Chapter Text
“Who Me? I'm looking for a Sun.”
Ranboo squinted, shifting as he nudged the toolbox away from the tires of his car.
“A Sun?”
“Well, more of a person, really. But they're like- a person sun! A sun on earth. Heh, pretty poetic, if I do say so myself.” Ranboo heard more clanking coming from under his car. He really hoped that the man was actually a mechanic, and not just a hobo with a tool box, because it really sounded like the guy was just beating up his engine. “Get what I mean kid?”
“Not really, no.”
“Some people are just meant to shine, y'know? There’s a certain brightness to them that makes you stop and stare. They've got spunk, so I'm looking for a sun that I can follow.”
“Why’s that?” He winced when he heard another clang from the now possibly-battered engine. He was tempted to just stop the guy and try fixing it himself, but he didn't want to risk leaving the shade of the umbrella into the burning sun.
“Life’s gotten dull, traveling on my own-'' The wandering mechanic grunted, tossing the wrench into the open, seemingly done battering the life out of Ranboo’s poor car. “-So I’m searching for someone interesting that'll make me wanna stick around for a bit.”
“Do you know who you're looking for?”
“Nope.”
“Then how-”
“Eh, you'll know when ya’ see one of them suns. Y’always do.” The mechanic pulled himself out from under the car, wiping his hands on his jeans, leaving smudged oil stains on the already stained cloth. “Well, that should do it! Seems like it’ll keep goin’ for a few more miles. There’s a gas stop around there, just after the next exit .They’ll fix up anything that's still wonky, though there should be.”
“Thanks a ton dude, you really saved me. I don't have a lot on me, but I've got a decent amount of spare change in the front?” Ranboo started at the door, but the mechanic waved him off.
“Free of charge. It’s been a while since I've gotten to fix one of these bad boys anyway.” He slapped the hood of the car.”
“But I thought you said you were a car mechanic? You must've fixed a ton of cars since it's…your job?”
“….”
“...Dude-”
“Anyway!” The maybe-fraud-mechanic cried, clearly trying to change the topic, “ Nifty ride ya got , by the way. Where did a scrappy kid like you get a chevy like this? Looks like one of the classics to me, at least thirty years old.”
Ranboo gave a sheepish grin, “It’s one of those Coupe pickups, from back in ‘41.”
The mechanic slammed the toolbox lid shut. “From the forties?! You've gotta be joshin’ me!” He shook his. “You rich kids, with your fancy suits and umbrellas and vintage cars. Hey, what’s a fancy kid like you doing all the way out here in the middle of nowhere anyway?”
“...I can’t remember.”
-----
"Stop staring at me."
"I'm literally facing the opposite direction Tommy, I can't see you at all.”
" Liar , you're totally watching me. This is an invasion of my privacy, you're stalking me. Stop stalking me, how could you? Well I mean, I’m totally cool enough to stalk, but still."
"What are you even saying, dude? I literally live here?"
Ranboo was laying on the couch, which had a pullout bed. The living room had been his makeshift room ever since he had moved into Tubbo's little house. He hadn't moved in an hour, not even glancing once in Tommy's direction. His valiant efforts, however, apparently meant less to Tommy than the dirt stains on the bottom of his shoes.
"If you're so worried, maybe you shouldn't have thrown a hammer at the wall. Then I
wouldn't have been able to see you at all."
Tommy scoffed, "I didn't even mean to hit the wall, I meant to hit you."
"That makes it worse?"
"Fuck you."
Tommy still hadn't fixed the hole in the wall from the incident earlier that week, and the gaping space had only gotten wider, slowly growing every time Tommy tossed another object at the wall or Tubbo blew up a new gadget.
(And whenever Ranboo forgot his strength and leaned against the wooden boards a bit too hard, but that was neither here nor there.)
This meant that for the time being, the living room and Tommy's room now had a makeshift window, about the size of a particularly large bush with four small bulldogs stacked on top.
There wouldn't be a problem if Tommy would just fix it, but that apparently didn't fit the Tommy Innit brand, which was spite, aggression, and annoying Ranboo at every petty opportunity. His specialty, in Tommy’s own words, was the opposite of fixing problems.
"Can't you just close your eyes and sleep? Your weirdness is bothering me."
