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Ranboo turned over in his bed and gazed sleepily at the ceiling above him. A few plastic glow-in-the-dark stars shown where he had hung them up years prior, their light faded so much that they were nearly imperceptible.
He blinked at his phone screen blearily, processing the time. 2:03 am. It wasn't too late for him to fall asleep and still feel rested, but he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes.
When Ranboo closed his eyes, he saw Tubbo.
It's the same reason he had earbuds jammed into his ears, with Mr. Loverman playing on loop. If there's silence, his brain will replay the sound of Tubbo giggling delightedly at one of his own jokes.
It's hell.
When he first realized he was falling for Tubbo, it had been exhilarating. It was a little scary, but there was something about the energy and thrill that bubbled up inside him when they talked that was wonderful. He understood the expression of getting butterflies in your stomach, and he reveled in it. He would talk to Tubbo, and they would laugh for hours upon hours, and Ranboo felt his heart soar. He would make a joke, and Tubbo's positive reaction to it would make him beam. When Tubbo joined his calls late at night, whispering, "hey sexy!" Ranboo would flush bright red, and be glad he didn't use a facecam.
Now whenever he talked to Tubbo he just felt queasy and lightheaded. The butterflies were still there, but now they were accompanied with a feeling of guilt and remorse. He felt pure anxiety that Tubbo would realize the horrible secret he had.
It wasn't internalized homophobia. At least he didn't think it was. He had been out as bisexual everywhere but online for 3 years, and had never felt ashamed of it. His parents had accepted him easily, and all of his friends had been lovely, not treating him any differently.
He didn't feel guilt for falling for a boy. He felt guilt because he was so in love, with someone who would never love him back.
There weren't many songs he liked about queer guys that had fallen in love with straight guys, so he found himself reverting to sapphic ones. Wlw songwriters were really good at capturing what he felt, in the early hours of the morning where he laid on his back and wished he could have fallen in love with someone else.
"She" by dodie was the main song he turned to for comfort, when Tubbo flirted with him platonically on streams.
When Tubbo's laugh made Ranboo want to cry, he listened to it on repeat for hours.
The song resonated with him. He was a bisexual person, who had fallen for their straight best friend of the same gender. In his head, he grieved a relationship that was so close, and yet unachievable to him.
Ranboo switched to that song.
she smells like lemongrass and sleep
Tubbo probably smelled like pizza and sugar and honey.
she tastes like apple juice and peach
Oh, god.
oh you would find her, in a polaroid picture , the voice in his headphones sang. He had long since memorized it, and his own cracking voice quietly sang the next line into the night.
"And he, means everything to me."
Ranboo's eyes welled up, but he brushed away any threats of tears with the back of his hand. He had cried over Tubbo enough times already.
Ranboo's favorite part of the song was close to the end, when dodie sighed the line, "'cuz she tastes like birthday cake, and storytime, and fall, but to her i taste of nothing at all "
He didn't dare to imagine what Tubbo tasted like. It was torture enough to long for him every day, but thinking about Tubbo's lips on his would bring him nothing but pain.
His subconscious had other ideas, though, and so when he drifted to sleep finally at ten past three, his dreams were filled with everything he tried so hard to push away in his waking moments.
He and Tubbo stood on a beach, and Tubbo's hair was pushed around by the wind. His face was full of joy and love, yet the edges were blurry and indistinct, and when he tried to focus his eyesight, it always slipped away from him.
Tubbo laid in a bed with him. It wasn't Ranboo's bed, but it was warm, and Tubbo was wrapped up in his arms, his left hand pressed lightly against the smaller's dark brown locks. Tubbo hummed, and nuzzled in closer to him, and all Ranboo felt was relief.
They had moved again. Now they were in Ranboo's bedroom, and Tubbo was seated on the edge of his bed, his feet tucked up and under him. Ranboo rested a larger hand onto Tubbo's face, and pressed their lips together softly. Tubbo closed his eyes and smiled and leaned into the kiss and blushed, lightly, a dusting of pink spreading from the middle of his cheeks to the tip of his ears. His lips parted and he wrapped an arm around Ranboo.
Tubbo tasted of honey and sunlight and sleep and orange soda.
Tubbo blinked and pulled away in the dream, a confused expression on his face.
"That's weird," he said. "You don't taste like anything."
Ranboo awoke with tears on his cheeks, hands gripping his sheets tightly.