Chapter Text
“I’m really sorry Tubbo.” Ranboo said, his voice breaking and causing Tubbo to glance up, watching tears slowly burn as they trickled down Ranboo’s face. “This… this is all my fault.”
Tubbo’s world seemed to freeze, this moment that was so warm and filled with melancholy and bittersweet feelings suddenly ran cold. A shiver shot up his spine at the drastic change in mood.
“What-” Tubbo cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice, “what do you mean by that?”
Ranboo twisted and walked for a chest in his house, digging through it with a determined sort of sadness that seemed to waft out of him and into the home. An odd enderian croaking sound left his throat as he dug up a book from his chest, holding it close to his heart as he walked back towards Tubbo.
“You know how I’ve been… forgetting a lot of things?” Ranboo started slowly, his gaze permanently glued to the floor.
Tubbo nodded, letting Ranboo have the silence to think over his words.
“I started writing things down, in my minute man book. Sometimes I’ll write down meeting stuff and whatever you need me to, but most of the time, I’m trying to write down important things, so that I can remember later.” Ranboo opened the book warily, flipping through it with practiced ease towards what Tubbo could only assume was the correct page. “I lost the original, but even without it I don’t think I could ever forget that… all of this is my fault.”
Ranboo looked back at the book in his hands, glaring at it for a long moment before snapped it shut and shoved it into his pocket, glaring at his feet.
“Ranboo, it couldn’t possibly be your fault.” Tubbo tried, sincere in his words. He trusted Ranboo enough to know that the guy wasn’t going to go out of his way to harm anyone. In fact, he usually didn’t even try to harm others, only using his words and resorting to violence as a last resort.
Ranboo shook his head, “it is. It is my fault.” He took a breath. Two. Three. Tubbo could practically see him forcing an act upon himself. To make him look braver than he felt.
Is that how tubbo looked? Whenever he puts on his so-called ‘presidential mode’?
“When I first arrived in the DreamSMP lands, I met Tommy for the first time. He and I decided to hang out for the day.” Ranboo started softly, making Tubbo listen with full attention. “Tommy asked if I wanted to prank some people with him, and I agreed. It was fine at first, we were laughing, and nothing was particularly harmful. But then we arrived at George’s house.” Ranboo’s breath hitched, and Tubbo could almost see Ranboo reliving the memory.
“It was an accident. The- the flint and steel went off and sparks flew in the wrong place. We couldn’t stop it even if we tried. It burned so fast.” Ranboo recalled, his voice slowly becoming eerily emotionless, “we were just messing around. Tommy was panicking, I was panicking… we- we ran. Tommy said that we’d never speak of it again. But I can’t hide this from you anymore. I should’ve been the one who was exiled. I was there, I’m to blame as well. He protected me. But I should’ve been the one protecting him .”
Ranboo slowly looked up, his eyes meeting Tubbo’s with pure, unfiltered, guilt. “I’m so sorry Tubbo… you- you can exile me, kill me, whatever you want to do. I- I just want you to know that I’m sorry. ”
For a long moment, Tubbo didn’t speak, watching Ranboo’s eyes flicker back and forth between Tubbo’s, trying to gauge for any sort of reaction.
But… Tubbo couldn’t find it in himself to blame the guy. In fact, if anything, it made the whole situation much smaller than it seemed.
Everyone knew how easy it was to build something back. Tubbo had seen the damage personally. It would’ve been an easy fix. Fifteen minutes tops.
Even George wasn’t crazy upset by it. Of course there was his initial reaction to having his house burnt a bit, but after a day or so, he seemed to move on, content to simply leave the home and wander away. Probably to sleep somewhere.
Primes , what a dumb fucking situation.
Was this Dream’s plan from the start? Has he always aimed to seclude Tommy? Drive the guy to the point of death?
Was George’s house burning down an easy path for him to take advantage of, using the picture of politics and forced smiles to pretend that exile was the best option? When clearly, there were many better options that Tubbo couldn’t dare to mention without being bitten at?
Surely not…
Right?
If they wanted information, they were going to have to find it.
