Chapter Text
They had nothing but time now to ease into living at the cabin. No threat looming over their heads, throwing them into survival mode. Yet Tubbo couldn't find it in himself to settle down. After the adrenalin had worn off and they were no longer stuck in perpetual fight or flight, the idea that the threat was gone - that they were safe - refused to sink in. Even factoring in everything that had happened in the past few days. Leaving Hypixel. Losing Dream. None of them could have predicted how messy and jarring their freedom had turned out to be.
Tommy rarely emerged from his room in the first month back home. He spent his days curled up in a tight ball with his music player on or walking sluggishly around the house in socked feet. Blank-faced like a sheet ghost. When his eyes weren't glazed over in a distant haze, they were too wide, alert to forces that weren’t there. His eyes scanning the windows and doors, an incessant bounce to his leg.
His low periods had Wilbur tending to him like a distressed mother bird. In the mornings he would bring Tommy breakfast and brush the hair from his forehead, murmuring carefully picked words to try and coax him to get up. When that didn't work he would ask what music disc he would like and leave him to it. Check-ups throughout the day helped Tommy ground himself in the present a little more, reminding him that he was home and that he was more than his guilt let him believe. Sometimes it stirred him into actually getting up, or at the very least sitting up to stretch.
Wilbur didn't outwardly express it, but Tubbo could tell that it was putting a strain on him to stick around the cabin this long. It pained him to be away from his new country and the shaky foundations he had left behind. Tubbo caught it in the short comments he made about the land. The houses in construction, the flocking citizens, the towering walls. It was saddening to watch the ambitious light shine in his eldest brother's eyes, only for it to be stifled moments later as he muttered a short, “nevermind. I’m sure you’ve heard enough about it already.”
And yet Wilbur never mentioned his eagerness to leave and return there, despite the way his hands twitched sometimes when his eyes wandered to the horses.
Tubbo didn't blame him for keeping up the facade. He would be lying if he said he didn't do the same thing sometimes. He knew how to plaster on a bright grin and shout words of encouragement to help his brothers and partner where he could. He wasn't nearly as traumatised as the rest of his family, so whatever lances of pain caught him by surprise throughout the day he managed to bury beneath a chipper attitude.
He had always been a quiet sleeper, so any nightmares he had were easy to disguise. Ranboo never caught them, at least. Oftentimes, after waking up to thorns pressed into his side or wilted petals clumped between his teeth, he wouldn't bother with sleep at all. Being tired wasn't much of an issue when he didn't have anything to do during the day anyway.
Not that he didn’t keep himself busy. If anything Tubbo found himself more productive than he had ever been. His work hours sometimes stretched long into the night, fixing saddles, scraping beehives, rewiring the netting on his rabbit houses. One day he even found himself trying to install better piping into the house until Ranboo complained of a water leak that resulted in some light burns on his forehead.
It wasn’t anything to be concerned about though. Tubbo considered it all quite healing, even. He hadn’t thought much about Dream or the kingdom at all. And no one else seemed eager to mention those topics either, even after Tommy had tried to bring it up one night.
Tubbo had brushed it off, of course, because the topic would probably just distress his brother further, and he didn’t want that. They were out here to forget about everything. While his brother walked around with a dark shadow clouding his form, Tubbo was leading by example by putting one foot after another and continuing on with life.
Ranboo, on the other hand, was as two-faced as ever.
At first, it seemed like he was taking the change of scenery brilliantly. Sure, he took a little while to settle in and stop walking around the cabin like it was a museum of untouchable artefacts. But other than that he absorbed Tubbo’s every word like it was something precious, learning the ups and downs of how to…well, how to not be a soldier. He took a liking to nearly every one of Tubbo’s animals, constantly complimented the house's decor and comfortable furniture, and overall seemed to really like the peace and quiet that living in the tundra brought him.
That was until anything went wrong.
The first time it happened was when Wilbur had accidentally broken a glass during dinner. The cup slipped off his precarious stack of dishes on the way back to the kitchen and in an instant, Ranboo was curling in on himself and hyperventilating. That had then sent Tommy into a spiral too, since Tubbo had been told Ranboo’s Noise was particularly louder than other people's.
Overall it was a particularly bad combination. But it wasn't anything Tubbo couldn’t handle.
After Wilbur lead Tommy away and they had the room to themselves, Tubbo managed to talk Ranboo down from his panic. Ranboo didn't elaborate on what was going through his mind at the time, but Tubbo wasn’t sure he would even know what to do with all of the information if he had been told.
