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Ranboo needed water to live. This was a fact. Water hurt Ranboo. This was also a fact. You'd think that after years of experience with water his body would have at least grown some sort of tolerance.
He didn't remember much from his childhood, but there is one experience he never seemed to forget.
He had been about nine at the time, and spent most of his days wandering the city. He doesn't remember how he got there, but wandering was fine. You can't miss what you don't remember. His mouth had been so dry, and he had been so desperate for any sort of liquid. He found a puddle, and without thinking went to scoop the water with his hands.
The pain was instantaneous. The burning sensation crawled up his arms and into his very being. He must have been screaming, but the pain in his hands made is hard to notice. Everything felt wrong, and he couldn't breathe, and he just wanted the pain to stop!
That's when the tears started, and that was even worse. The more he cried the worse it got. His face felt like it was on fire, but he just couldn't seem to stop. His hands burned, and his face burned, and he was scared. He was so scared, because what if he never stopped crying, and the pain just went on forever.
After what felt like forever he did stop crying, whether that be because his hands had dried off or because he had gotten used to the pain he didn't know. He just sat on the ground for a while, too scared to look at his hands to assess the damage. His face felt weird, too tight around his eyes. It hurt to blink, and when he did it hurt to grimace afterwards. He just stared at the ground, tired and afraid.
He came back to himself some hours later, just as the sun came up. He must have backed himself into an alley at some point, he thought, as he stared at the wall opposite him. He looked down at his hands. They were splotchy, darker on his palms where the water was more concentrated. In some areas, like his fingertips, the water had just about completely removed his skin, leaving them raw and sensitive.
People were starting their days right about now, unaware of the enderman hybrid just around the corner. He just stared at his hands, with no idea how to even start to fix them.
That's where the memory ends, and Ranboo is glad. He doesn't think he wants to remember his nine year old self trying to treat third degree burns. His hands and face are still scarred, very faded but visible. No one asks about them. Now, he only drinks with straws, stays inside in the rain, and tries not to cry. Ever. That last ones been getting harder as of late.