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“it’s too much, ranboo,” tommy’s voice cracks, staring out into the sunset as the wind gently combs through his hair. “i can’t do this anymore.”
bandages on his arms, stitches on his face, white speckles dotting his dim blue eyes. ranboo can hardly remember what tommy used to be like before he was broken in. no fiery ambition lurks in those eyes, no more charming grins adorn those pale and cracked lips. just a poor boy whose golden age is in the past, where he was the savior of l’manburg and the leader of a revolt.
ranboo takes this poor boy into his arms and let his head lie on the dip of his shoulder. he’s cold, so, so cold. even for an enderman, whose natural physiology dictates that they must have a low temperature at all times, tommy feels like ice under his skin. he can barely feel his pulse and when his heightened senses strain to hear it, his heartbeat is staggering and faulty.
“you’ve been through so much,” ranboo murmurs in his ear. his fingers scratch softly at tommy’s scalp. “i can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for you.”
“it’s hard,” tommy mumbles, eyes fluttering up towards the hybrid. “i’m always tired. i… i wanna sleep. forever. if- if that’s possible.”
“that’s dying,” ranboo says. the younger shakes his head.
“not dying. just… just sleep. for a while. a really long while.”
ranboo thinks for a bit, soaking in the last rays of the sun before it goes away and the night’s stars start to twinkle hello. they’ve always seemed too far to ranboo. logic dictates that they’re millions and eons of lightyears away. but old tommy always made it seem like you could touch them if you tried.
ranboo owes his entire life to tommy.
“how about—” ranboo starts. “how about i’ll let you do that?”
“what? let me sleep forever?”
“yeah. and even more so, if you wish.”
tommy stills at the thought. he’d love eternal rest, minus the dying part. tommy hates what waits for him on the other side. schlatt is drunk and dead, mexican dream is okay, but wilbur makes him relive every trauma and fear he’s had to go through in his measly 16 years of life. old tommy would’ve turned down the invitation, saying that he still has his country and friends to back to. but his country is nothing more than a crater and all his friends have shunned him and branded him as the villain.
“i’d love that.”
“let him out!” tubbo screams, banging at the door to the vault. this one is a different vault than dream’s brooding obsidian one. ranboo has carefully made this one out of cobblestone and oak, the block that tommy so dearly loves. it’s pretty and simple and ranboo has added some lovely alliums for tommy’s vault.
alliums, ranboo fondly thinks, are the symbol of their friendship. he has also tucked an allium in between the fingers of tommy’s resting body. a symbol of their friendship even throughout eternal sleep.
tubbo screams and scratches at the hybrid who drags him away from the vault. the vault doesn’t have many security measures, but with ranboo protecting it, there’s no need for worry. he has sworn to protect that vault and to grant the rest he needs.
“you monster,” tubbo hisses, swinging a punch only for ranboo to calmly grab his arm. “you fucking--! you trapped him in that box!”
“i did not,” ranboo calmly says as he continues to drag tubbo away. it does not take one much time to piece together the fact that ranboo is not himself anymore. the familiar red-and-green eyes, usually innocent and shy, have taken on a shimmering purple hue. he is colder, harder, able to make decisions for himself. his promise to tommy has forged him to be a much stronger person.
he owes tommy his life, after all. he owes tommy more than anyone else on this server.
“i am merely respecting his wishes.” the splashing of the waves grows louder as they near the shore, where patches of ice float as a result of the undesirably icy weather of snowchester. ranboo slams tubbo against the grave he’s made for a once-dead tommy, netherite sword catching the slightest of blood from tubbo’s neck, and his eyes shimmer ominously.
“as tommy’s best friend, you should learn to do that too.”
eternity, to the mere human, is a long time. but to the man who holds a promise, eternity is something he can afford.
the days pass and the nights get colder. he’s seen people come and go, flowers wither and grow, and the seasons change into the next. he has devoted his entire life to his dearest, has spilled blood on his hands to execute those who dare awaken his brother.
(ranboo didn’t recognize them anymore. the purple haze that overtakes his mind only fills his thoughts out with tommy, tommy, tommy and promise, promise, promise. endermen are clearly possessive creatures and a half-hybrid isn’t excused from that particular trait.
to him, they weren’t mentor and father-figure anymore. they were only thieves stealing his treasure.)
eternity doesn’t come cheap, however. ranboo longs for his treasure’s smile and laughter, but he knows he has to respect his wishes. if eternity is what he wants, then eternity he shall get. life has taken so much from tommy, after all. some time of rest can do him good.
and then, when the flowers break through the last snowfall and the alliums rise from the earth to greet the sun, his treasure finally awakens.
a halo of spun gold, eyes bluer than ranboo’s ever remembered them, skin still stitched and patched like a quilt but somehow livelier than ever. his treasure, his other piece, his tommy.
tommy emerges from the vault, gripping onto an allium of a millennia ago. his eyes shun from the sun, unused to how bright everything is, but when his eyes land on a returning ranboo, his lips break into that old charming grin of his.
“ran,” he breathes with a voice full of affection that ranboo’s never heard from him. “you’re still here.”
the hybrid drops everything he has, uncaring over the spill of wine he makes as he runs towards tommy and lifts him in the air. real, real, real his mind chants. the skin under his fingers is warm, the heartbeat is steady and strong. it’s not like the ghosts he’d see on nights where he can’t sleep, static and fleeting the moment he reaches for their fingers. this tommy is real.
those big, sparkling eyes, as blue as the ocean. they’re real.
ranboo chokes out a sob, squeezing tommy into a hug while the trail of tears burns his cheeks and drip into his shirt.
“it’s been so long,” he whispers. “i haven’t seen you in so long.”
tommy returns the hug (warm, warm, warm). “and you waited for me,” tommy whispers back. “i can’t thank you enough.”
as the pair of friends exchange their tearful hugs, the wind sweeps through the barren lands. there will be landmarks that tommy has not seen before, all covered in mildew and grime. the buildings are broken and weathered, vines creeping and twisting on ever bare surface. the wind continues to blow, swiping on the surface of the ocean before moving on to another surface.
the surface of the waters ripple slightly and should one take a peek in between the glaciers, something blinks and moves underneath packed ice.
ranboo throws a glance coldly underneath tommy’s old and weathered grave, where on the ocean floor a brunette is harshly encased in ice,
not now, ranboo thinks to himself. he jogs to catch up to tommy, who gives him the brightest smile that he can’t help reciprocate.
not until he learns his lesson.