Tubbo took to trying to avoid any stressors in their life, which felt easy enough at first, but the longer it went on Tubbo started to realise there wasn’t much of a pattern to Ranboo’s triggers. Loud noises, sudden movement, or sometimes just being in a room on his own had Ranboo spiralling. The attacks were infrequent enough to not consume their lives, yet the fact that they happened at all had Tubbo grow increasingly more worried.
For everything Tubbo was capable of dealing with, Ranboo’s fractured mind was not one of them.
Some nights, when the fire had long since snuffed out and the autumn chill creeped through the cabin walls, Tubbo stirred awake to find the other side of his bed empty. He would swing his legs over the side and shuffle out into the moonlit hallway, listening out for the soft chirps and coos from his partner.
Often he wasn’t far. Tubbo once found him curled up in the living room, arbitrarily stacking books into little piles or a few times he’s been found carrying a perfect bundle of grass back and forth across the patio. Those times were easy because Tubbo would just let Ranboo know he was there, offer to lead him back to bed or just leave him to it. Who was he to judge?
The Enderwalk (as Ranboo had since confided in him) had been passive and mostly kept to himself since they arrived at the cabin. Sure, he sometimes sprung out when Ranboo was particularly spooked, sometimes because he felt threatened and was trying to defend himself, but sometimes just to glaze his eyes over and keep his body from panicking further.
It was, mostly, a defence mechanism as far as they could tell. So Tubbo stopped being concerned. Most nights he simply wandered.
But one night, after searching the entire house, Tubbo found his partner almost a hundred metres away, standing alone in a field of grass. Just staring. Worry immediately flooded Tubbo’s body, only to spike into fear as Ranboo teleported even further away in a flurry of particles.
Tubbo grabbed his coat and flew out the front door.
His footsteps alerted his partner before he could reach him, and Ranboo spun around to reveal raw, tear-soaked cheeks and vibrant eyes. Tubbo’s breath hitched.
Those eyes were pleading, desperate, and with every backstep that his partner took, Tubbo felt his heart fracture. “Where are you going?” he called, trying - needing - Ranboo to stop moving away.
Ranboo glanced behind him towards the treeline before his eyes settled back on Tubbo. “⟟ ⊑⏃⎐⟒ ⏁⍜ ☌⍜ ⏚⏃☊☍. ⟟-⟟⏁’⌇ ⋏⍜⏁ ⍀⟟☌⊑⏁. ⟟⏁ ⎅⍜⟒⌇⋏⏁ ⎎⟒⟒⌰ ⍀⟟☌⊑⏁.” Even without understanding his frantic rambling, his short gestures towards the trees made the message clear.
“You want to leave,” Tubbo said. “I-I don't understand. I thought you were happy here.”
“⟟ ⏃⋔-” Ranboo chirped quickly, putting his hands up. “⟟ ⟊⎍⌇⏁- ⟟…⟟ ⎅⍜⋏⏁ ⏚⟒⌰⍜⋏☌ ⊑⟒⍀⟒. ⎅⍀⟒⏃⋔ ⟟⌇-”
Tubbo recognised that word instantly and his eyes snapped up to meet his partners. “Dream?”
Ranboo took another step back, ears flattening against his skull. He looked guilty, hands wringing together. “⟟-⟟-⟟…”
“He’s gone Ranboo. He- you can't go back, he’s not there. B-besides, he hurt you. All of the time. He made you do terrible things.”
“⟟ ☍⋏⍜⍙ ⏁⊑⏃⏁!” he screeched back, the noise sharp and abrupt. It had Tubbo flinching and taking a step back. “⏚⎍⏁…⏚⎍⏁ ⊑⟒’⌇ ⏁⊑⟒ ⍜⋏⌰⊬ ⏁⊑⟟⋏☌ ⏁⊑⏃⏁ ⋔⏃☍⟒⌇ ⌇⟒⋏⌇⟒. ⏁⊑⟟⌇ ⌿⌰⏃☊⟒ ⟟⌇ ⋏⟒⍙. ⏃⋏⎅ ⟟⏁⌇ ☌⍜⍜⎅ ⏚⎍⏁…⟟⏁⌇ ⋏⟒⍙,” he eventually settled on, not seeming to be able to justify himself better. He started to seem uncertain of his answers, tail curling and uncurling in the air.
