Chapter Text
The last thing that Tubbo is expecting when he walks into Chemistry class, one he had full intentions of skipping in favor of persuading Ranboo to hang out, is Jack Manifold approaching him with a serious look on his face.
Generally speaking, Tubbo is pretty good at laughing off Jack Manifold’s serious looks, considering that any one of Jack’s facial expressions are amusing to him. Also, because Jack is simultaneously too serious and unable to take anything seriously, so interactions like these are to be expected.
Still, it’s been kind of a while since he’s seen him look like this specifically, with his eyes focused and his shoulders tensed up. Like he’s looking to pick a fight, and Tubbo would absolutely destroy Jack in a fight if that’s what he wanted– maybe what both of them need, but eh, Tubbo’s not gonna get suspended– but it looks less like it’s targeted at Tubbo and more targeted through Tubbo. Like there’s someone else he’s mad at, but he’s taking it up with Tubbo anyway.
Which is a long way to say that Jack and Tommy got into a stupid fight again, and Tubbo has to diffuse it.
“Hey, Jack Manifold,” Tubbo greets casually, sitting down at his desk even as Jack continues to stand. “You look awfully dark and brooding today.”
“Tubbo,” Jack says, almost through gritted teeth. Tubbo forgets how easily Jack gets angry and how intense that anger gets. It’s not like Tubbo’s going to give him shit for that bit specifically– the guy never asked to have anger issues, or any of the load of shit that caused them– and when he thinks about it, he can kind of see why Jack might come to him instead of going to Tommy directly. Tubbo’s got some pretty handy experience with diffusing people’s anger, considering that he’s never very angry himself, but basically everyone in his life feels it to a blinding degree.
Except maybe, like, Ranboo, though it’s not exactly like he’s ever seen him angry. He just seems too mellow for it. Red flag, maybe, who knows.
On that note, he should text Ranboo that he can’t hang out with him today. It’s not like they made plans, or that Ranboo even asked him to, but still. It’s the sentiment that counts.
… Or maybe not. Fuck it. Forget Ranboo for a second– a hard task–, he’s got an upset Jack Manifold on his hands.
“What’s up, man?” Tubbo starts, voice nice and light. “Bad day, or did something happen?”
“Oh, I’m doing fucking splendid, Tubbo,” Jack bites out sarcastically. “Fucking great. Best day of my goddamn life.”
Tubbo frowns. “That wasn’t one of the two options-”
“Yes, okay, something did happen.” Jack shoves his face in his hands and sits down, throwing his hands back out seconds later to latch into the edges of the desk. “Fine. You caught me.” It wasn’t particularly hard to ‘catch him’, but yeah, okay, fairs. “Something did happen. And you want to guess what it was?”
Tubbo doesn’t really need to guess on this one. “Yeah, Tommy pissed you off.”
Jack’s eyes narrow. “Did he tell you that?”
“No,” Tubbo says earnestly. “It’s just always something with Tommy whenever this happens.”
Jack lets out a frustrated sigh, raking his fingers over his face again. His nails aren’t long anymore, which is good– he grew them out once and that really sucked, more for Jack than Tubbo of course, but still. Hard to watch. At least he’s trimmed them this time.
“Fuck, dude,” he curses under his breath, and Tubbo is so tempted to make an innuendo about that before realizing that this is literally the worst time possible for that. In his defense, this is the fiftieth time he’s had to do it, and if he can’t make a joke about his questioning sexuality at least once, there’s hardly any point to helping.
Maybe next time.
“Fuckin’- okay, okay, look. ” Tubbo listens as Jack starts to explain, tuning out whatever the teacher is doing. They’ve got the favorite student perks, anyhow. “Tommy fuckin’- so I’m doing the whole, the whole computer thing, right? I flip ‘em. Build ‘em, then I flip ‘em and upcharge. It’s a business, Tubbo, I’m working on it, alright?”
“Didn’t know I was in company with such an important entrepreneur,” Tubbo jokes, but Jack just stares at him. “Sorry, continue.”
Jack sighs. “So. So I fuckin’- Tommy just- he just took a computer I was working on, man, like- like he- he kept pushing me to give it to ‘im, and I- I needed him to pay me something, but no, it’s Tommy’s fucking world, so he took it.”
“Did he take it?” Tubbo asks, just to clarify, “or did you give it to him?”
“I don’t fucking know what I was thinking-” so it’s the second one, then- “but I- I’m in shit with my dad, now, and- and fuck. ”
“Woah, woah, woah.” Okay. That’s a little more important than this whole Tommy thing. Tommy forgives quick, and Jack’s dad is a dick. Tommy’s also a dick, but Jack’s dad, from everything Tubbo’s heard from him, is, like, a dick dick. “Why’s your dad mad?”
Jack shoves his face into his knees, which can’t be comfortable with the way that his entire body is anxiously bouncing. “He’s- ugh. Fuck, man.” His voice comes out muffled, or maybe he’s just speaking quieter. Tubbo can’t really tell. “He doesn’t like me blowing money on this shit.” Hypocritical, considering that Jack’s dad deals with crypto and NFTs and shit, but Tubbo’s not about to get Jack into a conversation about that when he knows that Jack has some interesting views on the subject as well. “He just- he thinks I’m shit, but it’s- it’s not like it’s his computer, and I already have a fucking scholarship, free-ride to the local one-”
“Oh shit, congrats dude.”
“Thanks, you’re the first who’s said that.” And… oh. That’s kind of really fucked up. But Jack just laughs bitterly before Tubbo can think on that further and continues, “It’s not- I’ll level with you, man, it’s not about the computer. Fuck the computer. It’s shit anyway, loud as fuck, all of that. It’s about the fact that Tommy- he- Tubbo, do you think Tommy actually likes me?”
That’s a loaded question.
“I mean, surely.” Tubbo has to approach this logically. “You and him hang out loads, more than you and I do. He made you a playlist that one time, and you work on projects together and shit, and, I dunno, he makes fun of you as a joke but like, he also thinks highly of you. Y’know?”
And all that’s true, but Jack scoffs. “It doesn’t feel like it’s ‘as a joke’, Tubbo.” And Tubbo knows that it is, because Tommy acts way differently when he genuinely hates someone, but- “It feels like he thinks I’m stupid. You do too, don’t you? Stupid fucking Jack Manifold, can’t talk right, think right, do a single thing right. Stupid fucking bald kid with the divorced parents, 4.0 GPA but doesn’t act like it, stupid, stupid, stupid- ”
Jack’s voice cracks, and Tubbo reaches his hand out, tentatively rests it on his shoulder. “Hey, no,” he says, trying to be soothing even though he really sucks at that. “Jack, you’re, like, really fucking smart. I know that. Hell, so does Tommy. Tommy calls everyone stupid– me, you, Eryn, even his dad. He knows you’re smart, everyone does. You got a fucking full ride scholarship, dude, that’s good as hell.”
