Chapter Text
On Friday, November 15th, at approximately 9:18 PM, Quackity Heych-Qui, a twenty one year old man, left his ex-boyfriend J Schlatt’s house with nothing aside from his car keys, his phone, and his wallet. He appeared to be in a state of distress, but regardless, proceeded to drive approximately 29 miles while abiding by local speed laws to his other ex-boyfriend’s house. This man, named Karl Jacobs, had met Heych-Qui in college and engaged in a relationship with him and another individual for three months. Jacobs accepted Heych-Qui into his house, and he proceeded to sleep over for approximately a day and a half.
At around midday on Saturday, November 16th, Heych-Qui had an argument with Jacobs. At 1:19 PM, he was kicked out of Jacobs’ house and proceeded to drive around aimlessly for an hour. At 2:39 PM, he arrived at his own apartment for the first time in a week and proceeded to remain here, studying and intermittently napping until, upon a self-reported impulse, calling his most recent ex boyfriend, a twenty two year old named Wilbur Soot who he had broken up with in October. Soot did not answer any of Heych-Qui’s seventeen calls, nor did he reply to his twenty three messages.
Heych-Qui studied more from 5:08-5:59 until he exited his apartment and decided to drive back to Schlatt’s household. He arrived at around 6:11 PM, still abiding by the city-enforced speed limit, and entered the household casually. He reported not feeling a strong need to check on his ex-boyfriend immediately, since his bedroom door had been closed when Heych-Qui entered the location and he viewed this as him either being asleep or occupied doing something else privately.
Heych-Qui proceeded to enter a guest bedroom and change into pajamas. He was going to the kitchen to make them both microwave mac and cheese for dinner when he heard a loud sound from inside Schlatt’s bedroom. Concerned, Heych-Qui knocked on the door twice before ultimately deciding to open the door.
There, he discovered Schlatt’s body. He had been consuming large quantities of alcohol and began to suffer a heart attack. It can be assumed that he continued to drink despite his symptoms until he began to throw up, due to the disarray of his room and the recently broken bottle beside him. By the time Heych-Qui entered the room, at 6:18 PM, Schlatt was dead. It is not clear how long he had been experiencing a heart attack, as the last person to have spoken to Schlatt was a former associate of his by the name of Connor on Friday, November 15th, in a brief phone call from 11:14-11:16, in which he was found to be behaving normally and exhibiting no symptoms of drunkenness.
Heych-Qui used Schlatt’s phone to call the police at 6:20 PM. Additionally, he used his own phone to call Tubbo Underscore, who he would later tell police is his brother. Records indicate that Quackity is not biologically related to Underscore, but that Underscore was the biological first cousin of Schlatt, and Schlatt was considered his legal guardian during the time of Quackity and Schlatt’s relationship. Underscore did not answer either of Heych-Qui’s two calls, and so he called Soot, who answered his third call at 6:27 PM. During this phone call, Heych-Qui repeatedly asked to speak to Underscore, as Soot was in the same house as Tubbo at the time of Schlatt’s death. At around 6:29 PM, Heych-Qui was able to speak to Underscore, where he reported Schlatt’s death to him. At 6:31 PM, the phone was returned to Soot. The dispatchers arrived at Schlatt’s place of residence at 6:32 PM, where Heych-Qui hung up on Soot.
Schlatt was taken into the ambulance at 6:34 PM. Heych-Qui rejected the offer to ride in the ambulance, instead answering questions until the police had dismissed him to continue their investigation at the scene. He left the house at 6:49 PM and drove to Soot’s residence, where he lives with his father and two adopted brothers, as well as where Underscore was staying at the time of Schlatt’s death. At 7:14 PM, he arrived.
At 8:07 PM, Heych-Qui received a call from the hospital requesting his presence as the emergency contact on all of Schlatt’s paperwork. He went to the hospital in his car with Soot driving, and arrived at 8:34 PM. Soot did not comply with the local speed limit, and had spent a majority of the drive and some time prior calling a close friend of his. They were finally allowed into the hospital room at 8:56 PM, where they were then informed that Schlatt was pronounced dead.
Heych-Qui and Soot left the hospital at 9:24 PM to return to Schlatt’s place of residence, where they stayed until 10:19 PM. At 10:19 PM, Soot drove Heych-Qui to his apartment and proceeded to spend the night there with him.
Heych-Qui is officially designated to be the executor of Schlatt’s will, and has thereby taken the responsibility of organizing Schlatt’s funeral. Further details withheld.
-
The night after J Schlatt’s death, his cousin goes up to his temporary bedroom in the attic of his best friend’s house and tries to sleep for what is possibly the last night he will be allowed there.
Tubbo understands that the legality behind his living situation had been precariously banking on Schlatt’s survival until Tubbo turned eighteen. After Schlatt’s father left when Schlatt was sixteen, he had been legally designated as Tubbo’s guardian, meaning that Tubbo’s guardian was not exactly the most caring of people (though, admittedly, that had still applied when he was under Schlatt’s dad’s care).
The truth of it is that if Tubbo disappeared to live with Tommy, well, that could all be technically considered a sleepover. If Tubbo was referred to with familial terms by Tommy’s family, those were all terms of endearment and nothing more . Nobody would bat a second eye, and Schlatt certainly didn’t care. Schlatt’s neglect is what drew Tubbo to leave his house, but ultimately, his survival was the only thing that kept Tubbo from being forced to return.
Now that Schlatt’s dead, it puts Tubbo in a strange situation. One that Quackity and Philza had been discussing intently the night before, while Tommy tried to convince Tubbo to eat dinner.