“This is our home,” Tubbo murmured, barely managing to interpret Ranboo’s words. “I know it's scary and the memories of that place hurt, but you have all the time in the world to process it here where you’re safe. A-and Techno said he would bring that book, yeah? The one that translates Ender, so we can talk everything through and I can actually hear you.” He let out a soft sigh and held his arms out. “I want us to heal. I think we can heal.”
Soft, violet eyes glowed through the darkness. His ear twitched once as Ranboo stepped across the grass slowly. Then long arms slipped into his and Tubbo was engulfed in a strong hug. “⍜☍⏃⊬…⟟ ⌰⍜⎐⟒ ⊬⍜⎍, ⏚⍜.”
Another phrase he had grown to recognise. “I love you too, Boo.”
Ranboo had been very confused in his first few weeks at the cabin. Every time he woke up it seemed to be someplace new. An unfamiliar room, a wide expanse of woodland, a field of grass next to a small farm. Cosy, domestic spaces. Warm fires, gentle faces, hearty food.
It was the worst thing Ranboo had ever encountered.
He knew Hypixel inside and out. He had travelled to every crevice and corner a hundred times and teleported from its peak to its deepest plateau. He knew when to anticipate danger and when to allow himself to relax.
This place was very much Not Hypixel and Ranboo hated that so, so much.
What made matters worse was that he woke up during the daytime more than ever before. At least more than he had done since he was a kid in fighters training. It was disorienting and made him feel sick.
Ranboo didn’t know what to do with himself when his eyes settled into foggy purple. There was no Dream, no mission, no comfort spots to hide in. The only constant was Tubbo, and he hated to admit that this wasn’t enough for him.
The first time he woke up had been a disaster.
Tubbo had tried to explain to Ranboo that he was “free now” and that he could do whatever he wanted. Ranboo could decide for himself what he wanted to do. Instead of taking orders from Dream.
This had nearly thrown Ranboo back into his initial panic. He didn’t want to do whatever he wanted because what he wanted was to be in his city where everything made sense. Nothing made sense out here. They were in the middle of nowhere. No people or places or structure. No Hunters or soldiers or trainees.
Nothing made sense!
How did people live like this?!
The next time he woke up, Tubbo elected to decide for Ranboo what he would be doing that day. He had led the half-Ender inside and put him down on a cushion on the floor, beside a low table. He opened up one of Techno's old books, something about translation, but Ranboo didn’t like reading English. The letters all felt the same to him.
But every time his distress or discomfort would bubble up, Tubbo would grab his attention with another question.
“How do you say my name in Ender?” He asked, sounding genuinely curious.
“⏁⎍⏚⏚⍜,” Ranboo replied easily, smiling at the opportunity to say it. “⏁⎍⏚⏚⍜. ⏚⟒⌰⍜⎐⟒⎅. ⌿⍀⟒☊⟟⍜⎍⌇.”
Tubbo squinted a little and grinned. “Quit flirting. I’m trying to learn. Which one was it? ⏁-⏁..”
“⏁⎍⏚⏚⍜,” Ranboo beamed.
And they would go on in circles like that for a while.
Tubbo slowly began to pick up phrases through trial and error. He would ask what a word meant and Ranboo would repeat it back to him until he located it in the book. Tubbo found it very difficult to repeat the words back since his vocal cords just didn’t work the same way Ranboo’s did, but it entertained the half-ender endlessly to listen to his attempts.
Some words that Ranboo used he began to recognise too, like Beloved or I love you, although when pressed about their meaning, Ranboo wold just shrug him off and chitter something vague.
Slowly, Ranboo worked out a routine
When he woke up he would find Tubbo and receive a task. If it was daytime, he usually awoke to an ache in his chest or his muscles tensed up. He would sometimes feel a distressed buzzing or headache, which he had come to recognise as his body panicking (even if he had no idea what he had been panicked about). Thankfully, this feeling would usually settle down once he had awoken fully.
If Tubbo wasn’t around or available, Ranboo would seek someone else he trusted out. Which started off as only Techno (which sometimes meant he was able to spar, which he absolutely adored and would take every opportunity to do) but sometimes only Tommy was available.
Tommy didn’t know what task to give him. Ranboo never saw him do anything himself even, so Ranboo wasn't sure Tommy actually knew what tasks were. When he eventually managed to explain to Tommy what he was asking for, the teen had just looked around in confusion before grabbing a jar off the shelf and handing it to the half-Ender.
“Here. Sort this.”
It was a jar of buttons, full to the brim. None of them seemed to match, but some shared the same texture or material. It took Ranboo a while to even figure out how he should sort it. There were so many options and Tommy didn't stick around to explain further, so Ranboo settled on piles based on colour. It was a very unusual task compared to the things Dream used to ask him to do, but Ranboo found it very calming.
