Chapter Text
The next morning was a lot more than he bargained for when trying to make peace with Tommy.
When he first watched the boy walk out of his room, his heart had held hope for the day to come. He expected a smile or wave at breakfast, or even plain old silence, to show he wasn’t going to antagonize Ranboo any more than he had the previous night.
Instead, he woke up to screeching, a pounding at his door, and, when he didn’t move from underneath his piled up blankets built to block out the sun, Tommy jumping onto him elbow first .
Pain rippled through his weak, feeble body, and all six feet of him folded in half upon impact. Briefly, he regretted his acceptance of the boy’s apology, tempted to retract it as Tommy’s sharp, bony elbow landed right where his gut was under the covers. Guilt at the thought immediately followed, but he figured he was justified enough in his reasons. Said reasons being the growing bruise below his ribs, courtesy of a very lanky child.
He grumbled, shifting to try escaping Tommy, but the boy was sprawled across the bed like an octopus. He shoved at Tommy, opening his eyes only to glare at his cheeky, cheeky face.
“Good morning,” he said, far to energetic for it to be morning. When did he wake up for him to be so…much? Ranboo needed at least two more hours of sleep to deal with his shit-eating grin.
“What.” His voice was scratchy, and he winced as how much his throat hurt. He must have slept with his mouth open. Man.
Tommy’s smile grew, much to Ranboo’s dismay, and he sat himself up in the most inconvenient way, poking and jabbing Ranboo at every point. “Father Minecraft made waffles, and we’re not allowed to eat breakfast until everyone’s downstairs. Which may or may not be a rule because of me. Don’t worry about it.” He leveled Tommy with an unimpressed look. The latter laughed, high and anxious, and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Anyways, food! Yeah?”
Ranboo crawled back, escaping Tommy’s surprising weight for how skinny he was, and sat himself up. He pushed his hair out of his face, yawning as he grimaced at the texture. It was greasy, he’d need to shower soon. The last house didn’t hold his personal hygiene hostage, or anything like that, but they were particularly frugal when it came to electricity and water bills.
“Mmph. Food.” He rubbed his eyes, nodding as he felt the bed lift. When he opened his eyes, Tommy was off the bed and grabbing his arm, trying to pull him up. It was. Kind of funny, watching him struggle. Ranboo was notorious in a couple of group homes (aka the only two he’d ever been in, due to unfinished paperwork and the like) for being akin to a string-bean, so seeing someone struggle to pull him up was entertaining, to say the least.
He finally got out of bed, letting Tommy lead him out of his room after grabbing his mask from his bedside and slipping it on. The boy was talking a mile a minute, making Ranboo wonder if he even needed to breathe. “So Wilbur isn’t up yet, Techno usually wakes him up since he’s gotten used to my volume and needs someone to actually drag him out of bed in the mornings-” Ranboo blankly nodded along, not processing any of the information being thrown at him, “-but I used to be the one to wake him up, since he’ll sleep in ‘til evening if we let ‘im. Honestly, I’m kind of surprised you were still sleeping, I would’ve thought Techno’s alarm would wake you up, since it wakes everyone else but Wilbur,” he said, pausing and looking Ranboo in the eye. The latter looked away, not exactly comfortable with the eye contact. “Did you hear it? His alarm’s super loud, sounds like a bell , goes off every five minutes after the clock hits 7 until he shuts it off. Sometimes he leaves it on if there’s been an argument.”
Ranboo though about it, trying to dig into any memories for earlier in the morning, but found none. Either he didn’t wake up, or he didn’t remember it. Either way, he shook his head, suppressing another yawn.
“Holy shit, man. I guess that makes two that can sleep through that devil.” They were at the bottom of the stairs, now, and Ranboo belatedly realized he was wearing a pair of pajamas he faintly recognized as his own. When did he change last night? Was he wearing them when he spoke to Tommy? He hadn’t been paying attention, maybe he changed before he went back to sleep. He shrugged it off, not surprised by his poor memory, but not appreciating it either. “You know, you remind me a bit o’ Wil.”
He coughed, choking on his own spit for a second. He gave Tommy an incredulous look, though unable to say anything to refute him - both out of the coughing fit he was currently suffering from, and not knowing the older well enough or long enough to make that sort of judgement. “How-” he cleared his throat, “how so?”
Tommy hummed, apparently needing to think about it for a second. Somehow, Ranboo couldn’t help but feel like he just said things for the sake of saying them, without a single thought behind them. “Well, you’re both tall,” he stated matter-of-fact, handing on his chin like he was doing some serious contemplation. They turned another corner, and Tommy stopped Ranboo by grabbing him by the shoulder, yanking him aside for a moment.
He buffered, not understanding for a few seconds why he was no longer moving, then looked to Tommy with nothing but confusion on his face. The blond, meanwhile, had picked up a photo from a nearby decor table, holding it out to Ranboo. In the frame was a picture of what Ranboo could only assume to be Wilbur. He hadn’t gotten the best look at him the night before, and that wasn’t even mentioning his shoddy memory erasing most of anyone’s appearance from his mind if he looks away for two seconds.
Something he definitely assumed to be unique to Photo Wilbur, however, was the boy’s attire. “And you’re both emo. Wilbur less so now , but it’s the thought that counts,” Tommy proudly said, pointing to the unfortunate photo.
“I don’t- I don’t think that’s actually how that term is used, um-” He was cut off by Tommy putting the photo down and pulling him back down through the halls. “Oh, okay.” He let himself be dragged once again, forcing the image of who he assumed to be Wilbur (the image of the older boy in his memory was fuzzy already) decked out in all black and spikes away from his mind. Not too difficult to forget it, aha. Ha.