“I’m trying, Tubbo,” Jack tells him. “I don’t think anybody knows how hard I’m fucking trying.”
There’s a familiar exhaustion to his voice, and Tubbo’s heard it in a lot of voices before: it’s in his own, he already knows that; it’s been a frequent occurrence in Tommy’s as of recently; it’s in Aimsey’s when his depression gets bad; and God knows that it pops up in Ranboo’s voice, all the fucking time. But when it comes to Jack, Tubbo’s never really heard that before, because whenever he and Tommy fight it’s usually a little more light-hearted– both of them get angry but it doesn’t leave hurt feelings for very long, because both of them are used to it, know the other cares about them deep down.
This is different, though. This isn’t how Jack usually takes it.
And Tubbo’s starting to think that despite how low his own energy is for helping people, he should really pay more attention to Jack and Tommy this time, because it seems like it’s more serious than Tubbo initially gave it credit for.
“I’ll talk to Tommy,” Tubbo promises, the same as he does every time, but with a little more meaning now. “Try not to think about him, alright? Think we’re, uh-” Tubbo spares a look at the board and, yeah, they’re definitely taking notes. Oops. Whatever, his classmates and the professor are chill, so it doesn’t really matter. “Let’s just focus on this, yeah? Stuff you’re good at. Smart at. Y’know.”
“Are you skipping again?” Jack asks, and Tubbo doesn’t expect the question, but he honestly probably should have, because it’s been a pretty frequent occasion and Jack always has to see it.
He shakes his head. “Nah. Ranboo’s been, uh.” Maybe he shouldn’t say much about that, actually, considering that Jack only really knows about Ranboo in the frame of reference with Tubbo’s friendship with him. So, he last-minute switches to be vague and finishes simply with, “He’s been busy.”
Jack lifts his eyebrow. “No trouble in paradise, right?”
Tubbo has to remind himself that he just promised to help Jack out, and he shouldn’t immediately be annoyed with him.
Tubbo sighs, pulling out his notebook. “No,” he says, a bit harsher than he means. He dials it back down, adding more casually, “We’re not like that, me and him.”
“Shit, sorry for assuming, then,” Jack apologizes, and- okay, yeah. There’s a lot to be said about the fact that Tubbo gets easily annoyed with Jack, but also wants to help him, but also sees him as one of his most reliable friends, but also probably doesn’t treat him great. Maybe they can get drunk and talk about it, or whatever Jack does.
… That actually sounds like a great idea, the more that Tubbo thinks about it.
“You’re fine,” Tubbo says, because it’s honestly whatever. Then, because his impulse control sucks and he’s having a weird morning, he blurts out, “Do you want to get drunk and talk about life together?”
Jack snorts loudly, earning a look from someone in the class. The professor still ignores them, though, and Tubbo assumes that he probably didn’t hear what Tubbo said, otherwise he would maybe give more of a shit.
Jack rolls his eyes when the classmate looks away, and he gives Tubbo a grin as he whispers, “Yeah. Yeah, fuck it, man. I didn’t know you drank. Or- or was that not a serious offer? Should I have not said that? Fuck.”
In hindsight, maybe Tubbo shouldn’t have brought up the fact that he drinks to someone like Jack.
… But hey, the only reason Tubbo knows that Jack drinks is because he’s shit at covering up a hangover, so maybe they’re both half-open secrets that they won’t tell another soul about.
And, plus, half the nerves are taken away from the fact that he told Ranboo about his alcoholism recently during his breakdown, who is arguably a harder person to tell than Jack Manifold. Tubbo does regret telling Ranboo that, not just the breakdown, not just the confession, but just… all of it. It was nice crying, he’ll admit, and it was really nice being hugged by Ranboo, but he still feels shit for breaking down so early.
And he feels awful, too, because Ranboo’s a really wonderful person, and Tubbo doesn’t think Ranboo deserves to be spending time with someone who drinks to fall asleep at night. Ranboo doesn’t deserve to be around someone who cares about him way too much, but has bad habits so interwoven in his DNA that he can’t keep a promise not to indulge for even a week.
So really, telling Jack isn’t that big of a deal.
“Serious offer, and yeah, I do.” Tubbo admits. “Don’t tell anyone, yeah?”
“‘Course not, and I mean that.” Jack juts his hand out, and Tubbo shakes his hand. Guess he’s too formal for pinky promises. His loss. “I don’t tell people that shit. You’re the only person to know I drink, too, how’d you find out?”
Tubbo grins. “You’re a mess in the mornings.”
Jack shoves his arm, “Fuck off, man!” There’s a lot less tiredness to him, though– both of them are feeling a hell of a lot better, even though they’re clearly a little fucked up to be having this conversation. “Not my fault you’ve got the tolerance of an old Irish drunk in a pub.”
“Guys love me for my old Irish drunkenness.” Tubbo can barely get that out around his laugh, and it makes Jack laugh too, though they both have the decency to be quieter than usual considering they’re in class. When Tubbo stops, he takes a deep breath and lets it out with a, “It’s a plan so long as you don’t just have beer.”
“I’ve got bad news for you, Tubbo.”
“Your taste is shit,” Tubbo says bluntly, “I’ll bring some.”
Tubbo definitely does not have any alcohol he can bring, especially considering he just takes from Phil’s large supply and tries to avoid Wilbur’s suspicion, but eh, he can probably buy some off a kid in school if he tries hard enough.
“Cool.” Jack finally starts to get out his own notebook, which signals to Tubbo that their conversation is over. Tubbo turns in his chair, ready to focus, but Jack pokes him in the shoulder one last time to mouth, “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Tubbo mouths back.
Well. Instead of skipping class with Ranboo, he now has an undefined plan with Jack to get drunk at some point, and he also needs to talk to Tommy about being less of a dick.
Admittedly, it’s probably the most normal set of plans he’s had this year.
-
Tubbo: moo
Tubbo: boo*
Tubbo: :(
[
Ranboo: how did you mess that up?
[
Tubbo: fuk u
Tubbo: Hi!
[
Ranboo: hi Tubbo :)
[
Tubbo: youre looking hot today
[
Ranboo: thank you?
[
Tubbo: ^_^
Tubbo: i learned how 2 do that
[
Ranboo: oh! I like it ^_^
[
Tubbo: yea
Tubbo: R u free this wekeend
Tubbo: aside from liek
Tubbo: work
[
Ranboo: I’m busy this weekend
Ranboo: sorry :(
[
Tubbo: oh ok nws
Tubbo: like
Tubbo: still busy after work?