So much so that one time he woke up and went straight to the button jar without anyone telling him to. He felt scared for a while that someone would catch him and tell him off, but when Tubbo found him he just smiled and sat at his side while he finished the last pile.
At times when Ranboo woke up during the night, pulled from a twisted dream that set his eyes alight and heart racing, he took to wandering. At first, it was just to get the nervous energy out, something he used to do in Hypixel before seeing Dream, when the disorientation of waking up was still wearing off. But at the cabin he used the time to explore the landscape. Get a feel for the area and its neighbouring houses.
The place was small, so he had mapped it out in his head fairly soon. That’s when he started exploring the nearby town, which…did not go well.
He ended up really hurting someone, which he was told was a bad thing. He thinks being screamed at for being a hybrid was a bad thing and hurting that person was neutral at worst. This made Tubbo frown in thought after he had translated the comment.
“Well…yes, but there are other ways of dealing with people than hurting them. We normally don’t go into town so openly. People aren’t as comfortable around hybrids here as they are in Hypizel.”
“⟟ ⎅⍜⋏⏁ ⌰⟟☍⟒ ⏁⊑⏃⏁,” Ranboo replied in simple words that he knew Tubbo understood. His partner responded with a nod.
“Me either, bossman, but that’s just how it is. If you wanna wander around there, I suggest either disguising yourself like we do or only doing it at night. I wish there was a better way.”
Ranboo knew of a better way and it was to just go home, but any time he mentioned his home, Tubbo would murmur a vague apology and tell him about how they were safe here. This was how Tubbo learned the word home from him and would go on to hear it frequently over the following month.
Techno had been the first to mention it, passing by Tubbo on his way through the kitchen for a snack. He had walked in on the teen standing at the counter, a cutting board in front of him and a growing pile of walnuts on top. Half of them had their shells split and the flesh sorted into a bowl nearby. He had been using a small kitchen mallet to crack them open, careful around his scarred fingers.
His movements had been shaky, his grip around the mallet tense, but he hadn’t really registered why until Techno commented.
“Hey, you’ve got, uh…vines on your arms.” He didn't say it in a judgmental way, merely observant. It took a moment for the words to sink in and draw Tubbo away from the monotonous work.
He glanced down at his arms with a start. “Oh.”
His brother was right. There were indeed vines snaking over his forearms and coiling up his wrists, the skin growing red from how tight they were. When Tubbo pried the plants off, they left behind dark indents on his skin. He frowned and hissed between his teeth.
“Prime. I didn’t even notice.”
“Huh…” Techno hummed. “You should probably keep an eye on that. And drop your shoulders too while you’re at it. You seem tense.”
Tubbo frowned and shrugged the comment off before carrying on with his work.
But the second time someone pointed his magic out, he found it harder to ignore. It had been Ranboo, late into the night, when the thistles that threaded through their shared mattress became unignorable. It had never been much of a problem before, the flora that ran between their sleeping bodies, just a feature that Ranboo had grown to accept as a part of Tubbo. But recently the plant life had grown thicker, rougher against his skin.
Leaves and grasses became spiked and dry. Petals turned to weeds turned to brambles which scraped and poked and itched and stung.
Tubbo couldn’t control it. Barely realised it was happening as his body was locked in sleep. If only he was conscious, then he could channel the rogue magic into something a little gentler, for Ranboos sake.
Tubbo resorted to getting less sleep. Less time for him to mess up the bed and disturb his partner.
His movements grew more sluggish and the skin around his eyes darkened, but it wasn't like Tubbo was getting hurt. He could handle a few less hours of sleep.
At dinner the following week, Tommy had the nerve to ask Tubbo if he was doing okay. He had reached across the table to serve himself salad and noticed that the lettuce had rerooted itself in the salad bowl. The look he gave Tubbo was gentle and obnoxiously concerned.
“You sure you’re alright Tubs?”
Tubbo had begun to grow tired of hearing that question and pulled his lips into what he hoped was a convincing smile. “Of course,” he chirped back, hands tightening around his utensils. “Why wouldn't I be?” Then to deflect attention away from himself added, “Are you? How’re your walks?”
Tommy shrank back a little at the comment and rubbed a hand on his neck. “It’s good. Good. I can only do 10 minutes before I have to come back. But that's still more minutes than yesterday.”
“That is good,” Tubbo agreed brightly, carrying on with his meal.