"I'm not even bothering you! Besides, you're the one who's staring at me!"
Ranboo couldn't see him, but he assumed Tommy was scowling as usual. "It's not my fault! You're just staring all blankly at the ceiling. Are you even blinking?"
And oops, Ranboo hadn't realized he was doing that. This was why he usually wore his sunglasses during the day, but he couldn't exactly get away with it indoors, especially not in the middle of the night.
“You have no proof. I blink all the time. Because I am a regular, human person. Yes.”
"See! You're being all creepy! Dis-discombobulating, if you will!"
"...Do you mean disconcerting?"
"I said what I meant! You can go shove your fancy words up your-"
"Okay okay! Jeez!" Arguing with Tommy was like teaching a cat to play the accordion.
That is to say, utterly pointless.
If only he could actually fall asleep. Tune out all his problems and slip away into pleasant dreams, with no yelling Tommy, no endless stream of worries, and no glaring awareness of everything around him.
He missed being able to sleep. Or he thought he did. What had he been like before he was turned, all those years ago? There were never fading bags under his eyes, perhaps he was a light sleeper back then?
(A soft voice telling him to go back to sleep, that there were no monsters in the dark. Lieslieslies-)
He can't remember.
If he could go back, he promised he would sleep for hours on end, go straight to bed when the sun had set, and only wake up once it was noon. He would run in the sun for hours on end, wear colorful bright shirts everywhere, smile the widest smiles, stare at the sun, and go back to bed at the end of the day. Boring, but comfortable.
He would be normal.
It was wishful thinking, of course. But if he had to lay here pretending to sleep for hours, he had nothing better to do.
Tommy broke through his melancholy with a frustrated sigh, tossing a pillow through the wall-hole, hitting Ranboo square in the face. "You're thinking too loud and being all mysterious again! Stop-"
"Fine!" Ranboo yelled, brows furrowed and agitated. He grabbed his flimsy blanket from off the sofa and marched towards the wall-hole.
(He didn't need it anyway. There was nothing one blanket could do to warm a living corpse. )
He grabbed a pair of conveniently placed nails that were resting on top of the coffee table, probably leftovers from Tubbo's latest project. He nailed the blanket in place over the hole, creating a makeshift curtain. It wasn't pretty by any means, the edges not aligned and parts of the hole still peeking out, but it got the job done. Ranboo took a step back, appraising his handiwork, nodded, and wiped the splinters and dust off of his shirt and jeans.
"There, that solves the problem, doesn't it? Now I can't see you and you can't see me. Better?"
Tommy made a disgruntled noise from his room, and what Ranboo assumed was a shrug. "It's...whatever, I guess." He seemed somewhat mollified.
"Great. So stop bothering me, and go to sleep, or I'm not helping you do your math homework tomorrow."
"Traitor," Tommy grumbled, voice muffled through the blanket-curtain, and despite how annoyed he had been mere seconds ago, Ranboo found himself having to hold back a laugh.
He sank back into the sofa and prepared himself for another night of sleepless silence.
-----
The thing is, Ranboo soon came to realize, was that without Tommy's bickering, there was nothing to do but lay there with his thoughts, stiff as a board. It was maddeningly dull.
Usually, after everyone had fallen asleep, Ranboo would take his memory book and head up to the roof. He would spend the rest of the night up there, music in hand, and stare up at the stars till dawn.
It wasn’t really an option now, with Tommy so nearby. He could wake up any second and notice Ranboo climbing out the window. It wasn’t blatant enough that he would suspect that Ranboo was a soulless, undying creature of the night, but Ranboo figured it would be pretty suspicious in its own way. Knowing Tommy, he’d probably think Ranboo was a burglar and call the police, who would call the government, who would call the CIA, and then Ranboo would be locked up in some creepy science facility hundreds of miles under the earth.
Shut up, he wasn’t catastrophizing, it could happen. You never know.
He turned to his side, pressing his face into the teal cushions of the sofa. The cushions were soft and dipped under Ranboo’s weight, the thick fabric creasing where his sharp elbows jabbed into it.
The sofa was worn from years of use, with fraying threads and ripped seams that had probably been stitched together multiple times, before unraveling all over again. It had the odd stain here and there, car oil, a brownish-red stain that was hopefully just ketchup, and burn marks that could have been made by Tommy or Tubbo, there was no telling at this point.
