ago and Ranboo can’t handle this, none of this makes any sense, what does Dream have to do with Tommy ? “Has he– has he ever bragged to you about what he did? Does he tell you the things he would do, what he does after work, so to- so to- fuckin’- so to speak? Has he yelled at you before, Ranboo? Gotten angry? Threatened you?”
“I- sometimes, how is that relevant? Your brother is- why are you- what are you talking about?” Ranboo pleads, “What did Dream do to you, I don’t understand, why are you angry with me? ”
Tommy shakes his head. “So you’re his, does it- does it give you nightmares , do you- has he- no, no, of course not, because it wouldn’t be you, of course it wouldn’t be you. It was only me, it was only me, I was different, I was his favorite, I-”
“Tommy, please breathe, ” Ranboo can’t watch him suffocate like Tubbo did, but he can’t stop him . Ranboo can’t see straight, and his chest hurts, and everything hurts, and-
and I was different, I was his favorite, I-
“You know, Ranboo,” Dream is holding the perfect photograph to his chest, grinning as Ranboo feels his stomach fold into itself, yet is so, so proud, because Dream is smiling, “You’re something else. You’re different, you’re- honestly, you’re one of my favorite people, Ranboo-”
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. It can’t be. It can’t.
“Get the fuck out, Ranboo, you aren’t- you aren’t welcome here, nobody wants you here! ” Tommy’s screaming, and over his shoulder, Ranboo can see everyone in front of the window. Everyone’s screaming, but where’s Tubbo? Is he okay? He’s not in the window, what happened to him, was it Ranboo’s fault? “Nobody fucking wants you, it’s your fault- I never wanted you here, I just felt sorry, go back to being with Dream, tell him how I am, ask him if he remembers the way he took everything from me, the same way you’re taking everything from us, now-”
“You can’t blame me for someone else’s death, Tommy!” Ranboo’s voice is raw, but he can’t stop the anger inside him, the resentment brewing, he just wants to understand, why does nobody let him know anything? He can’t remember, he can’t know, he can’t understand- of course he’s not welcome here, he’s not welcome anywhere- “You can’t blame me for this!”
Tommy gestures at the house frantically, and his blue eyes are piercing, the only light in the city right now. “The one day you come over, into our fucking house, this shit happens! You’re bad luck, this wasn’t supposed to happen, you’re trying to ruin everything for us again! I won’t let you take everything I have left, Ranboo, I finally- I finally got it back, and you- you- ”
This is self-destruction, the lies and the hyperventilating and the screaming , but Ranboo can’t stop himself from getting angry. There’s part of him that wants to ruin this, wants to make it so terrible that Tommy goes back to Tubbo and Ranboo goes home, that God takes it as enough self-torture to honor his requests, that everything can fall apart like this and Ranboo can suffer and it would be fine, because it’s always fine, it’s always fine when it’s Ranboo, it’s okay let’s just hurt Ranboo Ranboo can take it Ranboo can take it it’s okay it’s not like he’s a human being!
“You’re the one screaming at me!” Ranboo screams back. He hates the way he sounds when he’s angry, he wants to claw his throat out, what’s wrong with him, is Tubbo okay? “I didn’t ruin anything- I’m not doing anything wrong! I just- I’m leaving, I was just leaving, why are you blaming me for this? I don’t know anything, how could you blame me- you never wanted me, so how is it my fault that I came here in the first place? You asked me to, why are you screaming?”
“GO!” Tommy’s voice is breaking, and he’s trying to shove Ranboo into the car seat, and Ranboo is trying to fight him off, and this is a nightmare, this can’t be real, this can’t be happening, this isn’t real. Ranboo’s phone buzzes in his pocket with another phone call, and this can’t be real. “Get out, please, I don’t- I don’t want you here, this is your fault, Tubbo’s crying in there, and you’re just being selfish, fucking leave-”
“How am I being selfish?” Ranboo shuts the car door, but Tommy fights to open it again, and in the struggle they nearly turn the car on, and both of them are halfway inside the driver’s seat, and they’re going to crash and burn together, and Ranboo catches Tommy’s eye just as he shouts, “ You’re the one being selfish, Tommy! I can see why- I can see why Dream didn’t like you! ”
In a second, Tommy is screaming, wordlessly, and he shoves Ranboo into the driver’s seat hard enough for Ranboo to bruise his side, and he’s screaming, and both of them are crying, and Ranboo can’t see anything, and Tommy’s chest is heaving with sobs, and he’s biting his nails raw and there’s blood on the carseat and his shirt is soaked with his tears and Ranboo is just watching, he’s just watching through his blurry eyes, all until Tommy slams the car door and screams, loud enough that Ranboo can hear through the window of the car, “ LEAVE ME ALONE!”
Ranboo starts the car, half his pants leg caught in the door, and he starts driving, and he’s barely staying in his lane because he can’t see, and not only is it tears, but he can see black dots crossing his vision everywhere like dead stars, and he can hear his own hyperventilating, and he’s going to die he’s going to die he’s going to die, he’s going to crash the car, this is how it ends for him. The last thing he’s ever going to hear is Tommy screaming, and he’s going to die, and nobody is going to look for him because everybody is angry at him-
-this is a nightmare this is a nightmare this is a nightmare-
“I’m sorry,” he whispers to himself, turning into the interstate and immediately pulling on the side of the road, hoping that the car miraculously fills with carbon monoxide so it can all end here. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I’m so sorry, this is all my fault, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry-”
Through the stars, God is glaring down at him, and God wants him dead. It should have been him instead of Tubbo’s loved one, he realizes, he should have died -
-God, Tubbo, he barely even helped Tubbo, his best friend is drowning in his grief and Ranboo is feeling sorry for himself, and Ranboo can’t take this-
-his phone is ringing. He picks it up, only hears Niki breathe in before she starts talking before he’s saying, “Call Wilbur, Niki- you, I-”
“I know, I know,” and she sounds panicked, “Ranboo, where are you? Are you okay, are you okay because I don’t- where are you? Wilbur said you left, I don’t- Ranboo, please drive safe, is everything okay?”