Later that night, when the sun had just begun to set over the edge of the forest, taking the warmth of the day with it, the three of them drifted over to the loft to crash.
Tubbo picked up where he left off on a late night project, working at the rusted door of his rabbit pen. He was bent over the little house with a nail between his lips and a screwdriver in hand. Ranboo was to his left, sitting cross-legged with a speckled rabbit nestled in his lap. He had been shock-still before, not daring to move as the little fluff ball approached him, but he slowly relaxed and had now accepted its presence. Tubbo had even begun to hear a faint purring coming from him as his claws brushed its fur gently.
Tommy was just behind them, draped over the couch that they had managed to squeeze through the door a few years ago. He had his head bent over the armrest, eyes half-lidded as he listened to the familiar drone of the jukebox playing in the corner of the room. He didn’t need the music anymore to distract him from other peoples Noise (even with Ranboo now added to the mix. He seemed to have finally grown used to the half-ender), but he still liked hearing those same six tracks on repeat. He had listened to at least one every day since returning home.
All was peaceful in the little space. The new normal they had begun to settle into, fitting around each other and learning how to take up space again.
Tubbo just had to go and ruin their perfect moment by coughing.
The nail slipped out from his sputtering lips and fell to the floor with a faint tink, which made Ranboo’s ear flick up, then his head. Tubbo just wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and resumed his work, scowling to himself.
Until he coughed again. This time, hunching over and knocking a fist against his chest to try and dislodge whatever was scratching at his throat. It didn't seem to work. The coughs kept coming, one after another, his throat growing ragged.
Ranboo was alert now and quickly moved to his side. He put a hand on his partner's back. “Are you okay?”
Tubbo weakly pushed him away. “I'm fine b-big man,” he choked out in between coughs. “Just a-” his words were cut off as his chest tightened suddenly. He bit back a groan.
Tommy was looking over too now, propped up on his elbow. “Tubbo? Just breathe, bud.”
Tears had begun to sting at his eyes so he wrenched them closed. Tubbo’s fist closed around the fabric of his shirt, arms shaking as air became harder and harder to draw in. He didn’t know what was wrong. He couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe?
He felt Ranboo’s hand on his arm, another rubbing his back, but the touch wasn’t enough to distract him from the pain in his chest.
In the next spluttering cough, he spat out a mouthful of mint leaves and saliva onto the floor. They scratched against his raw throat and coated his tongue in a burning cold taste.
Peering down and seeing the leaves, Tubbo couldn’t hold back the next sharp, convulsive cough. His nose was inches from the floor from how far he had doubled over, his free hand scraping at the floorboards which sprung dandelions and thorns from their splintering edges. There was something wrong with him. There was something wrong inside of him and it was going to consume him. Why him? Why now?
Wild flora tore up the wooden slats of the walls. Vines climbed over his legs, up his torso. They snaked around Ranboos knees and prickled Tommy’s ankles as his brother stumbled over towards him.
“Shit, shit- Tubbo, you need to calm down,” he urged, voice cracking.
“-Tommy,” Tubbo gasped, hands clawing at the branches constricting around his aching throat. Leaves scratched at his skin, twigs poking at his ears and threading through his hair. The overflow of magic and panic and panic-fuelled magic was too much for him to hold back. He didn't understand why this was happening. He had been fine. He was fine. He was fine!
A hoarse cry bubbled over his lips before he spat another mouthful of mint onto the floor. The noise was shrill and choked but Ranboo didn't flinch away from him. He continued to rub gentle circles over his partner's back, chittering soft reassurances to him.
“It's okay, Bo. You’ll be okay. Hang in there.”
“C-cant breathe,” Tubbo wheezed back. He could feel clumps of leaves against his throat as he spoke. How deep in his body were they? Had they grown around his heart? Was he dying?
Tommy waded through the brambles to Tubbo's other side, falling to his knees. “I-It's a panic attack. You can breathe, Tubbo, you just need to relax. Let your magic go.”
“I can't,” he rasped back, almost a snap. His fists were shaking beneath the foliage around him. “I can't do anything!”
“Yes you can,” Tommy insisted, his expression turning fierce. “I know you can. You’re stronger than anyone I know. Too strong for your own f-fucking good. But you don't have to be, yeah? Let us help you.”
Tubbo’s fearful gaze flicked between his brother and Ranboo, both of which were staring back at him with fearful yet caring expressions. Ranboo opened his mouth to add something but looked to Tommy for approval first. Tommy didn't hesitate to nod, murmuring, “floors all yours bud.”