[
Ranboo: yeah I need to catch up on some work
Ranboo: getting kinda behind haha
[
Tubbo: u should hit up Techno
Tubbo: get some good ol tutoring in
[
Ranboo: haha yeah
Ranboo: I might
Ranboo: sorry we can’t hang out
[
Tubbo: its ok
Tubbo: after finals tho we’re gonna hang out
[
Ranboo: sounds good :)
[
Tubbo: lmk if u need anything
[
Ranboo: ?
[
Tubbo: just a reminder
[
Ranboo: okay
Ranboo: you too :)
-
“Hey, Tommy?”
Tommy looks up from his phone, glancing at where Tubbo’s started to trail behind him on this walk, the two of them about ten minutes away from their house. That should definitely be enough time to have this conversation, since it really is just bringing up what Jack said and trying to squash their conflict as fast as possible.
And Tommy’s in a decent mood today, so things should be fine.
“What’s up, Tubso?” Tommy replies, shoving his phone into his pocket.
Now, the real question is, how does Tubbo start this?
“I was talking with Jack,” he settles on, just hitting it upfront, “in Chem. He, uh. He said you two were- well, he seemed not super happy with you?”
Tommy sighs loudly. “Yes. He’s being a real bitch about it.”
Tubbo hums. “I, uh. Well. I heard out what he had to say-”
“-And it was stupid, I bet,” Tommy interrupts. “Blaming me for his dad and shit. If he wanted me to piss off, he could have just said that. I don’t understand why he gets all, you know how Jack Manifold gets, all- all sad and shit when I would listen if he just- if he just told me to not do something! Like, if that- if he just went, ‘Oh Tommy, my dad’s a real asshole, can you stop being a bitch’ I would go, ‘Well, I am not a bitch, but anything for you Jack Manifold’ and it’d be fine. But no,” Tommy drags out the ‘o’ vowel, “he had to go and talk to you and say shit. About his fuckin’ crypto dad and everything.”
Tommy has a point, submerged in his overenthusiastic explanations. Tubbo understands where he’s coming from, but still. “He’s- well, yes, what he deals with at home isn’t your, uh, fault or anything. ‘Cause that wouldn’t make sense. But… I dunno, I think you two should, like. Figure out, uh, boundaries. And whatnot.”
“I don’t need boundaries,” Tommy argues. “Never used ‘em, never had them, like. Well. Y’know.”
“Yeah,” because Tubbo knows where he’s going with that, thinks back to how Dream used to treat him before deciding not to think about that, actually, “but I just… I dunno, dude, I really think you should try and talk to him? ‘Cause I don’t think he’s mad, I just think he, uh. That he doesn’t think you care about him.”
Tommy pauses in his steps, face going blank for a second. Tubbo expects him to stand there for a while, but it’s only that one moment before he’s back to walking and saying, flippantly, “I don’t.”
Tubbo furrows his eyebrows. “You… don’t?”
“I don’t care about Jack,” Tommy clarifies.
Huh. Well. “That’s bullshit.”
“It’s not, Tubbo.” Tommy lets out a laugh, but it’s a bit strained. “He’s- he’s all- he fuckin’ stresses me out, man. He’s not- I don’t trust him. I don’t trust him at all, he’s all- he’s all shady and shit, and-”
“He’s a good guy-”
Tommy shakes his head, and Tubbo starts to realize that there’s a bit of franticness in Tommy’s movements that he’s trying to hide in his voice, but it shows in how his gait picks up quicker and quicker. “I don’t- no, no, I don’t think- no, no, no, Tubbo. Jack Manifold is shady, he does drugs and shit, and-”
“Tommy.” Tubbo raises his voice a little, but Tommy keeps walking, and Tubbo has to do a half-jog to keep up. “Tommy-”
“I don’t think it matters,” Tommy says bluntly, “I don’t care about Jack. I have you, don’t I? You and Wil and Tech and Big Man Phil. I don’t need- I don’t need Jack Manifold, of all people.”
That’s… not a very Tommy thing to say. There’s definitely something wrong, but the more Tubbo thinks about it the more stressed he starts to feel, so he tries to stick to logic, the thing that can’t hurt him no matter what. “You care about Eryn,” Tubbo points out. “He’s been your best friend since I met you, remember? You’ve known him even longer.”
Tommy hesitates. “Yeah, but-”
“And you like Aimsey,” Tubbo continues, “and Purpled. And Niki, and Puffy, and-”
“Shut up , Tubbo!”
Tubbo pauses, and Tommy lets out a laugh, trying to dissuade the tension within his voice and play it off like it was more casual when it is. Tubbo could hear the frustration in his voice, though, and that unnerves him, because he and Tommy… they really don’t fight often. Tubbo’s not very used to it. The two of them always communicate well enough that fights really aren’t necessary, so then why…
Tommy sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look,” he starts, “I don’t think Jack Manifold’s a bad guy. Just… you know, Tubbo. You know that it’s not- that I don’t-” He sighs again, noticeably more frustrated. “It’s the- It’s the Dream thing, man. I don’t-”
“Oh.” Tubbo hadn’t thought about that. Well, he had, but he hadn’t thought enough about that, and- and God, now he feels like an ass. “I-”
“I just want you- you and the rest of the family, yeah?” Tommy explains. “I can- whatever, I can apologize to Jack and shit. The rest of them- they’re fine as school friends, I don’t mind them, but- but when it. I don’t- I don’t want them over, I don’t want to trust them, I don’t want that.”
“That’s okay, Tommy,” Tubbo tries to reassure, “that’s fine, I’m sorry-”
But Tommy keeps going, voice raising as he talks, “And I don’t- you can do whatever the fuck you want with them, with Jack and- and Ranboo and shit, if you- if you trust that guy. But I don’t- I can’t, okay? I don’t want you to- to have to pick or some stupid shit, but I don’t want them around me. I can’t- Tubbo, I can’t-”
Tommy lets out a gasping breath and suddenly stops walking, and Tubbo immediately grabs Tommy’s hand and places it on Tubbo’s chest, where Tommy can feel him breathing. It’s not great, because Tubbo’s wearing his binder and also is exerted, so his breaths are kind of messed up, but he still hopes that it helps, even if just a little.
“You’re okay,” he says as Tommy slows down his breathing gradually. “I- you’ll let me know if it bothers you, right? If the whole- if everything with that bothers you?”