Ranboo shakes his head, sobbing out, “Check on Wilbur, I’m fine, I’ll come home- I just- someone, Tubbo’s upset, he’s-”
“I know, love, I know,” and it sounds just like what Wilbur said, and God, this isn’t about Ranboo, he doesn’t know what to do, he can’t take this, “ please come home safe, I can’t- I know there’s a lot happening, but I need you home safe, Ranboo.”
“I’ll be home safe,” he promises, “even- no matter what, I’ll come home, I- I promise you, I just- I need a second, I’ll be home- I’ll be home-”
“If you don’t come home soon, I’m coming to get you,” Niki warns.
“I need to drive now,” Ranboo lies, sort of, “I need to hang up, I have to drive, I can’t- if I’m calling you and it’s raining, I won’t get home, Niki, I-”
“Okay,” Niki says, “okay, that’s fine. I love you. I love you so much. Please come home.”
If something happens to you, for a second it’s Tubbo, then it’s Ranboo, but the message never changes, I’ll never forgive myself.
Ranboo hangs up,
and he drives, and he can’t hear anything but his own breathing, and he can’t see anything but blurs of colors and black spots, and he never wrote a will,
he never apologized to Tommy or Tubbo or Niki or everyone,
his parents will never know what happened to him,
he’s going to crash he’s going to crash and die and die and die he needs to call the police he’s going to die he’s going to die he can’t do this he can’t do this he doesn’t want to die I don’t want to die I don’t want to die I don’t want to die someone call the police I can’t make it home Tubbo isn’t okay nothing is okay I don’t want to die I’m going to die I’m going to crash and die and die and I DON’T WANT TO DIE
Ranboo makes it home by the time Niki is in the driveway in her pajamas. When she sees him pull in, she breaks down into sobs, and she pulls him into a hug the second he gets out of the car. She cries into his shoulder, and it takes all of Ranboo’s energy to clutch onto her, and it doesn’t feel like this is the first time someone’s held onto him like he would disappear and cried over him.
His phone is on 9%. Tubbo is texting him, saying he’s okay, and he knows that he’s lying because Tommy is sending him incoherent text messages ripped from a place of pain that only angers Ranboo more, and Dream is calling him over and over, and Ranboo answers none of them.
After Niki fusses over him, Ranboo goes into his room and waits for Niki to stop calling Wilbur in the living room. It takes a little under an hour, but she finally goes into her room, and when Ranboo’s certain that she’s asleep, he goes out into the kitchen, and he rereads every text he got. Every lie Tubbo told him about him being okay, every angry phrase that Tommy sent him, every voicing of Dream’s disappointment in him, every panicked text Niki sent him.
In the end, he can only reply to Tubbo.
Ranboo: please be safe
[
Tubbo: yeah of course
Tubbo: i’m fine, yk. it’ could be wosre!
Tubbo: are you ok?
[
Ranboo: yeah. i’ll see you monday
[
Tubbo: see you
Tubbo: <3
Ranboo closes his messages with Tubbo, and he drafts a few responses to Dream. Nothing about his disappointment at being ignored, nothing about missing a meeting, nothing about that. Rather, he tries to type four different messages to him about Tommy, asking him if the two of them knew each other and what Dream had been hiding from him. In the end, he just deletes everything, sends him an I’m sorry, today was a lot. and shuts his phone down.
… Tubbo is processing someone’s death. Even if Tommy is mad at him, and Dream is disappointed in him, and Ranboo feels like everything just fell apart– he can handle it. Dream’s disappointment can be fixed, and Tommy liking him isn’t… it isn’t necessary.
Death is permanent. Grief is hard to handle alone. And Ranboo knows Tubbo will try to handle it alone, if he can.
He will work at the bakery tomorrow and take photographs when he can. He will go to school the day after, and he’ll be there for Tubbo, as much as the other lets him. He’ll do his homework and talk to Niki and reconcile with Dream, and he’ll keep going.
He can make it through this. This isn’t about him. This isn’t about him.
Tubbo is grieving, and Ranboo cares about Tubbo more than anybody else. What Tubbo needs are people to support him, people who won’t bring their own baggage towards him, where he’ll force himself to take it on and ignore his own problems– because Ranboo knows how that temptation lives in people, knows how it hurts people, knows that Tubbo is too kind for his own good and would destroy himself if he had the chance.
So, Ranboo will help him. Everything else can come after.
With that, Ranboo carries himself back to his bedroom. He lays in bed, stares at the ceiling, drowns in the unordinary silence without music coming from his phone–
– and doesn’t sleep at all.
-
“But, I think that if there was a God out there watching us, it’s doing a pretty shit job of it. I can think of a few times where God could have helped out, y’know.”
“Oh.”
“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 looking out for me. 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. Having to take care of yourself, all on your own. Isn’t it?”
“I mean. Yeah. Of course it’s lonely. But what else can you do?”
-
“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?”
-
– and doesn’t sleep at all.
Almost a decade later, Ranboo watches the stars from his bedroom window, and he wonders if God hates him.
Almost a decade later, everything is still Ranboo’s fault.