Ranboo nodded swiftly back before refocusing on Tubbo. “Bo, can you follow my breathing? As much as you can manage. In…” he took a slow, deliberate breath so Tubbo could follow along, “...and out.”
Tubbo wheezed in a breath as best he could, fighting against the tightness in his chest as tremors wracked his body. This was stupid. He couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t going to do anything. The problem was inside of him.
“Good. You’re doing so good,” Ranboo cooed. They continued the exercise a few more times as Tubbo tried to force himself to breath in time with Ranboo. Each time felt just as hard as the last but Tubbo could see the stubborn determination in his partner's eyes so he carried on for him.
“I-It's like you always say to me when the nightmares get bad,” Ranboo murmured. “You’re safe. You’re home. It's just us, nothing’s gonna hurt you. One breath at a time.”
Tubbo drew in another short breath before dissolving into coughs again. “I know that,” he rasped. “I know, I-” he paused to splutter mint leaves onto the floor. “We’re home. S-safe. Everything’s fine. It's fucking fine. I know.”
“Is it?” Tommy cut in. “I don't think it is right now, Tubbo. And you’re allowed to say that it's not. It's not! It fucking sucks what happened to us a-and things don't magically get better just cos we're home.”
Tubbo wiped his mouth with his sleeve, “but it's over. It’s done. Why can't my s-stupid body realise that!”
Ranboo held him steady, shaking his head gently. “It takes time to heal. And you can’t just will yourself to get over it. Even if it doesn't feel like it, all of that stuff was pretty…uh…pretty traumatic. I mean, you almost died. Dream, he-”
“Don't-” Tubbo finds himself hissing, the venom in his voice surprising everyone, including himself. His chest felt tight all over again in an instant. “You d-don’t have to mention him here. He’s gone.”
“Tubbo…” Tommy murmured, expression softening. “We have to talk about it eventually.”
“No we don't,” he rasped, the words almost sounding like a plea. He sucked in another short breath before coughing it back out again, flecks of leaves dribbling down his chin.
“Tubbo,” Tommy tried to start again, but Tubbo cut him off.
“Please don't.” Tears pooled began to pool in his eyes. “You’ll just make yourself upset.”
“Really?” his brother frowned. “Are you stopping me from being upset or yourself?”
Tubbo felt his defences raise and he opened his mouth to bite something back, only to see the expression of concern shared between Tommy and Ranboo. His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Does it m-matter? Pain is pain. T-the less the better.”
“Tubbs…this isn’t better.”
Tubbo scrunched his eyes closed and turned away, leaning into Ranboo’s arms. The gentle hand on his back resumed its slow circles. He let out a soft whine and buried his cheek against his partner's shoulder. The plant life around his body - around Ranboos and Tommys too - began to unwind and fall to the floor.
“It's okay, Bee. It’s gonna be okay,” Ranboo murmured. He wrapped his arms around Tubbo, squeezing him with just enough pressure to be grounding but not restricting. “You’re allowed to feel bad, okay? You can feel upset all you want. Bottling it up is just gonna hurt more. Let's just talk…It’ll hurt, yeah, but after that, we can start to heal. Properly this time. ”
Tommy nodded in agreement. “And we’ll be right here with you. You’re not alone.”
Soft fabric rubbed against Tubbos cheek as he shook his head. Gentle cotton from the plain white shirt Techno had loaned Ranboo, free from any Hypixel insignia or emblems. But Ranboo still had it tucked into his pants the same way he wore his old uniform. The sleeves were buttoned perfectly. His hair was getting longer now too, brushing against Tubbo’s nose, but Ranboo still combed it back so it wouldn’t get in his eyes. To not be a distraction.
They could run all they wanted, Tubbo realised, but these habits would still follow them. They were in every muffled chirp and whimper Ranboo made. Every time Tommy stood a little taller when someone addressed him as if standing at attention. The tremor in Tubbo’s hands when the fire crackled too loudly in the hearth.
Tommy was right. They weren’t fine.
And…maybe they didn't have to be, right away.
Tubbo gave one last shaky exhale and tilted his head so he could peer over at his brother. Tommy was kneeling on the ground beside him, his hands in his lap, palms to the ceiling. A litter of leaves and petals surrounded him.
When did Tubbo become the one getting comforted?
Not since he was very little. He didn’t like it. But he didn’t think he was getting a choice.
Love works in funny ways, he supposed.
“Okay,” Tubbo whispered. “Let's talk.”