Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The kid showed up in his life out of nowhere.

When he’d first met them, it was Phil’s designated break day. He’d been going back home after eating and drinking at a nearby pub, one of the few he knew he could trust in the fucked up city he’d been tentatively calling home. He was exhausted and nearly every part of his body ached (especially his wings). All he really wanted to do was to get to his bed, lie down, and sleep off all of his growing stress.

But, no. Phil made the mistake of not looking straight ahead, letting his eyes wander just a bit to the left in a way that let him catch a glimpse of black and white hair. Phil, ever the curious soul, shifted his gaze to focus on it. And, oh boy, that was a full child.

The kid looked to be, at least, seven. They were all tall and lanky and so very out of place in the city surrounding them. They were standing right by the wall of an alleyway that led to one of the main streets of the Capital. The clothes they wore were short on them, ankles and wrists not even close to covered by the most likely well-loved fabric. They looked immobilized; the only thing about them that moved were their eyes, which were rapidly sweeping back and forth over the people moving past them.

If it were anyone else, Phil might’ve brushed past the kid as well, only sparing them a brief sympathetic thought before never thinking of them again. But the look in that kid’s eyes reminded Phil too much of mud and blood and tears and pain. He couldn’t have left that kid all alone and scared if he tried.

So he altered his path, walking over to where the kid was standing. Employing the kindest tone he could manage, Phil spoke to them. “Are you okay?”

Their gaze drifted up to Phil’s hat and down to his beat-up boots before landing somewhere just above his eyes, close enough that it might’ve passed as eye contact. Their shoulders hunched up and they curled in on themselves. Phil realized that, maybe, he was scaring the poor child even more than the environment was.

“Um, n-no?” Their response nearly got swallowed by all the hustle and bustle around them, a whisper among the ruckus of the Capital. They sounded so tired, much more tired than anyone their age should ever have to be. Their voice was hoarse, as if their throat had been scratched to hell and back. With a painfully noticeable squeeze in his heart, Phil decided that, yup, there was no way he would ever let this kid be in any sort of danger even with his complete lack of knowledge about children.

He didn’t exactly know what to do or what to say, not sure how to talk to this kid who looked like life had it out for him. His experience with children was severely limited. The last time he’d ever spent more than five minutes near an actual child was when he himself was young, living in a home with a handful of other kids who were just about as lonely as he was. Hell, even then he was clueless. He was definitely bound to fuck this up somehow. (There were blurry, barely there, memories of holding a crying child, of panicking and shouting before the child was taken from his arms, laundry forced into them instead; it’s a memory stained with anger and fear and pain and he hated revisiting it, hated being reminded of a time before.)

“Do you need any help?”

That must’ve been the wrong thing to say because, suddenly, the kid was running out of their little spot and around Phil. They didn’t say a word as they ran, effectively hiding themselves in the crowd. Honestly, he couldn’t blame them for that decision. If Phil were in their position, he most likely would’ve done the exact same. It didn’t help to soothe any of his worry, but at least he knew they were smart enough to probably not die on their own. Hopefully.

All Phil could really do at that point was to continue his trek back home and to try to rid his thoughts of the young hybrid.

He didn’t expect to see the kid ever again. A few days later, Phil learned that the universe didn’t actually care for his expectations.

It was in the early morning, the sun having just begun to rise. Phil had been out all night, doing some mining for a man that was willing to pay far too much for a few iron ingots. It wasn’t something he usually found himself doing, typically straying more towards exploration than repetitive tasks, but the money was more than worth it.

The task effectively dismantled whatever schedule Phil had built for himself; all of his plans were now thrown away. If he weren’t practically dead on his feet, he’d be well annoyed. There was a time when he was able to go days without sleep. Unfortunately, he had gotten used to a somewhat consistent sleeping pattern. Now, he found himself unable to pull as many all-nighters as he used to, a fact that became glaringly obvious the longer he spent awake. His eyelids felt heavy, struggling to stay open; it made him feel older than he actually was.

While Phil was tired (so, so incredibly tired), he was still as alert as he always was; he couldn’t exactly afford to let his guard down no matter the circumstances. Despite his exhaustion, he didn’t miss the quiet, clumsy footsteps that followed him down every street and turn he took. If it were later in the day, when people were out and actually doing things, he wouldn’t have noticed it at all.

Phil glanced, very briefly, over his shoulder, only seeing an empty street behind him. Whoever was following him definitely did not want to be seen which, okay, that was kind of obvious. Not like he’d want to be caught if he was tailing someone.

Instead of taking the usual path home, Phil now had to wander through the streets until the person following him either gave up or decided to jump him; both possibilities were ones he was preparing himself for. The last thing he wanted to do was lead someone directly to his home.

There was the slight sound of a stumble and a rock being kicked against the ground, the noises echoing. He hazarded one more glance behind him, just to do a quick investigation. This time, though, he caught sight of his mystery companion. Ducking behind an abandoned cart was a barely familiar smudge of black and white, a tufted tail and a pair of horns sticking out from the otherwise good enough hiding place.

It was the kid again and, upon realizing, Phil had to suppress a small smile; their tail moved and swayed outside of their hiding spot and every so often he could catch a small twitch of their ears. Phil hoped that this interaction might end better than the last time he saw the child.

He kept on walking, no longer preparing for any particularly dangerous encounters; the child probably didn’t pose any actual threat and, if they did, he could take them easily (Phil knew better than to judge someone’s strength based on their appearance but the kid looked halfway towards death during their last encounter. They were dangerously skinny for their height). There were a few ways he could let this play out. He could offer the kid some food, some money, let them roam free after that. He could just not acknowledge them at all, act like he never noticed anyone was there. Or, the option that Phil was much more inclined to, he could offer them a space in his home. He could let them stay for as long as they wanted, guarantee that they had shelter and a meal waiting for as long as they deemed necessary. It’d give him the most peace of mind and the kid might appreciate it (if things went well; dear Gods did Phil want it to go well).

Phil knew what happened last time, could easily remember the way the kid rushed off without any hesitation when offered help. There was no way for him to know whether or not they’d react the same way and that uncertainty kept Phil in his own little contemplative silence, left second guessing himself over and over again.

“Can I know why you’re following me?”

The footsteps stopped completely and Phil came to a stop with them, resisting the urge to turn around and look at the kid trailing behind him. He knew his words most likely came off accusatory, most likely ended up scaring the kid because he completely forgot to watch his tone. Fucking stupid move on his part, if he was being honest. Should’ve thought that one over just a bit more before committing.

“I’m not upset or anything, just curious. I was planning on heading home and making some dinner. I wouldn’t turn down any company, if you wanted to tag along.”

It was quiet behind him, no sound of movement. That was good, maybe? They weren’t running off so Phil considered it a win. He let silence fall upon the street again, letting the kid deliberate and come to their own conclusion.

“What?” Their voice was soft, scared, and laced with confusion.

“I’ve got a tendency to cook too much for myself,” he lied easily, doing what he could to at least slightly ease the kid’s worries. Phil didn’t really cook and, when he did, he cooked just enough (maybe even less than enough most times). “If you’ve got no other plans, I wouldn’t mind setting another place at the table.”

It was quiet for a few seconds before the kid made the most confused sound Phil had ever heard. The noise wasn’t completely human, the confusion underlined by a staticky frustration. For not using any words, the kid was surprisingly expressive in a way that was endlessly endearing even if it just barely broke Phil’s heart.

“Well, I’ll be on my way.” Phil continued his walk home, smiling to himself when a few moments later, another pair of footsteps followed his own heavy ones.

Chapter Text

The kid wasn't the type for conversation, something that Phil understood and tried to accommodate for. Phil was used to companions who were just as fond of conversation as he was, people who had no issue with answering and asking questions of their own. So, while he worked in his kitchen, he held a conversation on his own. It was a way for him to fill the air and kill his nerves while also hopefully not making the kid sitting at his table uncomfortable (they already looked so scared, hunched in their chair and looking smaller than Phil knew they were).

Phil hadn’t exactly gotten around to properly introducing himself or asking the child their name and, at this point, he didn’t know when was the proper time to actually do that. It’d be more convenient to have a name to call the young hybrid, but he didn’t want to chance it and accidentally scare them.

There was a lull in Phil’s train of thought, an end to the steady stream of words leaving him. He let it go quiet and focused on the steady sound of the knife against the cutting board. He’d decided to make vegetable soup, one of the only dishes he had the ingredients for and the only thing the kid reacted positively to. He hoped that actually preparing the meal wouldn’t take too long. It was late and he didn’t want to keep himself or the kid up for longer than they had to be.

“Uh, sor- excuse me sir?”

Phil paused and turned around, giving the kid a reassuring smile (because he was happy, just a little, that they spoke up, no matter what it may or may not be about). “Yeah?”

“Do you- do you have, like, extra-” They paused, letting out a frustrated hum. It was clear that they weren’t quite sure what the word they were looking for was. Common probably wasn’t their first language, then. They spoke it without any obvious accent, an impressive feat in Phil’s mind. “-like, something to, to write on?”

It was certainly not what Phil thought they would ask for, expecting maybe something more essential for someone’s well-being. It was fine, though, he didn’t mind at all -no matter how unexpected and (admittedly) strange the request was. “I should have something lying around that’d work. D’you need a pencil, too?”

A quick look of relief passed over their face before they nodded their answer, mouth opening and closing around words that just wouldn’t come out.

“I’ll be right back.”

It took next to no time to find an empty journal in his home, finding a simple leather bound one nestled amongst a stack of maps and books that lay abandoned in a corner of his study. The most notable thing about it was the symbol carved into the leather; it was his own handiwork, a simple pair of wings to mimic his own, done just to pass the time and test his skills. He gave the faded green cover another quick once over before grabbing it along with a spare, barely used, pencil and making his way back to the kitchen.

Unsurprisingly, the kid was still sitting in practically the same position Phil left them in. They looked slightly less uncomfortable; they were slouched more into their chair and their shoulders were very clearly untensed. It wasn’t exactly the perfect definition of relaxation but, hey, at least they no longer looked as stiff as a mannequin.

“Well,” Phil began, startling the kid out of whatever daze they were in. It was enough to make them flinch -a barely there jump of their shoulders and twitch of their ears; the movements were very quickly schooled into a faux calm- and turn their attention to Phil. Their head was tilted just slightly in curiosity, dual-colored eyes more attentive than Phil has ever seen them. “I was able to find something. Lucky for you, I’m a bit of a hoarder which means I’ve got the most random things lying around, like an empty journal.” He placed the journal and pencil on the table by the kid, giving them a brief (and genuine) smile before returning to preparing the soup.

Instead of rambling or letting the kitchen fall to silence once more, Phil made the decision to hum to himself while working. The tune is one familiar to Phil, something he’d heard in passing at a shop in town; it was upbeat and simple and full of far too much energy for early morning, but it was all he could really think of.

He was able to zone out while falling back on the repetitive and familiar moments of cooking. It was easy to let himself take a break while his body worked on the meal practically on autopilot.

Whatever trance Phil had worked himself into was broken by a quiet and shaky sob followed by the sound of a pencil writing quickly on paper. A part of Phil knew that he wasn’t supposed to hear that, that the child was doing their best to remain silent. That fact, that sure knowledge, made a part of his heart ache.

He wanted to turn around, wanted to check on them and make sure they were okay. He couldn’t, though. It’d feel like he was breaking the small bit of trust they’d put in him or throwing away the only bit of comfort they’d been able to find in his home. He couldn’t do that to him, so he kept humming and kept cooking as the kid wrote away in the journal.

Time blended into something incredibly fast and yet unbelievably slow; it felt like it took only seconds for the soup to finish and to plate it yet it also felt like hours passed as he stood by the stove. The sun was now sitting heavy in the sky, shrouded by the few clouds that hung in the sky. It’s steady crawl went almost unnoticed to Phil until he was plating the soup and cutting slices of bread, looking out the small window to see the world bathed in light. It was a wonder he hadn’t fallen asleep yet and an even greater wonder that he was still thinking straight.

“The soup is finally done,” Phil announced, smiling to himself as he tried to carefully maneuver the bowls he’d prepared as well as the bread to the table. The kid looked up from the journal they’d been writing, bringing an end to the sound that had helped fill the quiet of early morning. “Took me a while, might actually be going senile.”

A concerned look took over the kid’s face and Phil had to stifle a laugh, the fear of accidentally insulting the kid keeping the noise contained. “Don’t worry, mate, just joking. I’m not that old.” They only nodded, concern fading away as they looked at the bowl in front of them with a look that was just a bit too endearing for Phil.

“Feel free to eat as much as you want, alright?”

They nodded once more and picked up the spoon Phil had left for them, holding it like it was the most precious item they’ve seen (it really wasn’t; the cutlery Phil owned was either bought for barely any money or things he made himself when he managed to lose the few he did have).The kid began eating once Phil did, like that was the go-ahead that they needed; from what Phil knew about them so far, he wouldn’t have doubted that at all.

“My name is- it’s Ranboo.” Their voice was quiet, kept at such a low volume that it didn’t sound like much at all. Even so, Phil heard them.

“Ranboo-” the kid (Ranboo, now) perked up at the use of their name, ears twitching up and tail swaying excitedly behind them. They ducked their head, poorly hiding the smile that quite literally split their face in half. “-you can call me Phil.”

As Phil went back to eating, he caught sight of Ranboo mouthing his name, silently working over the pronunciation.

Chapter Text

Ranboo woke up to the clang of metal in a house they didn’t recognize and curled up on a couch they’d never seen. A sense of panic struck them suddenly and harshly, immediately shaking away the brief calm that sleep usually brought. They desperately tried to remember what had brought them here to no avail. There were no memories of the night before, nothing to help them figure out if they were in danger or not.

It was frightfully common for Ranboo to wake up in places without any recollection of where they were or how they got there. Nearly every morning led them to a panic attack as they tried to get a grasp on their surroundings, struggling to gauge if they were safe or not. There were mornings where they woke up, curled up in a home surrounded by children he’d never met. There were other mornings that they woke up in pain; newly closed wounds, bruises, and dried blood scattered on their body. They were just glad that today seemed to be a much safer, calmer location than what they were used to. It wasn’t tucked into an alleyway, it wasn’t somewhere stories high, it was just a house and it looked, well, it looked like how Ranboo assumed most houses looked, a lived in and well-loved space.

