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Flying is unbelievably freeing, Ranboo thinks to himself as he soars in the sky, weaving past trees and pushing himself higher up into the air. He breathes in, a rush of cold wind filling his lungs, making his chest ache. He closes his eyes, twirling and swaying in the sky, flapping his wings as he keeps rising up into the air. It's been far too long since he's decided to actually fly, and it seemed like a good idea today, judging by how nice the weather happens to be. Ranboo remembers the last time that he flew - he got himself caught out in the rain and nearly died, the rain weighing down on his wings to the point where they became useless. Ranboo sighs, opening his eyes again, pushing those thoughts out of his mind. He doesn't need to focus on that, he doesn't need to think about that anymore. Ranboo beams as he soars through the sky, diving down a little, flying back up again, repeating that over and over again, laughing when he does.
Ranboo loves flying more than he thinks he could ever say. He used to hate it, he used to really, really hate it. But that was when he was younger, and that was when he was still afraid of being different from the people around him. Most of Ranboo's family and friends, that he only really has blurry memories of, didn't have wings like him. It might have been a recessive gene, or a mutation, or just an accident, but Ranboo had wings, and no one else he knew did. Ranboo keeps moving, feeling the wind blow through his wings, ruffling his feathers and his hair, feeling free and happy and alive, and Ranboo doesn't really think that he could ask for anything more than th-
Ranboo feels his mind blank, he feels his eyes glaze over.
No.
No.
Ranboo knows all too well what's happening to him. Terror grips his chest, tightening around his heart, threatening to choke him to death. Ranboo tries to breathe, but he can't, he can't at all, his body's not under his control anymore, he's not in control.
Dream is.
He feels panic overtake his body, but it isn't the type of panic that he's accustomed to - it's not his panic. It's Dream's. It layers onto the panic he already feels, making everything worse for him, because Dream cannot let him have a hint of hope. Ranboo feels complete and utter terror gripping him, threatening to overwhelm him with every passing second as he realises the horrifying fact that Dream does not know how to fly. Dream can't fly, he can't make Ranboo's wings work like they're supposed to, he doesn't know how, Dream hadn't even known that he had wings before now, Ranboo tried his best to make sure of that. Ranboo feels the wind rushing through his wings, blood pounding in his ears as he feels the cold air pierce right through his lungs, flooding them with ice. The sky grows distant, he feels his head swiveling around, desperately trying to figure something out. Dream's fear doubles onto his preexisting terror, his mind going blank.
Ranboo realises that he is going to die.
He's fallen from the sky, and he's going to hit the ground hard, and he's going to die. He won't survive the fall, he was far too high up in the air to survive the landing. He is going to die because he wanted to be free. Ranboo is going to die. He is going to die, and no one is going to know how it happened, why it happened. There's a chance that no one will find him. There's a chance that Tubbo will find him, there's a chance that Tubbo or Phil or Techo will have to see him, and he knows that he won't look pretty with his body twisted on the ground, broken and bruised and horribly disfigured. He'll be nothing more than a memory, he won't be anything more than just another name taken from the world and thrown up into the air, catching fire before the ashes fall back to the ground.
Ranboo is going to die.
At least he made the most out of his life the best he could. At least he found people who he loved, who loved him. Ranboo closes his eyes, a sense of calm washing over him, numbing his nerves and the rest of his body. He doesn't want to die in panic - so he won't.
He whispers a silent goodbye as he falls from the sky, murmuring his I love you's to the people who he never got to say them to.
