Chapter Text
Ranboo felt a harsh shoe kicking his back as he was shoved out the front door, landing hard on his ribs into sharp shards of glass bottles that dug deep into his already bruised and beaten skin. Barely registering the pain, he picked himself (and the phone that had slid out of his pocket) right back up and skidded down the driveway and into the street, praying that his drunken foster ‘father’ wouldn’t try to follow him.
Eventually, they paused by a streetlight, leaning against it for support with a shuddering breath.
It was roughly midnight, and Ranboo had just been, quite literally, kicked out of yet another foster home. They'd known their days at the house were numbered, but they thought they would’ve had enough time to pack their bag and run away before they were forcibly moved out.
Unlike the other times he had been shoved out of foster homes, he had nothing but his phone on him this time, which was surprisingly still working, considering it had landed on the wet concrete beside him when his foster father had thrown him out. At least they could still message Tubbo or Tommy, but Ranboo really didn't want to confide in them about his current situation.
Sure, Tommy had been a foster kid like himself, and would therefore maybe understand his situation, but neither of his best friends knew that he was also a foster kid. They'd tried to ask about his home life, but he had simply gone with the old 'strict parents' and 'I'm not allowed to see friends outside of school' schtick, which was currently holding them off for the time being, but they still whined and moaned about him not being able to hang out at least twice a day. Tommy had actually tried to follow him home multiple times, and Tubbo had attempted to find his address to send a hateful letter to his 'parents', but luckily he had managed to stop them from finding out about his true situation.
So, he only really saw the pair at school, as most of his past foster families wanted the kids home straight away so they didn’t get up to anything stupid.
Not that he would’ve done anything bad, anyway. They didn’t really handle yelling or conflict that great, so they tried to avoid it as much as possible.
Sighing, Ranboo pushed himself off of the lamppost and continued down the street, trying to avoid the incessant rain as much as possible, considering they wouldn’t be able to change clothes for a while. The treck back to the foster building was at least fourty five minutes, but the back door was always unlocked if a kid got stuck or needed to hide out.
Speaking of which...oh, crap.
They should message their social worker about what had happened. Poor Liara was going to probably slam her head against her desk when she found out that they had been kicked out of yet another house, for what seemed to be no reason (again).
They never really blamed the foster families for getting rid of them, though. After the adults realized how much work he was (typically after he’d had some memory lapses or a couple of panic attacks) they'd find some excuse to get rid of him.
Tonight had started out okay, at least. He'd been trying to get a head start on some holiday homework, and his foster father had come in during one of his many drunken stupors, demanding that Ranboo go and clean the bathroom that the man had just thrown up in.
Unfortunately, Ranboo had made the simple mistake of asking for just five more minutes to finish up the question they were on before cleaning up. They'd gotten into a groove with the maths work (which rarely happened), and they were hoping to finish up before moving on.
That simple mistake had landed him on the street at 12:32am on a Saturday morning, staggering along slowly in the torrential rain, leaving a bloody trail behind him.
Needless to say, they felt like absolute shit.
At least the rain would wash the blood away.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Some twenty-five minutes later, Ranboo eventually gave in to their aching muscles and collapsed on a metal bench outside a brightly-lit 24/7 diner, where there only seemed to be a few workers hanging around inside. They sat down and put their head in their hands, trying to attract as little attention as possible while also discreetly attempting to take stock what injuries they'd managed to acquire.
Peeling off his drenched grey hoodie, he inspected his arms, trying not to wince as he lifted them. They were pretty scratched up and bruised, which was fairly typical for the average foster kid, but the glinting broken glass that was imbedded in a few spots along his palms and wrists would be annoying to clean up. Moving quickly along from that situation, he then turned his attention to the next item on his agenda - his ribs, which were aching in a...different kind of way. Trying to get a feel for how much damage landing on solid concrete had done, he gingerly inched his finger towards them.
Immediately their head spun, and they nearly vomited up their meagre dinner from the pain, knuckles going white from clinging onto the metal bench in an effort to keep it down.
That couldn’t be good. The last thing they needed right now was broken ribs.
He barely registered the tears that had begun to run down his cheeks as he took stock of the grim situation he was in. Possibly broken ribs, filthy glass shards poking into different parts of his body, not to mention he was soaking wet and shivering from the cool rain that seemed to be brewing into a wild storm.
With shaking hands, they pulled out their somehow-still-working phone to send a quick message to Liara, to let her know about the absolutely fabulous evening that they were having, and that a new foster home would probably be on the cards.