Quackity could become Tubbo’s legal guardian, but they have no legal tie connecting them, since Quackity was not engaged nor married to Schlatt. And there’s also the fact that Quackity is a college student and broke that throws the idea out of the question, even if Quackity seems to still think there’s a chance for it. Philza could go through the legal adoption process of Tubbo, too, but he is already a single father of three kids, and while Child Protective Services would certainly find Philza a more legitimate candidate to Quackity for adoption, it would still be a painful task, and one that Tubbo thinks nobody would want to take on.
Because even if it’s more plausible for Phil to take him in than Quackity, Quackity understands him in a way Phil doesn’t. Quackity would still have him even with all his fuck ups, but Phil doesn’t even know they exist . Still, surely he has some disdain for the idea of officially taking in someone like Tubbo as his son, even if Tubbo’s awfulness isn’t all that brazen, because Tubbo knows that it seeps in, just a bit, into everything he does.
So both ideas are out.
The third option is the most likely one: Tubbo gets put into the system, and he floats between places until July 7th, where he would be removed and then become a legal adult. He would pull together all the money he’s saved to get an apartment, or maybe beg Tommy and Quackity again to live with them, and he would carry on with his life.
It’s the most likely option, but it’s not confirmed. Nothing has been decided at all. Nobody is giving him a concrete answer.
And so Tubbo didn’t eat his dinner and Wilbur kissed his forehead before driving Quackity to the hospital, and Tubbo went to his room that won’t be his for much longer, and he told Tommy he would sleep and proceeded to lay in bed soundlessly for hours.
At some point, he remembers texting Ranboo once Quackity and Wilbur left. He felt guilty lying to Ranboo about how he was doing, but the lies came easier to him than the truth, and it’s not Ranboo’s responsibility to help, anyway. Tubbo had meant it when he told Ranboo that he didn’t deserve to have to deal with this bullshit. Tubbo would rather die than purposefully drag him into it.
After all of that, Tubbo just kept laying in bed. Mind drifting from question to question– and Tubbo’s not an anxious person by nature, he’s honestly rather grounded, but trying to logic the situation out only made it worse. But he couldn’t stop. Not the night after everything, and not now, a day later.
It’s clear to him that Quackity will give him whatever has been assigned for him in Schlatt’s will, and Tubbo will move out of Phil’s place into the system, and honestly, knowing Tommy and Techno’s stories about that place, he might not even be in the same school or area. So, he’ll have to move away, and he’ll just linger, and God, he doesn’t even fucking have a driver’s license or anything to his name, and what if they aren’t nice or don’t have the things Tubbo needs, like a window and a ‘secret’ stash of alcohol and and and
Tubbo can’t sleep.
It’s pathetic, honestly. He’s seventeen years old, he should be able to sleep, he should be able to shut his eyes and count sheep or whatever the hell and sleep.
But it’s never easy to sleep. And Tubbo’s scared that in the morning he’ll wake up and be somewhere else, even if that’s irrational. And Tubbo’s scared this will all be a dream and for better and worse, Schlatt will still be here. And Tubbo’s uncomfortable and still dressed in the clothes he wore earlier after Phil forced him to get some fresh air after dinner, meaning that his binder is on, too, and- shit, he should take that off.
He gets up and immediately feels dizzy, having to stabilize himself on his nightstand for a minute until he’s able to make it to his dresser. He puts on a pair of shorts even though it’s freezing outside and, with some difficulty, takes off his shirt and binder. He throws a hoodie over his torso, trying to avoid looking at it too hard, and leaves the rest of his clothes on the floor. Laundry be damned. He can handle that later. If he’s even here by then.
If he’s even here by then. God, Tubbo doesn’t want to fucking sleep.
Or maybe he just doesn’t want to be alone.
And with that stupid, selfish, pathetic thought, as stupid and selfish and pathetic as one can get, more than he even was when he was a kid, he leaves his room and walks down the hallway as quietly as possible. Because back when he and Tommy were fourteen, after Tubbo got his own room but before they got too much older, if one of them had a nightmare, they would go to the other’s room and sleep in the bed with them. He just hopes that Tommy remembers that, that Tommy won’t get mad.
But to be fair, it’s kind of a stupid thing for Tubbo to be doing three years after they let that habit die.
He reaches Tommy’s door and pushes it open, trying to be silent so he can sneak into his bed and Tommy would be too kind to kick him out by the morning.
Surprisingly, Tommy’s awake.
He’s laying on his bed, pillow in his lap with his hands holding his rosary. He’s breathing very deeply, and his eyes are closed until Tubbo walks in. He’s never been the best at focusing fully when he prays, and so the second he hears the door move, he looks up and shoves both the pillow and rosary away, giving Tubbo a clearly fake smile. “Hey, man. Couldn’t sleep?”
Tubbo frowns, nodding before whispering, “You okay?” Tommy’s always been pious, but he doesn’t usually pray this late unless something is going on. And maybe he’s praying about all the shit that just happened, but there’s something on his face that makes Tubbo think there’s more to it.
Tommy pauses, expression faltering before he gives up and lets it fall apart. He moves the things to their rightful places, much more delicate, and says, “I’ll be fine. Big Man Tommy always is. You’re the one I’m worried about, man, you’ve had- you’ve had a rough night. Nights. Days. Yeah.”
“Mm.” Tubbo wishes he could be the one comforting Tommy right now. It’s always so much easier, being the one to help out. He hates that now, everyone thinks he’s the one who needs reassurance. But, it’s not like he’s helping matters, is he, by telling Tommy things like, “I can’t sleep.”
“C’mere, man,” Tommy replies, scooting over and patting the spot on the bed beside him.
Tommy yawns as Tubbo lays down in the bed, seemingly having completely given up the farce of trying to act pulled together. It’s mutual, because Tubbo is exhausted too, and after everything that’s happened, both of them are stuck in the dance of having so much to say but not wanting to be the first to say it. Which fucking sucks when it’s with Tommy, because Tubbo always sees him as the first to open up, but now Tubbo’s laying on his bed and all Tommy is showing is tiredness and pity, and neither of them are going to say anything at all.