“‘S your life, Tubbo,” Tommy replies, “I don’t wanna fuck with that. Befriend who you want to befriend. Kiss- kiss whoever you want-”
“I’m not doing any kissing.”
“Sure.” Tommy has the gall to sound unconvinced with a slight grin on his face despite cooling down from a literal panic attack. “But- yeah, I don’t- that’s fine, man. Just. So long as it doesn’t bring Dream to the door, I’m fine. And if you- if you could hang out with people out of our house-”
“Yeah,” Tubbo agrees easily. “Of course, yeah. I’m not- I’m not bringing any of them back over.”
Tommy looks heartbreakingly grateful. “Thank you, Tubbo.”
“Of course.” And the two of them didn’t get very far with resolving the Jack issue, but Tubbo doesn’t think that matters much anymore, just waits for Tommy to calm down enough to say, “Let’s go home, yeah? Need your help on some English work.”
“You’ve got it, Tubbs,” and Tommy’s grinning again, which means that things are good. And it means the two of them didn’t argue, because they obviously didn’t,
and it means that Tubbo should be satisfied with the conversation they had.
(As they get closer to their house, Tommy rambling on about a video he watched last night, Tubbo realizes that he… isn’t. Satisfied, that is. That the conversation felt incomplete, and he’s not sure if he wishes that they argued more, or agreed from the very beginning.
Either way, it’s not like he can do much about it. So it’s fine.
Tubbo will just… leave it be. He can manage that, at the very least.)
-
Tubbo: hi Ran
Tubbo: different half of ur name this time. Signifies the passing oftime
[
Ranboo: it’s only been two hours, Tubbo
[
Tubbo: well yeah but still >:)
Tubbo: whats up
[
Ranboo: nothing much
Ranboo: you?
[
Tubbo: nothing much either
Tubbo: hanging with
[
Ranboo: ?
[
Tubbo: hanging w Tommy sorry got distracted
[
Ranboo: no worries!
[
Tubbo: Have you taken any cool pics recently
[
Ranboo: not a lot
[
Tubbo: is that still like several or
[
Ranboo: none worth showing
Ranboo: I’ll show you some eventually promise
[
Tubbo: ok awesome
[
Ranboo: I should go back to work now haha
[
Tubbo: oh okay
Tubbo: c u!
[
Ranboo: bye :)
-
Tubbo’s spending his Saturday morning lazily reading through the rubric of his Advanced Government final when he hears someone knocking on his bedroom door.
Usually, if it’s Tommy, he doesn’t bother knocking, just barges in whole-heartedly to blurt something out at Tubbo before he can even process that the other is there (albeit, he’s more adjusted to it now). The rest of the people in their house knock, all in different ways– Techno does a single loud knock and will wait up to five minutes just to see if the person realizes he’s there for some fucking reason, and Phil does two knocks and then a loud call of Tubbo’s name for good measure.
This, though, is distinctly a Wilbur knock– it’s a sharp three knocks, sounding like he’s hitting the doorframe more than the door itself. And Tubbo knows that left unanswered, Wilbur will cycle those same three knocks for up to a minute or two before he starts shouting.
Tubbo gently nudges Whiskers off his lap and lets her stand directly on his foot for a few seconds before contently curling up under his desk. He sighs fondly, because Whiskers is a little bitch but a sleepy bitch and also his bitch and also perfect. He loves her slightly lopsided face and oddly hostile expressions and sharp claws and inconsistent ginger fur. Both of them are a little odd-looking, with Tubbo’s whole facial scar.
He had gotten her after that, anyway, so they both knew each other with their fuckedupness pre-established.
Tubbo opens the door for Wilbur, taking a step back as the other waves and immediately asks, “Want to swing by the bakery?”
Tubbo blinks. He had been expecting Wilbur to just tell him that there’s food downstairs and leave, or come in and ask Tubbo if he can borrow something. Asking if Tubbo wanted to go anywhere is sort of odd, because generally speaking, Tubbo doesn’t really hang out solo with the rest of the family without Tommy being there; it’s not like that’s never happened, but it’s just kind of weird, because Tubbo’s not really… part of the family. Doesn’t have that same connection, no matter what Phil’s trying to forge legally.
If he considers what Wilbur’s asking specifically, though, it kinda makes sense. Trip with him to the bakery means a trip to the place that Ranboo works, and that means hanging out with Ranboo, something that Wilbur’s probably figured out Tubbo likes doing.
But on the other hand, Wilbur knows Tubbo drinks and probably knows Tubbo is about to be adopted. The first fact could be used by him to stop the second if he wanted to. Either way, he can bring both of them up in the car, when it’s just the two of them and no easy way out. Maybe this is a trap to get Tubbo to talk. Maybe he’d be stupid to trust it just for a chance to see Ranboo.
Wilbur has this look in his eyes, though. He has the darkest eyes of anyone in the family, but there’s a degree of expressiveness in him. Oftentimes, it’s this determination, and Tubbo can see it now– either they get stuck in a stalemate, or Tubbo concedes.
Adopting Tubbo in this family is just a means to the end, honestly. Housing five of the most stubborn people on the planet is a recipe for fucking disaster.
At least Tubbo knows when to give in.
Sink a few ships, pick a few battles, and bide his time all the while.
“Sure,” Tubbo agrees easily, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Like, now?”
“Yeah.” Wilbur taps his fingers idly against the doorframe. “Tommy’s not coming. Just me and you.”
“Okay.” Tubbo had figured. “Why are you going in the first place?”
“I need to check on Niki,” Wilbur explains, face still neutral, “and I figured you’d want to see your friend.”
Tubbo’s silently appreciative of the fact that Wilbur considered Ranboo just to be his friend, even though there’s a thought in the back of Tubbo’s head that tells him that they’re a little past that point. It’s not like that difference really matters, anyway, or like Tubbo’s obsessively paying much attention to it, but it’s still something he picks up on as Wilbur talks.
Either way, Tubbo doesn’t have much room to change his mind, having already agreed and all that. So, he just stands up and gives Wilbur a nod, which the other takes as a cue to say, “Meet me downstairs in five minutes,” and closes the bedroom door after him as he walks out.
Tubbo makes a quick effort to not look like shit, throwing a sweatshirt over his pajama shirt and grabbing a pair of jeans. He realizes retrospectively that he should maybe put his binder on if he’s going to be around other people, but he’s already wearing two layers and is too lazy to take those off for an effort that feels kind of useless.
Tubbo hopes that if Phil actually sticks to his promise and adopts him, he lets Tubbo get top surgery. When he was younger, he was kind of iffy about the idea of going through surgery in general, but he’s starting to get really annoyed with having to shove this constrictive-ass thing on himself all the time and still feel a bit shit about things sometimes.