Ranboo stares up at the ceiling above him, not recognising it as the sky. He shifts, a gasp of pain tearing through his throat when he does. Ranboo squeezes his eyes shut, tilting his head back to keep the tears from trailing down his face and hurting him even more. It's a constant cycle - if he cries, he'll cry more because of the pain, which will just cause him more pain. He hates it. He tries to move his hands, tries to wiggle his fingers, but he feels numb. His entire body feels numb, his mind is covered in a fog, his vision is just slightly blurred, tinted with grey. Ranboo takes a shuddery breath in, feeling cold air hit the back of his throat, and he's in the sky again, he's flying, and he's still going to die, he's going to die he's going to die he's going to-
The feeling passes, though the terror that came with it still lingers. He opens his eyes again, sparing a quick glance around the room that he's in, though he can't really see much without turning his head, which sends unbelievable waves of pain throughout his entire body. Ranboo grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut again, wishing that he couldn't feel the constant, rippling pain at every flinch he makes. He breathes out, looking back up at the ceiling, watching as shadows and lights play on the walls and ceiling above him, dancing back and forth, changing shapes and sizes. Ranboo feels exhausted, he feels like all of his energy has been sapped from him, drained from his mind and thrown out somewhere else. He doesn't even have the energy to move up his hand, though he doubts that he would want to. The pain is far too much for him to handle.
Ranboo isn't entirely sure how he got here. He doesn't remember much of anything, actually. He's confused and tired and in a lot of pain, and he doesn't know what to do about it. There's nothing he can do about it. It isn't like he's able to move. He's restrained, confined to his tiresome thoughts, his weary memories that keep popping up in his head. Ranboo closes his eyes, watching scenes replay behind his eyelids - when he first met Tubbo, when he trained with Phil and Techno, when he planted flowers at Tommy's house. There are still so many things that he has yet to do. He doesn't want to burn out yet. He can't burn out yet, he isn't supposed to die now. Surely, Ranboo thinks, surely he's supposed to live for at least a little longer. Surely.
Techno always called him a spark. He called him a lot of things, but spark wasn't really a nickname, more of an observation. "You're kind of like a fire, you know?" Techno had told him, "always burnin', always doin' your own thing, just..burnin' away. You're bright, you draw people to you, you burn 'em if they get too close, but not on purpose - you just can't help it. We'll figure out the Enderwalkin', okay, Ranboo? Don't worry about it too much." And then he was gone, wandering off to go and talk with Phil about something, his ears perked up and his cloak trailing behind him. Ranboo can still see them all in his head, he can still hear their voices ringing in his ears at every passing second. He can hear Phil murmuring reassurances to him, he can hear Tubbo laughing, he can hear the pride in Techno's voice every time Ranboo managed to do something better than expected.
Ranboo feels the world spin around him, he feels like he's drowning, like he's going to die. He has a horrible, awful twisting feeling in his gut that he can't get rid of, and he doesn't know why. His ears start to ring again, replacing the voices of Phil and Techno and Tubbo he had heard a few minutes ago. Ranboo stares up at the ceiling once again, trying to keep his mind blank, trying to pretend like the numbness he feels extends to his pain. It doesn't, and Ranboo isn't that good at pretending, anyways. He closes his eyes, unsure of what he's doing or where he is or anything, Ranboo is so confused, and he doesn't even know why. He feels like he should remember something, like he should know where he is and why he feels like he's dying, but he doesn't. He doesn't know. He doesn't know anything, and he wishes that he did.
He doesn't think that there's any point in being awake anymore, so he closes his eyes and he doesn't open them again. Ranboo lays in a bed that he doesn't recognise in a place he doesn't know, and pretends that he's numb.
When Ranboo wakes up again, he isn't entirely sure how much time has passed since he last woke up. He shifts in his bed, wincing when pain rockets through him, but it's not as bad as it had been the first time. Ranboo breathes out, careful to not breath in too fast - he's figured out that breathing in too sharply or too quickly sends him spiralling back to something he can't remember. A bad memory that he blocked out, maybe. A memory he lost naturally, due to his already abnormal memory loss. Ranboo isn't quite sure, but either way, he thinks that it's probably for the best if he doesn't remember. It's safer like that, Ranboo's learnt. If he's forgotten something and he didn't write it down, then it must have been something awful.
Probably.