But the time to tell each other things is running out, and Tubbo knows that but is still unwilling to spill out all his shit. Tubbo is seconds away from never being able to see Tommy again after six years of friendship, three years of living together, but he’s a lifetime away from ever looking into his best friend’s eyes and telling him the truth of why the two of them got close in the first place.
There’s so much Tubbo has to tell him before he has to go, and he should have been prepared for this, but it’s so much easier to shoplift supplies for a future runaway than think of what you’re going to do when you have to say goodbye. It’s so much easier to plan for a possible runaway than know you won’t have that choice. And fuck , Tubbo has no idea how he’s going to say goodbye, if he even has the chance - and all of his hellos were so fucked up, so how is he even going to say goodbye when there was never any opening to all of this, just his rough intrusion in spaces that didn’t matter, now the rough expulsion of it, and- and -
“Tubbo,” Tommy says quietly, and Tubbo shoves his thoughts down because Tommy looks hurt, bothered by whatever had been upsetting him when Tubbo walked in. Tubbo knows he shouldn’t ask, but he wonders if Tommy’s worried about the same thing he is. He won’t ask, though. He won’t. “Shut your eyes and try to get some zzs, yeah? I’m gonna be sleeping right beside you, alright? If some wrong’en tries to break in, I’ll snap awake and stab ‘im, alright?”
And Tubbo wants to believe him. Tubbo wants to believe that Tommy will be right there, that he won’t let anything happen, but Tubbo is far away from the stash underneath his floorboard, now, and he’s in no condition to run away anytime soon even if he wants to believe he still can. If he’s forced out, it won’t be on his terms, and how does he know that he’s not leaving tonight?
Tommy is a bad liar, and he hates lying to Tubbo, Tubbo knows that.
But years ago, before Tubbo moved in, Tommy had lied to everyone he knew. And Tubbo gets it, he does, it’s the same reason why he hasn’t told- still, even, hasn’t told anybody about Schlatt. But… regardless, Tommy became a pretty good liar, then.
And even if the circumstances are different, even if Tommy isn’t being hurt anymore, even if Tommy shouldn’t have anything to hide from Tubbo now, he still… he still thinks that maybe, if Tommy had to, he could lie to Tubbo about what happens once the orphan status catches up to him once again.
Despite knowing this, despite knowing Tommy could lie, he doesn’t want to believe that. He wants to trust Tommy.
Because what the fuck does he have left if he doesn’t even trust Tommy?
Tubbo wants to leave this as another unspoken topic between the two for the night, but he knows he’s not going to sleep if he doesn’t have an answer, truthful or not. And there are better things for Tubbo to do than watch his best friend pray over a rosary over something that Tubbo hasn’t even figured out yet.
With a tired mumble willed quieter so he hates himself less for it by the morning, he gives in and asks, “Are you kicking me out tomorrow?”
And he holds his breath.
He doesn’t have to hold it very long, though. Because Tommy, in all his kindness and optimism and loyalty, doesn’t hesitate before shaking his head and replying, “Fuck no!” His voice comes out too loud, and at Tubbo wincing from the volume, he softens it. “ Fuck no,” he repeats, “I’m not letting anybody take you away. Big Man Phil won’t let anyone do it, either, and neither will Techno or Wil.”
Tommy doesn’t know that. Tommy doesn’t know that and he can’t promise Tubbo jack shit, but he still looks at Tubbo with those soft eyes, damn him, and says, “I don’t know what’s going on, Tubbo, I’ll be honest. I really fucking wish I knew what was going on with you, even though I kinda figured out I wouldn’t know jackshit- that’s irrelevant. I have no fucking clue what’s happening. But… you’re with us, yeah? You’re my brother, Tubbo. And I won’t let them take you away.”
When Tommy falls quiet after his earnest promise, Tubbo closes his eyes. He knows that Tommy can’t promise anything, he knows that everything he just said will get corrected tomorrow, when Tommy’s idealism is faced with the legality behind Tubbo’s entire fucking existence. When Tommy has to realize that Tubbo is cursed to constantly be passed from guardian to guardian, and there’s no reason he would stay here anymore. When Tommy goes into his room and looks under the floorboards and he sees… he sees everything.
For now, though, Tubbo is so, so fucking exhausted. And Tommy’s bed is warm, and Tommy himself is warm, and he can hear Tommy laying down. And Tubbo’s legs are curled up to his chest, and Tommy tucks the blankets over him.
And Tubbo falls asleep, dreaming of nothing but heaviness.
-
When Tubbo wakes up… he still feels exhausted.
The sun is coming through the windows and Tommy… isn’t there… and Tubbo can hear laughter from downstairs. So it must be… sort of midday or something. They’re all eating. Or… something like that.
… Tubbo’s not hungry, though. And Tubbo doesn’t want to go downstairs. Maybe they’ll forget he’s up here… maybe he can stay.
Whiskers is here, he thinks. He can hear a cat meowing. Whiskers been with him for… a long time. A bad consolation prize after… yeah… he doesn’t want to move.
So he goes… back to sleep… again…
-
And again. And again. And… and again.
He gets like this, sometimes. He wonders why he always does this. Sleep for forever, disconnect, repeat repeat repeat. But he hates every answer he gets to his question, so he’s stopped asking.
… He just keeps sleeping, instead.
-
The sun is gone when Tubbo wakes up for the fourth time, but Tommy’s back, which matters more.
He’s sitting on his desk working on some homework, probably, when Tubbo, despite still being exhausted, pushes himself up and tiredly mumbles, “Tommy?”
Tommy immediately turns to look at him, eyes widening. A grin crosses his face for a split second, but it quickly dampens to something more somber as he replies, “Holy shit, big guy, you’ve been asleep for… for basically three days now, yeah.”
