Chapter Text
To be entirely honest, Ranboo didn't really mind being the quiet guy in the back of the classroom. He wasn't exactly the most social, to be fair- yeah, he had his fair share of acquaintances, as well as a small group of guys and girls that liked to pull pranks in class (Ranboo was proud to admit that he himself had never gotten caught) but these connections weren't exactly long lasting.
He couldn't blame them. He was a bit weird when compared to what would be considered normal- and it wasn't "really fun to be around" weird, or "quirky!" weird, it was more of a "Hey, it's that 6'6 guy who's always wearing a mask and glasses and has a mullet! You know, the one who always has earphones in? Yeah, with the hawaiian shirts? The one who makes jokes that don't land!" kind of weird.
Yeah... Ranboo's reputation wasn't the best. But, hey, at the very least he wasn't being bullied anymore. (The volleyball team had been pretty helpful with that, what with him being tall enough to block enough spikes to make them win. It was only fair.)
But god, one thing that sucked when you were the year's dubbed "cryptid fucker" was partnered projects. Because honestky who the fuck is gonna choose the mask and gloves kid? Who's crazy enough to subject themselves to spending time with that weirdo?
Well, Tubbo, apparently.
Tubbo was... everything that Ranboo was, and more. He had a sense of humour that just clicked with Ranboo's, and a bright smile that could let him get away with the most outrageous of statements. He was nice.
And apparently, he was in some emo, punk-rock type of band, because he just told Ranboo so.
Here's what had happened:
"Hey, boss man! You're Ranboo, right?" Tubbo asked kindly, plopping down on the seat next to him. The way he said 'Ranboo' was weird- with a short a, and a 'bow' instead of 'boo'.
"Uh, yeah. Ranboo." He corrected softly, "And you're Tubbo."
"Right!" Tubbo laughed, "I am! Anyways, about this report..."
"It's easy. Just talk about archetypes and we'll get an A+." Ranboo answered lazily, resting his chin on his gloved palm.
"The fuck is an archetype?" Tubbo sighed, lightly banging his head against the desk.
"...We can meet after school to make an actual report." Ranboo said.
"Mm," Tubbo grinned, lighthearted frustration quickly forgotten as he bopped his head to a beat that Ranboo couldn't hear.
"Party rockers in the hoooouse, tonight!" Tubbo sang quietly, so as to not draw attention to himself, "Everybody just have a good time!"
"...Uh, it's 'party rock is'. Sorry." Ranboo corrected, and Tubbo gasped.
"What?" Ranboo asked awkwardly, raising his hands up in a sign of defence.
Tubbo stared at him, raking his glance up and down with narrowed eyes, before he finally opened his mouth to speak, a decisive and sure tone escaping him.
"I like you. Come join my emo, punk-rock type of band." Tubbo demanded.
"...Why?"
"Because I just told you so." Tubbo explained, as if he were speaking to a 3 year old. "Obviously. You and I are meeting up after school anyway. Come visit my good friend Tommy's garage and watch me and my emo, punk-rock type of band. Because I'm telling you so."
"Uh, I don't see why my presence is neede-"
"You play the keytar, bossman, you're in." Tubbo decided, before burying his head in his arms and napping for the rest of the lesson.
Ranboo could only stare at Tubbo's hair in disbelief, only one thought in his mind:
"How did he know I could play the keytar?!"