They took a shaky breath and looked around, too afraid to move more than just their head. The room Ranboo was in was cluttered and small, the limited space available being taken advantage of to the fullest. There was a fireplace across from where Ranboo was sat and, in front of that, was a low table made of a dark wood with golden (and oh boy it looked like actual gold; where the hell were they?) accents. The table was littered with books, loose pieces of paper and maps, small rocks and other natural trinkets, and different cups of all sizes and makes. Other than the couch they were sitting in, there were two more sitting options in the room: a wooden rocking chair with chipping green paint and what appeared to be a recliner with faded deep red upholstery. The walls were painted an off white color, covered in paintings and tapestries and shelves filled to the brim with assorted objects that Ranboo couldn’t really make out in the aftermath of their panic. They slowly moved their feet to the floor, the soft texture of the slightly eccentric rug underneath their toes highly appreciated.

Another clang sounded from behind Ranboo and they turned around rapidly with their heart jumping into their throat and their panic returning. Behind them was a hallway: big, open, unlit, and downright terrifying to their sleep-addled and confused mind. They could only catch glimpses of photographs and a patterned wallpaper, everything else shrouded in darkness and shadows. Not knowing what was beyond the room they woke in made a deep pit settle in their stomach.

Ranboo whined, the noise just a bit too loud in the quiet room. They closed their eyes and pressed their hands harshly against them in an effort to try to calm down. They made no effort to move, stars forming behind their closed eyes as they slowly increased the pressure of their hands. Their chest hurt, a tight stinging pain that made it hard to breathe and equally as hard to think. If only they could just remember.

After Gods know how long, Ranboo finally moved their hands and opened their eyes. They stared down at their feet and tried to gauge just how well their body was holding up. Nothing was sore or achey, everything seemingly attached properly to their body, no teeth were missing, their hair was still long (which, if they're correct, has always been pretty long), their tail and horns were still intact. Everything was fine? This was new, very very new. They didn’t even feel the dull pounding of a headache or the always present discomfort of hunger. Even on their best days, they never felt this okay. This wasn’t normal and Ranboo had no idea if that was something concerning or good.

Right next to their feet was a deep green journal and a shoddily carved pencil laying on top of it. Looking at the cover made something in Ranboo’s mind incredibly happy, the source of that feeling unknown to them; whatever happened to get the journal there must’ve been a good enough experience for them if the feelings existed outside of the memory. That’s-

That’s a good sign? Hopefully?

They picked up the journal, flinching when the pencil fell to the floor. Mmmmmm should’ve picked that up first. The journal felt nice under their fingers, the leather smooth and devoid of any scuffs or cracks. They could spend all day just feeling the texture and running their hand over the gilded embossment. There was no other way to properly describe it other than good. Everything was good so far (and they didn’t think about the clang of metal or the gaps in his memory, focusing on the leather and the content feeling of fullness).

Without much of a second thought, Ranboo opened the journal and was immediately met with their messy, loopy handwriting. In most likely incorrect spelling (they’d only ever really learned the bare basics of common, nothing more than the alphabet and phonetics) was a basic rundown of yesterday’s events. They read over their own words and things started to piece together in their mind. They were in Phil’s (the nice, green man) house. He’d fed them, gave them the journal (telling them it was theirs. Theirs! Just the thought of it made their tail sway, sway, sway next to them), let them borrow his old clothes, and allowed them to sleep on his couch. They’d seen Phil before last night, apparently. In bunched together words that were barely legible, they’d detailed how -after he spoke nicely to them on the street- they made a habit of keeping an eye out for him. Last night was the first time they’d actually followed him, though. They didn’t write why they made the decision, just that they did.

While they couldn’t really pick and pull at the memories, at least Ranboo knew they existed. Reading over their excited writing made a warmth spread through their chest, reaching the tips of their fingers and making them relax. They couldn’t guarantee their safety; what if Phil got fed up with them? What if he hurt them? There was a lot they didn’t know, but thoughts of a warm meal and an equally warm home let them forget about their paranoia, just for a bit.

They sat on the couch, rereading their journal, for what felt like too long. A clock somewhere was ticking, counting seconds that Ranboo couldn’t keep up with. It could’ve been minutes or hours that passed since they awoke. They entertained the thought of getting up and walking down the scary hallway, maybe taking the chance to explore and get a better feel at what the house is like, but nope. No thank you. Spooky, very spooky. Even with the knowledge of last night’s memories, the thought of wandering around terrified them. What if other people lived here? Or, or, or the man would get mad at him for looking around his house without permission? Or what if he’d forgot about Ranboo and thought he was an intruder? That would be very very bad! So bad!

So they stayed seated.

It had to be only a few minutes later when Ranboo began to hear talking coming from behind them. The hallway. The voice was lively, speaking something that they knew wasn’t Common. It was composed of clicks and chirps, bird-like in a way that made Ranboo immediately assume that that had to be Phil (there was a note in their journal about the man’s wings, a very loopy ‘big big crow wings’). It didn’t sound like there were any responses; he had to have been talking to himself. The realization made a part of their brain light up because! They did that too!

But they couldn’t assume. A dull, far away thought reminded Ranboo that assumptions only got them hurt so, yeah, they will just ignore the talking and just- zone out maybe. It was a safe plan: they couldn’t get in trouble if they didn’t do anything.

The chatter came to a stop with the high, unmistakable whistle of a kettle. He was making tea. That was- good? Ranboo was pretty sure they liked tea. The thought of the warm drink made them just barely calmer so, probably. Would the man even give Ranboo some tea? What if he’s just making it for himself and they got excited for no reason? No, no, but he gave them soup, so he wouldn’t hold back on giving them tea, right? Ranboo’s tail waved excitedly as more possibilities popped into their mind. Their thoughts were spiraling, but not in the bad, anxiety inducing way; they weren’t coming up with awful awful scenarios, just pleasant what-if’s.

“Oh! You’re awake!”

Ranboo practically jumped out of their skin, stifling the panicked, piercing ender noise that tried to escape them. Behind them, in the doorway to the scary hallway, was who Ranboo could only assume was Phil. He did have big, big crow wings (even folded behind him, their size was obvious) that were a deep shade of black. His eyes, a very hard to look at type of blue, looked apologetic.

“Didn’t mean to scare you mate,” Phil said, his voice doing a fun little thing on the last word. Ranboo felt like they could only really stare. They couldn’t think of any proper responses or any response that Phil would want to hear. “Well, Ranboo-” (their tail went back to swaying happily, their name spoken by a kind voice was all it needed to return to its former speed) “-I brought you some breakfast. It’s nothing too fancy, just a cinnamon roll I bought this morning and some tea. If you want anything else, I could probably find some-”

And oh boy, they were crying. They were crying and it hurt, but it was good crying, happy crying, because even though they were confused and scared and worried that this would all fall apart, they were being given actual food and offered even more. Their sobs were mixing with their disbelieving laughter, creating a sound that they wanted to apologize for.

“Shit. I don’t- uh, wait, fuck, here.” Something soft and warm was gently dabbing the tears burning down their cheek which somehow managed to make them cry even more because why is he being so nice? He didn’t know them and had no reason to be so kind, but he was and Ranboo didn’t know what to do other than cry.

“Oh, Ranboo, I’m sorry,” Phil cooed. “Just- let it all out, let it alllllll out.”

Ranboo was pretty sure they did manage to let it all out. They don’t know how long they spent crying, but by the end, no tears left their eyes and it was all just dry sobbing at some point. Even that died down until Ranboo was back to an acceptable level of not-crying, Phil’s hands still pressing the cloth (or blanket, most likely a blanket) to their face.

“Sorry,” Ranboo whispered, sniffling when Phil’s hands were no longer ‘on’ his face.

“It’s fine.” Phil kept the same volume as Ranboo, matching their tone easily as he turned, briefly, to mess with the tray of breakfast he’d put down at some point. “I don’t mind. I wouldn’t have let you into my home if I wasn’t prepared for any outcome.”

“I wasn’t sad crying.”

“That’s good.”

“I wasn’t sad.”

Phil chuckled, brighter than anything Ranboo was saying. “Yeah, yeah, you weren’t sad.”

Ranboo let themself indulge in the nice breakfast and the kind gestures, letting the overwhelming happiness overcome them as they enjoyed it all. Phil spoke and took up all the silence that they left behind; his Capital-accented voice lulled them into a sense of calm and security they’d never quite felt before.

Gods, please don’t let this be something temporary.

Chapter Text

Ranboo ended up sticking around after the first day. It didn’t exactly seem like that at first because, after they’d eaten, they took the gifted journal and left, only giving Phil a small nod before they were out the front door. Phil could only tell them that he’d save a place for them at dinner, the kid shakily nodding before dashing into the streets.

Phil didn’t know where they went or if they were even planning on coming back. It made a deep pit of worry settle in Phil as he went about his day; every daily task and chore wasn’t completed without at least one thought to how Ranboo was doing or where they were. They were young and the Capital was horrible to young people. The city was crawling with people who wouldn’t hesitate to exploit an orphaned, homeless kid, always barely avoiding law enforcement before they had the chance to get caught. Phil never had any direct experience with those sorts of people, but the kids he grew up with did and he saw the effects it had; they were deathly afraid of making mistakes, self-sacrificing in a way that could no longer be described as admirable, hoarded food like it was more precious than netherite, could barely spend an hour sleeping without being overcome with nightmares. That couldn’t happen to Ranboo. They’d already been screwed over by this city, they didn’t deserve anymore cruelty.

The worry stuck with Phil, even as he cooked and prepared dinner for both himself and his not yet confirmed guest. However rare cooking may have been, it was always an activity that was able to clear his mind and let him put some rational thinking to use instead of letting his anxiety create horrific scenarios, but (because of his quick, quick attachment) it wasn’t doing anything to help him.

There was a part of him that was afraid, completely and absolutely terrified, of how quick he’d gotten attached to Ranboo. The first time Phil had someone he genuinely, full-heartedly cared for and wanted to protect, he was 16. He was young and definitely less confident, but he had people to help him. He was one of many other children, living and growing under the same house because no one else wanted them. The only other time he could remember caring for someone was when he’d had to dig up a boy, just barely a man, from the ground. He’d been hurt and left for dead in a grave that was careless and shallow. The boy stayed with Phil for a few months, recovering from his wounds and trying to fight off the fear that came with why he’d been in the ground. He let Phil hover over him, readily took all care and protection he could provide. He’d told Phil his name was William, William Gold. It was obvious he was lying.

(“You never told me your name,” Phil remembered saying one afternoon while showing him around the corner of the Capital they were currently living in.

“It’s, uh, William? Yeah, William-” his eyes shifted and landed someplace to Phil’s left “-Gold. William Gold.”)

Will never spoke about what happened before Phil found him, always finding ways to steer the conversation away and eventually Phil stopped asking. Dealing with Will, even only for a few months, wasn’t easy. The trauma and pain he went through left him emotional, always flipping between strong, strong emotions that Phil wished he could help with. Even so, Will was full grown, someone else had raised him and taught him how to exist with the world around him. He was competent, self-sufficient, and confident.

With Ranboo, Phil would be flying blind. They were young and Phil was all alone, no one to lend a guiding hand when he ended up clueless and lost on what to do. Phil didn’t know if he was even prepared to care for someone with his full heart again. He was always doing something, always finding ways to make money or to waste time. If Ranboo were to decide to stick with him, they’d be disappointed. Phil wanted what was best for them and he knew that wasn’t him. He was sure that he couldn’t provide for them, couldn’t give them the emotional support they needed. Selfishly, though, he wanted to care for Ranboo and to raise them in a house that would be safe-

Nope, nope. He was getting ahead of himself. Ranboo left and they probably weren’t ever coming back.

There was a knock, hesitant and rhythmic, almost deliberately too quiet to be heard. If Phil’s nerves weren’t alight with a previously hopeless anticipation, he was sure he wouldn’t have caught it, but he did. He did and he was more than sure of who was on the other side of his door. Just in time, too, the meat had just finished. Phil shouted a quick, “Wait a second!” as he hurriedly went about turning off the stove and oven. When that was all done for (and Phil was sure he wouldn’t accidentally let gas fill his kitchen), he made his way to the front and prayed to the Gods above that whoever at the door was who he thought they were and that they hadn’t left.

“Uh, hello?” Ranboo said the second the door opened. They looked just the way they did when they left that morning, just a bit more tired. The relief that washed over him was instant, easing practically every worry that had plagued him.

“Hi mate,” Phil greeted, hearing the smile in his own voice.

“You said that uh- this morning that- dinner?”

“There’s a plate waiting for you.” The sentence made Ranboo light up, tail swaying happily behind them and ears perking up. The beginnings of a smile spread across their face, a slight squint to their eyes and the corners of their mouth just barely curling upwards.

That night, Ranboo ate dinner with Phil and fell asleep curled up on his couch. The next morning, they ate breakfast and were off, gone into the city again. When they came back that evening, awkwardly asking if they were allowed to stay for dinner, Phil caught onto what was happening. It was the start of a routine that Phil easily fell into. Everyday had become a pattern of waking up, making breakfast, saying goodbye to Ranboo, working, coming back home, making dinner, welcoming Ranboo, eating, and heading off to bed.

It wasn’t exactly the best arrangement, Phil could admit that. It still left Ranboo on their own for most of the day without any guarantee for their safety (no matter how many times Phil would softly mention that his door was always open for them, they still wouldn’t stay past breakfast). He couldn’t force them to stay, though. There was the risk of Ranboo finding Phil’s pushing to be too much, finally coming upon the decision to go back to how they lived before. Phil would rather have Ranboo in his life for a few hours a day than not at all.

Ranboo was tucked into Phil’s armchair, a thin blanket wrapped around their shoulders as they nervously sipped at the tea that Phil had given them. Phil was sitting across from them in his rocking chair, a book open on his lap. The curtains in the living room were pulled open and the windows themselves were wide-open; the afternoon sunlight paired with the light breeze would’ve made the perfect day. Would’ve.

It was really unfortunate that Ranboo was practically being suffocated with anxiety that was insistently clawing at their throat and making their head spin. The tea was tasteless and little more than just a brief sensation; the blanket did little to calm the shivers and nervous shakes that would occasionally take over their entire body; and the soft upholstery of the armchair around them made them feel floaty and just entirely not present.

Being there, in Phil’s home, in the afternoon, no matter how willingly, felt wrong. It was such a big departure to their usual routine that their brain hated more than anything else. They hadn’t gotten a good enough sleep the night before and when it came time for them to go, they just Couldn’t; they were too tired to get up and deal with the heat and the people that were outside Phil’s home so they just stayed. It was almost immediately noticed by Phil when they moved back into the living room instead of out the front door. He left them alone, for just a few minutes, before coming in and joining them.

It was a good idea, at first. They didn’t have to worry about their usual day to day, didn’t have to worry about finding things to do and ways to occupy their time. For a while, they’d wondered why they hadn’t done this sooner, but then the consequences set in.