Tubbo furrows his eyebrows. “No shot, I only woke up four times? And nobody was there so… wouldn’t I be, y’know. Not doing too well if that was the case?”
“You woke up way more times than that, king,” Tommy tells him. “We were… someone was there most of the time. Usually it was me or Techno or something. You seemed super tired, but we like, got you to eat and shit. You didn’t wanna go downstairs for whatever reason, so.”
Maybe Tubbo doesn’t remember that, then. Just the times where he was alone with Whiskers.
Good on his fucking brain for torturing him like that. As if he needs it.
On the bright side, though, he’s still at Tommy’s place. He hasn’t been transferred or kicked out or anything– he’s still in Tommy’s bed, on the same side of the bed he slept on, in the same clothes and everything. And Techno is here, and so are the rest of them. They’re here.
Maybe they’re waiting until the funeral to kick him out. Maybe it’s too early to have hope.
But he really, really hopes that maybe, maybe this means he can stay. Blame it on the early morning optimism.
“Do you think you’re up for moving?” Tommy asks. “You’ve- you’ve still been in bed, y’know, the past few days. I really- I really think you should walk around, man. I can come with you if you want?”
“No, I-” Tubbo sighs, cutting himself off and going to stand up. Should at least prove he can get up before making any promises. It takes a second, but once he feels stable, he finishes, “I can move, yeah. I should- I should head back to my room. Sorry I stole your bed for so long.”
“You could take the whole thing if you needed it,” Tommy says immediately. “I mean it. I don’t care, I just- y’know, Wil said that with depression- sorry, no- Wil said that with this, uh, this kind of stuff, it’s good to move around. So, yeah. He also…” Now Tommy’s the one pausing, a look of confliction across his face. It takes him a minute or so, one that Tubbo sits down for, since idle standing still doesn’t feel great, before Tommy finally starts talking again. “It’s Tuesday, now, and, y’know. I- Ranboo is worried about you.”
Shit . Tubbo hadn’t thought about Ranboo.
“I sort of explained to our friends, y’know, that, uh- that you were dealing with some stuff.” Tommy probably didn’t specify that this meant grief. Tubbo is so fucking grateful for him. “But- but Ranboo was here. And we, uh, we haven’t actually talked much-” Tubbo frowns, but Tommy brushes by it quickly, and Tubbo’s in no state to press, “-just like, one time. Where he asked me if you were okay. So I- yeah, think you should call him. If you’re chill with it, of course, but I… I know he helps.”
Tommy glances down at his worksheet before looking at Tubbo again. Clearly there’s distress, something happening between Tommy and Ranboo, but Tubbo doesn’t know what it is. He hopes that maybe in a few days, Tommy can tell him. He trusts Ranboo, but he’d… he’d like to hear it from Tommy first, he thinks.
Tubbo knows, though, that no matter what the answers to their issues are, he can’t handle hearing about it today. So, he just says, voice sort of gentle, “Yeah, I’ll call him. Are…” That’s a stupid question. Tubbo knows Tommy is upset. “I… I’m not upsetting you, right?”
Tommy blinks, then sighs. “I’m not upset, Tubbo,” he lies, his signature tension making it obvious.
“You are,” Tubbo argues. “And that’s okay, just… am I making it worse?”
Tommy stares at Tubbo for a long time before shaking his head. And Tubbo believes, this time, Tommy’s telling the truth.
“Okay,” Tubbo breathes out. “Okay. I’m gonna- yeah.”
“Love you,” Tommy tells Tubbo before he can leave the room.
Tubbo tries to muster a smile, but fails. He at least tries to give Tommy a soft look as he replies, “You too.”
Then, he steps out the door to leave Tommy to his work, and he walks down to his bedroom.
His phone is 100% charged, which probably means someone came in to make sure it wasn’t still dead while he was asleep. Tubbo had charged it a bit when he texted Ranboo after he left, but regardless, someone made sure it was all set. It seems like a Techno detail to pick up on; Tubbo needs to thank him for that later.
The clock on the phone says it's 6 PM, so the sun probably just set only a little ago. Ranboo is probably doing the same at Tommy and is busy with homework, but Tubbo still calls him, planning to apologize for interrupting his work once he picks up.
Before he can get a chance to, and before the poor phone can even ring once, Ranboo answers, and his voice comes in immediately. “Tubbo?” he asks, and damn him, he sounds so fucking nervous. This is Tubbo’s best friend who literally saw him at his lowest and then immediately proceeded to hear nothing back from him for the next three days. He must have been terrified.
“It’s me, bossman,” Tubbo replies quietly. “Sorry I didn’t call, I-”
“Don’t apologize,” Ranboo interrupts, and Tubbo can’t tell if he seems relieved or more stressed now. “You- you had a lot going on, it’s okay. Is- is everything okay? Did you need something? I’m- I’m free right now, not doing anything, Niki has Springerle, if you need something I can do it, promise.”
Tubbo half-wants to ask Ranboo to come over, so that he can run his fingers through his hair again, and Tubbo’s less panicked, now, so a hug would be fine. He- he kind of really wants Ranboo here, just for the comfort of it. But, he has to consider Tommy, and he has to consider that Ranboo might get more stressed by that. It’s not all about Tubbo. He can’t be selfish.
Plus, he… he doesn’t want Ranboo to see him all fucked up, still. And that fear sort of outweighs how much he would really like a hug at the minute.
“I don’t need anything,” is what he tells Ranboo. It’s the truth, honestly. And he doesn’t regret saying it immediately after, so it’s probably the best choice. “I just wanted to call. I haven’t talked to you in a bit, I’m- I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay, please don’t worry,” Ranboo repeats. “I- I was going to, actually, um. Swing by in a few days and drop off your- your homework and some desserts and stuff.”
“Did we even have a lot of homework in English and Film Studies?” Tubbo asks.
