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Ranboo... didn't like being in foster care. Being tossed around between courts and the bank and strangers' houses for a week straight right after his parent's death was less than ideal on many terms. Most parents couldn't handle Ranboo's breakdowns, so he'd be out of the house by the next day. Sometimes he was up crying and screaming and so very alone, and no one came for him.
That's why it was so nice to live with Phil. To be a part of the family.
People came to him when he cried. They treated him nicely, and they didn't try to solve all of his problems when he just needed to let it all out. They knew how to take care of him when Ranboo lost himself in the moment. When the pain became more important than the good.
Finally, Ranboo's brain had decided it was safe enough for all of his emotions to come spilling out. Everything from the last year that he had quietly tucked away, every little thought or feeling he had forgotten about until now. Ranboo thought he had gotten everything out, but apparently, there was still more to mourn.
Ranboo woke up with a groan already bubbling up his throat. He flipped over, staring blankly into his wall. He just wanted to lay in bed all day, stay bundled up and let the sun rise and fall without him having to look at it at all. To hide away from the reality of living. Ranboo knew it wouldn't happen; he had to get up and do things, even if it was just to eat, but...
It's been a year. A whole year since Ranboo was orphaned. On this very day, Ranboo woke up to smoke and flames and screaming. On this day, he lost his parents, his house, and everything he loved.
As horrible as his memory had gotten, he could never forget this day.
Ranboo winches at the phantom pain that begins to form on the small burn scar on his cheek. Most people don't notice the scar at all. Ranboo does. He's aware of every imperfection in his skin, every burn mark, and cut that was stitched up that lonely night in the hospital. Ranboo hates hospitals.
He'd been dreading this day all week, going so far as to lie to his therapist about telling Phil and the rest. It's just--he doesn't want to address this day. But he does , in a small quiet sort of way. Something whispers that he wants to go visit his parents at the cemetery, and he wants to leave flowers, and he just... Ranboo is tired. He's very, very tired. He takes a deep breath and steels himself to go down for breakfast.
Phil is eyeing Ranboo when he comes down the stairs, dressed in some of the comfiest clothes he owns. A particularly soft jacket, sweatpants, and a loose shirt Ranboo has had since the beginning. At first, Phil had been worried about a depressive episode, but Ranboo's behavior didn't line up. Too… present . Almost dreading. Ranboo looked exhausted when he sat down, despite turning into bed around eight last night and emerging a little after ten. Well... oversleeping can cause exhaustion, too, Phil reasons. He doesn't think about how much Ranboo looks like Techno the first time he'd ever gone nonverbal around Phil. He doesn't.
Phil places a comforting squeeze on Ranboo's arm as he sets down a plate full of food, and that must have done something because... Ranboo just breaks. He blinks, and then suddenly, tears are pouring out of his eyes, and he begins hiccuping.
"Ranboo? Shit… Hey, hey, kiddo, what's going on?" Phil comes around the counter, positioning himself at Ranboo's side. Wilbur drops his fork, sending a quick look to Phil. It was only them in the kitchen, which was a relief and also not. One of them would have to fill the others in later.
Ranboo just keeps crying, failing to get any breaths in and choking out painful sobs. Phil carefully rubs Ranboo's back, which Wilbur mirrors while humming a soft tune. Ranboo finally finds it in himself to turn into Phil, seeking any kind of comfort he can get. This was all too much. He just needed to hide and feel safe.
"Hey, c'mon, it's okay," Phil shushed kindly. He takes Ranboo's hand, resting the fingers in his palm. "We've told you about our tapping system, yeah? Do you remember what they mean?"
Ranboo shakes his head.
"That's okay. We'll make something up right now, alright? One tap for 'a lot of things have me like this ' and two for ' one big thing has me like this .' Can you do that?"
Ranboo nods into Phil's neck, sputtering out another painful cry. Phil is sure Ranboo's chest is going to hurt after this, his throat, too. Phil's mind is already jumping to Ranboo's favorite banana bread recipe and the hot chocolate packets stored in the cabinet. With two incredibly shaky fingers, Ranboo gives two taps to Phil's palm.
"Okay, thank you, Ranboo," Phil breathes, hugging him close and kissing his temple. He quietly asks if Wilbur is helping, and Ranboo nods, so Wilbur keeps up the soft humming. It takes a while, such a long time for a truly tiny body, for Ranboo to stop crying. He doesn't have any more tears to spill; he probably ran out a while ago, so now it's just soft hiccuping and shaky breaths.
"Ranboo? Can you speak with us now?" Wilbur asks, keeping up rubbing Ranboo's shoulder and momentarily pauses his humming.
"I-I think so," Ranboo says. His voice is so scratchy it makes everyone cringe. Phil murmurs that he'll get Ranboo some water against his hair before pulling away, leaving Ranboo to sink into his chair. He then leans towards Wilbur, shivering lightly.