Staying was different and strange and scary. It filled Ranboo with a sense of unease, that weird and heavy lingering feeling of something being off. They were worried about nothing and everything at all. They were worried about Phil finding their prolonged presence annoying. They were worried about the change in schedule somehow bringing their inevitable death or maybe the ending of the world. They were worried that somehow their presence would bring danger to Phil. Maybe if the stress of their decision wasn’t so heavy, they would’ve realized that their anxieties were unfounded.

No matter how much they hated their choices, Phil was happy. Happy enough that he didn’t make an effort to dim his chirps and trills; they were these small little noises that carried out into the quiet, each one oh so very good on Ranboo’s ears (and they had to guess the reaction was a hybrid thing, because what else could it be?).

“Ranboo?” They looked up at the mention of their name, meeting a shade of blue that they’d quickly come to associate with safety and warmth. Phil was looking at them with an amused smile. Ranboo’s tail lifted at the sight because of course Phil had a tendency to kill off all of their anxious tells. “Do you have a favorite story?” he asked with a quick glance to the book in his lap.

Ranboo couldn’t really remember if anyone ever actually took time out of their day to tell them a story (which was: on brand) and they were sure no entries in any of their memory journals mentioned any either so, “well, I don’t think I’ve heard any?”

The smile on Phil’s face turned sad for just a brief second -just long enough for Ranboo to regret saying anything at all- before returning to how it was with a renewed excitement. “I’ve got a book full of them.” And he hesitated for a second, the tips of his ears turning a very noticeable red in what Ranboo thought could be embarrassment. “If you want me to read you some?”

There was really no way for Ranboo to properly explain the pure, sweet happiness that they felt at that moment or the gratitude that flooded their chest. These were good emotions, so incredibly overwhelming that all the anxiety gripping them could be ignored. It’s not like he was doing anything monumental; all he was doing was asking if Ranboo wanted him to read for them, but that was more than enough for Ranboo. After being deprived of kindness for so long, it was Nice to have the small gestures and things that Phil was so insistent on giving them.

With a smile that they tried so desperately to hide, Ranboo answered with an enthusiastic “yes, please.”

Chapter Text

Phil woke up one day with an idea which easily evolved into a full plan; he was going to make Ranboo clothes. The only clothes that they owned were the ones Phil found them in and clothes that Phil had grown out of that he basically had to force Ranboo to take. While it was better than nothing, they deserved things that actually fit well on them, not something that was too big or too small.

When Ranboo was out the door (they’d grown out of the nod and smile they usually gave him and turned to saying a simple ‘goodbye’ with a wave), Phil wasted no time and went out into the waking Capital. He was aiming to visit a merchant who set up their shop at the edge of the market; they always had a myriad of different goods and typically had reliable fabrics in various colors. They tended to give Phil discounts anytime he visited, either small, barely noticeable changes in price or practically half of what he should’ve been paying. That, paired with how long he’s known them (a couple of years, give or take), was what cemented him as a regular customer.

Coming upon their stall, Phil was met with a familiar voice shouting at him. “Hey Phil! Long time no see, old man!”

“That’s no way to speak to your elders. Ever learn about this thing called respect, Dream?” They laughed as Phil closed the small distance to the counter, taking off his hat and smiling at them. “How have you been?”

Dream grinned right back at him; the only reason Phil could catch the expression on their mostly covered face was the slight creasing in the corners of their eyes. “I’m good, been doing good! My roommate’s taken up gardening so I’ve been having to deal with a lot of dead plants because he just doesn’t have a green thumb, at all.”

“Sounds horrible.”

“It is!” Dream had turned around to look at the contents of the stall, already moving about to grab some of the usual items Phil would buy. “And he just-” they cut themself off with a giggle “-he always gets so upset after it too. Gets all mopey and cuddly and refuses to let me go until he’s mourned the plant enough.” A bundle of rolled up papers was placed on the counter in front of Phil, each one looking a different quality. On the top of the bundle was a note, ‘SAVE’ scribbled hastily in Dream’s messy handwriting. “He had hydrangeas for a week before he forgot to water them and he was devastated. I had to force him to go to work!”

“Not used to needing to be the responsible one?” Phil asked.

Dream sighed, something annoyed and playful, as they placed a small glass jar full of seeds and dried fruit next to the papers. “Oh, shut up!” Phil did shut up, laughing as he did.

It was nice to talk to Dream again. Phil was sort of caught up with Ranboo and while he would do just about anything for Ranboo, he did miss the easy conversation that came with years of knowing someone.

“Anything interesting happen to you?”

“Well-” Dream was back to rooting around their shelves and drawers full of things, giving Phil a thumbs up as a signal to keep going. “I found a kid.”

“A what?” They laughed, sudden and disbelieving. There was no doubt that they thought Phil was joking or maybe that he’d misspoke. Even with their back turned, Phil could imagine the look in their eyes. It would be the same wide-eyed, searching look they gave when he’d explained that he found Will buried in the ground or when Phil told them he’d been to the Nether.

“A kid.”

Dream was facing Phil again, a box full of things Phil couldn’t quite see in their arms. “Oh yeah, perfectly reasonable. You stop visiting and next thing I know Philza Minecraft is a father!”

It was just one word, really. Father wasn’t anything monumental or special, but the implications of the word, of Dream’s assumption, had Phil struggling to remain composed (at least emotionally). He wasn’t Ranboo’s father, not even their caretaker or guardian, and he most likely would never be. Yet something about someone treating that as a statement of fact, even if they didn’t have the entire story and even if they didn’t know Ranboo at all, calmed an instinctual itch in his mind.

“I didn’t become a father.”

Dream huffed and turned back around, abandoning the box in their head to rummage through a different one. “You’re giving me some contradicting facts here. Are you trying to confuse me?”

“I wouldn’t need to try to confuse you-”

“You old bastard!”

“-you do that on your own.”

Again, Dream is thrown off track and distracted. Their searching stopped once again as they leveled Phil with a light-hearted glare. “I open up to you, tell you the secrets of my life, let you confide in me, and then you treat me like this. I wanted clarification! And here you stand, disrespecting me and my character.”

They continued their ranting to the sound of Phil’s laughter. It got harder to hold in his laughter the longer Dream went on, overexaggerating every little detail and using words Phil just knew they’d found in the pages of some grand adventure novel.

With a special sort of fake exasperation, Dream rolled their eyes at Phil’s consistent laughter. “You’re going to the retirement home.”

In between a new round of full-body laughter, Phil was able to get out a weak and very squeaky, “What? You can’t do that-”

“Retirement. Home. Count your days.”

Dream let Phil calm down, waiting until his laughter subsided and he could finally properly breathe again. They were stood patiently, arms crossed over their chest and leaning back on one of the wooden supports of their stall. “So,” they began, dragging out the ‘o’ until Phil finally caught on to what they wanted. Very subtle.

"Their name’s Ranboo and very technically they followed me home. I may have invited them for dinner but they followed me so not my fault.”

“Definitely your fault.”

“Shut!”

“You adopted the kid on your own, they didn’t follow you into that.”

Phil sighed and threw his head back. He was being more than a bit dramatic about the whole thing. He didn’t really mind Dream’s teasing, couldn’t bring himself to care about all of their quick responses (which was probably because he knew that it was all said in good faith). “Didn’t adopt them.”

Dream dropped it with a shake of their head. “Are they the reason why you finally visited me after so long?”

“Welllllllll-”

“Insulted once again, didn’t even come to see me.” Dream adjusted their bandana until it fully covered the bridge of their nose. “So what are you gonna buy the kid? A toy, maybe, candy? I don’t think I’ve actually, like, met-met a child, what do they even like?”

Phil didn’t really think he could properly answer that one. Ranboo had only expressed interest in books and stories and writing. They never really shared any interests of theirs, always keeping those personal details to themself. As with many things, Phil didn’t have the guts to push. “I was just gonna get materials to make them clothes.”

“Not even a little treat? You’re a cruel, cruel man.”

“You’re just trying to get more of my money.”

“With the discounts you get, you won’t even notice the extra price.”

Phil grinned and leaned forward onto the wooden counter, his wings involuntarily fluffing up slightly. “Oh, so I’m getting a discount?”

“I take it back, you’re getting full price.” They paused while Phil laughed, trying to form a coherent response through his giggles. “Mmmmm, and a mandatory 20% tip.”

Dream and Phil continued to joke back and forth as Dream finally began to gather all the things Phil was going to buy: the maps (that Puffy had sent by mail after finding them on her latest expedition), the fruits and seeds (that were Phil’s favorite snack because he has to stick with the whole bird schtick), a stack of non-bound papers (that Dream swore they’d made themself), a few candles (all of varying scents), a dark cloak made of velvet with accents of golden thread (that Dream refused to answer where they’d gotten it from), and a bundle of varying potion ingredients (which Dream said his roommate had ‘randomly found’).

“Ok so other than all of this,” Dream began as they carefully packed each confirmed item into a colorful woven basket. “I have a few different fabrics that might work well for clothing. If you need thread, ribbons, or buttons, you might need to go stop somewhere else because-” a few rolls of fabric (a mix of muted and vibrant colors) were placed right next to the basket “-I do not have many. Usually Puffy ships me some, buuuuut her route’s changed and it’ll be a while ‘til she goes to the usual supplier.”

Phil inspected the fabrics. They were all a decent texture; soft and nice to the touch and clearly durable. Ranboo had really only worn dark greens and muted browns, the only colors Phil really had in his closet, but he could easily imagine them wearing royal blues and bright yellows and unsaturated purples. Not many of the fabrics had patterns and if they did, it didn’t clash. Some fabrics were definitely much more suited to make trousers than shirts. It was a good array that Phil knew he could do more than enough with it. Dream had outdone themself once again.
“Thank you so much. How much for all this?”

Dream pretended to think, a fake contemplative look that might’ve looked real if Phil didn’t know that they’d memorized the prices of everything they sold. “How about four gold and three iron.”

That was. Wow. Okay. “Wha- mate-” Phil was used to the discounts and he even welcomed them but this? Far too low. Usually he paid at least one emerald along with some gold and iron and even then it felt like too little for all the goods he bought. “Oh, Dream, you know I can’t-”

They cut off Phil almost as soon as he began to speak. “You’ve helped out a bunch recently, I owe you.” There was a finality to their tone, trying to cut off an argument that hadn’t even begun.

“I haven’t helped you, though,” Phil argued.

“Yeah, but my roommate. You’ve been doing a lot for him and his business and that’s helped me, so technically you did.”

“This would make more sense if you’d ever tell me your roommate’s name.”

“Sapnap.”

“The blacksmith?”

“Yes!”

And that sorta cleared up what Dream meant. Sapnap would often ask Phil to mine the resources used in many of his projects because, as he gained more and more notoriety throughout the Capital, he didn’t have time to do it himself. Phil would never ask for too much payment in return.

“Still doesn’t mean you need to charge me so little,” Phil said, even though he was already pulling out the needed gold and iron from the bag he’d brought with him.

Dream took the payment with a pleased look in their eyes, letting out a quiet and content hum. “I overcharge everyone else, it balances out.”

“Pfft, sure.” It wasn’t too much to carry, but Phil still struggled to hold the rolls of fabric and the basket and his bag with his two hands. “Don’t let the Royal Guard hear you say that.”

“Like they’d do anything,” Dream replied, “Bunch of cowards.”

“Don’t complain when you get tried for treason.” Dream rolled their eyes at that and Phil chuckled. He started backing away from the stall, sending a small nod to Dream instead of a wave (because, well, his hands were sorta occupied). “I’ll be on my way. I swear I’ll stop by more often.”

“Wait a second! I’ve got one more thing!” Dream exclaimed as they practically hopped over their counter to quickly catch Phil. In a matter of seconds, a plush bird was added to the pile of things in his arms.

“Why the, uh, the bird?”

“Crow. It’s for Ranboo. Who you better bring by at some point! I’m going to give that kid so much candy that you’ll drive yourself bankrupt paying for the dental costs.”

Phil laughed and started to walk off again. “Bye Dream!”

“Bye Phil!”

The rest of the day went by in a blur of looking through old clothing patterns and drawing up new ones up until the moment Ranboo was walking in through the front door (they’d stopped knocking after the first two weeks, Phil letting them know they can walk in whenever they needed).

He listened to the usual noises that followed Ranboo coming home: the quiet unbuckling of their boots and the rustling of clothes as they hung up their coat. When they entered the kitchen, they shot Phil a smile and a “Good afternoon.”

“How was your day, Ranboo?” Phil asked, just as he always did.

Ranboo took a seat in the chair that they always did and answered, “I, uh, I saw the iron golem today?”

“It’s out and about again? Thought the Guard was still fixing it up.” Phil gave Ranboo their plate, placing it on the table in front of them. (They were steadily eating more and more, their body getting used to full meals and keeping down more and more food every evening.)

“It looked very shiny. There were- it doesn’t have the, the, uh, the, the-” They let out a frustrated high-pitched chirp, their ears pinning back and face pinching. “The vines! Its vines are gone.”

Phil hummed in response, grabbing a plate of his own and sitting across from Ranboo. The two ate in companionable silence; neither one of them was too interested in talking at the moment.

It was after finishing with his meal that Phil was reminded of the crow sitting somewhere in his study. What better time than then to give Ranboo the gift?

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

Ranboo looked up from their food, a lost sort of glint in their eyes. “Okay.”

Finding the crow was much more of a hassle than it needed to be. His study was left a bit of a mess after spending the rest of his day working and gathering all of the needed materials to start with the clothes. Ideally, the crow would’ve been in the basket with everything else he’d bought, but the fates hated Phil, apparently, and it wasn’t anywhere in sight. Not on his desk, not on any of the chairs, not on any of the bookshelves, not on the floor. It was like it disappeared into thin air. He knew he put it in here somewhere, he’d barely left his study, now where was th-

His eyes travelled up, up, up and Huh. It was sitting nice and content on the top of the grandfather clock nestled between the window and one of the bookshelves. Phil had to fly up just to grab it, hitting his wings against one of the walls accidentally (the room was too small for this but he didn’t own any ladders and his wings were just right there). It was a wonder how the hell the toy got up there. He didn’t recall putting it up there and there’s really no other way for it to get there. Those were thoughts for later.

Ranboo was still sitting in the kitchen, their plate pushed away from them as they wrote rapidly in their journal. They got skittish and scared whenever Phil tried asking what it was for, so he’d settled on assuming it was a diary. Or something. They paused in their writing when they heard him re-enter the kitchen, closing the book and putting it in their lap.
“Um, welcome back?” Ranboo greeted awkwardly.

“I’ve got you something,” Phil said. He smiled at them as reassuringly as he could when a confused frown crossed their face, eyebrows furrowing slightly as they tilted their head to the side. Like a dog.