He had just pressed the ‘send’ button when the door to the diner creaked opened, and one of the workers came out.
The worker looked to be young, with a muscular figure and a cool, bland expression that had goosebump's crawling along Ranboo's arms. Tumbling pink hair was tied in a braid under a diner-branded cap, and those glaring rust-coloured eyes seemed oddly familiar to him, but, as usual, his memory gave him no assistance.
He couldn’t help but gulp nervously as the worker strode towards him; they looked like they were inches away from telling him to get lost.
Ranboo stood up, vision turning dark and spotty but managing to keep themselves upright.
‘Sorry, I’ll be on my way now’ they blurted, but the worker simply shrugged, looking utterly indifferent.
‘Nah, don’t stress. I was gonna say to come inside, you won’t get dry sitting out here.’ The worker replied with a monotone voice, indicating with their hand and heading back inside without checking to see if Ranboo was following.
Well, they didn’t really have a choice, did they? They certainly weren't going to say no to whoever this guy was; experience had taught him to play along well with people who could snap you like a twig.
They stumbled inside, taking care to close the door carefully behind them, while the pink-haired worker had disappeared out the back. They glanced around at the place, trying to find a seat that wouldn't be too hard to wash after they'd finished cleaning himself up.
Before he could make a decision, the worker came back with a stack of soft-looking dishtowels and put them on a nearby table, motioning for Ranboo to come sit down on the faux leather seat.
He did so, trying to wince as little as possible at his injuries, and the worker sat down across from him. Now that he had a better look at the bulky worker, the familiarity became more and more obvious to him, but he still couldn’t place where he had seen the guy before.
‘Are you Ranboo?’ the worker asked bluntly, taking him aback.
A ripple of pain flashed down his spine as he nodded slightly, but he did his best to hide the wince.
Should he have said yes to that? People who knew your name without you knowing theirs can be a massive red flag, as he'd discovered in the past.
‘Hmm, I thought so. I recognized your weird heterochromia thing. You’re a foster kid, aren’t you?’ The pink-haired guy asked, seemingly already aware of the answer.
‘Y-yeah?’ He replied nervously, wincing slightly at the comment about their eyes.
Then, finally, it hit them.
They had been in a foster house with this guy before; they recognized the pink hair, and the crimson tinged eyes.
It had been, what, maybe 5 or so years ago? They had both been with two other kids, and together they were being taken care of by these (surprise surprise) absolute assholes of foster parents. They were pretty abusive and whatnot, but luckily one of the other foster kids had the sense (and the phone access) to ring their social worker, and so within two weeks they had all left the house, and Ranboo had never seen the pink-haired guy ever since.
‘W-were we in a house together, right?’ He inquired shakily, taking one of the towels and rubbing it into his dripping dark curls, ignoring the throbbing in his arms that came from the movement
‘Yeah, with those idiot parents who thought it was smart to punch a kid for having a panic attack.’ The worker replied with a deadpan expression, inspecting the numerous intricate gold rings on his fingers.
It took a couple moments before Ranboo realized the worker was talking about them.
‘Oh. Sorry, I, uh, don’t really have the best memory of that place, or just in general’. They admitted, before immediately grimacing in regret. Why had they just said that? They were probably going to get laughed at, or teased, or even slapped. Nothing would surprise them anymore.
However, the worker didn’t say anything, but instead took off the cap they were wearing and raised an fairy-floss pink eyebrow.
‘Well, I’m Technoblade, but just Techno is fine. And, uh, no offence, but you don’t look so great.’
Ah. They’d forgotten that feeling horrible also meant that they probably looked horrible as well. He looked down at the towels that he had been using to pat himself dry with to discover that they had faint patches of crimson on them. Hopefully those would come out in the wash.
‘N-nice to see you again, I guess.’ They murmured, looking down at the table.
‘Look, I’m not going to pry into your current situation, but, uh, do you need help? And, well, not to make assumptions or anything, but coming from my own experience, it works out much better if you answer truthfully’ the pink-haired teen (or adult? He had no idea how old this guy actually was) inquired, his crimson eyes burning into Ranboo's scalp.
They looked up, taken aback at the seriousness in the tone of Techno’s voice.
Did they really look that pathetic?
Sure, he was sitting in a dingy 24/7 diner at one in the morning covered in cuts and bruises, pulling glass out of his body, hosting some very banged-up ribs, a pounding headache, and overall just barely holding himself together , but he’d been in worse situations.