He should ask about going on testosterone, too.
But that’s for later. When Phil’s committed to keeping him as a kid, and doesn’t get annoyed by his immediate requests for expensive medical shit. Not that Phil would care, because Tubbo’s ninety percent sure that one vague conversation he had with him and Techno two years ago implied that Phil himself is trans, but that’s still an investment and even if nobody’s, like, given Tubbo that much shit for it. Still.
Whatever. He’s too lazy for the damn binder, and he should just grab his phone and earbuds and head downstairs.
He goes down two steps at a time, sparing a glance at Tommy’s room. He toys with the idea of checking in on him, but knowing he and Tommy, they’ll get into a whole talk and Wilbur will get impatient and leave without Tubbo. And Tubbo would rather that not happen.
Wilbur’s scrolling on his phone when Tubbo comes down, and it’s only after Tubbo slips on his sneakers that Wilbur looks up and grabs the door for the both of them, saying nothing as they head out to his car. It’s kind of weird that Wilbur’s not talking, but maybe Tubbo’s overreacting– maybe this isn’t the build up to some serious talk in the car and maybe Tubbo’s reading too much into it. But it’s still kind of weird, even if Tubbo doesn’t say shit about it, just gets into the passenger’s seat– that he can finally ride in, ‘cause there’s nobody else there– and lets Wilbur start up the car in that same silence.
And the silence carries on. Wilbur leaves his phone out on his lap, and he at least plays some music so it’s not, like, dead silent, but he just flickers his eyes between the road and whoever’s texting him. Which, sure, if that’s how they’re doing this then that’s fine, Tubbo guesses. He doesn’t know why Wilbur’s so quiet, but, well. Tubbo’s not feeling super chatty, anyway.
He should maybe do something, though, other than just sit here and bob his head to Wilbur’s hit-or-miss playlist chock full of Lady Gaga and then some obscure shit that’s way too loud. And so Tubbo’s first thought is to open up his phone and shoot Ranboo a text, which is a great plan until he remembers the kinds of conversations he’s been having with Ranboo recently.
Tubbo knows that there’s the whole Ranboo and Tommy and Dream thing going on. He can’t exactly forget it, has decided his way of approaching it and hasn’t heard a complaint about it yet. Maybe it’s the coward’s path, or maybe it’s the logical one; either way, it’s what he’s done, and there’s no logic in laying awake at night turning the thought over in his head. Even if that’s exactly what he’s been doing.
That aside, Tubbo can’t really tell if it’s that whole situation that’s made Ranboo seem off, or if it’s the fact that winter finals are happening and Ranboo gives more shits about his GPA than Tubbo does, or if it has to do with Ranboo’s ex-foster brother he brought up once and then never again. Whatever it is, it’s kind of odd, that just a little bit after that whole heart-to-heart overly emotional session in the park– which Tubbo is still kicking himself for, but it was objectively cathartic, or whatever– Ranboo’s kind of shut in on himself.
Maybe Tubbo’s reading too- actually, no, fuck that. The last time this happened, it was with Quackity before Schlatt died, and the last last time it happened, it was with Tommy before he tried to- that. And honestly, Tubbo cares a lot about Ranboo, but Ranboo seems like he’s the type that won’t open up about anything. Aside from that brother bit, he really hasn’t.
And Tubbo isn’t the kind to talk. He’s still holding shit back from his soon to be dad.
But Ranboo hasn’t initiated any texts with Tubbo, and he’s ending all their conversations quickly, and Tubbo’s worried, dammit.
At least he can see Ranboo soon. Probably. Considering that even if Ranboo’s doing this whole thing, and he has finals or whatever, he’s not going to just… skip a shift. That’s not the kind of person he is. He literally said he would be on shift in one of those text messages earlier, so he will have to see him soon because Ranboo’s not going to ghost because Tubbo’s there, all up in his face asking if he’s alright.
And to be fair? Maybe none of this is Tubbo’s goddamn business. It’s not like- well, okay, he knows Ranboo, likes him a little more than he’s ever going to think too much about, but he doesn’t… know Ranboo. He could talk about all the quirks to Ranboo’s personality, a lot about how he likes photography and stars and that kind of thing, but Tubbo couldn’t say much past the interests line if he was held at gunpoint.
For anybody else, there might be a comfort to that. When you learn more about people, you start to see how kind of shitty they are, and it’s good to know that– Tubbo’s been a sleuth for that in the past, tried to pry out as much about the random people Schlatt’s dad had over as possible considering he was, like, six– but it’s different with Ranboo, for some reason.
Tubbo wants to get Ranboo, wants to know what makes his head tick, wants to know what’s made him so upset. Tubbo wants to fucking help, more than just knowing, because Tubbo’s useless at helping and shit at comfort, but he wants to at least try.
It’s just… weird. It feels like when Schlatt died, all of Tubbo’s sort of… ability to get people kind of died. Hell, his brother-to-be in an optimistic case sitting right next to him is just starting to look like some AA guy you see in the school posters, and Techno’s just kind of around without being around, away without being away, and things with Tommy feel kind of weird even if they shouldn’t feel weird. And Jack’s just a drinker, now, maybe, and Ranboo’s- Ranboo’s something-
-but it all feels suffocating. Like some tie tightening around his neck really hard, or like a hand- or like something, just. Tubbo had one thing that was always there, hanging in the back of his head no matter what happened, and now it’s just dead silence. There’s nowhere else he has to go home to. There’s no more family for him. It’s just the uphill path, supposedly, because Schlatt was shitty so surely everything’s an upgrade.
Tubbo shouldn’t still be grieving or feeling weird about him. He never really got through those stages of grief, not the way he thinks he was meant to, but he had a week of sleeping way too much and he figures that should be enough. There’s not much left to cry for the guy that Tubbo spent most of his childhood crying over anyway. Or, well, vacantly staring at as he fell apart– this crying thing’s kind of newer for him.
Whatever. Because, like, that shouldn’t affect how he talks to Tommy, or Ranboo. Schlatt’s dead, and Tommy’s his best friend he’s been living with for the past however long, and Ranboo’s his… friend. And neither of them are anything like Schlatt.
Maybe Tubbo’s the problem. Or, that’s not really a maybe, actually– Tubbo’s the problem, that’s probably why this shit is happening. Why he feels so weird.
Beside him, Wilbur coughs, and Tubbo nearly jumps in his skin. Fuck Wilbur for being so quiet half the time.
“So,” Wilbur starts, as if they’re not five minutes away from their destination.
Tubbo waits for Wilbur to continue, but for some reason, he just stays silent. After an awkward thirty or so seconds, Tubbo echoes, “... So?”