“What.”

Phil laughed, light and as nice as he could manage as he fidgeted slightly with the plush hidden behind his back. “I went shopping this morning and I visited a good friend of mine, I told them about you and they wanted you to have this.”

It took them a couple seconds to realize what Phil was holding out to them. When they did, Ranboo’s eyes widened and their pupils dilated. They were big pools of astonished green and red. Their mouth was opened, just slightly in their shock. Their ears were standing at attention and their tail swayed rapidly behind them. It was sweet and endearing and every good descriptor in the dictionary and Gods did Phil want to find a way to preserve their expression.

“That’s- it’s for me? Mine?”

“If you want it.”

They nodded, even though Phil didn’t ask them a question. He couldn’t help but laugh again, a warm, warm joy making him giddy. They weren’t smiling but they were happy and Phil knew he’d have to thank Dream a million times over for this.

Phil passed them the bird and the enthusiasm in which they got up to grab the crow was adorable and so childlike in a way Ranboo never quite showed; the legs of the wooden chair scraped against the floor and it nearly fell over. They were taking the crow from Phil’s outstretched hands (gently, as if it was a delicate flower) in a matter of seconds.

“Thank you,” Ranboo said, a dazed and excited quality to their words. The crow was cradled in their arms, not too dissimilar to how one would hold a child. “I’ve never, uh, had a toy? Before. And it’s- yeah.”

“I’m glad you like it, mate.”

They nodded again, eyes transfixed on the plush. It was things like this that made Phil’s heart clench and his little bird-brain flare up. Ranboo deserved this and every little thing they’ve ever missed out on. They deserved to have gifts and things that brought them happiness. They deserved to be able to smile and laugh and just enjoy life. Phil would very much do just about anything to guarantee that for them.

“Can I, uhhhhh-” Ranboo began, dragging Phil out of his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Can I name her?” Her. Good to know.

“Of course you can, she’s yours.” If it were possible, Ranboo lit up even more. It was endlessly sweet to see their unconcealed excitement.

Ranboo spent the rest of the night with the toy in their arms; they wrapped her in blankets and made her a little bow and played with her like any child would, having her go on a fantastical journey that they probably assumed Phil couldn’t hear. They’d relayed to Phil her name just a few minutes before he went to bed for the night, a happy “Her name is Twitch!”

“A nice name for a nice lady.”

“Mhm!”

They went to sleep the happiest Phil had ever seen them and when he went to wake them the next morning they were still happy. That day, Ranboo stayed for the entire day. They spent a good portion of it sitting with Phil outside in his tiny, tiny garden, making enderman chirps at Twitch and becoming absolutely delighted whenever Phil would give his own bird chirp in response. Even though Phil made no progress in his ‘clothes for The Child’ project, he couldn’t give a shit. He spent time with a happy Ranboo and that was more than enough; he’d always have more time in the future to work on it.

The next few days were spent in his study, spending every available hour sewing and cutting and worrying about whether this button actually looked well with this fabric and hey? Was this the same purple string he was using or was it lighter? And wait, were Ranboo’s arms longer than this?

Phil realized, only halfway into sewing the seams on a cloak, that he could’ve bought Ranboo clothes. He lived near a seamstress who wouldn’t have turned down his business and would’ve saved him so much time. He was already too into it, for one, and he also just wanted to do Something Nice for Ranboo. Doing it by hand had its fair share of bonuses; he could avoid the sort of stitching that irritated their skin and he could embroider small little designs into collars or cuffs or sleeves.

It’s one more month until Phil decided he’d probably gone a bit overboard. In that month, he’d made Ranboo a decent enough wardrobe. He certainly didn’t feel like he was finished with the whole project (a month was hardly enough time to make anyone a lot of clothes; sewing was time-consuming and a body could only go so long without a break), but he thought that it was a good time to at least slow down. Ranboo needed the new clothes and Phil needed to make up for all the days he didn’t spend working.

It was one of the few days that Ranboo stayed home (that were noticeably becoming more frequent) when Phil finally revealed to them his little project. He’d wrapped everything in stray tissue paper he had lying around and tried his best to leave it somewhere Ranboo wouldn’t immediately notice. Ideally, it’d take them a few minutes before pointing it out.

“What is that?” They asked, almost immediately after entering the living room. That was much faster than he’d estimated.

“It’s a gift,” Phil answered. He watched their face as they tried to decipher a puzzle Phil wasn’t exactly aware of. The only thing that changed on their face was their eyes, revealing every emotion that they were attempting to mask.

“No.” Well, that was certainly not the expected response.

“No?”

For a second, they looked incredibly embarrassed. Their cheeks were flushed, painting their face in a light purple, and their ears were pinned to their head as they averted eye contact much more aggressively than usual. “I didn’t- you- this is- I can’t- why?”

Ranboo was clearly going through a lot of thoughts and a lot of emotions, their face pinched into a troubled frown. He didn’t know what they needed to hear or what response they wanted and all Phil could really tell them was the truth. “Because I care about you and want to give you things.”

They took in a shaking, shuddering breath and in just a few moments, they were crying. Phil was immediately by their side, pulling them into a hug and letting his wings fall around them. They sobbed, loud and painful, as they grabbed the front of Phil’s shirt. They cried and cried and cried and all Phil could do was comfort them, combing his hand through their hair and holding them as close to himself as he could. It pained him to see them so hurt, to hear that hurt in their sobs and to feel that hurt with every tear that soaked into his shirt.

Slowly, their sobs turned into sniffles and the iron grip they had on Phil’s shirt loosened. Ranboo pulled away, hesitantly. Phil was quick to wipe away any stray tears, already catching sight of irritation under their eyes from the water. He cooed when they leaned into the touch, tail winding around his ankle. “Feeling better?”

“I’m sorry,” they muttered, eyes slipping closed as Phil gently caressed their face.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re just a person, feeling emotions. Who am I to fault you for that?”

They let out a choked whine and pressed their face further into Phil’s hand, grabbing his wrist with their clawed hands.

Ranboo opened their eyes and they looked seconds away from even more tears. “The uh-” Their eyes darted to the bundled up clothes, a troubled hum building in their throat the longer they looked at it.

“You don’t have to open it right now if it’s too much. It can wait.”

“N-no. I, um, I’m fine. I can- I’m fine.”

Phil wasn’t quite convinced, not when their voice trembled and not when their hands shook when they moved them to their sides, but he couldn’t object. “Okay.”

They kneeled next to it and looked up at him. He didn’t know what Ranboo was looking for, couldn’t read what those tense shoulders and tired eyes wanted him to do. So he nodded, smiling at them as warmly as he could. Under all his worry, he was still excited for them to see what he had made them.

Ranboo nodded right back and carefully took away the tissue paper. It took a bit for the realization of what exactly they were looking at to hit and when it did, they looked frantically between the topmost shirt and Phil before their gaze was locked onto the collar of the shirt.

“Thank you,” they whispered.

“Y-”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou-”

And Ranboo was crying again, curling into themselves. Phil kneeled next to them, hesitantly placing a hand on their back. They leaned towards him at the contact, curling up into his side as they said their repeated thanks. Phil wished he knew how to let them know that they didn’t need to thank him for any of this, that they deserved any good thing that came to them, but words were failing him so he pulled the child closer to him. He held them in his arms and tried to block out everything else with his wings, sheltering them from everything else around them.

It took a few minutes of quiet and whispered assurances before Ranboo had calmed down and a few more minutes of just sitting pressed against Phil before they were looking back at the clothes. They took each item out delicately, as if it would’ve shattered otherwise, and compared them to their own body before placing it in a little pile. Every item was accompanied with a smile and a sniffle.

That afternoon, Ranboo spent all their free time trying on the clothes and making as many different combinations as they could, eagerly and excitedly showing Phil each one. Their mood went up by the minute and by the second outfit they were grinning and showing off every detail they noticed. They even grabbed Twitch at some point, sitting her down next Phil as an extra audience member.

They were a child and they were acting like one and Phil couldn’t have been prouder.

Chapter Text

The market was only a few blocks away from the center of the Capital and it took up a good portion of the city. It was open only two days of the week, every Monday and Saturday. When it was open, there was rarely ever a moment when it was empty; people were always selling and people were always buying, no matter the time. For a place that’s practically always active, always full of people, it’s expected for the market to be loud and crowded.

And oh boy, was it.

Ranboo made it their goal to never be around the market unless they absolutely had to. The people there were pushy and they didn’t care too much for a lost and confused child, so their experiences so far had been less than stellar.

But here they were, staring at the lined up stalls and the people milling about them. They could barely make out any one noise or any one voice, every little sound blurring together into a cacophony out of their nightmares. Not even Twitch, who was sitting safe and sound in their breast pocket, helped to sway their anxious mind.

They don’t know when they stopped walking, but a warm hand landing on their shoulder startled him into moving again. Phil. Yeah. He was there. He was the whole reason they even worked up the courage to go to the market, of course he’d be there. They almost forgot. “You okay, Ranboo?”

Panicked and just slightly out of their mind, Ranboo could only croak out a weak ender vocalization. Ha! Now people were staring at them! That was so much worse! They involuntarily reached out to grab at Phil’s trailing cloak, missing only once before they clutched the soft fabric in their hands.

Phil was moving them to the side, away from most of the people but not away from the market. His arm curled around their shoulder and he had to lean down to reach (because even though Ranboo was tall, they were not yet full-grown tall). One of his wings was covering them from most other people, shielding them from the curious and peering looks that only served to further escalate their impending panic.

They were standing in a gap between the stalls and it was immediately better. Phil kneeled in front of Ranboo, kind eyes focused on Twitch (he’d figured out their aversion to eye contact much quicker than most and he was nice and calm and accommodating about it). He moved a hand to lightly caress their face and they leaned into the touch with a stressed keen. “Is the market too much for you right now?”

They shook their head even though, yes, it was too much. It was just so much. But they couldn’t tell Phil that because he was so excited to introduce Ranboo to his friend. They didn’t really like meeting new people (Phil was an outlier), but they were the person who gave Phil Twitch so he could give it to Ranboo and Ranboo loved Twitch. And they didn’t want to disappoint Phil.

“We can go back, if you want,” Phil offered, voice gentle.

“No, I’ll-I’m-”

“You don’t have to force yourself.” If Ranboo hadn’t been getting better at hearing nice words and not immediately crying, they might’ve broken down right then and there.

“I’m okay. I can do this,” they forced out with about as much conviction as they could manage. Phil sighed and they’d think he was mad at them if it weren’t for the smile on his face. He ruffled their hair before standing up.

“Stubborn,” Phil commented, quiet and probably meant for only himself to hear. He didn’t say anything for a while and didn’t make any sort of move to go back into the world behind him. They readjusted their grip on the soft and light fabric of Phil’s cloak, pinching the fabric between their fingers and silently delighting in the texture of it.

“What if I carry you?” Phil asked, rushed and slightly awkward. “Would that be okay?”

It might? Ranboo imagined being held in Phil’s arms, obscured by the layers of clothes and able to hide their face in his shoulder to hide away from people. Mmmmmm, decisions, decisions. What was meant to be a yes came out as a stuttered mess of ‘oh’s and hums and conflicted noises. They tried to school their mouth into working with them instead of against them. Their vocal chords just weren’t producing words and it was frustrating.

It took a while (and a lot of patience and kind looks from Phil) before Ranboo could blurt out a too-loud, too-frustrated “yes.”

“You sure?”

Ranboo nodded and looked at Phil as convincingly as they could which, knowing themself, probably wasn’t really that convincing. Phil laughed, a quiet huff of air that made their tail give one happy flick behind them.

In just a couple moments, Ranboo was settled nice and safe in Phil’s arms. They were probably a little too old to be held like this, like they were a little baby that couldn’t be trusted to walk on their own two feet. But, well, they didn’t care. They could wrap their arms around Phil and ignore everything else around them. Yes, yes, yes. Much, much better than a hug. They couldn’t remember if they were ever held when they were much younger (which, with a brain full of holes, wasn’t unordinary), but they were glad they could have this and remember it now. Hopefully. They’d need to write this down.

Phil ran a hand through Ranboo’s hair, nails just barely scratching against their scalp. It made them melt further into his hold on them, shutting their eyes and inaudibly sighing. “So, ready to keep going?” Phil asked, removing his hand from their hair and moving one side of his cloak over their lanky body.

“Mhm,” Ranboo hummed.

With a muttered “alright,” Phil was walking back to where all the people were. The noise was still very bad, loud, confusing, and disorienting, but it wasn’t accompanied by the faces and the bodies. Small victories.

Except, well, ignoring the people was a little hard to do when the people were oh-so loud. They were always talking, always shouting, always laughing, always doing something. Ranboo screwed their eyes shut and shoved their face into the crook of Phil’s neck. The little plastic beads that were Twitch’s eyes were digging into their chest through the material of their shirt, not enough to hurt but enough for them to notice it. They focused on that and the way Phil’s chest moved when he walked and the feeling of the cloak’s velvet on their arms and the nods Phil would give people every once in a while.

It was a few minutes, maybe, until Phil started slowing down which meant he’d stop which meant he’d have to put Ranboo down. Unsurprisingly, they really did not want that to happen. They tightened their grip on Phil to at least try and prolong the inevitable.

Phil chuckled and removed the part of the cloak surrounding them. “We’re here, Ranboo.”

They whined, the sound completely petulant and childish, but Phil laughed once more and put them down.

They were standing in front of a stall that Ranboo would consider calling messy, but at least an appealing messy. There were shelves upon shelves on display, filled to the brim with items of all calibers and boxes full of even more things. Some shelves had sheer fabrics draped over them and others had items leaning against them precariously, looking one gust of wind away from clattering to the stone ground. In the center of it all was a counter. It wasn’t spared of the clutter everything else held, just that the clutter seemed more personalized. Behind the counter was a man and Ranboo could only assume that this was the friend Phil mentioned. They looked like any other citizen of the capital, save for their fashion choices. There was a mask settled over the bottom half of their face and their outfit looked like he’d blindly reached for a shirt and pants.

“Good morning,” Phil greeted, as nice and friendly as he always is.

“Morning, Phil!” So they were definitely Phil’s friend. Okay. Ranboo could handle this. Probably. Their focus moved to Ranboo and they could feel the uncomfortable sweep of eyes as the stranger took in their more abnormal appearance. “So who’s this?”

“This is Ranboo,” Phil said as he placed his hand on their shoulder.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ranboo,” the stranger replied, tone light and friendly. They waved at Ranboo and, not wanting to be rude, they did the same (just with much less enthusiasm). “My name’s Dream.”