Phil presses the cup, one of the smaller ones, not too heavy, to Ranboo's hands and patiently waits for him to take a long gulp.
"Feelin' better, mate?" Phil asks, reaching out to wipe away a stray tear with his thumb.
"Not really." Ranboo gives a dry chuckle. Wilbur purses his lips.
"What's been eatin' at ya, kiddo?" Phil watches Ranboo's face scrunch. "Something has been eating at you all week. You don't have to tell us, Ranboo, but we wanna, y'know, help. If we can."
Ranboo nods, wiping at his eyes roughly and taking a shallow, shaky breath. Phil makes his own, deeper, calmer ones more noticeable, so hopefully, Ranboo will start to mirror him.
"Right. Right. Um… it's… it's been a year. Since the accident. The uh, the fire. It happened today. Last year."
"Oh, Ranboo." Phil melts, Wilbur curses softly, and Phil leans in to pull Ranboo to his side. Ranboo sinks into the comfort, the warmth, trying not to cry again. He takes another sip of water. "Why didn't you tell us?"
" Sorry- " Ranboo's voice cracks, and tears sting in his eyes.
"No. Do not apologize." Phil sighs, giving a loving squeeze to Ranboo's arm. Wilbur has pulled away for the most part. Instead, he's now leaning against the counter and giving Ranboo his attention. "Don't apologize over this."
Ranboo gives a quick nod, folding his lips together. He presses a shaking hand to his mouth, trying to muffle the new, soft cries that come spilling out. "Sorry-"
Phil lets Ranboo cry because it's better to get it all out than bottle it up. Somewhere in the process, Phil asks Wilbur to inform everyone else of the family group chat about Ranboo's predicament and be ready to come home. Wilbur agrees, quietly excusing himself to the living room.
The kitchen isn't the most comfortable place for a breakdown, Ranboo decides at ten-thirty AM. Regardless, Phil gently guides him through it with gentle words and an even calmer presence. Ranboo's back starts to ache from being hunched over so much, but he can't bring himself to pull away until his breathing evens out completely. His cheeks are wet, his throat and his chest hurt, and Ranboo is sure his eyes and skin are an unsightly, splotchy red. Another apology dies on his tongue as he finally sits up, taking another hurried sip of water before Phil can prompt it.
"I'm sorry about your parents, mate," Phil says. He squeezes Ranboo's arm, the same action that started his whole mess. "I say it a lot, but… you didn't deserve that shit. I'm sorry, Ranboo."
Ranboo nods. "I just wanna… I just want to push it all down and never think about it, but I don't because they're my parents and I…" I miss them .
"I know. It's hard, Ranboo, I get it. Do you… do you have anything you want to do? Anything to make today easier?"
"I… I want to see them?" A new wave of tears spills over as Ranboo laughs. "It's been almost a year? I don't know--I want to bring flowers? Say something ?"
"We can do that," Phil quietly consoles. "We can do that. We can go and pick up some flowers, alright? We can go and see them. Do you want to get changed at all? Do you want anyone else here?"
"Sorry, might be a bit too late on that end," Wilbur quickly chimes in. "Techno and Tommy are already on their way home. They don't have to come , come, but they'll be here."
"That's fine." Ranboo sips his water again. "Let me. Let me change my pants."
Phil nods, reluctantly letting Ranboo go. He scurries away, back to his room, just like he did when Ranboo first arrived. Phil feels his own tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he quickly wipes them away. Wilbur gave quiet comforts.
Tommy came bursting through the door, clutching his phone and heaving breaths like he'd just run a mile.
"I was at Tubbo's," he supplies. "Ran here."
Wilbur finds the humor to make a light joke. Not long after, Techno's car pulls in, and the usually well-put-together kid stumbles out of his car and into the door. He scans the room quickly, looking just about as anxious as Phil feels.
"He's getting dressed," Phil quickly says. He gnaws at his bottom lip, anxiously glancing towards the stairs. The sound of a door opening catches everyone's attention, and Ranboo shrinks under their collective gaze. He shuffles down the stairs, pulled into an awkward hug by Techno, getting his hair ruffled by Tommy.
"I didn't know I could gather a crowd," Ranboo mumbles against Techno's chest.
"Always," Techno says.
Briefly, the room is silent.
"Do you wanna go get flowers?" Phil asks. "Or would you like to wait a bit?"
"It's getting close to noon." Ranboo reluctantly pulls away from Techno. "We should probably go now. I'll be okay, I think. And if I'm not, you can play the ' his parents died ' card and get a discount or something."
Phil chuckles, guiding Ranboo to the car. With his permission, everyone else piles in, filling the back row. Ranboo gets the front passenger seat, special "going through it" privileges in place. Phil googles for any nearby flower shops, finding one a little while out but with good reviews. He puts it in maps and starts the route, pulling out of the driveway. During the drive, the almost dry energy dies completely. They arrive, and only Ranboo and Phil step into the store.