Ranboo looks up at the wooden ceiling that hangs above him, wondering how long that he's been here. A couple of days, maybe? A week or two? It could be months by now, or it could have just been an hour, but he doesn't think that he'd feel significantly less pain if he had just woken up an hour later. Ranboo sighs, wondering if he should go back to bed again or if he should continue to stay awake and try and figure out where he is. He feels pain jolt through his arms, screwing up his face as he tries his best to turn his head to see his arm. Ranboo hisses out in pain, but he manages to turn his head to the side, feeling like his neck is on fire when he does. He stares at his hand, which is sat on a counter, and blinks. He doesn't remember feeling wood under his hand - he thought it had just been cloth. To be fair, Ranboo thinks to himself, he hadn't really felt much of anything in his hands or under them other than pain.
He watches his fingers move a little, crooking upwards, bending at the second joint. Ranboo breathes out, a wave of pain crashing over him once again. He blinks, wondering if he should just turn back and stare at the ceiling again, judging how there's nothing all that interesting to look at to his left. Ranboo closes his eyes for a few seconds, opening them again when he hears the floorboards creak at the entrance of the room he's in, hearing the door swing open a second later. Ranboo tilts his head as best as he can, gasping out in pain once again. He manages to shift just enough so he's facing the door, staring directly ahead of him. He feels the panic rising up in his chest is crushed immediately when he sees Phil, all of his worries evaporating half a second later.
"Phil," Ranboo rasps, listening to his voice creak and ache. His throat is sore. His throat is always sore, anyways. It's not like he can drink water. "I don't.." Ranboo squeezes his eyes shut, feeling a wave of pain go down his spine, then another one. The pain is blinding, it's nearly unbearable, but he pushes through as best as he can, trying to just block it out, trying to pretend that it doesn't exist. "What happened to me?" Ranboo asks, looking at the man in front of him. "What..happened? Why am I here?" The words come out in a tangled mess, jumbled and blurring together, but he doesn't care. His throat hurts from not speaking for so long, rasping over the words he'd normally be able to say clearly. "I don't understand."
Phil doesn't say anything for a few seconds, his eyes turning sad and dark and hurt. Ranboo frowns, wondering if he said something wrong for a second, wondering if he already messed up only a few minutes after he woke up. "You fell out of the sky." Phil says, and Ranboo feels his mind start to spin. He fell out of the sky. He fell out of the sky. He has wings, how did he manage to..how? He knows how to fly. Ranboo knows how to fly, he knows, he's always been able to.
How would he fall out of the..
Oh.
Dream.
Enderwalking.
Ranboo wasn't in control. That's why he fell, he wasn't the one moving his body, and Dream didn't know how to fly, he still doesn't, Dream has never touched the sky, he's never gotten off of the ground. That's what happened, that's why he's here, that's why he's in pain, that has to be it, that has to..that's it. He fell.
"How am I not dead?" Ranboo asks, his voice breaking. "How?"
Phil looks at him, exhausted. "I don't know," he admits, his own voice creaking, a soft, low whisper that Ranboo has to strain to hear. He's never heard Phil sound this defeated, he's never heard Phil sound this sad, this tired. Phil has never looked like this before, he's always put on a cocky grin and had bright eyes and laughed a lot, but now he's not that man, not at all. Phil is exhausted and defeated and Ranboo doesn't know what he can do to make it better. "I'm sorry," Phil whispers, and Ranboo can't help but flinch back at the sound of Phil's voice. "I'm sorry."
"Why?" Ranboo murmurs back, feeling terror grip his chest. He isn't sure why, he doesn't know why he's so scared, but the tone in Phil's voice makes him nervous. "Why..why are you sorry, Phil? Why..why?"
Phil looks away.
"Your wings."
The words sting, burning him worse than the rain could ever, shocks of pain running up and down his body. Ranboo feels tears prick at his eyes, he feels his life crash in front of him at those two simple words, just two words, and everything's come crashing down around him, burying him in the rubble, suffocating him in the dust. He chokes on ash and soot and feels his tears stain his cheeks, going down the already made scars from months, weeks, days, before.
Just like everything else that he dared to love, Dream took his wings from him, too.