“It’s nice- it’s nice to meet you, um, too.” Ranboo took a small bit of solace in the small point of contact with Phil as they avoided looking anywhere at Dream. They were trying to make eye-contact and Ranboo really did not like that.

Twitch. They had to thank Dream for Twitch. Right. Okay, easy task. “Thank you for, thank you uh-” And all at once their brain gave up on them, refusing to cooperate as their nerves made their hands shake and their cheeks flush. Phil moved his hand to Ranboo’s back and gently rubbed small circles. He was far too nice, way too nice for Ranboo. “For the- the toy? Bird. Crow.”

“I’m glad you like it!” Dream was very cheerful and bright, a lot like Phil but also nothing like Phil at all. They sounded like they were smiling behind the nice little lime green patterned cloth on their face. It didn’t feel like they were faking the whole friendly thing, but hey. You never know. “It wasn’t getting any love sitting around here.”

Ranboo nodded awkwardly, their everything too stiff in a way that made them feel just a little guilty. Not enough for them to want to fix it, but enough for it to pile onto their discomfort.

“So, you two here for anything in particular?” Dream asked, attention drifting to Phil even though they were technically addressing both Phil and Ranboo. Ranboo did not mind though! Not at all! It was much better when Dream, with terrifyingly prying eyes, did not have their focus on them.

“Not really, just wanted to introduce the two of you,” Phil answered simply, his hand moving to ruffle the hair on their head. Ranboo thanked the Gods that he was just as much of a tactile person as they were. “But if you really need my money, I can always buy some sweets.”

Ranboo just barely perked up at the mention of candy, shifting their gaze from where it was locked on the floor to Phil’s face. He was looking at them and smiling like he could read their mind (and with their expressive body language, he probably could).

“I’ve got some hard candy around here, wait just a second,” Dream said, quickly leaving to go search through a crate near their counter.

“Candy. Unbelievable.”

“Not everyone was born and raised in the Capital.” Dream popped back to their counter rather quickly with a jar in hand. It was full of different little multi-colored candies of different shapes and Ranboo was immediately entranced; they’ve had candy before, but only during festivals. Seeing so much readily available was nearly too much for their already muddled brain.

Phil was pulling out a small bag from one of his pockets as he continued teasing (that’s what Ranboo assumed it was, at least) Dream. “Puffy doesn’t say candy and she raised you, I think you’re just being difficult.”

“I was raised by a crew of people, alright? I picked it up from Bad. I think,” Dream said, dropping their tone for just a moment to say “It’s just one iron.”

Ranboo only watched, quiet and out of the way, as Phil handed over the payment as he talked and joked along with Dream. While Dream terrified them, just barely, they seemed to make Phil happy and Ranboo could appreciate that. If they’re good for Phil, they could be good for Ranboo. Hopefully.

It’s, at most, three minutes later when Phil handed the jar of candy over to Ranboo. They were shocked out of whatever haze they were in, trying to adjust the glass jar (emphasis on the glass) so that it wouldn’t fall out of their arms.

Suddenly, they realized that Dream was talking to them. “-welcome here at any time. I have to make Phil show you my house so you definitely, one hundred percent, have somewhere to go in case anything happens.”

“Oh.” That was probably rude. “Thank you?” Better.

Dream laughed and Ranboo very quickly became embarrassed. They were probably laughing at them, oh no, oh Gods. “So, I’ll see you guys later?”

“I can’t guarantee anything, but-”

“You’re the worst!”

Through his laughter, Phil wished Dream a goodbye (that wasn’t quite goodbye because he kept talking) and Ranboo followed it by waving. They were ready to start walking home, but before they could, Phil was picking them up again and settling them safely in his arms. Ranboo trilled, both happy and surprised. Too good for them. Too good.

“Alright, final goodbyes!” Phil exclaimed and Ranboo could hear his smile. “Come over for dinner sometime, I’m sticking to this house for longer than I thought I would.”

Ranboo’s head was angled so that they could see Dream. Their eyes were all squinted and smiley and Ranboo tried their best to mimic that smile (they showed their fangs and everything!).

“Okay, okay, bye Phil! Bye Ranboo!”

“Goodbye Dream.”

Phil was finally walking away and Ranboo could finally breathe. They sort of melted into the hold, humming happily when Phil chuckled. They were going home soon and they could sleep off the stress and anxiety. Phil’s hand carded through their hair, gently combing out any tangles and lulling them into an almost sleep.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Ranboo mumbled and, for once, they truly meant it.

Chapter Text

Jack Manifold would consider himself a good person. He’d been raised by the Royal Guard and those guys were, like, the picture perfect image of morality! Sure, people pitied him or whatever (a woman once told him he was too young to know how to wield a sword), but he honestly didn’t need it.

The Guard raised him well, much better than the parents that abandoned him. He was given proper food and water, a bed to sleep in, a roof over his head, clothes, training, and an education. Plus, when he reached the legal age, he had a guaranteed job. He was set for life.

He’d been taught practically every law and made to remember them; Jack was more than aware of what was deemed good and what was deemed bad.

So it’s understandable that he couldn’t stand by as a drunken man threatened and yelled at a child.

It was, honestly, a rather disturbing scene. The child was a hybrid, most likely enderman (judging by the bucket of water the man kept under his arm). They were curled up tight, hands over their head and tail wrapped around themselves. Most of their exposed skin was covered in burns that were definitely a result of the man towering over them. Their sobs were audible, human and ender all at once. There was a crowd of spectators, all watching with rapt attention and doing nothing.

Knowing that people could see this sight, could watch a child be hurt, and feel no sympathy to offer any help made Jack act rather impulsively.

With just a few steps and enough confidence to rival David’s in his battle against Goliath, Jack placed himself between the drunk and the child. He unsheathed his sword and angled it upwards to at least try and be level with the man who was most definitely taller than Jack.

“Leave them alone!”

Jack glanced behind himself at the child. They were no longer all balled up. Instead, they were looking right at Jack with scared, mismatched eyes. Tears were carving scars down their face, which was split between the typical purple-black of an enderman and an unnatural stark white. They were obviously terrified and Jack really didn’t believe that they could’ve done anything to deserve this. He turned back around to face the man with a simmering anger bubbling in his veins.

“That’s an enderman, kid, move out of the way. It’s dangerous-”

“You, my good- actually, not good, bad, very bad sir, are the dangerous one here.” Jack made it a point to thrust his sword forward, just a little bit, to scare the man in front of him. While Jack knew he was not the most threatening of heights or builds, no sane person would willingly go against an iron sword with just their fists, especially not enchanted iron. “You were throwing water at them and hurting them. Purposefully. You’re cruel.”

And, uh, oops? That must’ve been the wrong thing to say to diffuse the situation because now the man was fuming, his ire no longer aimed at the enderman hybrid but at Jack. His face was a bright red which definitely didn’t help the whatever that was his face; it made the furrow of his brow uglier and the snarl on his lips much more disgusting. It was an absolutely horrid experience to have those dumb eyes trained on him and him only.

“You little brat,” the man spat out right before making a reach for Jack’s sword. Jack couldn’t react fast enough and very suddenly all he had were his fists while the man was angrily holding onto the blade of the sword, blood dripping from his newly-cut palm.

Jack really didn’t have the time to mourn his sword (with unbreaking III. Unbreaking III!). He had to get out of this now very, very unfavorable situation and he had to pull the wounded hybrid along with him. While Jack was a bit of an optimist, if he had to say so himself, he had no doubt that the man in front of him (drunk and so stupid) wouldn’t hesitate to kill the poor kid and what type of guard-in-training would Jack be if he let some asshole kill a kid? Not a good one, that’s for sure.

He was running away from the angry man in a matter of seconds, the child’s wrist in his hand as they struggled to keep up with Jack’s pace. It was absolutely not fun having to run down the streets, weaving in and out of crowds and open spaces to get away. After two minutes, Jack couldn’t tell if the man was still chasing after them and he, quite frankly, did not want to slow down and find out. But his feet were beginning to ache and he could hear the hybrid’s heavy breathing behind him. Not good. “Maybe he gave up,” Jack wondered aloud, trying his best to not fall on the paved roads (the soles of his boots had lost their traction and were practically smooth, making it easier and easier for his feet to slip out from under him).

They were running past all sorts of different alleys, all relatively unoccupied; one of them had to be good to hide in. If the man truly was still following them, they needed an out now rather than later (before Jack’s legs gave up on him or before the child collapsed from exertion).

Without warning the hybrid, which was probably a bad idea on his part, Jack pulled the two of them into an alleyway and finally slowed down. The child pulled their wrist from Jack’s hand when he finally stopped, carefully cradling it to their chest as they heaved for air.

“Sorry about that,” Jack said, maybe only partially apologetic, “but that guy was insane.”

They said nothing back, just stared up at Jack with a nearly unwavering gaze. They still looked shocked, terrified, surprised, and every other word along that line. If Jack had brought a first aid kit with him (like the Head Guard reminded him of every day), then maybe he could patch up their water burns, but he had nothing. So the next course of action was getting this child home and safe.

“My name’s Jack Manifold, okay, and I’m under the care of the Royal Guard. It’s my duty to make sure you get home safe to your family. Do you know where your home is?” Jack attempted to be as gentle as he could, which was much harder than it should’ve been. At least it got him results.

The hybrid shook their head and their eyes glazed over, a new round of tears threatening to fall. That was not good. It was going to make the task of getting them home a lot more difficult.

“Do you at least know what it looks like?”

They nodded and pulled out a little green journal, flipping it open and looking through the pages as if Jack wasn’t even there. They still looked close to tears and Jack had no idea what to do. The last crying child he had to deal with was himself, so he was a little out of his depth here.

“Can you tell me so I can help you?”

They looked up from their journal and, once again, just stared. There was definitely an attempt to speak, but they quickly abandoned it. Jack could deal with this, he’d find a way to get them home. He could do this.

“What if we walk around and you let me know if anything looks familiar? It’s the only thing I can think of right now and it’s either that or we go to the Guard barracks and I don’t think they’d want me to bring a stranger there.”

The child nodded again, hopefully in agreement to the first idea.

When Jack took a step forward, the hybrid followed. Clearly they were on the same page. Without a specific destination in mind, he started to lead them in what he was sure was the way to the more residential areas of the Capital. After a while of aimless walking, the hybrid sped up, more or less in step with Jack instead of trailing awkwardly behind.

They unwound the more they walked, little shoulders untensing the farther away from the heart of the Capital they got. They moved to walk just ahead of Jack, looking back to check he was still there every once in a while. They led Jack around with a lot more surety than expected. Maybe somewhere in the back of their mind, they remembered the way home; every turn they took was instinctual and calculated.

With nothing else to do during the walk, Jack took to inspecting the hybrid. The clothes on their back looked much nicer than the ones the Guard gave Jack. The fabric was clean and the sewing neat, fitting them perfectly. Whoever was waiting for them at home must be worried out of their mind (Jack hoped that the Guard was worried for him, as well).

Curious, and just a bit bored, Jack asked, “How old are you?”

Ahead of him, they hesitantly held up six fingers.

Six. Three years younger than Jack. Surely parents didn’t let six year olds out on their own, even if it wasn’t night fall. Jack didn’t know how most families operated, but he was confident enough to say it wasn’t like this.

Jack made no more attempts to talk to them after that, letting them be silent and dealing with the quiet. He didn’t hate it, necessarily, he was just unused to silence. Ever since he could remember, there was always noise and always people. Walking down quiet residential roads with a quiet kid was a complete opposite to that and it was, at the very least, uncomfortable.

It was maybe ten more minutes of walking (and Jack was sure they passed by the same buildings more than a few times) before the hybrid started running. For a second, Jack fully believed they were trying to run away from him, but then they turned back and slowed down when they saw he wasn’t following. There was a conflicted look in their mismatched eyes before they made a vaguely beckoning hand motion. Oh, so Jack was meant to follow. The thought made Jack grin, much wider than he had in a while.

Jack took one step forward before the kid was off again and this time Jack followed. It turned out that running, when it’s not away from an angry man, was actually kind of fun. The hybrid must’ve been thinking the same thing because when Jack caught up (quite easily, by the way) they were smiling. Despite the burns and the very obvious tear tracks on their face, they were smiling. Good. Great. Wonderful.

They stopped abruptly in front of a quaint green house. It was two stories tall, but rather thin. It was practically the same as all the houses surrounding it, the only differences being the odd color and the planters hung from each window. Wind chimes and bird houses were hung from the overhang of the roof. The house looked like a home. It looked warm and loved and he quite suddenly felt envious of the hybrid he’d escorted.

Jack watched from the pavement in front of the house as the child practically ran to the door, knocking in a panicked sort of rhythm. The door opened almost instantly and the hybrid was hugging the man who opened it without any hesitation. Their shoulders shook as the man returned the hug. By appearances only, Jack wouldn’t have guessed he was the hybrid’s father. He had a pair of large, black wings which the kid didn’t have and he didn’t reflect any of the traits that they had. But genetics were a weird thing and adoption existed so really anything was possible.

It was awkward. Just watching a child reunite with their worried father. He’d done what he needed to; he should probably head back to the barracks yet that weird jealousy he was feeling and the newfound want for whatever it was this hybrid had with their father kept him in place.

The man looked up after a while and then he was making eye contact with Jack, the previously fond smile on his face turning into something more suited for strangers. “Your name is Jack, right?”

Well, yes, but he’d never told him. “How’d you-”

“Ranboo told me,” he said, gesturing to the child that still had an iron grip around his waist. It was a pretty fitting name; it matched the hybrid in a way that Jack couldn’t exactly explain.

“Oh, yeah, my name is Jack. Jack Manifold.”

The man laughed and, while he didn’t quite understand the humor in the situation, Jack offered a smile in return. His wings moved to surround Ranboo and that dumb jealousy made itself known again. Oh, how would the Head Guard think of him if she knew? She’d surely be ashamed. He had to get it together.

“Well, I’m Philza. Would you like to come in for some food? I want to thank you for protecting Ranboo. Gods know what would’ve happened if you didn’t step in.” At his words, Ranboo trilled and their tail wrapped around Philza’s ankle. They must not like being reminded of what happened which was fair. Jack wouldn’t want to be reminded either if he were Ranboo.

“That sounds lovely,” Jack answered. He ignored that he should go to the barracks or they’d throw him out. He’d be able to make it on time, he’d be fine. He’d be fine.

Philza maneuvered himself and Ranboo (without the younger ever letting go, somehow) out of the doorway so that Jack could enter. The house was, just as predicted, warm. It was a welcome change to the temperature outside, which was steadily getting colder as the sun began to set. It was a nice place, truly. It mimicked the outside, unique and homely and with many green accents.

