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Sometimes, Tubbo will reach out only to find that the other side of their bed is warm, but the fleeting kind where the sheets are devoid of Ranboo. Today is one of those days; when Tubbo moves to curl his arm around his husband, he finds nothing but air.
He immediately goes from a half-asleep state to a wide awake one. Despite the heaviness that lingers in his limbs, Tubbo pushes himself up and rubs his eyes to try and wipe the unpleasant weight sleep has left on it. He feels so cozy and comfortable in the middle of his fluffy blankets, knowing that he’s safe for once in his life, but Ranboo doesn’t usually leave in the middle of the night, at least not that Tubbo knows of.
Tubbo throws off the blankets from on top of him and feels his feet slide on the hardwood floor, the socks he has on making it more slippery than it really is. Had Tubbo been more sleepy, he’s sure he would’ve fallen down when trying to stand, but he remembers, now. He’s lived here long enough to remember.
Muscle memory guides him past his bed and out of his bedroom, and the parts that he’s unsure of navigating in the dark, Tubbo traces his fingers along the walls to find his way. He makes do. It always works out.
Tubbo strains his ear to try and find any sound that isn’t his own footsteps. One thing that makes it hard to find Ranboo is how silent he is; Tubbo’s joked a lot about putting a bell on his tie because of how inhumanly quiet his husband is even though he’s an extremely awkward and tall half-enderman being, but times like these does make Tubbo wish Ranboo was just a little less secretive.
He eventually finds his way to Michael’s room—Ranboo doesn’t stay over much, and when he does, Tubbo knows just how much fawning and care their son receives. In the maelstrom of conflict, war, and sides, Ranboo turns to taking care of Michael as a form of comfort. Tubbo understands this, in a way. He has nukes, and his husband has their child, and they are both doing alright.
At least that’s what Tubbo would say before closing the trapdoor and finding Ranboo staring at a fast asleep Michael, tears and what looks like blood running down his cheeks.
Quiet, as usual.
Not even a sob or a sniffle—Tubbo sees Ranboo’s chest rise and fall gently the way it always does, steady despite anything and everything—but nothing else. Not even a flinch or any physical indicator of the pain he must be in due to the tears and the occasional red flash that racks his entire body, and this just serves to increase the amount of concern Tubbo feels.
“Boo? Are you okay?” asks Tubbo, moving closer to the unmoving figure that is his husband. That’s the dumbest question he could’ve asked, he knows, but Ranboo isn’t someone whose mind Tubbo can read like a book. Though Tubbo doubts it heavily, considering biology, sometimes you just need to cry for whatever reason.
Ranboo seems to be really out of it. Usually, he’s a bunch of nerves, always hyper-vigilant, but today Tubbo has to say something before Ranboo notices his presence. “Y—Yeah, I’m fine!” Ranboo says a little too quickly, but he still keeps his voice low as to not wake up their son.
Even though they both know Ranboo isn’t fooling anyone, Tubbo nods anyway and cringes internally as Ranboo wipes his cheeks forcefully enough for his flinch to be visible despite the efforts to hide it.
“Do you want to talk? A hug? Something?” Tubbo asks, walking close enough to be able to sit cross legged facing his husband. “Should I go?”
“Don’t… don’t go,” mumbles Ranboo, his cheeks now smeared with blood, and the tears keep flowing down no matter how much he blinks.
Tubbo lifts a hand, the sleeve of his shirt (or is it Ranboo’s? it’s too big on him anyway) hanging over his fingers enough for Tubbo to be able to gently pat away most of the lime-green and purple blood that’s started to dry even with the tears. “I’m not leaving, Boo. I’m here.”
Just this simple statement seems to grant Ranboo so much relief—his face crumples from the tense, emotionless mask to something that looks a bit more distraught. Tubbo can’t tell if this is more or less concerning, but Ranboo’s broken reply solidified that opinion: “It hurts, Tubbo,” he damn near sobs, “make it stop. Please, I–I can’t make it stop, I’ve taken so much damage, I—”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. Do you want to tell me what happened?” Tubbo says, trying his best to make his voice sound soothing and quiet. Even with his more introverted nature, Tubbo isn’t the best at comforting people—but he tries.
He knows, even with the faint light of Michael’s room, that his white sleeves are turning lime green and purple, but Tubbo doesn’t care. The fabric is soft enough to touch tender skin and not irritate it further, and that’s all that really matters to Tubbo for now.
Ranboo takes a deep and shuddering breath. “I just… I feel like a safety hazard. Like I can’t stay anywhere without having to constantly s–stress out and hope I don’t accidentally screw up again. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” whispers Tubbo, deciding to stop his patting and instead wraps his arms around Ranboo. The sobs wrack his body, now, but Ranboo is considerably calmer now after a rare episode of opening up and crying. “You’re safe here, Ranboo.”
“I know,” Ranboo mumbles back, “and I don’t deserve it.”
Tubbo feels like his heart just broke at that statement. “Of course you do,” says Tubbo quietly, rubbing circles subtly on Ranboo’s back despite the mildly awkward height difference. “You don’t always have to endure things alone. I’ve had to learn that lesson myself.”
He feels it, doesn’t hear it—the change from Ranboo’s shaky breaths to a steadier pace; the gradually slowing stream of tears that’s stained the shoulder of Tubbo’s shirt eventually tapering off to a calmer Ranboo.
They fall into an easy silence, Michael fast asleep, the two of them in a bubble of tranquility and calm that’s so rare in the Dream SMP that neither of them wants to pull away. Tubbo still has his arms wrapped around his husband, grounding the two of them at the same time.
“Thank you,” Ranboo whispers, eventually. “For everything.”
“Of course,” mutters Tubbo, his voice gentle, “I love you.”
Ranboo raises a hand and runs it through Tubbo’s hair slowly, a kind of reciprocation for the hug. “I love you too, honey.”