“I was just trying to think of conversation, man,” Wilbur says with an anxious laugh. “I don’t know what to talk to you about.”
That feels like bullshit.
“I feel like you probably have a lot of stuff to talk about.”
Maybe Tubbo shouldn’t mention that it feels like it’s bullshit.
… Whatever. Commit to it. “You just don’t want to talk about it, I’m guessing.”
Wilbur shoots Tubbo a look, a fleeting smile on his face. “I think neither of us want to talk about it,” he supplies. Which is ominous as fuck, but Tubbo knows what he’s talking about. Probably awkward to talk about the seventeen year old roommate of yours’ alcoholism. “Think conversation will come easier when we get to the bakery, and you have your boy and I have Niki.”
That’s fair, and Tubbo will probably have a good time with Ranboo, all other thoughts aside. “Why try to make a conversation, then?” Tubbo asks, mostly genuine. Because he doesn’t get what Wilbur’s trying to prod him to do, here. “What do you want me to say?”
Wilbur lifts his hands off the wheel to give a surrender symbol, which would probably be really bad if there were anybody else on the roads right now. They’re a minute or so away, now– it’s all mostly-empty roads here, since Wilbur decided to take a weird route over.
“Is there nothing you want to get off your chest about it?” Wilbur asks, and to be fair, Wilbur may be ominous, but he’s sharp-minded, kind of to an intimidating point. “Nothing you want to say? ‘Cause we can talk about it, man, but if both of us are gonna hate the topic, I’m at least gonna give you a leg up, here.”
It’s a strategic offer, and a legitimate one, too. It might be good to accept it, to let Tubbo explain what’s happening before Wilbur can try to extrapolate it himself. He’s already told Ranboo, and he kind of promised Ranboo he would tell Phil, so maybe it’s not even a bad secret to let out.
… But that’s Ranboo’s advice, and bless his heart, Ranboo isn’t an alcoholic. And Ranboo didn’t see the shit that happened to Schlatt when he became one, the way that everyone turned against him. The way that Tubbo turned against him, though that was more for the abuse thing, but still. The way that saying that you’re an alcoholic instantly alienates you, and didn’t take Ranboo away for reasons Tubbo doesn’t get. Though it’s- well, the two haven’t talked much-
-it’s different, though. Ranboo wouldn’t leave for that. Ranboo could have, but he wouldn’t, because he wouldn’t bother looking up base64 ciphers if he was just going to abandon Tubbo like that.
Wilbur has a say in this whole gig, though. In the whole adoption thing. If Tubbo lets it slip now, then Wilbur lets it slip to Phil, then Tubbo’s packing his shit up in boxes and blaming the liquor on why he can’t look Tommy in the eyes. It’s easy to picture. Very easy to picture.
So Tubbo draws the silence out, unfastening his seatbelt before Wilbur can park, and replies, “I have nothing to say.”
Wilbur gives him nothing for that, just parks the car and stretches as he steps out. Tubbo’s quicker to move, looking into the eyes of the bakery and trying to find Ranboo.
… Who, at first glance, isn’t at the register. Someone that Tubbo doesn’t recognize is. Which is kind of weird, ‘cause it’s Ranboo’s shift time right now, but they’re probably short-staffed and Ranboo’s duking it out in the kitchens.
Wilbur leads both of them in, Tubbo shoving his hands into his pockets and following close behind. He gives some of the customers smiles when he catches their eye, kind of wanting to keep his head down but also trying to make sure he doesn’t miss Ranboo.
Wilbur makes a beeline for a booth seat, setting his things down before asking Tubbo, “Want to order anything?”
“Banana muffin,” he says automatically, because he guesses that’s his regular order for this place now. “I can pay you back.”
Wilbur waves him off, grabbing his wallet and throwing out a careless, “Don’t worry, family’s family.” And, like a jackass, he walks off to put in their orders like he’s said nothing, and Tubbo immediately shuts that out of his mind before… before something .
It’s only a minute longer of waiting before Tubbo cracks under the pressure of the stillness, opening up his phone and going to text Ranboo.
Tubbo: guess who’s at the bakery >:)
The read receipt pops up pretty quickly, which is kind of weird, when Tubbo thinks about it, because Ranboo should probably be working right now. And sure, hypocritical of Tubbo to text him while he’s at work, but still. He’d think that Ranboo would hold off on replying and like, scold Tubbo for it later, or something. Well, not scold , Ranboo doesn’t do that often. Just, tell Tubbo that he has work obligations, or whatever.
It’s only a few seconds later, when Wilbur’s still at the counter, that Tubbo gets a reply.
Ranboo: :o
Ranboo: what are you getting?
[
Tubbo: banana muffin and hoping to get an appearance of a certain guy
Tubbo: who may or may not be on shift
[
Ranboo: oh banana muffins are good
Ranboo: funny story about the second bit though
Ranboo: I’m uh not on shift right now
Ranboo: busy with stuff
Ranboo: sorry
[
Tubbo: Oh
Tubbo: it’s fine dw
Tubbo: youll be back tmrw though right
[
Ranboo: I took off the whole weekend
Ranboo: which might have been a bad call cause I’ve been calling in sick a lot and like wuh oh that’s not good workplace practice maybe but yeah
[
Tubbo: r u sick?
[
Ranboo: no no no I’m just like
Ranboo: busy
Ranboo: and a bit sick I guess
Ranboo: but not like sick sick
Ranboo: mostly just busy
Ranboo really is an awful liar, huh.
Tubbo: okay
Tubbo: hope you feel better for finals and shit
Tubbo: and break cos i want to hang out with you
[
Ranboo: yeah yeah totally!
Ranboo: I want to hang out with you too :]
[
Tubbo: k well Ill hang out with Wilbur whos being a loser now ig
Tubbo: r u up to anything rn?
[
Ranboo: research stuff actually
[
Tubbo: oh like taking photos or what
[
Ranboo: yeah taking photos actually
[
Tubbo: you’re in the car?
[
Ranboo: well
Ranboo: yeah yeah I am
[
Tubbo: okay
[
Ranboo: sorry Niki’s calling me for something i gotta go
Ranboo: not like physically like on the phone
Ranboo: because she’s at the bakery
Ranboo: yeah
Ranboo: i’ll text you later okay?
[
Tubbo: alright see u then!!!
[
Ranboo: :D
Tubbo shuts his phone off in time for Wilbur to come back with their food. Fast service, which is surprising, because their best employee isn’t even here. For some reason. And is apparently lying like hell about it to Tubbo, which is kind of upsetting for a lot of reasons.