“Not really, but, uh. I think you did in some other classes,” Ranboo explains, but quickly jumps into reassurance soon after. “Don’t worry, I’ve- I’ve gone and asked the teachers and everything after school, and I can definitely help you with all of it, and, uh, I can probably do most of it for you. I don’t really think they expect you to do much of it, anyway, though your, um, your Calc teacher is a lot scarier than mine, for some reason. I dunno what his problem is, but he was not too keen on me. Anyway, you don’t- you don’t have to do the work, I just thought, uh. Maybe it’d be a good distraction?”
Ranboo had gone to all of his teachers every day after school to make sure he didn't get behind on work. He offered to help him with it and even do some of it, and he- Ranboo, anxious and socially shy and usually rushing to leave school early and take photographs, stayed behind to get him work. And is coming over to bring him desserts. Even though Tubbo went literal days without calling him, leaving him in the dark.
Tubbo thinks he would do anything for Ranboo, actually. Literally fucking anything.
He’s in debt to him about a million times over.
The silence across must be getting a little strained, since Tubbo can hear Ranboo rustling a little restlessly on the other end, so he cuts in to say, “Okay. That- that sounds good, yeah. I- how has everything, uh. How has it been?”
“It’s been- it’s been alright. I, well. I missed you quite a bit, actually,” Ranboo admits, and Tubbo finds himself smiling. It’s a sad smile, because Tubbo’s kind of… not sad, but in a weird mood, but still. It’s a smile. “We, uh. We watched another movie in Film Studies, it- it wasn’t great. It was not a good movie, actually. Um, Niki’s home right now and might, uh, either stay a bit or take Springerle to Puffy’s place, because Puffy’s allergic but Niki really missed Springerle a lot.”
“I can’t believe Niki’s revoking your cat rights,” Tubbo huffs. Speaking of, where is Whiskers? He’s missing his own cat right about now.
(Is he even going to get to keep her?)
Ranboo laughs quietly. “Yeah, it’s, uh. It’s pretty fair of her, I guess. We, uh, she’s been doing stuff for the bakery, but she let me have some supplies and everything, so I’ve been baking. She’s helped too, so, it’s not going to taste bad or anything, don’t worry. I made some chocolate chip cookies, a few lemon squares, and some muffins, both chocolate and banana, since I remember that you, uh. You ordered a banana muffin at the bakery that one time, right?”
Tubbo squints. “Did I?”
“Yeah, I, uh. That was when we first really talked, I- I remembered that.” Ranboo laughs awkwardly, and god dammit, Tubbo really likes him. “Anyway, I, uh. Made all of that. So… I’ll be around whenever, I can drop it off any time, I was going to wait until Friday so I had all the homework but I didn’t know when you, uh. When you were going to return to school?”
That’s a good question, actually. “I have no idea. You can, uh. You can probably drop it off Friday, yeah. That works with us, I think.”
“Okay, sick.” There’s another rustling sound, and then Ranboo asks, voice a little quieter than before. “I- I hate to push or anything, but, uh. Are you doing okay?”
It’s a lot fucking easier to lie over text, is the thing. It’s a lot easier just to say that he’s fine when he can’t hear Ranboo’s voice so clearly, because he knows that Ranboo’s been wondering this, Tubbo can literally hear that. When he lied to him over text, he didn’t know that Ranboo would pick up his call as soon as he got it, that Ranboo was thinking about the time they first met to make him muffins, that Ranboo was doing all of this shit for him without being asked to.
Ranboo deserves the truth. But, he doesn’t deserve to be dragged into this shit, either. So Tubbo doesn’t know what to say, whether he should lie or give in and tell the truth. He doesn’t know.
He forgets one good thing about phone calls, though. Ranboo’s a very perceptive person, scarily sometimes, and when Tubbo falls into silence at the question, Ranboo’s awkwardness caves and he softly speaks again. “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer. It’s- it’s difficult.”
Unimaginably difficult. And Tubbo wants to tell him so, so bad. But, Ranboo won’t hate him if he holds information back, and Tubbo appreciates that. Because Ranboo would hate him, after all, if he said the whole truth now.
He swears to himself that he’ll open up to Ranboo at some point, and give him the answers he deserves. But, that all depends on the living situation, he guesses. It all fucking tracks back to that, doesn’t it?
Tubbo’s in a bind; he needs to remember that it’s not about what he wants to do anymore.
“I should go,” Tubbo says abruptly, swallowing back his guilt. “Sorry. I’ll- I’ll be at school next week, I bet, just- I, yeah. I need to go.”
Having to handle the thought that he might never see Tommy again is already more painful than anything Schlatt did to him while alive. Realizing on top of that that he may not see Ranboo anymore twists the knife further.
Maybe Ranboo would still drive to see him, wherever he ends up. But- but it wouldn’t work out in the long-term. And after a while, only one of them would still be willing to do it, and it’s not the one putting in the effort for shitty little visits away from his house.
Tubbo has to give up on the idea that he’s not overly dependent on everyone around him. It’s pathetic, and he really wishes that he wasn’t so fucking clingy, but he is. And he always has been. He’s been sleeping in Tommy’s bed for days because he can’t face the emptiness of his room alone, and he’s tearing up for the first time since he found out Schlatt was dead at the thought that Ranboo might leave him.
“You’ll be there, right?” Tubbo asks, and he wishes he was texting Ranboo because he missed the other’s voice but dammit, Ranboo is perceptive and he’ll hear how strained Tubbo sounds right now, won’t he? “You’ll- you’ll be there?”
“I’ll be anywhere you need me to be.”
And Tubbo can’t fucking lose Ranboo.
“Okay. Sorry, I- yeah, okay.” Tubbo needs to go. He feels sort of like he needs to sob his entire chest out. “I- yeah. Sorry, I’ll call you later, yeah?”