Days pass him by, but Ranboo isn't really focused on keeping track of time, not anymore, at least. He used to be very careful with making sure he knew the time, that he was always out of Snowchester by six in the morning and that he was always back before eight at night. He remembers how consistent he used to be, how perfect his routine was, because if it wasn't, he'd lose his mind. Ranboo hasn't cared enough to keep track of the time. He hasn't cared enough about most things now.
Ranboo is in constant pain, it never ends. He can't even breathe without nearly crying, he can't move without breaking down. He's lost one of the most important things in his life, and he lost it because of Dream. Ranboo wishes that he could be surprised, he wishes that he could move on and just live with it, but he can't. He nearly died, he nearly lost his life, and even Phil doesn't know how he's still alive. Sometimes, Ranboo wonders if it would be better if he just hadn't woken up. Sometimes he wonders if he'd be better off dead. He wouldn't have to deal with the pain anymore, with the crippling agony that comes with every single movement he makes. Everything is awful now, nothing is looking up, and he doesn't know what he's supposed to do. Ranboo doesn't know what he's supposed to do at all, he doesn't know how he's supposed to live like this.
He just doesn't know.
Ranboo isn't sure if he's ever going to recover from this. He was completely numb for so long, and now he can move again, mostly, but at the cost of undergoing pain every single time he makes the slightest movement. He still can't always move his right hand. Sometimes his left leg goes numb, sometimes he feels his arms droop and get weak every other hour. Life is painful, it's constant hurt, and he doesn't know how to make it stop. Phil hasn't come back to visit him, it's mostly just been Techno, and sometimes it's no one at all. Techno sits awkwardly across from him most of the time, not saying anything, keeping his words silent. Ranboo already knows what he'd say, anyways.
I'm sorry, Enderboy.
There's no point in saying sorry for something that he didn't do, Ranboo thinks. There's no point in saying sorry when the only thing that could ever make up for this would be to execute Dream in the streets. Ranboo shifts in his bed, holding back a cry of pain when the hurt inevitably comes in waves, crashing down around him, drowning him, pulling him under the water until he can't even hope to see the light. Ranboo remembers his dream that he's consistently had ever since he got his freedom, his wings, stripped from him. He dreams of Angels and Devils and puppets and their puppeteers, all dancing together like light on a wall, merging and shifting and bouncing off of each other, a consistent hatred for one another always lingering, and yet still they don't break free. Ranboo doesn't know what it means, he doesn't think he would like to know what it means. He doesn't know a lot of things, and while he hates that, it's sort of a blessing. It's sort of nice, to not have to know.
"Hey, Enderboy," Techno's voice calls out to him, and Ranboo can't help but perk up a little, his bitter pessimism relaxing its hold on him at the sound of the half-Piglin. He watches as Techno wanders into his room, shutting the door behind him as he moves to sit on the edge of the bed. Ranboo tries to sit up, but Techno holds his hand up, shaking his head. "I know that you want Phil to visit," Techno murmurs, glancing away from him already. "He's, um, this is just.." Techno trails off, breathing out, heaving a sigh a second later. "It reminds him a lot of what happened to him. 'Cause he..he lost his wings, too. In the explosion that Wilbur set off when he blew up L'manberg? Yeah, Phil was in the same room as him, and- and he just.." he ducks his head. "He tried to protect Wilbur by shieldin' him with his wings, but that just..he just lost them."
Ranboo blinks, furrowing his eyebrows. "Oh," he mumbles, feeling hurt settle in his chest, but not because Phil hasn't come to visit him, no - the hurt is for Phil. Phil was far more dependant on his wings than Ranboo could ever be. Just hearing the way that Phil talked about flying, how he longed to return to the sky and sit in the overhang above the earth, it made Ranboo's heart hurt every single time he heard the man speak about it. And now he understands why, he understands more than he could ever hope. While Ranboo didn't fly nearly as often as Phil did, it was still part of him, it was still freeing, it gave him freedom from the ground, from everyone else. "Is he..alright?"