But, again, what the hell can Tubbo really say, here? He’s a liar too. Liar in remission or something, but still a liar. He just figures Ranboo would quit doing something he seems to either be terrible at or really deeply hate, but. He probably has his reasons. Which Tubbo would love to know, honestly, but Ranboo probably has reasons for not telling Tubbo his reasons for not telling- ad nauseum.
Tubbo takes a bite of the banana muffin, looking just about anywhere that isn’t Wilbur’s eyes. Still, Wilbur talks to him, saying, “They’re going to close up in, like, thirty minutes or something. I meant to come a bit later but, well. Figured I could loan Niki for a second even during hours.”
“Don’t think that’s how that works.” Tubbo was thinking the same with Ranboo, but at least Ranboo doesn’t really run the whole damn place. Or, basically run the whole damn place but not get the proper pay for it, like Niki is right now.
Wilbur just shrugs, rapidly switching topics to, “Where’s Ranboo? Is he around today?”
“Texted me saying he called off sick,” Tubbo explains, taking another bite of the muffin.
Wilbur’s eyebrows furrow for just a second, but then he shakes his head and his face clears. “Huh. I’ve been hearing from Niki that… well. I guess you know Ranboo better than I would.”
“Not as well as Niki,” though Tubbo wishes he could say that he knew Ranboo just as well, if not better. “He hasn’t been telling me much, what’s up?”
There’s a second of hesitation, which looks a lot of different ways for Wilbur, but mostly consolidates to this second of audible confliction trapped in his throat before he coughs and says, with more confidence behind it, “Just that he’s been kind of quiet, recently. Out a lot more. I figure with you.”
“Well, have I been out a lot more?” Tubbo counters. “Takes two to tango, bossman.”
“You’re not exactly vocal to me about your whereabouts, Tubbo,” Wilbur replies, which is a fair statement, actually.
Still, Tubbo just picks at the edge of the muffin paper and tells Wilbur, “I don’t know. What’s up with him, I mean. I don’t know.”
“And I’m guessing you don’t want my big brotherly advice?” Wilbur quips sardonically.
“I can handle it,” Tubbo says honestly, because even if he can’t, it’s not like Wilbur could do shit about it.
Wilbur seems to leave the topic alone then, the two of them descending into silence. Tubbo tries to focus on the bakery ambience, overhearing the conversations with eccentric customers and the bustle back in the kitchens, but his mind keeps returning to his phone. Which isn’t a good sign– he’s already clingy enough, he really shouldn’t be so dependent on Ranboo, but he told Tommy he was going to try and see if Ranboo was doing okay,
which obviously isn’t the only reason he’s sticking by Ranboo, but it’s the way he’s gotten himself past the Dream barrier, but it’s hardly passing it now if he can’t figure out if Dream’s hurting him or not. If Ranboo’s so busy because he’s busy with another person.
Winter break is coming up, Tubbo reminds himself for what feels like the hundredth time. He and Ranboo can talk then; surely, Ranboo will be more free. And things will be okay, if Ranboo can hold on for that long-
-but of course he can. Because nothing bad is going to happen to Ranboo.
Tubbo turns that half-assed assurance in his head over and over, barely even noticing that the bakery is closing down until Wilbur gets up from the table. He heads to where Niki is coming out of the backroom, but since Ranboo isn’t here, Tubbo just takes another bite of his muffin and leaves the two to talk, for the most part.
Thirty minutes later, the place is fully cleared up and Wilbur’s back at the table again, tapping Tubbo’s shoulder. Tubbo suppresses his instinctual reaction to that, thoughts scattering for a minute until he can pull them together. None of them were worthwhile, anyway, just meaningless self-commentary. It’s unimportant, because Wilbur’s getting his attention because Wilbur wants them to leave, because there’s nothing to do here and Niki’s done for the day, and Tubbo’s meant to throw out his muffin wrapper and pool into the backseat of the car.
So he does just that, saying hello to Niki but otherwise making himself comfortable silently, fiddling with his phone and listening as the two in the front start to talk. The conversations are pretty stale, picking up from whatever the two had been talking about in the bakery, peppered with inside jokes Tubbo doesn’t even pretend to understand. Tubbo plays an app game on his phone for a few minutes until he gets bored of doing useless colorful puzzles, and he opts back to listening when they’re on a new topic.
“So you’re staying with Puffy for the holidays, yeah?” Wilbur asks.
And Tubbo’s still going to do his eavesdropping or whatever, because there’s not exactly anybody else for him to talk to here, but he really doesn’t want to think about the holidays.
When he was thinking about it while hanging out with Ranboo in the park, the thought of it seemed nicer. The weather was a bit less cold, and Schlatt was still alive, and it seemed fine, hanging out with Tommy’s family and celebrating together. Nothing like the shittiness that it was with Schlatt, unpaid heating bills and Quackity’s angry voice.
It would have been nice, actually, if Quackity and Wilbur lasted long enough to make it to the holidays. They never could have, and Tubbo knows that logically, but it would have been nice if Quackity was around and maybe it was better, maybe Quackity could set aside his weird disdain of Techno and maybe it could have been fine. But it’s not like that, because Quackity wants nothing to do with it and Tubbo-
-Tubbo doesn’t want it, either.
Tubbo doesn’t want the holidays, and that’s stupid because he should. He should put more faith in the idea that maybe when the holidays come around, Tubbo will actually feel like he’s part of the family. Something will click in his head, the way it sometimes used to, but this time it’ll stick. Because this time, he’s not drinking alone on New Year’s thinking about Schlatt; he’s staying up late watching fireworks with his brothers, grinning ear to ear.
And it’s a nice thought, it really is. Hey, it might not even be impossible! It’s a nice thought and it might really, really happen!
But there’s the problem. It might really, really happen! And Tubbo isn’t that much of a pessimist, not really, but-
-what if it doesn’t?
What if this year is the same as every other year? What if it never clicks? What if Tubbo always feels out of place in Tommy’s family, and he never slots back again? What if he is up drinking on New Year’s? What if this time he finally gets arrested for it? What if he’s locked up behind bars every day of his goddamn life, the final Schlatt to live and he’s fucked it up royally.
It’s funny, being a Schlatt. Tubbo’s got the Underscore title, got whatever mercy his mother left him by foregoing the family creed and giving him her maiden name, but that doesn’t change the blood in him. Half an Underscore, surely, some family that never gave a fuck to step in to take him. And then he’s half a Schlatt, and it’s funny, being a Schlatt, because the bar is so low to be a decent person, and Tubbo’s still fucked it up.