They reached the dining room. He knew they reached the dining room when he was tugged to a stop, making him stumble over his own feet and look up to see only Phil seated at the table, a knowing grin on the man’s face. And, thankfully, graciously, Tommy announced to the one single man in the dining room,
“We have arrived for breakfast!”
Thank you, Tommy , he (sarcastically) thought to himself, grimacing at the other’s volume. Phil didn’t seem to mind, anyways, so he didn’t try voicing his thoughts out loud. If anything, Phil looked more surprised to see Tommy dragging Ranboo in than Tommy’s volume.
“Ah, uh, good morning,” he said, blinking once or twice before his expression settled back into the calm smile he apparently wore all the time, if Ranboo was to believe the dozens of pictures littered throughout the house. “Have a seat anywhere, I’m waiting on your brothers before I set the food out.”
Tommy finally let go of Ranboo, quick to claim his seat at the other end of the table from Phil. Ranboo watched him clamor for the seat he was sure nobody would try to take from him, and tried to remember where he’d sat the night before. They seemed tight-knit, so they’d have some unspoken seating chart. And they probably wouldn’t get mad if he took someone’s seat, but it would make him uncomfortable, and it would be noticeable that he doesn’t belong here.
His mind could only replicate the scene with what he could see now, matching Tommy and Phil to their seats from last night, but leaving out everyone else. He stared at the table, like he would whisper the answer to him, and frowned.
“ Psst! ” He jumped, glancing around until he landed on Tommy, leaning forward in his seat and holding a finger to his mouth. He huffed out a laugh - why was he whispering? Even if he was trying to keep Phil out of the conversation, the man could definitely still hear him. “ Over here, sit here !”
He pushed the chair to his left out with a kick, patting the spot in front of the seat on the table. He raised his eyebrows at Ranboo, grinning widely. Ranboo swallowed down a smile (nobody would see it, anyways) and pulled the chair out, sitting down like he was about to get tested. The penalty was, of course, death.
Nothing happened when he sat down, and he scooted himself closer to the table, waiting another few seconds for someone to yell at him. Nothing. Fantastic.
“Good, um. Good morning,” he said to Phil, shifting awkwardly in his seat. Phil nodded back to him, sipping a “#1 Dad” mug with a serene expression. It was almost a peaceful atmosphere, a different quiet to the one last night. That had been suffocating, oppressive. A kind of silence Ranboo was used to, but still hated with all his being.
He heard shuffling from upstairs, and gripped the edges of his seat. On one hand, Techno had seemed nice enough. Maybe it was because he’d learned from whatever happened with the first kid they’d fostered ( he couldn’t remember the name, but he was sure he wrote it down ) or he was just genuinely chill. On the other hand, Wilbur treated Ranboo like the dirt beneath his shoe, or some sort of bug he had to shoo out. It spooked him, a bit, but even more than that, it frustrated him.
Ranboo hadn’t even done anything. He was actually polite . He tried not to overstep, tried to stay in his line, all he did was want to eat dinner. Everyone else was fine with that - minus Tommy’s lack of tact, which he later apologized for - so why was Wilbur so hostile? What was the point? It made Ranboo grit his teeth while the grumblings and footsteps grew closer to the table.
He looked up, making eye contact with Wilbur, and suddenly he remembered the rest of the seating from last night.
Oh. He was in Wilbur’s seat. And Wilbur noticed .
He raised a timid hand and waved, mostly at the pink-haired boy shambling in from behind Wilbur. “Good morning,” he said, voice cracking near the end. Tommy snickered beside him, and he elbowed the boy, shooting a half-hearted glare. Tommy raised his hands in surrender, but by the shaking of his shoulders from laughs he was failing to keep in, he didn’t mean it.
Techno had no trouble making his way to his seat from the previous night, sitting down with a huff and a mumble that could resemble “good morning” if Ranboo strained his ears enough. Wilbur, not before rolling his eyes, sat down in the seat next to Techno, across from Tommy, and far enough from Ranboo to save him from the heat of the brunet’s stare.
Phil stood up, drawing their attention to him, and smiled. “I’ll get breakfast out in a minute. Before that, I just have a few things to note,” he said, glancing over to Ranboo. Ah, this was going to be about him.
Maybe he didn’t want to keep someone his kid didn’t like. He already caused discourse in the family, and it had only been a day. He wasn’t worth it, was he? Oh, shit, he was going to have to sit in front of Ms. Kelly in that really uncomfortable plastic chair in her too-hot too-cold office and explain why he’s disappointing again -
“Ranboo needs someone to show him around town, today.”
He looked up, eyes wide. That wasn’t what he expected. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t that. He tilted his head, ignoring the intake of breath from the other side of the table that he was now pretty sure meant someone was going to object. Phil spoke before Wilbur could.
“Wilbur will, since he’s the oldest.” He smile, so warm and comforting and kind, was starting to look a bit too smug for Ranboo’s liking. Phil, watching over the table like the cat who caught the canary, kept talking while Ranboo and Wilbur caught flies with their gaping jaws. “I’ll give you both some money if you see anything you like. Maybe Ranboo needs new clothes, or you both want some food, I don’t know. Go out, have fun, and don’t come back until you aren’t at each other’s throats.”
With that, Phil turned around, leaving to the kitchen while the table stewed in the pure shock left behind. Ranboo risked a look at Wilbur, and saw his own flabbergasted expression reflected back, only more obvious than his own mask-covered face. Meanwhile, Tommy gave up on trying to hide his giggles, bursting out laughing and smacking the table a few times. Techno, similarly, let out an amused huff, the ghost of a grin on his face.
The delicious smell of waffles wafted through the air, and Ranboo swallowed, still staring at Wilbur while the other looked anywhere but him. Oh,
man
.