He was led to the kitchen and sat down at the dining table, asked to wait as Philza left to presumably patch up Ranboo’s very obvious injuries. There was care in the way Philza picked up Ranboo, in the way he caressed their head and brought them close to him. It was moments like this that Jack skipped out on with the Guard. For the first time in his life, Jack wondered if he’d have been better off being raised traditionally.

No, no, no. The Head Guard would surely accuse him of treason if she heard these thoughts. He was raised well, he was raised right, he didn’t need anything else. Or did he?

It wasn’t the time for this type of thinking, he had to be a good houseguest.

Philza came back to the kitchen after probably fifteen minutes, without Ranboo though. It made sense, they were most likely tired and who was Jack to get upset over that?

“Do you want anything specific?” Philza asked, “I can try my best to make anything, but my knowledge with food is lacking.”

Oh Gods, choices. “You can just cook whatever you want, I’m not craving anything, y’know?”

Philza hummed instead of giving a verbal answer and began preparing whatever it was he was going to make. Philza, from the little Jack has seen of him, was more social than Ranboo was. He’d probably be more likely to return conversation.

“Are you Ranboo’s father?” Jack asked. While he assumed that Philza was, he had to ask just to be sure.

Philza sighed from where he was chopping something on a cutting board. His wings twitched, the feathers moving in a way that perfectly caught the light coming from above. “No, I’m not their dad. I honestly have no idea what I am to them, I’ve just been calling myself their caregiver or guardian.”

That certainly was a surprise. “I apologize for assuming-”

“No need, mate. I don’t mind it, I guess I act the part.”

“You really do, to be fair,” Jack added, finding a definitely normal amount of joy in the conversation. “You are a very fatherly man.”

Philza laughed and Jack felt compelled to do the same. The man’s laughter was contagious (and surprisingly bird-like). “I am not fatherly.”

“So now you’re lying to me, your kind and patient guest?”

That got him to laugh again, somehow louder than before. Jack concluded right then that this was rather fun. None of the Guards ever really entertained him and they never would let Jack joke around with them. He’d only get to really laugh and smile with strangers; strangers weren’t told to treat him like a full grown Guard, they just saw Jack as a nine year old with a vocabulary too big for his age. It was the same here with Philza. Jack was just a kid, same as Ranboo, and they enjoyed that. To an extent, of course.

“You’re gonna make me fu- mess up.”

“That’s not my fault, I’m not cooking you are.”

Jack traced the grain of the wooden table, as Philza chuckled quietly to himself. The sun was much lower now, he’d need to leave soon.

“Gods, how do your parents deal with you?” Philza asked, very clearly light-hearted and not malicious. He didn’t know, he’d have no way of knowing.

“I don’t, uh, have parents, so-”

Philza turned and it wasn’t hard to see the genuine guilt on his face. Maybe Jack shouldn’t have mentioned that he didn’t have parents. “Oh my, Jack I am so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Jack shrugged. “Common mistake.”

“If you don’t have- do you have a place to stay?” Philza asked. There was a concern in his voice and face that Jack wasn’t quite used to. It made him smile. Philza was being, dare he say, fatherly.

“I do, no need to worry, I’m under the care of the Royal Guard,” Jack said and it felt rehearsed, even to him. Technically, it was. Day in and day out he was reminded that he was okay, not to worry, he was ‘under the care of the Royal Guard.’ It was a phrase he remembered as well as he remembered his own name.

Philza grimaced. “And you’re safe there?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason, no reason.”

Huh.

The topic was dropped and Philza returned to cooking. Jack struck up conversation once again and tried to steer it clear of any subjects that could get touchy. He was pretty successful, able to keep talking the entire time it took for dinner (at least Jack assumed it was dinner, it was late enough for it to count as dinner).

For a couple of minutes, Jack was left alone again. Philza had plated the food, passed Jack one of the three plates, and excused himself to go get Ranboo. Jack prodded at his food as he waited; it’d be rude if he were to start eating alone.

Ranboo was the first to enter the room, pausing as they saw Jack. There were bandages wrapped around their arms and two rectangular bandages under their eyes. Their ears swiveled towards Jack, twitching as they stared at him.

“Feeling better?” Jack asked, tentatively.

Ranboo nodded and dashed to the seat across from Jack. They stared at him even as they picked up their fork, though never making eye contact. They managed to look at every single thing on Jack except for his eyes.

Philza returned soon after Ranboo took their first bite, ruffling their hair before he himself took a seat in between Ranboo and Jack. He took a glance at Jack’s plat and frowned, that unusual concern there again. “Are you not hungry?”

“I am, I am, I was just waiting,” Jack explained, faster than he was sure he’d ever spoken before.

“You didn’t have to wait.” As Philza said it, Ranboo nodded along with him (while they were still eating). They were much more comfortable with Philza near them, Jack noticed. It was sweet, cute even.

“I thought it would be rude, since you made the food and all.”

Philza cooed, all quiet like he didn’t want Jack to hear it. “I wouldn’t have minded, mate.”

Instead of responding, Jack hid his flushed face by actually starting to eat. When he began eating, Philza began eating as well. Philza basically spent the entire meal talking with Jack and it was enjoyable, to be honest. Usually, Jack ate all of his meals alone, but on the rare occasion that someone would join him, they’d be incredibly silent. As with most things Jack had experienced this evening, it was a welcome change of pace.

When Jack was done, plate practically cleaned, he turned to look out the window. The sun was well below the horizon, the stars and moon taking its place. He was now extremely late, so much more later than the curfew he was given.

“Thank you for having me,” Jack said, genuinely smiling at both Philza and Ranboo, “Dinner was really good, but I have to go. It’s dark out and I was supposed to be back hours ago.”

Ranboo nodded. “Come back,” they said. It was the first time Jack had heard them speak and he pretended that he wasn’t incredibly endeared. Their voice was unsurprisingly timid and echoing with something obviously ender. They looked to Philza and then back to Jack before adding a very hesitant, “uh, please.”

“You’re welcome around here anytime, Jack. If you want to take a break or have something to eat, you can always come back, okay?” Philza offered, kind and genuine. “We’d be glad to have you around.”

“I’ll see you guys as soon as I can,” Jack said. At that, Ranboo’s tail began to sway and Phil’s wings shuddered behind him. He’d be more than happy to see them once more and get to enjoy this warmth he’d discovered.

When Jack made it to the barracks, he was met with the Head Guard. She looked upset, angry, furious, and everything except worried. It made him greedily yearn for a green house and black wings and two-toned hair.

“You’re late.”

No 'where were you,' no care. Jack frowned.

“I was helping a child get back home, they were being attacked, ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s no excuse, Manifold.” Her eyes strayed to his scabbard which was incriminatingly empty. “Where’s your sword?”

“A man stole it from me.”

The Head Guard somehow managed to look even more furious, her rage palpable and suffocating. “You’re useless. Absolutely useless. No leaving the barracks for a week.”

Jack’s stomach dropped. “What, no, you can’t-”

“Yes I can. Keep talking and it’ll be two weeks.”

“Sorry ma’am.”

“You should be.” She turned and walked away, leaving Jack alone with his heavy disappointment.

Chapter Text

It was a little over a week later when Phil and Ranboo saw Jack again. For each of those days, Ranboo sat themself near the front door for an hour every evening before going back to what had become their couch to sit and sulk. Every single night, Phil would hand them a warm cup of hot cocoa and reassure them as much as he could.

Ranboo got attached to Jack rather quickly and they were looking forward to when he’d come around again. Phil couldn’t say he didn’t understand, the boy had helped them out in a situation where no one else was doing anything, it only made sense that they’d already be fond of him.

Phil could say he was in the same boat, although for different reasons. As far as Phil was concerned, the Royal Guard was not in any way good. Most had egos too big for their heads that got in the way of their jobs, leaving a fair amount of citizens to search for help from other sources. The Guard had a history of targeting Dream’s little ‘shop,’ claiming that they had acquired all of their wares illegally (when they most definitely didn’t). As well as Dream, they went after Puffy. She was barely ever in the Capital yet every time she docked she was met with warrant after warrant to the point where privacy wasn’t a thing in her own home. All in all, the Guard was immoral and power-hungry; that wasn’t an environment a child should be brought up in. Gods know what Jack had gone through under their care. He was too good of a kid, Phil couldn’t stomach the idea that he might be hurt under their hands.

Ranboo was certainly more beat up about Jack not visiting than Phil was, though. They moped around everywhere; from the kitchen to the living room to Phil’s office, no place was safe. They would only leave the house to lay in the backyard or to accompany Phil on supply runs. When Phil had to work, they told him that they stayed in the kitchen to wait for him.

It hurt Phil to see them react like that. He could only assume so much about what was going on in their head (they kept their emotions close to themself except on rare occasions) and he wished he knew what they were thinking. He wished he could tell them that, no, Jack hadn’t lied, but Phil couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t guarantee anything to Ranboo and that was the worst part.

It was a slow weekend and Phil had recently come back from an easy job of setting up the foundation and supports of a farmhouse. The second he got home, Ranboo found him and followed him around. They tailed him as he took off his boots, hung his hat up, and set to making them lunch.

They were still behind him, lightly touching and running their hands over his wings. Phil should probably teach them how to preen them at some point, it’d be nice to have an extra pair of hands helping him out.

Ranboo stayed like that the entire time, only moving when Phil needed to move. When Phil tried to get them to sit down, they complied with a small smile and Phil couldn’t help but ruffle their hair, making it messy even though he’d been the one to help style it that morning.

“If you’re up to it-” Phil gave Ranboo their plate and they nodded in thanks, their ears perking up. “-would you want to help me plant some wildflower seeds? Thought we could expand our collection.”

They pulled out their journal (which Phil still didn’t know the use for) and pencil, beginning to write something down. “You do the watering?”

“Of course,” Phil answered, sitting down in the chair next to Ranboo. They glanced up at him and their smile grew. He would do just about anything to ensure their safety. “When we’re done eating, we can get to it, alright?”

Their tail wrapped around the leg of Phil’s chair and they swung their legs, feet barely hitting the ground. “Alright!”

Barely any time passed before there was a knock at the door that startled both Ranboo and Phil. Ranboo’s back straightened almost impossibly, eyes focused on the front door with an unconcealed fear.

Phil gently placed a hand on their shoulder, not at all surprised when they flinched at the contact. They relaxed minutely when they realized it was only Phil, but their stress was still obvious. “Everything’s okay, Ranboo. It’s probably Dream or someone I’ve worked for. We’re safe, you’re safe. I’m going to answer the door, are you good to be alone?”

Ranboo nodded and Phil, very hesitantly, moved away from them and opened the front door.

“Jack?”

There, standing on the front porch with a sheepish grin, was Jack Manifold. He looked the exact same as he did before, just a bit more run down. His eyes were just barely unfocused and, paired with the bags under his eyes, Phil could only assume that it was due to a lack of sleep.

“Good afternoon, Philza,” Jack greeted with an amicable smile. “I wanted to stop by earlier but I wasn’t allowed to leave for a week.”

“Oh, did something happen?”

Jack entered the house, looking around and taking everything in as if he hadn’t been inside before. For a moment, he brightened; his eyes softened and his smile felt much more genuine. “I broke curfew and I had to face some sort of punishment.”

Phil frowned. It wasn’t the most out there punishment for Jack to have been given (it certainly wasn’t one Phil would have ever thought of, though), but with the way his face fell when mentioning it, there had to have been something more to it. “That sucks, mate, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, could’ve been worse.” Jack shrugged, as if what he’d just said wasn’t at all concerning. He looked over, just by Phil’s shoulder, and his smile grew. Phil glanced back just to see Ranboo staring at Jack with their eyes wide and mouth agape.

They quickly got out of their chair in something easily identifiable as excitement, feet padding against the floor as they ran to stand behind Phil. Phil, completely driven by instincts and a sudden rush of affection, cooed at the young Enderian.

“I tried to get permission to visit as soon as I could,” Jack said. “But permission is hard to get after acting out, you see. I would like to apologize, though. For taking so long and all.”

Oh Gods, this poor kid. “No need to apologize, Jack, it’s not your fault. We’re just glad you’re here now.”

“Good, that’s good.” The boy was genuinely relieved, some of the stress in his shoulders leaving him. His eyes were still focused on Ranboo, tiny little Ranboo who Phil could only assume was staring right back at Jack. “I just have to be more careful with curfew this time.”

“I’ll keep an eye on the time.”

“Thank you, Philza.”

Ranboo chirped, small and an attempt to get attention. “Jack, I want- can I- hmm, ah. Show you something? Things?”

Jack looked positively delighted that Ranboo had chosen to speak directly to him, his face lighting up more than Phil had ever seen from him. He was so happy and Phil found it so very endearing.

“What do you want to show me?” Jack asked and Ranboo giggled, high-pitched and happy. They moved away from Phil and hesitantly grabbed Jack’s sleeve, looking up at him with apprehension in their eyes. Jack smiled down at them reassuringly. “Lead the way.”

Ranboo pulled Jack along towards the living room. The sound of their bare feet padding against the ground followed by Jack’s boots made Phil’s heart warm. Yeah, there was no way in hell he wasn’t letting Jack into their weird little family.

The Head Guard was upset. Jack didn’t know why or what had happened, but she was upset. From the moment he’d seen her in the kitchens, grabbing her food while yelling at the chef, to the moment he’d seen her at the training grounds, angrily shouting at someone who’d accidentally dropped a sword, she’d been in a bad mood. While she wasn’t someone of good temperament, she was usually never this mad.

Jack had done his best to avoid her all day, running errands for anyone and everyone that needed something done. She wouldn’t hurt him, but he wasn’t eager to deal with her shouting or disappointment; he’d been in such a good mood recently (regular trips to Philza and Ranboo’s house were the sole reason for it) and he didn’t want that to get ruined.

The universe, though, hated Jack Manifold and never listened to him or his wishes.

He was sparring with one of the Guards, a woman who went by the name Hannah Rose. He regularly trained with the older woman and considered her something close to a friend (if friends were people who knew all your physical weaknesses more than you knew them). They’d been out on the training grounds for maybe an hour, going through standard drills so Jack could get better used to holding a sword as big as himself. It was repetitive and boring, but necessary.

Hannah Rose had just disarmed Jack for the umpteenth time when the Head Guard walked up to them. With one withering look, she’d dismissed Hannah Rose and taken her place across from Jack.

“Grab yourself an iron sword. The sparring swords aren’t teaching you anything,” she ordered, loud and harsh. The Head Guard had pulled out her own iron sword, one which was much better crafted and cared for in comparison to the iron swords stored in the training grounds. Hers was enchanted, sharpness and unbreaking and every other enchantment someone of her status could afford. As Jack grabbed one of the training iron swords, he felt his stomach turn. The hilt of the sword he had was taped and glued together, a job done out of convenience rather than actual careful craftsmanship.