At the end of the day, all it would have taken was never drinking the bottles on the kitchen table. All he had to do was stop being a nosey kid and walk away. But he was and he didn’t, and even if he’s not as hooked to the lip as Schlatt, he still has every last drop of saturated shame in him. Every last reminder that even if he told it all to Ranboo and it blew over well with him, and even if Wilbur’s picked up on it and never said a word, that won’t last. It didn’t with Quackity, it won’t with them.
Schlatts are meant to be alone. If they weren’t, then there’d be at least one other one alive.
But hell, he’ll take it one step further:
If there was hope for the Schlatts, Tubbo wouldn’t be here at all.
Up in the front seats of the car, Wilbur and Niki have paid no mind to the way Tubbo’s mind has scattered in fifty fucking directions, chatting amicably about Niki’s plans with Puffy. Which all seem pretty lovely, honestly– hanging out with Puffy’s family for the most part, who Tubbo saw at the funeral and thought seemed vaguely familiar but couldn’t put a pin on it, which might just be the suburban standard white family syndrome– and are all really lovely.
“I think I’ll head back to my apartment sometime after New Year’s,” Niki says, and something clicks for Tubbo.
Before Wilbur can reply, Tubbo jumps in and asks, “Hey, Niki, would you happen to know what Ranboo’s up to for the holidays?”
Niki turns her head to look back at him, Wilbur paying no mind and focusing his eyes back on the road. At the very least, neither seem surprised to remember that Tubbo’s still back there, so he’s done a pretty good job just being chill and quiet, it seems. A success that’s very clearly normal to want and possible to achieve.
“I… I don’t know, actually,” Niki answers honestly, looking a little distracted. “Me and him tend to spend the holidays together most years, but I had thought since me and Puffy’s relationship is… more serious, now,” finally, gay rights for those two, “and Ranboo has more friends, I thought we would have them separately.”
“Do you want to have him over, Tubbo?” Wilbur offers, eyes still on the road, voice careful not to imply anything.
It suddenly hits Tubbo that while Techno might have noticed all the issues going on between Ranboo and Tommy, Wilbur probably only noticed Tommy being more stressed lately and nothing past that. And so Wilbur, always eager to have more people over whenever Tommy’s mental health allows for it, probably doesn’t know about the whole, uh. Messy business with that.
And now would be an awful fucking time to bring all that up.
“Uh, no, it’s fine,” Tubbo waves off casually. “I might swing by his place at some point. Or, uh, his and Niki’s place-”
“It’s practically his place,” Niki agrees, and Tubbo nods.
“Yeah. I’ll do that, I think. I was just wondering if he was, like, coming with you and Puffy or something.”
“Ah, no. I don’t think he would find it very interesting,” Niki explains. “There’s not really anyone his age. Puffy’s brother is around fifteen, and he’s a perfectly nice person, I just don’t see Ranboo talking to him.”
Wilbur hums. “No cousins they’re bringing around his age?”
Niki shakes her head. “Actually, they don’t have many-” She cuts herself off, pausing for a moment. She chews her lip for a few seconds before sighing and speaking again, “I shouldn’t talk much about their family business, I apologize.”
“It might be,” Wilbur points out. “You know, if you and Puffy are- or, shit, should I not say-”
“It’s fine, it’s just Tubbo. It’s just Tubbo.”
“If you and Puffy are getting engaged,” Wilbur completes, and Tubbo obviously had no idea that was a thing, but hey, good for those two, “then I guess that would kind of be your business too, huh?”
“Well, until there’s a ring on my finger, it isn’t.” Niki defends.
Wilbur laughs. “I mean, does the ring really inherently symbolize that clean break from not-family to family? Is that really where-”
“Wilbur,” Niki interrupts.
“-you would want to- oh, yeah?”
“I don’t want to hear this from the guy who proposed to a French man in a Shiba Inu mask-”
Wilbur nearly runs a red light. “Okay, first of all, fuck you, that’s not-”
“Hang on,” Tubbo cuts in. “Hang on, what is this about-”
“No, Tubbo,” Wilbur says firmly, “Tubbo, we’re not talking about this-”
“He was French with a kalimba and a cat pia-” Niki starts to say, but Wilbur reaches over to slap his hand over her mouth, doing the worst third-lane left turn Tubbo’s seen in his life.
“I will ram you into a streetlight,” Wilbur warns. “I will take this car and I will ram it into a streetlight, Nihachu, do you understand me?”
Niki nods, letting out a muffled laugh. Wilbur takes his hand away, then, wiping it off on his jeans, and the two go quiet aside from Niki’s quiet giggles.
Tubbo, after some heavy thinking about what the fuck kind of topic escalation happened within the past fifteen seconds, opens his mouth and says, “So, like-”
“We do not talk about this, Tubbo,” Wilbur cuts him off.
“Yes, Wilbur.”
“And if Philza ever asks you why I called him half-drunk and crying in France?”
“I say absolutely nothing, Wilbur.”
“Good.”
“The point is,” Niki chimes back in, face a little red from laughter, “I don’t want to talk about Puffy’s family, engagement or not.”
“Yeah, that’s reasonable,” Wilbur finally concedes, probably from the shame of this past anecdote being brought up. Tubbo nods along and hums affirmatively; he’s definitely curious about Puffy’s family, now that Niki’s brought it up, but it’s not exactly like the guy with no family has much of a bargaining chip in this conversation. It’s also none of his business, curiosity be damned, so that can stay being that.
The rest of the ride home goes back to being more boring, Tubbo talking occasionally but the most of it being dominated by a story Wilbur tells the both of them about some annoying bitch that came into the convenience store a few days ago trying to buy her son a camping tent. It’s fairly amusing for the most part, Wilbur being a good storyteller, and Tubbo’s almost forgotten all the anxieties shoved in the back of his head until Niki’s being dropped off to her and Ranboo’s apartment and Tubbo remembers it all.
Up in his room, there, Ranboo’s by himself. Studying for finals, at best, or trying to hide that something’s going on, at its worst and most likely. And Tubbo’s right here, could just tell Wilbur to park the car and follow Niki up, knock at Ranboo’s door and figure out what’s wrong. Like he did when it was just him and Tommy, wandering up to Phil’s door whenever he or Tommy needed anything, all the way up to that fateful day– never giving Tommy his own address, not then and not ever. Sort shit out, hang out, and fix things at their worst, all the shit that Tubbo’s meant to be good at doing.
But instead, he crawls across the car divider to get in the front seat. He listens to Wilbur’s music on the way back. He types meaningless texts out on his phone before deleting them and shutting it off again. Lets that same cycle repeat, over and over.
Until he finally sends a message, ten minutes later, and powers down his phone for the last time that day.
Tubbo: see you on Monday