“Ranboo, thank you for telling me.” Tubbo said sincerely, “I know by now that neither you nor Tommy meant any real harm with your pranks. Tommy protected you, and I will as well. You’re under L’manburgs protection Ranboo. You’re a citizen here, and I refuse to let anyone else meet the same fate Tommy did.” Tubbo clenched his fist, “I will never fall for Dream’s manipulations ever again.”
Gently, Tubbo took Ranboo’s hands in his own, bringing the enderman to the surface of rapid thoughts and harsh emotions. “Ranboo, I don’t blame you . It wasn’t your fault. Tommy was…” Tubbo chuckled at old memories that washed through his head. Tommy and himself playing their own pranks within the DreamSMP lands. “Tommy was fun to be around, you find yourself saying yes to him even when whatever he’s planning sounds dangerous or stupid. Tommy had a way of making everything seem new and exciting, and it’s addicting. You didn’t know that Dream’s been after Tommy since the beginning. You had no way of knowing unless someone decided to tell you.” He squeezed Ranboo’s hands, trying not to stare into his eyes since he knew that Ranboo wasn’t the biggest fan of eye contact, and tried to stare at his forehead instead, finding his eyes tracing the line in the perfect middle of his skin, half midnight black, and the other a ghastly white. “It’s not your fault.”
“You say that with so much conviction…” Ranboo croaked out, “why don’t you believe it when I tell you the same?”
Tubbo gasped softly, pulling his hands from Ranboo and shoving them in his pockets, making sure to look towards the floor. “My situation is a little different…” he shook his head from the memories starting to flood through, listening to his thoughts that practically screamed abort, run, danger . “Would you like to take a field trip with me?”
“Tubbo, you’re changing the subject…”
Tubbo whirled around for the front door, fidgeting with his broken compass as he nudged it open and left into the cool air of the evening, Ranboo close behind him.
“Where are you going? Tubbo-” Ranboo tried, gently prying at Tubbo’s sleeve as he attempted to walk away, only resulting in Ranboo trailing behind reluctantly.
“I don’t-” Tubbo almost voiced his panicking thoughts on how he needed to get out of L’manburg. If he squinted, he could see imaginary obsidian walls, encaging everyone inside. “We’re going to investigate exile. There has to be more to this whole situation than what we’ve seen!”
He was walking faster now, down the familiar path towards Tommy’s house, and eventually, the portal.
“Tubbo,” Ranboo sighed, easily keeping Tubbo’s brisk pace, “it’s okay to be upset. You don’t have to put on this… act around me. I know you’re hurting.”
Stop it stop it stop it.
They were almost in front of Tommy’s house now, just barely reaching the dirt tunnel that the path drilled through.
“Tubbo, stop walking. Let me talk to you.” Ranboo tried, still gently tugging on Tubbo’s sleeve.
Stop it.
Tubbo stopped, whirling around and onto his toes to get in Ranboo’s face, something within him snapping like a brittle twig into a roaring fire.
“You don’t know anything Ranboo!” Tubbo shouted, pushing all his anger out onto the surface and towards the enderman who pushed him just a tad bit too far. “There’s nothing to talk about so stop asking ! You have no idea what any of us have been through; and even if you did, you probably would’ve forgotten !”
The fire in him suddenly died out completely, a chill filling his bones as he processed what he said.
Ranboo’s face pinched in hurt and confusion, a soft and wounded warble escaping from the back of his throat.
Tubbo desperately wanted to take back what he said, it was a low blow, to bring up Ranboo’s memory like that, even if it rang true.
“I’m sorry that wasn’t-” Tubbo was stopped by Ranboo raising a hand.
“Maybe…” Ranboo started, trailing off as he thought over his words. He stared at the sky for a solid minute, neither moving to break the uncomfortable silence that settled over them. Then he sighed, finally breaking away from gazing towards the clouds to look at Tubbo.
“Maybe that’s true. I probably would’ve forgotten.” Ranboo said slowly, confirming Tubbo’s words, “I don’t understand, not fully at least… so help me understand Tubbo. Tell me about the past so that I may see things in a better light. Teach me to understand what you’ve gone through. Your worries, your struggles, what happened before I stumbled into this place?”
