Ranboo stared at the ceiling of his of his bedroom. He was lying on the floor, trying to numb the emotions bubbling in his stomach. It had been over sixteen years since he last saw this ceiling. Sixteen years for him, but only seven months for the ceiling. He wondered which had changed more.
The ceiling had a few cracks in it. Ranboo traced them with his finger. Were those cracks already there, or did they develop while he was gone? Ranboo racked his brain trying to remember. He should’ve paid closer attention.
The door opened from downstairs.
“Aww, come here. Sup little man. Daddy’s gotta put away the groceries.”
“Yes of course! Take these they’re not too heavy.”
“Boo doesn’t like chores. His ouchie hurts too much.”
“Boo has no more ouchie.”
“What are you talking about little man? Careful, don’t drop those.”
Ranboo hadn’t moved from his place on the floor. Tears blurred his view of the ceiling, but he didn’t let them run. It had been so long since he last heard Tubbo’s voice. He thought he’d be ready to see the boy, but he was nervous. How do you talk to someone you died for? What words would ever heal the gap of seven months?
Ranboo blinked his tears away and watched the cracks in his ceiling as Tubbo and Michael put away the groceries.
“Michael put that down. It’s too heavy, you’ll hurt yourself.”
“Ow!” Michael started to cry.
“What did I tell you? Let me see.”
“I’m sorry daddy.” Michael sobbed.
“Don’t be sorry. Just be careful next time. Here, I’ll get you a band-aid.”
Ranboo’s stomach turned to stone when he heard the creaking floorboards of the staircase.
He stayed frozen on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. There was a pause. The air went dry. The north had never been so silent.
Ranboo felt Tubbo’s presence move across the room. He opened a chest and dug around for a bit. Ranboo’s throat felt like cobwebs. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. Tubbo found what he was looking for, closed the chest, and went back downstairs to help Michael.
Tubbo’s voice was different now. He spoke softly to Michael, muttering things like, “hold still” and, “I know it hurts”.
Ranboo listened to the sound of his own heartbeat. He felt too numb to move, but he couldn’t stay on the floor forever.
“There we go. All better.” Tubbo said. Michael thanked him and there was a brief silence that was interrupted by the sound of someone turning on the tap. Plates and silverware clanged together.
Ranboo blinked and took a deep breath. It took every last bit of strength to pull his body up from the floor. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and slowly made his way downstairs. He had to duck under the doorway. He wasn’t sure why it was built so low.
Tubbo was doing the dishes. He didn’t look over. Not even once.
“Tubbo I-” He was interrupted by a loud crash of silverware being tossed into the sink. Tubbo kept cleaning.
Ranboo wasn’t quite sure what this was. Tubbo could be so hard to read sometimes. After Aimsey convinced Dream to revive him, she told Ranboo that Tubbo must have changed. That he couldn’t possibly be the same person from before. But this looked pretty familiar to Ranboo. Tubbo wasn’t an easy person to know, but that didn’t mean Ranboo cared about him any less.
“It’s summer. I saw the snow melting outside.” Ranboo said. Tubbo continued to ignore him. “Of course, not all the snow will melt. It’s always freezing out here.” Ranboo took a few small steps forward.
“I told her not to do it.” Tubbo said under his breath.
“What?” Ranboo asked, but he was silenced by Tubbo throwing the plate he was cleaning into the sink and frantically drying his hands. Ranboo followed as Tubbo rushed over to his winter coat, threw it on, grabbed his sword, and headed outside. The boy quickly made his way through the snow, tying the belt with his scabbard along the way.
“Tubbo wait.” Ranboo caught up to him and pulled his arm, causing Tubbo to fumble his belt and accidentally drop the sword into the snow.
“Let me go.” Tubbo ordered as he tried to pull away. But Ranboo wouldn’t let go. He couldn’t.
Tubbo struggled to pry Ranboo’s hand from his arm, but Ranboo grabbed Tubbo’s other arm so that he couldn’t. Then, Tubbo turned both his hands into fists and began pushing Ranboo away. The pushing turned into punching, but Ranboo didn’t budge. He studied Tubbo’s face, his gaze never meeting Ranboo’s. Not even once. Tubbo wasn’t hitting to get away, nor was he angry. Every hit seemed harder on Tubbo than it did on Ranboo.
Eventually, the boy exhausted himself. He took a moment to catch his breath, then stepped in close, wrapping his arms around Ranboo.
“How could she do this?” He sobbed.
Ranboo gently wrapped his arms around Tubbo, and this time he couldn’t stop the tears from falling.
“I hate everyone so much and I don’t know why.”
A cool wind washed over them. A sea of leaves rustled beyond the fence.
“You were all I had. They always kill everything I have.”
Ranboo held onto Tubbo as if the world were crumbling around them. He wanted to say that everything was alright. He wanted to comfort him, and tell him things would go back to normal.
But deep down he knew the ceiling never had so many cracks.
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