Ranboo looks around, staring into the small collection of bouquets borderline impassively. It makes Phil hover anxiously. After what seems like little debate, but probably a large internal one, Ranboo settles on a bouquet. It's full of flowers that Phil doesn't recognize, but it's pretty, and it looks like it could be split relatively evenly if there are two places for flowers. Or two graves. Phil asks about any kind of special wrapping the shop they might have for the flowers and happily pays the three dollars extra.
They exit the shop, Ranboo clinging the bouquet tightly to his chest. It rides in Ranboo's lap, getting a small section of his pants wet. Techno quietly compliments Ranboo's flower choice.
"Do you know the name of the graveyard they're at?" Phil asks quietly.
"Uh, Summer Isle Burial Grounds, I'm pretty sure," Ranboo mumbles.
After a tiny bit of searching, Phil is able to find the graveyard and starts mapping towards it. They're in for a small drive, about twenty minutes, and Phil informs everyone of such. The drive feels a lot longer than it is, primarily silent outside of Tommy, occasionally pointing things out as they drive. He saw a black squirrel, apparently, and he thought that was cool.
When they arrive, Ranboo shuffles out of the car, clutching the flowers tightly. He leads everyone down the lines and lines of people, bringing them to the approximate location of his parent's graves. Then, they all begin to look a little more closely with the names Ranboo supplied them with until Ranboo himself finds their placements. They're buried right next to each other, and Ranboo asks for a moment.
He kneels down in the grass, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. He splits the flowers, setting an equal amount on each grave, but Ranboo is only eyeballing it. He can't be for sure. He takes a grounding breath, digging his fingers into his palms and resting them against his legs. He settles to rest on his shins, legs soundly under him.
"Hi, mom. Dad." Ranboo isn't a religious person, he never was, but maybe they were here in spirit or something. Maybe they can still hear him, or if they can't, maybe they've moved on to something better. Ranboo hopes so. "So, I don't know if you know what's happened after you died, but… It's been… okay ."
Ranboo blinks for a second. "Um. The banks were weird for a while, but Phil sorted that all out. He's good like that."
He pauses. What did he pause for?
"Um. I met these people." Ranboo sniffs, swiping his thumb across his nose. "Phil and his kids. Techno, Tommy, Wilbur… And I think they love me… And I--I think I love them and I don't-"
Ranboo breaks into tears, the salty water soaking his clothes for the third time that day. His voice cracks and breaks, and he moves to grip his pants tightly. He tries to wipe away the tears, but it proves useless. "But I love your guys too, and I can't--"
Ranboo chokes on his words. His speech is ugly and rough. Raw with the hurt and the pain he's been feeling, the love he misses but still clings to at times. Can he let himself love again? Can he let another family into his life, let himself accept these things, and learn to not let go but make peace ? Ranboo was terrified . Terrified of what? What did he have to lose? What had he gained that was so precious? He presses a hand to his mouth, steadily crumbling. His parents' names stare up at him, and Ranboo can't tell what he feels anymore. What a sight, some Random kid sobbing in front of two graves while his foster family waits on him.
Ranboo barely registers the hand that sets itself on his shoulder, only when it jerks him a little as a mass sits down next to him. Ranboo looks over, vision blurry with tears, and can make out the vague shape of Phil. He crumbles a little more. His father, his dad , Phil.
"Um. I j--I love you guys," Ranboo says finally. He rubs at his nose, wiping it on his pants. He shudders, and he trembles, and Phil eventually has to pull him up so they don't sit in silence for over an hour. Ranboo can't . He just can't. He's tired. This day has drained him of all he has, his scars ache, and he just wants to sleep. Phil carries him back to the group, passing him off to Techno. On their way out, everybody drops a kind word to the graves.
Ranboo doesn't remember driving back. He only remembers waking up on the couch, wrapped up in a mountain of blankets. A soft hand plays with his hair, keeping Ranboo from becoming too aware of how much of the mess he's become.
"Hey, kid," a voice prompts. "You ready for bed? I offered to stay up just in case your power nap wore off. You feeling any better?"
... does he?
Ranboo can't tell. All he knows is that he's tired . He misses his bed. Misses the sweet, tasteful but ignorant bliss that sleep gives him. Ranboo just wants to rest .
"I'm… tired," he says. Seems to work well enough.
Ranboo is carried to his room and carefully tucked into bed. He catches a glimpse of pink hair, blinking into the foggy darkness.
"'G'night, Techno," he calls softly.
Techno pauses in the doorway. "Night, Ranboo."
Ranboo falls asleep to the sound of quiet footsteps. Maybe he's worked something out for himself; maybe he hasn't. Perhaps all the crying was cathartic, and Ranboo could look back on this tomorrow, or in a week, or a month, or a year, and see something he doesn't now. Maybe. Maybe it didn't help. Ranboo's cheeks are stiff with dried tears, and everything aches. He just doesn't know.
Maybe, though, when he wakes up to banana bread and hot chocolate, things will be a little better.