Tubbo let out a wet laugh, suddenly realizing that he was crying, cold tears making themselves apparent on his cheeks as he wiped them away. “There’s too much to say.”
Ranboo hummed, “well, we have quite a long walk ahead of us. Why don’t you just tell me about… your first adventures with Tommy?”
“You make that sound so tame.” Tubbo scoffed, throat still a little raw from yelling.
Ranboo shrugged, “I feel like it’d be a nice place to start.”
Tubbo did end up telling Ranboo everything he remembered. He recalled Tommy burning his house down, the disks, their first conflict with Dream, L’manburg’s beginnings, as much as he possibly could.
He spoke fondly of his past pets, killed by Sapnap and how it started a rift between the pair and their friendship.
Tubbo became lost in a sea of past memories, all of them simpler and more pleasant, filled with pranks and laughter and unknowing of the horrors that were soon to come. He told Ranboo of staying up late with Tommy, sneaking around L’manburg while the moon was at its peak and spying on Wilbur, who would most often be found sitting at the dying embers of the fire, his guitar in hand.
Wilbur would always sing the most melancholy tunes in the night, when he full heartedly believed that everyone was fast asleep in their beds, and no ears would tune into his sad and melodic song.
He spoke of one night in particular, where Tommy and himself leaned against the side of the camarvan and simply listened. They listened with their fingers entangled, promises of “I’ll protect you” whispered under their breaths towards one another. It was during the height of their war. Little did they know, when the sun brought about the new day, L’manburg would be blown up for the first time.
How naive they’d been. Sitting in the grass and gazing at the stars above, blissfully unaware of the tnt that laced the land beneath their feet. Death ready to hold them in her hands and cradle them in her cold embrace.
Tubbo recalled to Ranboo how he felt completely invincible that night. Listening to Tommy’s whispers of safety and new beginnings for them both, the promise of war to be left behind and forgotten. Only for that invincibility to be crumbled to ash beneath his feet by the next dawn. How he realized that the smell of gunpowder and fire became familiar to him for the first time.
He explained how his heart seemed to stop after the first two explosions, his hearing never being the same as it used to be. How his and Tommy’s hands found one another as they sprinted for the tiny pond within the walls, hoping for safety within the water as they watched their home go up in smoke. Arrows flying towards them with terrifying precision but still somehow avoiding their deaths.
Tubbo reluctantly told him of the eventual winning of the war. Only barely grazing over Eret’s betrayal which was forgiven by this point in time, now that Tubbo was president and so many more pressing things happened after.
Schlatt’s sudden arrival came next on the train of explanation, perfectly fitting as the pair entered the nether, still on the path towards Tommy’s exile area.
They found the ragged and half destroyed path Tommy had created in a desperate attempt to come back. The sight very nearly broke Tubbo’s heart.
With a heavy sigh of exhaustion and sorrow, Tubbo explained the whole presidency debacle, skipping over a bunch of election shit and getting to the part where Schlatt became president. How his first big move was to banish Wilbur and Tommy out of L’manburg and change the country's name to Manburg.
A shaky breath forced itself out of his throat, Ranboo’s hand gently landing on Tubbo’s shoulder as he gave him an encouraging smile. Tubbo noted that his hand didn’t move away as he explained.
Schlatt’s presidency was… more horrible than he ever let on. Quackity and himself were very much abused by the man. He was almost always drunk, and he packed a heavy punch that would leave Tubbo and Quackity bruised for weeks.
He choked out the story when Schlatt hit him for the first time. Of course, he glossed over certain details, making sure to make it sound as if he didn’t care anymore. He was over it. Tubbo was fine. His bruises were healed, Schlatt was dead, he couldn’t be hurt anymore.
So why did he breathing become more panicked as he remembered the past?
Only a week after Tommy and Wilbur were banished, Schlatt had Tubbo following him around like a dog. Telling him lists and lists of things he had to do, papers he had to sign, decisions he had to confirm.
Tubbo was naive. A fool to ask. An idiot to hope that his best friend and someone who was much like an older brother to him were okay.
He made the mistake of asking if Wilbur and Tommy could come back in the future.