Ranboo squinted at Techno, trying to gauge why he was trying to help them. The guy was clearly doing okay for himself despite being a foster kid; he looked healthy and relatively happy, clean of grime and bruises, basically everything Ranboo desperately wanted right now.
So why is he offering to help them? Techno probably knew from experience that helping out foster kids isn't a walk in the park.
‘Uh, no, I’ll be fine, I think. Thank you anyway.’ They replied, giving Techno a fake smile, who raised an eyebrow at them in response.
Ignoring the skeptical look on the man’s face, he put the towel down on the table and went to get a serviette from the counter to try and pat some of the remaining blood away.
They stood up, and promptly collapsed on the tiled floor of the diner.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
‘Ranboo? Ranboo, you gotta wake up. I don’t think you’re meant to be unconscious if you’ve just hit your head on the floor’
They opened his eyes blearily, just barely registering that they were lying down on one of the plastic booth seats inside a diner, and there was a pink-haired guy leaning over them.
Ranboo blinked blearily, and the guy gave him a slight frown before promptly walking away and out of his line of sight, muttering to someone. Or himself, Ranboo wasn't really sure anymore. He didn't really care, either; it wasn't the weirdest thing he'd seen.
That...that was Techno, right? They had just talked about how they'd previously met, before he, uh, stood up too quickly? He guessed that was what had happened, as the last thing he remembered was telling Techno he didn’t need help, then standing up, and now he was lying down on this sticky plastic seat.
Great. That wasn't embarrassing at all.
Groaning, he tried to push himself up and off the seat, determined to not look more pathetic then he already seemed, when a soft yet assertive voice rang out across the diner.
‘Oh no you don’t. Techno is coming right back, and you better stay right there.’
Despite the warning (and their body screaming at them yes, yes let's not move please), Ranboo pushed themselves upright and tried to see who was talking to them.
The only other person in the diner was a petite-looking woman with light pink hair (was the colour part of the uniform here?) , who was half-heartedly wiping down a counter nearby. She glanced over at him with a worried expression, before weaving her way through the tables and coming to sit down with him.
‘Hey, I’m Niki. Who are you? Oh, and Techno’s just gone out the back to ring someone, apparently. He’ll be back soon. How are you feeling?'
Ranboo blinked. Those were a lot of words that didn't quite make it through his murky excuse for a brain.
'Sorry, I’m probably overwhelming you, aren’t I?’ the petite woman mused, giving him a sheepish smile.
Ranboo shrugged, immediately regretting it as pain danced throughout their body.
‘I, uh, it's all good. I’m Ranboo. Nice to meet you.’ They offered quietly, looking down at their trembling hands that wouldn’t stop shaking; either from anxiety or tension, they didn't really know.
‘Same with you. I don’t want to pry into whatever is going on with you, but I think Techno is getting you some...ah, help’ Niki mentioned, making Ranboo freeze into place.
Did she mean an ambulance? Ambulances meant inquiring questions, which led to him having to explain his situation, which meant pitiful looks and quiet gossip. Luckily for him, none of his injuries in the past had been life-threatening enough to require surgery, which he knew he nor the foster care center could really afford, anyway.
But still, ambulances were a big "no no" for them.
Niki, seeming to note his alarmed expression, placed a small hand onto his trembling one and looked at him in an almost analytical way.
‘No, it’s not the ambulance or police. Just someone who has a wider variety of medical knowledge then a couple of 18-year old’s on minimum wage’ she assured him, giving his hand a small pat.
Ranboo breathed a sigh of relief and curled into a ball on the plastic seat, closing their bi-coloured eyes and desperately trying to block out the stabbing pain that was building in their skull.
‘Hey, don’t fall asleep on me. I’ve been told to try and keep you awake for "health reasons", or something. I don’t really know what the plan is, but you seem like a nice guy, and Techno of all people seems to like you, so you're probably worth helping out.’ Niki chuckled softly , prompting Ranboo to open his eyes and look at the woman with a careful gaze.
She was probably just making random conversation to keep him awake, which he appreciated, but still. Her watchful gaze had him unsettled though, like she could see right into his soul...but that was probably just him overreacting as usual.
The back door creaked open and Techno stepped back into the diner, just as a silver car pulled up in the parking lot out the front, it's wheels crunching on the wet road.
‘Alright Ranboo, we’re heading out. Niki, you alright to stay here? I’ve called Quackity, he should be here soon to cover for me’ Techno informed the pair, prompting Niki to give him a nod and a quick smile.