He supposed the sofa was a bit of an eyesore, but one couldn't deny it had been loved. It was like a particularly ugly, large cat that you probably should chase off but grew attached to over the years. It was really comfy to lie down on too.
The sofa, not the cat.
Ranboo would never lie down on a cat, he may be a vampire, but he wasn't a monster .
Anyway, Ranboo digressed.
Perhaps he could just lie there in peace. After all, even if it was boring, it wasn't often the house was quiet. There was always some new game, some new disaster to fix, some new robot loose in the house.
Yeah.
Maybe some quiet would be nice.
Quiet.
...
…
…
(Silence meant waiting in the little cupboard waiting for her to come back with dinner. They had to be quiet to make sure nobody would see them, hear them. It was the night after all, the monsters were out. It was dangerous to be heard at times like these. She always told him that bad things happened when the monsters heard little boys. What were bad things, he wondered. Did that mean no pie? Ranboo liked pie. His stomach grumbled. He wanted dinner, where was she? It had been nearly five hours, she had never been gone this long before. Suddenly-)
“Pssst. Ranboo!”
(-There was a noise. Creaking. The front door had been opened. The muffled thud of footsteps echoed through the house. That was strange. Her footsteps were usually soft, light taps against the rotting, wooden floorboards of their house. That was strange. Had she found new shoes while looking for dinner?)
“Hey Ranboo, you awake?
(-There was a cheerful tune being whistled, low and sweet. He didn't recognise the song. It was odd, for she didn't whistle. She was quiet, soundless, slipping a note under the door to let him know it was safe outside. She didn't wear loud boots. She didn't stay out so late, even if it meant that they ate no dinner that day.)
(Oh.)
(It wasn't her.)
(The stranger’s footsteps were louder now. They were getting closer. And closer. The footsteps stopped. The tune stopped.)
“Oi, Ranboo!”
(They were right outside the cupboard door. He couldn’t hear any breathing. But they were outside. Someone was inside the house and it wasn’t her because she wasn't back and he was alone and it was silent but far too loud and then the door handle begins to shake as it slowly turns and the door cracks open and outside there is a cold man with a cold smile and- )
“RANBOO!”
“AHHHHH!”
Ranboo tumbled off the couch, landing on the floor with a loud thud. He scowled up at Tommy through furrowed brows, grimacing as he stood up. Immortal or not, falling face-first into wooden flooring would never cease to hurt.
Tommy snickered. He was a bundle of blankets, with only his head peeking out from the make-shift curtains of the wall-hole. “You okay down there, bitch boy?”
“Yeah, no. I’m totally fine. Just looking at the world from way down at your perspective.” He simpered, “It must be so hard being
that
short.”
“Hey! That’s not true, I’m a big man I tell you! The biggest big man there ever was!” Tommy waved his fist in the air aggressively, as and then tried to hop through the wall-hole in one jump. He failed miserably, falling into a heap of fabric on the floor where Ranboo had been just seconds ago.
“My, how the turns have tabled! How the mighty fall.” Ranboo leaned over, poking at the Tommy-shaped blob on the ground, “ In your own words,
you okay down there bitch boy
?”
“Fuck you.”
Ranboo laughed, “Sorry, couldn't resist.” He offered his hand down to Tommy as an apology, motioning to help pull him up. Tommy obliged and grabbed the outstretched hand.
And then immediately yanked Ranboo’s hand, sending both of them tumbling back down to the floor.
“Ow!”
Ranboo stared at Tommy.
Tommy stared back.
“You do realize now we’re both on the floor now right?” Ranboo asked, although it sounded muffled due to his face being squashed into the carpet
Tommy rolls his eyes, “ Great observation Ranboob. How long did it take ya’ to figure that out.”
“Okay wow, I feel really attacked right now, not feeling those positive vibes from you dude. Maybe try that again, but nicer?”
“You are a bitch and I do not like you.”
“Oh...man. That's harsh.”
“Your face is harsh,” Tommy mocked, but he helped pull up Ranboo anyway, both collapsing on the couch. Upon Impact, Tommy let out a yelp.
“This is horrid!” He complained, poking the cushions with his index finger, like it was a strange alien space blob that had randomly appeared on his front porch on a sunny day. “How do you even fall asleep on this thing, it’s like a rock! No way is this comfortable.”