“Mhm mhm!” Ranboo affirms. “I’ll drop off the stuff Friday, but you really can text me and call me whenever. Even if I’m asleep just, like, spam my phone. I’m a light sleeper and I leave it on vibrate at night, now, so if you do it enough times I’ll hear you.”
Tubbo nods. “I’ll remember that. Thank you, man, seriously. I’ll talk to you soon, yeah? Take- take care of yourself too.”
“Will do! Bye, Tubbo!”
It’s unreasonably nice, hearing him say his name without it being lined with pity or anything. “Bye, Boo.”
Ranboo hangs up, and Tubbo drops his phone on the bed and tucks his knees up to his chest, burying his face in his hands.
It’s selfish. Surely, it’s incredibly selfish to even- to even think like this. Regardless of how shitty Schlatt was to Tubbo in his later years, that’s still a whole human person, and he was there for Tubbo when they were younger, and he- he wasn’t always bad. And nobody deserves to fucking go out like that, to drink himself into a heart attack and die alone. Nobody deserves that at all.
But, the part that distresses him more than Schlatt is everyone else. And that’s selfish, but, he just- Schlatt allowed him to keep everything. And maybe, somewhere in his fucked up brain that Tubbo got too, he knew that. Maybe he knew that Tubbo hated him, maybe he knew that Tubbo needed to go somewhere else. Maybe he knew until his dying breath that Tommy’s family was more his than Schlatt ever was. Maybe that’s why he pushed Tubbo to the brink, maybe that’s why he never called or reached out much or anything.
So maybe it’s fine. Surely it’s fine to be a little selfish? Tubbo just- he doesn’t want to go. The system will eat him alive; he’s not a good kid, he doesn’t want that. It’d be worse with Quackity– if Quackity takes him in, the two of them will destroy each other, and it’ll be one more thing Quackity has given up for him. And Phil-
Tubbo just wants it all to go back to the way it’s always been, the way that was always fine! He likes his sort-ofs and his not-reallys and all the shit he took for granted. He doesn’t want Phil to be his real dad, because that traps him here and he can’t- he’s not part of his family, he pretends and pretends and pretends but he’s not meant to be here. He can’t be here. If the system eats him alive and Quackity and Tubbo hurt each other, being adopted by Phil would make Tubbo destroy himself. He can’t be part of his family. It feels wrong.
He’s not going to let Phil take him in when he knows that Phil doesn’t want him, knows that it’s just a matter of convenience at the hand of a slightly sympathetic man, that neither of them deserve that because Tubbo is a cataclysmic pile of shit that composes itself into all his awful behaviors, and Phil has a family life that immediately got fucked up the second Tubbo entered it, and if Tubbo is adopted, what then? Does everything fall apart? Does Wilbur disappear again and Techno disattach again and Tommy get- Tommy get-
Maybe it’s time to start considering the floorboard plan. He can’t- he can’t bear himself to look, but surely he could get kind of far? It’d kill him not to tell Tommy where he is, and he knows that Phil and Quackity would go to the ends of the earth to find him. And- and he doesn’t want to lie to Ranboo, either, but Ranboo would sell him out if he knew he had left. Because Ranboo is kind and Tommy is kind and Phil and Quackity and Wilbur and Techno are all kind, and Tubbo is trying to be kind. That’s why he’s running away– it’s an honorable act, but it’s not- it’s missing it’s honor, these days.
Tubbo doesn’t want to make this choice. Tubbo doesn’t want anyone else to make it for him.
He wants Schlatt back.
Tubbo will take the dirty mattresses on the floor. Tubbo will take the winters with the broken heating system and he will take the shitty holiday season and he will take the sick taste of alcohol and he will take the bruising and he will take Schlatt crying to him and he will take Schlatt saying under his breath over and over how could I have let this happen?
Because Schlatt and Quackity are the only two people who have understood him, who have known all his ugliness. And he knows that he and Quackity are different– Quackity is selfless and Tubbo is selfish and both are tired, but Quackity is giving up everything he has and Quackity can’t take it anymore and Tubbo doesn’t want to think like this but it- it wouldn’t be the first time he’s been worried about Quackity’s life, because he- Tubbo can’t imagine-
And the other person he knew was Schlatt, and he’s dead. And Quackity could be dead. And Tubbo would be next.
And would they even know? Would they- no, no, Tubbo knows they’d care. He knows that. He’s not actually suicidal and he’s not stupid either, he knows that it would destroy his- not his family, his- his kind-of family. He knows that Phil would never forgive himself and Techno would withdraw more and Wilbur would cry over him every day and Tommy-
Tommy-
No. Tubbo can’t be like Schlatt. He can’t do that to Tommy.
Tubbo doesn’t know what to do, though. He doesn’t know what to do. He can’t just accept what’s happening, not when he doesn’t know a single detail of it, not when he could lose everything for it. He has to do something, but there’s nothing he can do.
Tubbo moves out of his position, tears held in because he needs to teach himself to stop being a crybaby even when he’s alone.
He’s going to sleep. It’s the best thing he can do. It’s the only thing he can do. He can’t- he can’t handle any of this anymore. He can’t. Why does- why does he always have to handle it? He- he’s sick of this, he- he-
Tubbo shoves his face in a pillow to drown out his dry sob and tries to fall back asleep. He tosses and turns, considers calling Ranboo a hundred and one times just to ask the other to talk to him about aesthetics or stars or photography, but ultimately decides not to. Considers, an hour into the night, trying to get Tommy, because surely he’s awake, but he doesn’t do that either. He just tosses and turns, tosses and turns, because he cannot fucking sleep .
It has to be an eternity later (only a few hours, he knows rationally) before something breaks the monotony of the restless sleep.
It’s Tommy, cracking the door open, probably trying to check on him before bed. It’s a reversal of what happened earlier: Tommy, trying to sneak in quietly; Tubbo, being caught in doing something incriminating. The incriminating act of showing distress, the vulnerability of knowing that the other realizes it.