His answer was a fist to his face, and a kick to his ribs. Spitting anger to never ask again hissed at him through clenched teeth.
Tubbo feared Schlatt after that. He always felt uneasy around the man before, but after being hit, the amount of distrust and violent fear left him on shaky legs and with bile in his throat.
At the same time, Schlatt was easy to trust. Over and over again, Tubbo had the thought of, ‘maybe this time’ll be different.’
It never was.
Even when Schlatt affectionately rubbed at Tubbo’s head, mussing up his hair, it held the same amount of care as it did a command. Tubbo could feel every tug of his hair strands, could see the glint of underlying anger in Schlatt’s eye. A quiet way of him telling Tubbo to shut up, and keep his head down.
There was a reason Tubbo was forced to wear sweltering hot clothing all the time. Clothes that covered all the bodily harm that had come upon him during Schlatt’s presidency.
If he so much as rolled up his sleeves for a moment, Schlatt would pull him to the side with an iron grip that marked his arm for days. He’d be yelled at, alcoholic breath becoming familiar to breathe as Schlatt berated him for every thing he’s ever done wrong. Bringing up past misdoings that no one even thought of anymore, only faded memories in the back of their minds.
Mumbled apologies that spilled from Quackity’s lips in the aftermath, usually in the dead of the night when Schlatt had long gone and drunk himself to sleep, Quackity finding Tubbo and doing his best to patch up cuts or bruises that scattered Tubbo’s body. Those nights were always the heaviest, tension sitting high on their shoulders as they listened intently for any sound within the white house walls, hoping and praying Schlatt would stay fast asleep and not find them in the darkness of the kitchen, only a lantern to give them light.
Quackity got off easier half the time, usually only screaming and a harsh slap to the face that seemed to ring through Tubbo’s ears. Since he was usually away on business, it meant that Tubbo became Schlatt’s personal punching bag to beat his frustrations into.
Something in Quackity snapped after Schlatt’s sudden death. The man seemed to take on new wings, forcing a smile on his face as he reached for the stars above with grandeur and promises. Tubbo couldn’t find himself to hate the guy, and swore him in as his vice president without much of a second thought.
He didn’t have much of a choice either. Quackity was terrifyingly good at persuasion, and Tubbo didn’t have anyone better for the job. Quackity already knew what to do most of the time.
Tubbo even spoke about how Schlatt forced him to take down the first L’manburg’s walls. Shouting to the heavens on how it needed to be taken down in order to make way for the new ways of the land. The first order he was ever given, and it damn near broke his heart.
Nonetheless, he forced a smile, asked for some spare pickaxes, and went to work. Pointedly ignoring his communicator with messages from Tommy and Wilbur alike, ignoring the two as they ran into Manburg lands and begged for Schlatt to stop. Tubbo isn’t ashamed to say he cried that night; behind closed doors and wrapped in a pile of blankets. For the first time since arriving in the dreamsmp lands, he felt completely alone.
Before he could start explaining his time as a spy for Pogtopia, he found that they had arrived at Tommy’s portal in exile.
The purple swirl and the uneasy sounds of the portal brought Tubbo back from his explanation of the past, suddenly confronted with memories of what he and Ranboo were doing here in the first place.
Tubbo let out a strained laugh, embarrassment taking over his entire body as he realized that he basically just info dumped almost all his past traumas onto Ranboo within a single trip. “Primes Ranboo, I’m so sorry you had to listen to that.” Tubbo joked off, trying to stamp down the overwhelming anxiety that threatened to trample his fragile state of mind.
Ranboo shook his head, taking Tubbo’s wrist gently in his hand before he could scramble off into the portal and away from the taller. “Tubbo, I asked you to tell me things. And from the sounds of it, you had a lot you needed to get off your chest.” Ranboo sent him a soft smile, one filled with genuine warmth that made Tubbo’s head reel back in confusion. He didn’t feel deserving of such a kind gesture.
Ranboo squeezed Tubbo’s hand gently, that smile never straining or fading, “I’m always willing to lend an ear your way if you need someone to talk to.”