“Is it?” He pressed his palm into the fabric, which gave way, compressing downward. It felt fine to him. It was soft and it approximately fit him, although his feet did dangle off the edges of the mattress. “ It's fine anyway, having my face smashed into the floor seems to have knocked the last bits of sleepiness out of me, so I may as well stay up with you anyway.”
Tommy winces, his prickly demeanor receding to show sheepish concern "Sorry big man. If you're tired, you can just go back to sleep. I don't wanna keep you up, you've been pretty tired these past few days.”
Ranboo blinked. Did he look more tired? Was that even possible?
Well, if Tommy had noticed, then it really must have been obvious.
“ I was….thinking”
Tommy cocked his head to the side “What were you thinking about?”
“Well it was-” Ranboo paused, frowning in contemplation. “I...I don't remember?”
Tommy shrugged, “Fine, be like that then. Don't tell me.”
“No! I mean like, I literally can't remember. Y’know, memory problems and all.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“My bad, Big Man.”
An awkward silence ensued, neither of them knowing quite what to say next.
Ranboo looked at Tommy. His face was pale in the dark room, arms lightly wrapped around his knees, and head tilted back against the bulky cushions of the sofa. He had a certain softness to him, this late. He definitely wasn't calm by any means (it simply wasn’t the Tommy Innit way), but he seemed…
At peace.
The sun fades from view at dusk, throwing the world into a silent darkness. It doesn't abandon the earth, instead leaving the earth with remnants of its light and warmth as it sleeps, wrapping the moon in decadent layers of sunlight silk, which drapes down onto earth in thin ribbons.
The night had come and Tommy was a resting sun.
Ranboo wished he could rest.
But there’s no sleep for the undead.
Suddenly restless, Ranboo makes to leave. “I am going to the…kitchen. To… intimidate the pasta, mhm. I’ll be back in a bit, you go ahead and sleep.”
Tommy sighed, shifting to face him. "Maybe stop sneaking up onto the roof bitch boy. Cuz one day you're gonna fall over and crack your skull and then Tubbo will kill us both when he sees the hospital bills."
Wait.
"You noticed that?! I thought I was being so subtle!"
Tommy aims a deadpan look at him. “Dude, your emo Sad-boo place is literally right above my room, I can hear you walking on the roof. Not to mention, you’re literally the least sneaky person I know.” He looks at Ranboo with pity, “The last time Tubbo made pancakes, you tried to steal an extra pancake, you tripped and broke half the kitchen island. Half of it. How did you even manage that?”
Huh. He had done that, hadn't he? The three of them combined probably broke more things than a demolition service with anger issues and no respect for the law.
Ranboo hits his palm with his fist.“That's it! We should start a demolition service!”
Tommy shot him a look of annoyance. “What does that have to do with anything-” His eyes widened, immediately distracted by the idea of causing any form of general destruction. “Holy fuck, you’re absolutely right! I could destroy so much shit!”
“
We
could destroy so much shit.” Tommy rolls his eyes, but offers him a fist bump anyway. Ranboo accepts. “And with the money we make, we would never have to worry about repairing the stuff we break at home!”
“Cause we’ll be rich!”
“Well not really rich just financially secure-”
“We’ll be fucking billionares!”
Ranboo couldn't find it in himself to correct Tommy, who seemed to be over the moon at their supposed future of living in luxury, so he just whooped in agreement.
They spend the rest of the night pouring over website designs, business plans and making lists of equipment they’ll need.
(“No Tommy, we don't need dynamite.”
“I think you mean
you
don't need dynamite. I'm not an amatuer, Bitchboy.”)
It's not until Tubbo’s alarm clock blares through the house, signaling that it's six in the morning, that Ranboo, with Tommy passed out to his left, realizes he’s spent the entire night working, and wasn't even the tiniest bit bored.
-----
“You won’t have to wander for much longer.”
Ranboo startled, “Excuse me?”
“You’ll find a sun of your own eventually kid,” the mechanic pats the roof of the newly fixed car, “The loneliness won't last forever, so hang in there.”
And then he’s off, whistling as he walks along the dusty roads, and as Ranboo watches him go.
As strange as the encounter was, he hopes he doesn’t forget it.