Tommy doesn’t speak. Maybe he knows that Tubbo is still holding back tears, that his eyes are sore from having done it for hours. Maybe he knows that there’s nothing he can say other than promises neither will believe. Maybe he’s just as tired as Tubbo is, and he’s struggling, and he can’t speak because what is there to say?
Instead, Tommy walks over to the bed. He goes to the side Tubbo is facing away from and gets under the covers. And then, gently, he wraps his arms around Tubbo, chin resting on top of his head.
“Tommy,” Tubbo whispers, but Tommy shushes him.
“It’s okay,” Tommy tells him, and he sounds close to tears, too. “It’s okay. You can sleep, I’m right here. It’s- you can sleep, Tubbo.”
And there’s nothing Tubbo can say to that.
All he can do, really, is close his eyes, ignore the quiet sounds of his almost-brother sobbing, and fall back asleep.
-
Friday comes by faster than Tubbo expected.
He wakes up in the morning to the familiar sound of a voice downstairs, accompanied by the sharp movement of the front door opening. His eyes blink open as he overhears Ranboo speaking to Techno and Phil downstairs– Techno and Phil seem to be laughing, Ranboo not so much.
Tubbo’s torn between going down there to see him and staying upstairs. On one hand, he literally just fucking woke up, and he doesn’t know how much he can say to Ranboo, seeing as a phone call with him was enough to make Tubbo almost break down. On the other hand, it’s been almost an entire week since Schlatt died, and Tubbo is still miserable, and he doesn’t know when he’s going to go back to school.
Because Tubbo is miserable. He doesn’t get grief, really, because he hasn’t passed through the stages of grief or anything like that. If Tommy’s slip up a few days ago meant anything, maybe he’s actually depressed, but it doesn’t really feel like that. It’s ‘grief’, definitely, but nothing on the linear sequence of stages or anything. It’s just fucking misery. His body is tired and always aching a little, and everything sets him off, and he just wants to sleep all day, and he wants to go to school again to have something to distract him but he can’t bring himself to.
Maybe after the funeral, he’ll have a reset. But he has no idea when that’s meant to be. And he’s not so sure it works like that, anyway. He doesn’t think even Schlatt’s dead body in the ground away from him could take away everything the two of them were and everything that it’s done to Tubbo.
He hears the front door shut after a few minutes, and it’s followed soon after by the sound of Techno coming up the stairs. Techno knocks on Tubbo’s door, even though nobody else really does these days, and Tubbo calls out with sleep still thick in his voice, “‘S open.”
Techno nudges the door open with his elbow, carrying a plate in his hands. It’s holding a banana muffin, two chocolate chip cookies, and a lemon square.
“Look, I know you’re not a big fan of lemon squares, ‘cause you’re a nerd,” Techno starts off. Tubbo honestly hasn’t had too many heart to hearts with Techno over the years (or, like, any at all) but, truth be told, Techno’s pretty good at distracting Tubbo from his grief. He’s not good with comfort, really, but he’s funny, and he’s calm, and he doesn’t treat Tubbo like a landmine. “But, like, Ranboo and Niki are good at this, ‘cause they’re kinda bakers . Give it a shot.”
“I’ll force Tommy to eat it,” Tubbo replies, finding his voice rough. He usually likes his voice in the morning, because it’s deeper than normal and he wishes his voice was always like that, but right now it just kind of sounds bad.
Techno, thankfully, makes no comment. “Alright, man, but you’re missin’ out, I swear. Anyway, here’s some of the stuff. We kept the rest in the fridge, but this is for you. And, uh, Tommy I guess, wherever he is.”
“Speak of the devil,” Tommy says about himself and his sudden appearance at Tubbo’s door. Which is not how that phrase works, nor does Tubbo know why he’s there suddenly, but he just does that, Tubbo guesses.
Tommy closes the door behind him and sits on the edge of Tubbo’s bed. “Where’d we get all of this?” Tommy asks, eyes shining.
“Ranboo,” Techno answers flatly.
Tommy’s face falls, and he frowns for a second before saying, “Oh. Yeah, Ranboo. Cool.”
Tubbo focuses on the desserts. He likes Ranboo and he likes Tommy, but he’s not- he can’t sort through their interpersonal bullshit yet. Not now.
“Stuff for you two,” Techno reinforces, ignoring the sudden tension from Tommy. He definitely registered it at least somewhat, though, because he proceeds to be pretty careful about not saying Ranboo’s name again. “Tellin’ you, Tommy, try the lemon squares. Niki makes them really great.”
“I’d rather die,” Tommy argues. “Fuckin’- lemon square are for old people, Techno. You’re getting so, so old.”
Techno blinks. “I’m really not, man. I’m closer to seventeen than I am to thirty, think that says somethin’.”
Tommy frowns, but it’s not a genuine one like before, Tubbo knows. It’s a joking one. It’s not easy to tell, though, with Tommy’s already tired face co-existing with it. “That is cursed, Techno. That is really awful, and I hate you.”
“Alright, that’s enough Tommy for the day,” Techno decides, ignoring Tommy’s noise of complaint. “I’ll have the lemon square, then. Tommy, make sure Tubbo gets to eat somethin’. See you tomorrow.”
Tommy laughs. “‘See you tomorrow?’ Technoblade, you live in the same house as us. You are like a brother to me. We are brothers. We live together.”
“That’s true.” Techno agrees in a monotone. “Me and Wilbur are gonna drive around a bit. I figure we’ll get back, uh, a bit late, so I thought you’d be asleep. My bad. Didn’t mean to be ominous. Or, uh, invalidate our legal familial bond.”
“Can I come with?” Tommy’s pleading eyes aren’t really working too well right now, but Tubbo doesn’t figure they’d change Techno’s answer, anyway.