“Why…” Tubbo shook his head, letting the thought fade before pulling his hand out of Ranboo’s and facing the portal. “Let’s try and find some truth behind this whole exile thing.”
Ranboo thankfully allowed Tubbo the change in topic and nodded. The two stepped forward and into the portal, the world spinning as their stomachs dropped to their feet while they transported between worlds.
The pair stumbled out of the nether portal, their eyes landing upon the destruction of Tommy’s exile.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ranboo’s hand fly up to cover his mouth in shock at the state of the place.
Tubbo sighed, ignoring the pang in his heart as he carefully tread forward and towards the crater that used to be what he heard was Logstershire. He never got to see the place in all its glory, never able to pass the threshold of the portal until it was too late. Until Tommy was already gone.
He wanted to. He wanted to visit his friend countless times in exile. But he was terrified. Terrified of Tommy rejecting him, yelling at him, hating him for what Tubbo had done. It was his fault that Tommy was forced here. Here in a place he never should've gone to. He should’ve been at home, in the comfort of his bed and his dirt shack of a home.
Tubbo has walked the nether path countless times. Just to stand in front of Tommy’s portal before chickening out and going home, heart in his throat as he overthought everything.
A hand found his own, fingers threading together in a way that reminded him so much of Tommy he found a flare of hope brightening in his chest as he turned. But the hope was quickly stamped down as he met eyes with Ranboo and recalled that Tommy was dead. Never again would he be able to hold his best friend's hand, always warm and filled with life and buzzing energy that Tubbo was only slightly jealous of.
But, he couldn’t pull his hand away, taking comfort in the odd coolness of Ranboo’s fingers, the tallers face completely filled with sorrow and concern as he got an eyeful of the land before them.
Tubbo could sense when Ranboo finally saw the dirt tower, his hand tightening around Tubbo’s as he let out a gasp of horror.
Tubbo could only squeeze back, purposefully not looking towards the tower, keeping his eyes fastened to the crater of land to the side of it and gently tugging a grief-stricken Ranboo along with him to search the remains.
There was absolutely nothing left of the place, only stray bits of wood and rubble of what used to be walls made of logs and a small little van within. According to Ghostbur that is.
Carefully, the pair managed to find a path to the bottom of the crater, almost slipping against the loose dirt multiple times, thankful that they were holding onto one another in order to not slip and slide the rest of the way down.
There wasn’t much to see. Just bits and pieces of charred wood that littered the bottom.
Nonetheless, they picked their way through, moving larger pieces and searching underneath, eventually letting go of each other's hands as they dug through rubble. Ranboo pulling himself together long enough to help and dig around.
Tubbo didn’t have much hope of finding anything. It seemed like everything had been blown to pieces. Demolished in an act of rage that wasn’t unlike Tommy, but at the same time, Tubbo was absolutely certain that Tommy would never do this to his own makeshift home.
Within the dirt, they found tiny fragments of diamonds and gold and iron, too little to be worth anything, but shone from the rubble like glittering gems in the sun. Ranboo found a pickaxe handle, barely worn from use, but the head was nowhere to be found, probably destroyed in the explosion. How the handle survived? They hadn’t a clue.
None of it was the evidence that Tubbo needed. Tubbo needed something that obviously pointed to Dream. Something that proved the creep of a man guilty.
There was a hole in the crater that seemed a little deeper than the rest of it, maybe a basement of sorts? But there wasn’t anything remaining in there, from the looks of it, it could’ve been the start of the explosion, more damaged here than most of the crater.
Now the real question was why?
“Find anything?” Ranboo asked, peaking over the slope of the deeper part of the hole and reaching a hand towards Tubbo to help him out.
Tubbo grabbed his hand, almost slipping on the loose dirt multiple times before Ranboo was able to pull him out. He shook his head, a frown on his face as he looked around, there had to be something here.
For an hour longer, they searched through the remains. They found Tommy’s tent, his familiar handwriting written on a sign at the top, ‘Tnret’. An odd name, but so obviously Tommy that it left Tubbo and Ranboo smiling fondly at it.
Ranboo spoke first, staring at an old Christmas tree that still stood proud, decorated with familiar baubles that obviously came from the DreamSMP, someone building it for Tommy as a gift.