Techno looks at him, curiously. He tilts his head to the side, a gentle, unwavering smile settling on his lips. "Of course you're worried about him instead of yourself," Techno laughs, but it isn't mocking, it's anything but that. "He's okay. He'll be okay. He's just worried about you, 'cause he knows how bad it hurts. I'm sorry," he offers, his eyes and voice and everything sincere. "I don't know how bad the pain is, but I can..kind of imagine. I'm just..I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry, Ranboo. I don't know what else to say other than I'm sorry, and I hope that it'll get better. I can do my best to.." Techno looks away, turning his head up to stare at the ceiling. "I can try and build you new wings. I've been workin' on a set for Phil, but his wings were a lot bigger than yours, so it shouldn't be that hard to make you a pair of wings," he pauses. "If you want. No pressure."
"You.." Ranboo breathes out, a ripple of pain flaring up in his chest. He feels like he's going to cry again, but not because of the pain. "I never said it before, because I was..I don't know, I was just really scared, and I don't say it that often, if ever, 'cause it didn't seem important before, but I.." Ranboo looks down at his hands in his lap. "I love you, Techno. I love you and Phil, and you- you've been such a good friend to me. I don't know what I'd have done without you guys. You've just..kept helping me, even though I'm difficult to help, 'cause I don't even know what's going on half of the time, but you still keep doing it, and I just don't know what else to say other than I really appreciate it, like, a lot, and that I love you, and-"
"You too, Enderboy."
Ranboo beams at Techno so hard that his face hurts. Techno doesn't say the words, he doesn't have to. You too, Enderboy is more than enough. Ranboo knows what he's going for, he knows what he means, he knows the context and the spirit and everything else behind it, he knows. "I'll be okay," Ranboo tells him, a soft smile settling down on his face. "I promise, I'll be alright. It'll just take some time, you..you know?"
Techno laughs, standing up from the bed. "Of course you'll be okay," he moves towards the door, half out of it before he turns his head a little, his hand resting on the side of the door, "you're the protagonist, after all." And then he's gone, his footsteps disappearing down the stairs. Ranboo laughs, hanging his head, ignoring the flare up of pain that shoots up through his legs.
He'll be alright.
"And you've gone bankrupt."
"Techno, this is War."
"I don't care. It's my game now, I make the rules. Give me your cards, or else I'll throw you out of this window, old man."
Phil laughs, tossing his head back, a grin working its way onto his face. "You wanna fucking bet, mate? I'll kick your ass," Phil beams at him, glancing over at Ranboo, his eyes brightening. Ranboo sighs, knowing very well what he's about to be roped into. "Ranboo. Agree with me, and I won't throw you out of the window, okay, mate? How's that sound?"
Techno stares at him, though not directly in his eyes, which he's thankful for. Both Techno and Phil are good about that, about not looking straight into his eyes and setting off all the panic bells in his head. "Ranboo. If you agree with him, I swear to God-"
"-you don't believe in God-"
"Unimportant, I do for this bit," Techno grumbles. "Anyways. If you agree with him, I'll just start cryin'. And also murderin' orphans. While cryin'. I will sob as I absolutely obliterate those orphans. I'll do it!" Techno threatens, laughing a second later. "I will, I'll do it!"
Ranboo laughs, rolling his eyes at the idiots who he calls his friends sat next to him, wondering how he managed to get this lucky. The pain is still there, it always will be, Phil told him, but it's..manageable. It's not nearly as bad as it had been, it's a lot easier to ignore, to pretend like it isn't there. Ranboo's been able to get up and move around more often, though Phil and Techno are on him to stay in bed more than he moves, just so he can heal fully. Ranboo has seen his wings, and he's pretending that he hasn't - they're mutilated beyond repair. His left wing is entirely torn off, his right wing completely unusable and hideous to look at.
"I think that I win," Ranboo announces, setting down a ten, which tops both Techno's four and Phil's nine. "Sucks to suck," Ranboo grins, sliding the cards towards him, adding them to his pile. Phil is winning by a longshot, which Ranboo thinks is entirely unfair, but whatever. "Maybe just get good, Technoblade?" Techno grins at him, a competitive spark flaring up in his eyes. Techno leans forwards, shuffling his cards a little.