Hannah Rose cleared her throat from where she stood on the sidelines, the grass around her feet had wilted slightly. “Ma’am, while I trust your judgement, Jack shouldn’t be using iron at this stage. He’s young and it’s too dangerous- if you ask Antfrost, he’d agree with me, ma’am.”

“Miss Rose, you are not paid to disobey me,” the Head Guard said. She was clearly threatening Hannah Rose and Jack couldn’t help but feel fear. “You are paid to guard the royal family and listen to orders. Do you understand?”

The grass around Hannah Rose was completely devoid of life, now, and was dried beyond belief. Her face set into a frown. It was strange to see her usual stoicism exchanged for the upset she was displaying. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Manifold, hurry up. I don’t have all day.”

Jack ran to stand in front of her, sword clutched in his hands. After dealing with the wooden sparring swords, the iron felt too heavy and unwieldy in his hands. He was sure he looked a sight in front of the Head Guard who was glaring down at him as she held her own sword confidently.

“Focus on defending yourself,” she ordered. From the corner of his eyes, Jack saw Hannah Rose flinch. “Begin.”

The Head Guard swung her sword at Jack’s abdomen, stepping forward and immediately closing off the distance between the two of them. Jack raised his sword just in time, the shock of the impact reverberating throughout his entire body. He barely had any time to react before she swung again, aiming towards his legs. Jack stumbled backwards, breath catching in his throat.

He’d trained with her before, much more when he was younger, and he knew she was aggressive in any battle, real or fake, but this was something he’d never been at the receiving end of. She moved with an agility saved for wars and swung with a strength meant for threats. It was terrifying. Jack could barely move fast enough to dodge and there was no way in hell he’d have enough time to actually block her swings.

She aimed for his neck and Jack struggled to lift his sword to block it. Her sword only switched trajectories and Jack’s face became the next target. The Head Guard grunted at the same time Jack screamed, his nose lighting up in pain. It was sharp, stinging, and all consuming. His sword was forgotten as he cradled his nose, almost throwing up at the feeling of blood under his hands. There was so much and it was collecting in his hands, too warm and too much.

“Get away from him!” Distantly, Jack realized that Hannah Rose was shouting at the Head Guard. He looked up, wincing at the pain that followed the small movement. Hannah Rose had taken her sword and thrown it to ground; Jack could only gag at the way his blood lingered on the enchanted metal. The Head Guard, for once in her life, looked shocked as Hannah Rose reprimanded her. “How fucking dare you! You do not deserve your position or your power, do you hear me? Go back to the barracks and never, and I mean never, step near Jack again.”

At some point, Jack had begun crying. It mixed with the blood falling into his hands and mouth, making for the worst experience he’d ever had to face. He pressed his hands against his face as hard as he could. He needed to stop the bleeding, it was too much. And his hands weren’t touching skin and it hurt so much, but he had to stop the bleeding. It needed to stop. Someone please make it stop.

Hannah Rose kneeled in front of him (when did he fall?) and put her hands on his shoulders. She was equal parts gentle and unsteady; she was shaking and Jack was convinced she’d fall if it weren’t for the armour she wore. “Hey Jack, I’m going to take you to the infirmary, okay? They’ll patch you up and then- and then- I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Jack heaved and Hannah Rose moved him over, gently rubbing his back as he threw up all over the sand. She made a series of vaguely comforting noises as Jack bent over himself, crying.

“Can I-” He was cut off by a round of dry heaving that felt like it was tearing his throat apart. Jack wanted to be anywhere but there, he wanted to be somewhere safe and fine where he wasn’t bleeding.

“You’re fine,” Hannah Rose muttered. “Take your time.”

“I want to go to Philza,” Jack sobbed. The pain was so much, too much, and he just wanted to be safe. “Please.”

“Okay, okay, I don’t know a Philza, but when you’re all fixed up I’ll find him.”

Jack nodded, still sobbing with all he could. He didn’t push Hannah Rose back when she picked him up and held him to her chest, carefully walking him to the infirmary. He didn’t want to go there, he wanted to see Philza and he wanted to see Ranboo and he wanted to stop bleeding and he wanted to stop hurting. He didn’t want the infirmary. He just wanted to go home.

“Does Philza live here?”

The last thing Ranboo expected when they opened the door was to see one of the Royal Guards standing there with an asleep Jack in her arms. She had brown hair that was pulled back with vibrant roses carefully threaded through it. If Ranboo wasn’t incredibly worried for Jack, they’d have spent more time thinking about how pretty the roses were.

“Um, yes?”

She sighed and her roses brightened in color as she slumped in relief. “Good. My name is Hannah Rose, I’m with the Royal Guard and Jack Manifold was recently injured. He specifically asked to be brought to Philza. I trust Jack’s judgement, but I’d like to speak to this Philza before l leave him here. It’s a security measure, I’m sure you understand.”

Ranboo swallowed and nodded, nerves and uncertainty keeping them rooted to their spot. Hannah Rose was scary, scary in the same way any of the Guard was scary to Ranboo. At least she cared for Jack. That had to count for something.

“Good. Can you go get Philza? I’ll wait right here.”

Ranboo nodded again before turning around and heading to Phil’s office. They were shaking, much more than they should’ve. Jack was hurt. Jack had gotten hurt. That wasn’t good, not at all, not at all. Jack was nice and good and like Phil but younger and louder; nice people didn’t deserve to get hurt, but Jack did.

They knocked at the door of the office. “Come in!”

“Hey, uh, Phil?”

Phil looked up from the papers on his desk, smiling at Ranboo with comfort that only he could provide. “Yes?”

“There’s a- there’s a Guard at the door,” Ranboo began, faltering when Phil immediately frowned. “She’s got Jack and, well, she said- she told me that he got hurt-” Phil stood up with a grave, worried expression on his face. Ranboo faltered when he walked towards them, most definitely headed to the front door. “-and he, he asked to see you.”

Ranboo followed after Phil, wringing their hands together with a sick little feeling in their stomach. It was all buzzy and bad, even as Phil politely greeted Hannah Rose. Seeking comfort, they grabbed onto the leg of Phil’s pants. Jack was out cold, asleep and head tucked into the armour Hannah Rose wore. They could just barely see a bandage stretched across his nose, stained red with, most likely, blood.

“What happened?” Phil asked.

Hannah Rose grimaced. She glanced at Ranboo before returning her gaze to Phil. “Not in front of the child.” Ranboo was sure they should’ve felt offended, maybe, that they were referred to as simply ‘the child’ or because they weren’t going to be allowed to listen to the conversation.

“Hey Ranboo, do you mind sitting in the living room while we talk? It won’t take too long.” his hand ruffled their hair and the smile he gave them was strained. “I’ll come get you after, okay?”

“Okay,” Ranboo mumbled. They pulled away from Phil and went to the living room, feeling eyes following them until they disappeared from view. They didn’t like this feeling, at all. They could handle whatever they were talking about, they could. Ranboo was strong. They were young, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t handle it. They wanted to know what happened to Jack, too.

It wasn’t fair, they decided as they sank onto the couch, it wasn’t fair at all. Phil wanted to protect them, but what he didn’t understand was that Ranboo had seen a lot, had heard even worse. Nothing would be too much for Ranboo. (They didn’t take into account that, since it was Jack and not someone they’d never met, it would’ve hit them harder, would’ve managed to make them feel worse.)

Ranboo sat alone for far too long before the front door was closing and Phil made it to the living room with a still sleeping Jack in his arms. Phil was, undeniably, angry. It wasn’t a look that Ranboo had ever seen on his face and, for some reason, they felt as if they were the cause of it. It was irrational, but they were high strung and couldn’t necessarily put rational thoughts to use.

“Is he-”

“He’s okay now,” Phil answered, his words coming out clipped. Ranboo flinched and Phil sighed after. “I’m sorry, Ranboo. I’m not upset at you, I’m mad at the person that hurt Jack. Sorry.”

Phil laid Jack down on the couch adjacent to Ranboo, grabbing a blanket and gently laying it on top of him. He looked very different asleep than awake, more relaxed maybe. The bandage on his nose was much easier to see now and it looked bad, to put it simply. It covered much more of his nose than Ranboo had first seen and it was most certainly bloody. Ranboo looked away, not at all eager to see Jack like that.

“He’s gonna stay with us, okay? If I set up a bed in my office, would you be fine sleeping there? I still want you to have some privacy.” Once again, Phil was proving just how nice, nice, nice he was.

Ranboo nodded.

“Okay, okay. We’ll be fine, it’ll be just fine. Fine, fine, fine.” It felt like Phil was reassuring himself more than he was trying to reassure Ranboo. It was safe to say that it wasn’t successful.

Chapter Text

Jack woke up feeling disoriented. His head was pounding and everything felt upside down. The last thing he could coherently remember was the nurse hissing when they saw Jack’s face, everything after a blur of movement and pain and exhaustion.

It made waking up in Philza’s house all the more confusing.

He was lying horizontally on the couch he often sat on when visiting, a thick, knitted blanket draped over him and a pillow under his head. It felt so strange to be waking up somewhere that wasn’t the barracks and even stranger to not know how he got there. It had to be because of his injury, Jack’s brain reasoned (especially considering that he, embarrassingly, requested Philza by name).

The cut on his face felt like it was thrumming with all the blood in his body, uncomfortably reminding Jack of its existence. He scrunched his nose, just as a test, and it stung painfully. He shut his eyes and hissed. His mind brought up memories of the sword cutting through the skin of his nose. He flinched at the image of the Head Guard’s scowl. This wasn’t leaving him for a while. Jack wanted to cry.

He sat up and ignored the way pain flared up again. Was this what the other Guards had to deal with every time they got injured? If so, Jack deeply regretted being jealous of them. This was definitely the Gods way of telling him to not take his safety for granted, no doubt about it.

Seconds later, Jack heard the increasingly familiar pitter patter of Ranboo’s feet on the hardwood floor. He looked out the window, thankful the curtains were pulled back; the sun was just breaching the horizon. Why was Ranboo up so early? They were young, they needed to get a full night’s sleep.

Before Jack could fully register his concern, Ranboo was in front of Jack. They looked like they had just woken up, half and half hair all mussed up and still dressed in their pajamas. They held a little stuffed bird in both of their hands, holding it close to their chest. The kid was staring at Jack’s nose, brows furrowed in obvious concern.

“Good morning,” Jack greeted. He pushed away the pain and instead smiled as kindly as he could at Ranboo. “Sleep well, Ranboo?”

The hybrid nodded, a small smile of their own growing. Ranboo messed with the wing of the bird, rubbing the fabric between their fingers. “Are you- huh, mmm- okay?”

“More than okay.”

Ranboo chirped at his answer and leaned back slightly on the balls of their feet. With the movement, Jack’s focus was again drawn to their toy.

He nodded towards the little bird, breathing a quiet huff of laughter at the way Ranboo lit up. “And who is this?” Jack asked. The little bird had a purple ribbon tied around its neck and a small little crown embroidered on the bottom of one of its wings. It was a sweet little thing, really, and Jack distantly wished he’d had something like this growing up.

Ranboo shuffled awkwardly. Their ears twitched where they were pressed against their head and their tail was wrapped tightly around their calf. They fiddled with their little bird, manually flapping its wings a few times as they did their best to avoid eye contact. “Her name is Twitch. She’s, mmmmm, she is my. Crow. Mhm.”

It was quite cute the way Ranboo was clearly so nervous yet so eager to show Jack their toy. It also made Jack too happy to know they were showing him something obviously special to them.

“She’s a very beautiful crow,” Jack complimented. Ranboo grinned sheepishly, like it was directed at them. At that moment, he fully understood Philza’s need to coo at Ranboo. “An elegant little lady, hm?”

Ranboo laughed and they swayed where they stood, forward and back and forward and back. Twitch was along for the ride and if Jack could personify the bird, he’d say she looked rather happy about it. “Yeah! She makes me feel better so I thought- okay, y’know, so I thought she could help you. Too. Because you were hurt. Mhm.”

Oh, that was sweet. Jack never knew children could be so considerate (barring the fact that he was a child as well). “I would appreciate Miss Twitch’s help.”

They swayed a few more times, happily chittering, before they finally stopped. When they deemed themself calm enough, Ranboo passed Twitch over to Jack. He was a little worried about taking something that mattered so much to Ranboo; they probably wouldn’t want to be separated from their toy for too long.

Jack took Twitch carefully, not wanting to handle the crow in a way that could harm it. Even though it was just a toy.

“Thank you, Ranboo.”

“You’re welcome, Jack.”

With Twitch secured in Jack’s arms, Ranboo sat on the opposite end of the couch to Jack. They didn’t say anything else and they most definitely expected him to follow. The couch practically swallowed them up with the way they curled into the corner. Lost in the upholstery, they chirped and hummed and ahhed. Happy sounds. Jack might’ve been making the same noises if his biology were more suited to it.

The pair sat in companionable silence, both lost in their own thoughts and letting the morning wash over them. It was nice and simple; Jack greatly appreciated it.

An hour or so later, Philza entered the room. He looked startled to see Jack actually awake (and to see Ranboo all balled up). “Jack!” he exclaimed, sounding relieved. “Feeling any better?”

“It still hurts, but arguably better than when it first happened,” Jack said, angling himself to get a better look at Philza. “Not bleeding anymore, at least.”

“Hm, stitches will do that.”

“Oh.” Jack blinked in surprise; he hadn’t realized. “Stitches?”

Philza’s smile turned into something sad and Jack suddenly felt as though it were his fault. “The cut bled too much to just bandage it. You can take ‘em out in about a week, according to the nurse.”

“You spoke to the nurse?”

“They stopped by earlier to give me bandages for you,” Philza explained with an act of nonchalance. It felt like he was trying to make Jack not worry by pretending he wasn’t worried. Naturally, Jack didn’t worry so Philza didn’t have to do all of that. It was a nice gesture nonetheless. (Jack pretended as if he didn’t desperately need someone to help steady his mind.) “Maybe an hour or so after Hannah Rose dropped you off.”

Jack pulled his legs up to fit his entire body on the couch like Ranboo did. The mention of Hannah Rose caught his attention a lot more than the mention of stitches, somehow. Well, she was the one to help him the most so maybe it made sense. “Hannah Rose?”

“Awfully curious today, huh?” Philza teased.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Philza waved him off. “I don’t mind. Ranboo’s the same.” Ranboo made a noise of complaint, a high-pitched little grunt that echoed with static. “Hannah Rose stopped by with you sometime last night. She gave me the rundown of what happened and your situation. Gave me a list of everything the nurse said to keep watch of, too. She also told me that if you wanted, you could stay here with Ranboo and I as long as you need.”