“We used to message one another…” Ranboo whispered, so softly it might as well have been a part of the breeze. He pointed towards the middle of the tree, his finger painting a faint but hidden outline of a chest that still stood in the centre, “this was one of our hiding spots. It made Tommy less paranoid when we hid the messages around.”
Tubbo looked up at his friend, catching a faraway melancholy look in his eyes as he reminisced. “What… what happened?” Tubbo asked gently, Ranboo raised a brow in question, so Tubbo clarified, “to the messages I mean?”
Ranboo mouthed a soft ‘oh’ before sighing, tearing his gaze away from Tubbo and looking back to the tree, “I don’t quite remember. All I know is that… Tommy’s writing would get worse and worse, more spelling mistakes and cryptic wording until it all just… stopped.” Ranboo wrapped his arms around himself, “I thought that he just didn’t want to speak to me anymore. Seeing as I should’ve been forced into exile as well. I don’t… the chest was always empty when I would come to check it. And every time I tried to visit, Dream would say Tommy didn’t want any visitors and shoo me away. Either that or Tommy just… wasn’t here. Off gathering resources and materials.” Ranboo’s fingers dug into his arms, “I should’ve done something to help.”
Tubbo furrowed his brow in thought, “that’s not… Tommy wouldn’t stop attempting communication for no reason. He was the most social guy I knew. Honestly, I think he needs to talk to people or he gets really anxious.” Tubbo stared at the tree, at the shattered remains of their surroundings and the dark history it was stained with. “Tommy doesn’t simply stop speaking to someone just because they wronged him. He always needs to have the last word. He’d rather go down kicking and screaming over staying silent and giving someone the cold shoulder.”
“What are you implying?”
“ Someone , and I think we know who, stopped the communication.” Tubbo glared at the tree, “if you guys were communicating by letters, all Dream would have to do is take one of the letters before the other could get it, and just like that…” Tubbo trailed off, letting Ranboo piece it together in his own mind.
Ranboo rubbed at his face aggressively with his palms, probably trying to keep tears from forming, Tubbo assumed. “This is so messed up.” Ranboo whispered.
Tubbo only nodded, his gaze firmly stuck on the christmas tree that seemed so oddly cheerful compared to the state of everything else.
Ranboo suddenly huffed, pointedly catching Tubbo’s attention and giving him the most determined look he could muster. Which looked kind of silly, since Ranboo unconsciously puffed out his cheeks just the tiniest bit, along with his suddenly perfect posture.
“You know what we need, Tubbo?” Ranboo asked, his serious facade suddenly dissipating as a smile cracked onto his cheeks, “we need a distraction.”
“A distraction?” Tubbo mouthed out, feeling slightly confused by Ranboo’s sudden suggestion.
Ranboo still seemed to brighten at the fact that he wasn’t immediately shut down over his idea, “yes! You know how we were talking about re-elections coming up?”
“Yeah, that was when we were trying to sort out meetings with Dream over the whole George house situation, correct?”
Ranboo winced, but nodded nonetheless, “I was completely serious about wanting to run against you. In fact, maybe we should put more of our energy into the elections, try to… get our minds off of…” Ranboo gestured around them sadly, trying to fight the negative emotions with a forced smile, “all of this.”
Tubbo thought for a moment, “I guess there’s not much we can do about the whole Dream situation right now… and L’manburg could use some tidying up…”
Ranboo suddenly giggled, “I bet I can make a better election poster than you can.”
Tubbo couldn’t help the snort that bubbled from his throat, his chest feeling lighter with each passing moment, “I don’t believe that you have a single artistic bone in your body.” Tubbo teased, starting back for the portal, he didn’t want to stay in the exile lands any longer. Not when there was finally a burst of positive energy thrumming in his veins for once.
Ranboo sputtered, a shocked laugh following as he trailed behind Tubbo, his long legs catching up easily, “I doubt you can do any better than me!”
The two hopped into the nether portal, their light-hearted argument lost in the sounds of whirls and pops; completely unaware of the green clad hunter that watched their every move.
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