"You're goin' down, Enderboy."
"Nah," Ranboo grins back at him, his fingers ghosting over his King in his deck. "I think that I'm actually going up," he leans back, breathing out sharply when his back hits the cool silk of the bed. His back is the worst spot of his pain - it's where his wings were ripped from their roots, after all. "Ready?" Both Phil and Techno nod, and Ranboo smiles. "Three, two, one, down!" He flips over his card, the one he very specifically shuffled in to win this round, and glows with pride at the sound of Techno and Phil's groaning at their loss. "Just get good, guys. It's not that hard."
"I am goin' to strangle you," Techno announces. "Right here, right now. I am goin' to strangle you with my bare hands, Ranboo, I swear to god." Ranboo laughs, throwing his head back as he feels happiness settle in his chest, feeling genuinely happy for the first time in what feels like forever.
Things are getting better, slowly but surely, and he knows that so long as he has Phil and Techno with him, he can do anything.
It's been around a year, now, he thinks. Give or take a few weeks, a couple of days, maybe. Ranboo stands on the ledge of a cliff, staring off into the darkness, watching as a rock he taps with his foot goes skidding down, disappearing a second later. The wind blows in his ears, ruffling his hair, and Ranboo shifts a little, breathing out, the cold air hitting the back of his throat. Ranboo looks over his shoulder, staring at Phil and Techno, who are both laughing at each other, sparring in their shared front yard, swords clashing together, laughter following with every hit.
Ranboo smiles, tilting his head up to look at the sky.
He walks forward, and he doesn't stop, not even when his foot goes off of the edge.
He falls.
And then he flies.
Ranboo feels his one metal wing and the one wing that's been repaired with metal spread out around him, sending him up into the air, soaring above the sky. Ranboo grins so hard he thinks he might split open his face. He twirls in the air, spinning and going in circles as he soars through the sky, feeling his heart stutter, feeling himself buzz with something sort of like pure excitement. He soars over to Phil and Techno, hovering above them, his wings beating and flapping and fluttering, his wings working.
"Heya, mate!" Phil laughs, blocking a parry from Techno. Behind him are his own pair of metal wings, pieced together with scraps and screws, but they're still wings. Ranboo was convinced that his wings, made of metal, wouldn't work. But they do, and so do Phil's. "You havin' fun up there, yeah?"
"Something like that," Ranboo grins, feeling happier than he thinks he ever has before in his entire life. "Who's winning?"
"Me," Techno announces, stumbling back when Phil nearly knocks his sword out of his hand. "Ignore that. That was a fluke, that was fake. Glitched."
Ranboo laughs, clapping his hands together as he hovers above the snow, above his sort-of-not-really family. "You glitched in real life, Technoblade?" Techno grins, sparing him a second and a half of a glance.
"I said what I said, Enderboy. Maybe you should get good at listenin', yeah?" Ranboo grins, flapping his wings a little.
"Whatever you say, Techno. You guys have fun, I'll be back soon."
"See ya, mate!" Phil calls out, blocking another attack from Techno. Techno waves his hand, a soft smile on his face.
"Bye bye, Enderboy."
And then he's flying off once again, taking to the sky, soaring further up, feeling the wind ruffle his hair and his clothes, blowing through his remaining feathers, making him feel alive.
Ranboo is flying, he's got his freedom back.
And all it really took were two people with good hearts.
Ranboo grins as he soars above the sky, feeling excited and happy and full of life, and it's in that exact moment that he realises that this is perfect. This is his perfect moment. This is something he'll never be able to forget, seared in his mind forever. Ranboo doesn't think he minds all that much. After all, he's spending his perfect moment in the sky with two of his closest friends.
Perfection, Ranboo thinks, is this moment. Perfection is right here, right now.
He's finally gotten his perfect moment.
And he's never going to let go of it.