Meanwhile, Ranboo felt the blood leave their face and their hands starting to shake more then they already were at the thought of leaving alone with this muscled mass of a guy.
‘W-Where are we going?’ he asked as Techno helped him stand up.
‘I’m taking you back home to my place, where we're to get you some help.’ The pink haired man stated, his tone making it clear that Ranboo didn’t really have a choice in this. Swallowing down his fear, he chose to stay silent as Niki opened the door for the pair, giving them both a reassuring smile before turning her attention back on him.
‘Don’t worry Ranboo, you’re in very good hands. Phil will fix you up good, and probably adopt you while he’s at it. You're perfect adoption material in his books.’
Uhm.
What?
Had she really just said the ‘a’ word?
Surely she was kidding.
And who the heck is Phil?
Well, whoever he was, Ranboo definitely wasn’t going to get their hopes up about this ‘Phil’ person, no sir, he was probably just like every other adult in this world who took one look at them and deservedly decided they were too much work.
‘Niki, shut up, please . I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe’ Techno replied with a deadpan stare at the young woman, who merely rolled her eyes in response before waving as Techno dragged Ranboo back out into the torrential rain and towards the silver car.
Techno yanked the back door open and tried to help Ranboo inside, but he quickly shook off the pink-haired man and climbed inside the car without assistance (thankfully, he didn't need the driver seeing him struggle) and closed the car door gently behind him. He glanced at the drivers seat, where an older-looking blonde man was glancing back at him in the rear-vision mirror.
‘Hey mate, I’m Phil. We’re just going to take you back to our place to get you fixed up, okay? It’s only a 10-minute drive or so’ the man stated kindly as Techno threw himself into the passenger seat.
Ranboo nodded slightly, ignoring the stars that were dancing in their vision as they searched for the seatbelt.
‘Don’t worry about your seatbelt if it makes you uncomfortable.’ Phil added gently as they drove out of the diner parking lot, interrupting Ranboo as he was just tugging on said seatbelt.
Ranboo looked at the guy, who grinned at him in return, probably because of his shocked expression.
Why was this dude being so...understanding?
Well, it didn't matter anyway. It wouldn't be long before either Phil or Techno ran out of patience to deal with their fucked up life and brain. They should probably slip away as soon as they can.
For the time being though, he was stuck inside this car, and so he accepted his fate and leaned back on the seat’s headrest, looking out the window at the heavy storm, tuning out the quiet conversation between the two men up the front, and instead choosing to focus on the rivulets that were splattering on the window.
He hadn’t even noticed his eyes were starting to close until Phil spoke up.
‘Mate, try to stay awake for us, okay? We’re nearly there’ The blonde man asked kindly, looking at them through the rear vision mirror.
They nodded their head slightly, trying not to move their pounding head any more than necessary. Instead, they tried to get a better look at the man driving the vehicle. They had been kinda hoping that whoever this ‘Phil’ was would quickly realize that they were an anxious mess who could barely remember anything, and let them out of the car before they formed an attachment to the seemingly kind man. They didn’t want to waste any more of this duo’s time, and hopefully their house was close enough to the city so they could slip away quietly.
Still, what kind of person drove out to a 24/7 diner at what was now two in the morning to help out a random teenager?
They hoped that this wasn’t going to end badly, now realising that the car was only taking them further and further out of town, away from Liara or anyone else that could come rescue them if need be.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
They drove over a couple of small hills, which would be kind of annoying to run back over if he needed to get away, and they eventually turned into a gravel driveway, which led to a well maintained two-story farmhouse style home, with a tidy flower garden and several acres of emerald green fields.
Huh. It looked, well, okay so far.
Definitely better then the dingy-houses he’s been dragged to in the past.
Phil parked the car outside the house and got out of it quickly, circling around to where Ranboo’s door was to open it for them.
‘T-Thank you’ he replied softly as he stepped out, before his knees gave out below him, and he felt his cheeks flush. Fuck, why couldn't he keep it together?
‘Woah, mate. Let’s get you inside, shall we?’ Phil said as he caught him. The blonde man proceeded to help him to the front door of the house, and Techno knocked rhythmically on the yellow-painted door three times.
Thundering steps ricocheted through the house, and Ranboo wondered who the heck would be up at this time of the morning. By his phone clock, it had just knocked onto 2:15 AM, but it was a Friday night, or, well, a Saturday morning now.
The canary coloured door burst opened, and a familiar blonde teen was standing in the doorway.
‘Ranboo?’ Tommy asked, his eyebrows raised in shock.
Oh, crap.