That answer being a definitive headshake. “Nah, we kinda- we kinda need to talk, the two of us.”
“Lame,” Tommy complains. “Me and Tubbo will talk about big things. Like crime.”
And fuck, fuck, that would be great, because Tubbo loves crime, but Tubbo can’t do that bit with Tommy right now. Between Schlatt’s death and Tubbo’s convoluted feelings about it and Tubbo maybe getting kicked out soon and everything going on with Tommy, his almost-brother who he loves fiercely, and Ranboo, his best friend who he really likes, Tubbo can’t hold up the age-old bit about the two of them committing tax evasion.
“Actually,” and he hates how his voice comes out strangled, still, because Tommy and Techno both turn to look at him. Techno with a neutral expression, Tommy with a concerned one. Tubbo swallows and manages to say, voice a little more even, “I- I kind of want to be alone? I’ll just… I’ll take one of the chocolate chip cookies, but I- yeah. Sorry.”
“Oh, no, that’s fine, man,” Tommy reassures, grabbing a tissue to lay the chocolate chip cookie on. It would be easier if Tommy was upset. It would be so much easier. “I’ll go talk big things with the countless women I have in my room, don’t worry. We are conspiring. I will update you later, Tubbo.”
Tubbo cracks a small smile. “Thanks.”
Techno nods, grabbing the lemon square out of Tommy’s plate. “Alright, we’ll get outta your hair, then,” he tells Tubbo. “Have a nice night. Wilbur’s ringer is always on and he plays radio music pretty low, so. Actually, that’s a lie, he blasts it. Still, you- yeah, you get it. I’m gonna go now.”
Techno heads out without another word, and Tommy follows suit after giving Tubbo one more glance. A silent question of are you sure? Tubbo just nods, the kind that tells Tommy sort of, and Tommy nods back before leaving.
Then the door shuts, and Tubbo shoves the chocolate chip cookie to hold between his teeth, because it takes two hands to unlatch a window when both are shaky.
It takes a little more effort than usual, but Tubbo manages to heave his body onto the roof. He leaves his phone face up beside him and takes the cookie out of his mouth to have a proper bite.
… It’s a really stupid fucking sentiment, and he’s glad Tommy and Techno aren’t there to hear it, but it tastes like warmth. Not that it feels warm or anything, though it technically does, but it reminds Tubbo of warmth. Reminds him quite a bit of Ranboo, honestly.
Makes sense, he guesses, since Ranboo made them. But, unrelated, sort of, he guesses. A lot of guessing about a chocolate chip cookie, all in all.
He finishes eating the cookie quickly, leaning back once he does to stare at the sky. It’s cloudy, so most of the stars are hidden, but he can still see a few. No matter how murky the sky is, he can always find the brightest stars, and he can piece together Canis Major without too much trouble, so that’s kind of cool.
It’s calming, honestly. The stars above him, a cookie that reminds him of Ranboo and warmth, and his phone actually on beside him. It should be pretty comforting.
But… he still feels like shit, which is fine. He knows that’s not gonna go away for a while, maybe ever. There’s always been this empty hole inside him, desperate for affection and protection and safety, always gnawing and curling up in places and with people and clinging. It’s like a fucking black hole, taking the entire world inside him, yet he’s still empty. He’s never satisfied, he just- he just wants to be happy, and he has the cookie and the stars, great, but he’s never going to actually be happy . And that’s fine, because it has to be.
Tubbo can barely remember the days where Schlatt was happy. He knows there are a few, but they’re so small in number and from a long time ago, right after Schlatt got with Quackity and on the nights Schlatt’s dad was gone before he was really gone. After that, though? Schlatt was always sad and angry and guilty, but never happy.
Quackity’s happy moments are a little easier to remember, but Tubbo still knows that Quackity is sort of like Tubbo in this regard. He’s this- well, maybe not the black hole in the same way, but he’s still missing something. It’s apparent in everything he does, honestly, but it’s hard for Tubbo to sift through the times where he was genuinely happy, and the times where he laughed louder than anyone else just to hide.
Between the three of them, Tubbo is the happiest. He’s been happy a lot, honestly, he’s not a sad person.
But there’s still this vacancy, something he can’t tame. And it’ll haunt him until the day he dies. Which might be sooner rather than later.
Tubbo sighs. The stars are nice. The stars are nice, but it’s cold, and Tubbo wants to sleep. He could sleep out here, but Tommy would come by later and panic, and he wouldn’t be allowed on the roof again.
So, he climbs back into his room even though it makes him worse the second he’s in there, and he throws out his pajamas and swaps them for some new ones, so he can at least have some semblance of fake hygiene. He’d try and shower, too, but he might fall asleep there, and that’s- yeah, that’s too much.
He’s glad he didn’t see Ranboo, now. Tubbo must look like a fucking disaster– he usually doesn’t care about that stuff, but having missed showers for almost an entire week and gone an equally long time without his binder is not a good look, really.
Ranboo probably wouldn’t mind, though.
… Regardless.
Tubbo rests his head against his pillow and tries to cling onto the taste of the cookie as he falls asleep, dreams filled with stars, too tired to muster anything else.
(He wonders which stage of grief will make him see Schlatt, again. Even if it's a nightmare.)
-
When he wakes up, it’s a Saturday morning. He wishes it could just be that, nothing more and nothing less, but Saturdays are now Schlatt’s death day, and Tubbo hates his dead cousin for that.
Tubbo is on his way to take a shower for the first time in a week when he hears his phone ring. He picks it up, uncaring of the caller ID, some sick part of him already knowing who it's going to be.
And, he’s right.
For the first time since Schlatt died, Quackity calls Tubbo.
And he only says a single phrase.
It’s a Saturday morning when Tubbo learns that it’s been a week since Schlatt died, and the funeral is tomorrow.