“Wait, what?”

“She made me go through a whole interview to make sure I was right to care for you.”

Jack cleared his throat. His world felt skewed a degree to the left and he needed clarification more than anything in the world. “What, uh, what about the Guard? I can’t live at the barracks and here.”

Philza’s face contorted into something akin to pity. “I think it’s best to ask Hannah Rose to clarify that one. I can, but it’d be better to hear it from the source, yeah?”

“Sure,” Jack mumbled. He was confused and just a bit scared. Ambiguity was terrible; being vague made his skin crawl. He had a sneaking suspicion what Philza meant, but his mind refused to let him entertain what was most likely the truth.

His nose ached.

Two days later, Jack went to the barracks only to be turned around by both Hannah Rose and Antfront the second he opened the door.

“We’ve realized that this wasn’t a safe environment for you,” Antfrost had told him regretfully. Hanna Rose stood next to him, hands crossed behind her back as she nodded along to her friend’s words. “You were provided for physically, but not emotionally. After the ex-Head Guard’s recent outburst, we think you’d be better off anywhere else.”

Jack remembered feeling stunned, unable to process just what Antfrost was implying. Hannah Rose was sympathetic about it all while Antfrost looked guilty. It made sense, Jack supposed. Antfrost had been the one to stick up for him and offer him a place to stay, of course he’d feel a bit responsible for what happened to Jack.

Hannah Rose cleared her throat and smiled when Jack focused on her. “I spoke with Philza Minecraft while you were asleep and I let him know about the circumstances. I’m sure he already mentioned this to you, but you’re free to stay with him as long as you choose. Antfrost and I will periodically come by to check on you and your wellbeing. How’s that sound?”

“It’s a big change,” Antfrost added hastily and his tail gave a quick flick, “and if you need any help at all, you know where we are.”

Jack was never one to appreciate changes such as this, like when Sam and Ponk had first quit and told Jack they were going to pick up travelling. The fear of change he’d felt in the moment was almost suffocating and he could feel his heartbeat in his bandaged nose. “But what about training? Or- or- or my chores? I can’t go, you can’t kick me out!”

The two adults looked at each other before turning back to Jack, so much communicated between the two with a simple look. Hannah Rose adjusted the golden gauntlet on her hand as she spoke. “If you’re worried about training, we can work something out. You don’t need to be part of the Guard, Jack, you need to be a child. It’s late, but better than never.”

“But I want to!” Jack insisted. He was desperate and not awfully ashamed about it.

“You’ll be better off with another profession, trust me.”

“Hannah Rose, Antfrost, please, I’ll do better.”

“You’ve already done your best, kid, but we haven’t done our best with you.”

Jack went back to Philza’s that afternoon in shambles, too strong to cry but too weak to pretend as if he was okay. Ranboo gave him Twitch again and Philza went out to buy him a slice of cake. His sleep that night was restless, full of movement and bad dreams.

The week that followed wasn’t much better. He was just adjusting, was all. It was hard to know he now had to get used to sleeping alone and without the schedule he was so used to. He didn’t hate Philza’s house, he didn’t hate Philza, and he didn’t hate Ranboo. In fact, he loved it all an unnatural amount. He liked the normal that they promised, but he missed the normal he had. It was difficult at times, sure, but it was basically his whole life! Of course he’d be so attached.

Philza sat him down after Ranboo had gone to bed one night. He had all the worry of a worn down parent, eyes kind as he hovered one of his wings around Jack’s shoulders. Jack wondered what he’d done to deserve treatment like this.

“Change is hard, isn’t it?” Philza asked.

Jack snorted. Yes, yes it was.

“You’ve gone through so much recently and a big change on top of it all isn’t helping. Someone you should’ve been able to trust hurt you then you’re expected to move out. It’s just all too much.”

Jack found himself nodding and leaning into Philza’s side. Philza understood. It was nice that he got it, nice to be understood. When Philza’s wing no longer hovered and instead curled around Jack, it felt all the more understanding. Was this how Ranboo felt?

“What did you like best about staying with the Guard?”

Jack took a moment to think. What a loaded question. He liked so much of it, had so many moments ingrained in his memory. The bad didn’t matter, not with the good that he experienced. “I liked training with Hannah Rose and when Ponk was there they’d bring me sweets from the market. The gardens were so big and Hannah Rose would let me look at them when we were done and the chef was really nice and gave me extra dessert. Oh! Sometimes I’d have to clean places in the palace because I couldn’t do the big drills everyone else did so the maids would help me out and they were always so fun. One of them, I think her name was Brooke, lifted me once to help me dust the top shelves in the library. I’d never been taller!”

Philza chuckled and it rumbled through his chest. It was comforting, especially with the way Philza gently held him. It made Jack feel fragile for the first time in his existence. He quite liked being fragile, just for a little while.

He ended up talking about his life before for far too long. Once Jack started, it was hard to stop. Every single thing he could remember, he mentioned. He told Philza all about the stable hands that let him feed the horses and the gardeners that would give him bruised flowers. Jack didn’t tell him, though, about how he’d go to bed almost every night sore on a bed that felt more like stone than a mattress. He failed to mention how he never had much to call his own. But Philza didn’t need to know those parts, he’d be better off only knowing all of the good of Jack's very short past.

When Jack’s voice began to trail off into something more of a whisper and his eyes began to slip shut in something that was probably exhaustion, Philza pulled him in closer. His tired, hazy mind was too muddled to question how late it’d gotten or to feel guilty about keeping Philza up. Frankly, he was too tired to think about anything.

“It sounds like you had fun,” Philza muttered and his gentle voice felt nice to Jack’s ears. “I’m glad that bad place was good to you, but I’m grateful that you’re here now.”

Jack clung to Philza and desperately tried his best to let Philza know that he was grateful, too; so very grateful to have people that felt like home.

Chapter Text

Ranboo was sitting outside with Jack on the back porch, both of them lounged on wicker chairs Phil bought just for this purpose. Jack was fast asleep on his chair, head lolled back in a way that would definitely leave his neck sore. Ranboo didn’t know how he managed to doze off so easily; the chairs made do for sitting, but not for resting comfortably. He must’ve been very tired.

While Jack caught up on much needed rest, Ranboo was drawing in a new journal. It was a nice dark blue with little waves and clouds and birds engraved in the leather of the cover. The pages were much tougher than those of their other journal which made it perfect for paints. The journal, as well as the paints, was a gift from Phil (he gave them the same time he gave Jack a training crossbow).

In the little time Ranboo has had their new paints, they’ve grown to love it. Their art was definitely not as elegant or nice as any paintings sold in the market, but it was fun! They liked dipping their claws in the paint instead of using the paintbrush; the feeling of the paper under their claws was therapeutic, sort of, and once they tried it, they just couldn’t stop. When it was mixed with the nice, pretty way the colors mixed and sat on the paper, painting in their new journal was easily their favorite hobby.

Goodbye memory journal, hello paint book!

Ranboo giggled as they attempted to draw a nice purple flower. They couldn’t say goodbye to their memory journal; that’d just be silly. Silly, silly, silly. Hm, they should paint Twitch. She liked flowers so she would appreciate being a part of Ranboo’s messy flower field. Yup.

They hummed to themself and let their tail sway against the ground. It was definitely picking up leaves and dirt, but Ranboo didn’t care about that. They could clean it while Phil preened his wings and Jack, uh. Well, Jack didn’t have much he could clean while Ranboo and Phil did. Except for his hair, which he had very little of. If Jack were awake, they would tell him that and then he’d get all fake angry and maybe even end up play-chasing Ranboo. Ranboo liked being chased when they knew the person behind them was friendly and trustworthy (they had a history of being chased by people that didn’t like their existence).

A particularly strong gust of wind made Ranboo shiver. If Phil were sitting with them, he’d make some comment about winter getting closer. But he wasn’t there, so Ranboo would have to say it instead. A tough task to carry, the pressure was almost too much!

“Before we know it, it’ll be winter,” Ranboo said. They let it sit in the quiet of the day for a few seconds before bursting into quiet laughter, curling over their book as they shook with each little wave of laughter. It wasn’t that funny, at all, but something about knowing that they knew how Phil would react to things made them so, so happy.

Ranboo’d been happier recently. Before Phil, life was not the kindest to Ranboo. Even though they had no recollection of much of anything before Phil’s house, they knew that how they used to live was painful. Happiness was rare to find when they had nothing that brought him joy. Since meeting Phil, everything had taken a positive turn and Ranboo had good things in their life now. They now had favorite foods, a nice comfy bed, clothes, toys, a garden, and Jack. They had so much to be happy about, so much to enjoy.

Their little flower field was now occupied by Twitch, Phil, Jack, and Ranboo themself. They did not notice that they’d done that. Thinking about their fam- friends. Friends. Thinking about their friends must’ve made their hands move on their own. Obviously, obviously, it couldn’t have been intentional. Ranboo nodded their head as they closed up their paints, they were very much right.

The door to the back porch swung open abruptly and Ranboo jumped, one of their pots of paint falling to the ground with a dull thud. Jack jerked awake at all the noise, blinking away sleep as he tried to understand what was happening. Even with Ranboo’s heart beating out of their chest with what they could only assume was fear, they found the look on his face a little funny.

Phil was standing in the doorway with a level smile, his wings open wide behind him. It was the most open Ranboo has ever seen them and it did good to calm their heart. His wings sort of twitched a few times and Ranboo’s ears ended up following their example. “Sorry, big news.”

Jack turned toward Ranboo for a moment, looking the picture perfect image of confusion, before turning back to Phil. One of his hands had wandered to his bandaged nose, slightly ghosting over the healing injury. “What’s the news?” he asked, Ranboo nodding along with him.

Phil grinned and cleared his throat, clapping his hands together. “So. I bought a new house.”

“What?” Ranboo asked the same moment Jack added his own equally astounded, “are you serious?”

“Completely serious,” Phil confirmed. He looked excited just at the sight of the two children’s shock. “Dream helped me find it and just yesterday I was able to close the purchase. I realize now that I should’ve run this by you guys.” His voice trailed off near the end as he came to some sort of realization.

“It’s definitely, uh, really not expected.” Jack, as always, took the initiative. He looked to Ranboo for support and they were more than willing to give it in the form of a totally not obvious, very hidden from Phil, thumbs up.

“Surprising,” Ranboo added.

“Precisely,” Jack said, nodding to Ranboo in approval. “I’m fine with it though.”

“Me too!”

Phil looked at the two of them skeptically. “And you two are still okay living with me?”

Jack gasped, scandalized. He was much more emotive than Ranboo was. While Ranboo could only stare dumbstruck at Phil’s question, Jack made up for it with the downright shocked look on his face.

“Of course we are! Banish any thought otherwise!” Jack replied fiercely.

“Mhm, we wouldn’t be here! If we didn’t, hm, want to. Live with you, I mean.” Ranboo sounded far less convincing than Jack did, but they were sure Phil understood the message all the same.

Phil chuckled and his shoulders dropped in relief. How long had he been worrying about Jack and Ranboo’s willingness to live with him? Surely the both of them hadn’t done anything that suggested otherwise, right? “I just wanted to make sure, just in case.”

“You’re a very cautious man,” Jack commented. He was leaning back in his chair, grinning at Phil. It was meant to be reassuring, Ranboo was sure of it. Jack just wanted to let Phil know that he really, truly didn’t mind sticking with Phil.

Phil ruffled the shaved hair on Jack’s head and it reminded Ranboo of someone petting a dog. With the way Jack pushed his head up into the touch, the similarity held even more weight to. Ranboo giggled. Dog boy. Ha.

“Right, so moving plans! We’ve got some busy days ahead of us!”

After informing them of what the next few days would bring (packing and moving boxes with the help of Dream) and making sure they were prepared to handle all of that, Phil took them out to eat. Both Jack and Ranboo were shocked and excited at just the idea of eating anywhere outside of home. Neither of them had ever really been to a restaurant before so the experience was brand new.

The menu offered a bunch of words Ranboo had never seen before that Phil and Jack helped them read. And the food? It was like nothing Ranboo had ever tasted before! Everything just tasted so good and the textures were nice in their mouth. Phil laughed at them in that fond way of his and Jack actively ‘awww’ed at their reaction. Then there was dessert? Which was so amazing! The pastries Phil bought for them were bland in comparison. Strawberry cake, what a wonderful thing. The whole time, Ranboo’s tail wouldn’t stop swaying and their ears stood at attention.

The night out was enough of a distraction for Ranboo to push aside the thoughts about moving.

Well, until the next morning.

Right after breakfast, Phil was bringing out boxes. He led the charge with the packing, doing most of the harder work while Jack and Ranboo did the smaller things. The first day of packing was spent in the living room and hallway. According to Phil, those were the problem areas. Jack loudly disagreed and brought up the study which was most definitely full of clutter.

The next day was much of the same, though as they finished up the hallway and nearly finished with the living room, more of the house was getting packed away.

By the third day, Dream had joined them. When they showed up, Jack was fussing around in the kitchen and Phil was set on packing the study up with Ranboo. They didn’t even knock or anything, just sorta showed up in front of the study with their hands poised on their hips and taking in all the boxes that surrounded Phil and Ranboo.

“Phil,” Dream said, tone flat. They looked at Phil deadpan, clearly unamused with the sight in front of them. If Ranboo were in their shoes, they were sure they’d feel the same.

“Yes Dream?” Phil asked innocently as he packed more things into a new box.

Dream glared at the box like it’d grown a mouth and insulted their entire livelihood. “You’re going to have to part with some of your things.”

Ranboo inaudibly gasped the same time Phil’s wings flared defensively. He tore his attention away from the box to fix Dream with a maybe slightly serious glare of his own. “It took me years to collect all of this.”

“Yeah, but it’s going to be a nightmare to move across the city,” Dream explained, doing their best to sound helpful. “The streets are becoming less and less friendly for horse-pulled vehicles and there’s literally no level of magic that can teleport things in large groups. It’d be tedious and time consuming, which we don’t want.”

Ranboo cocked their head to the side. They were sure Phil would be fine with the process taking longer if it meant he got to keep every book, every knickknack, and every memento. “Why not?”

Dream’s maybe slight annoyance at Phil melted as they looked to Ranboo; their eyes softened and scrunched up, the tell-tale signs of a smile. “Well, the people in charge of the district we’re in know that Phil is moving and they’re only gonna give you guys two weeks to get all moved out. It’s a policy they started after the housing crisis a few years back, it has us in a bit of a time crunch.”

Ranboo’s tail swung in confused arcs behind them. “Two weeks is a lot of time?”

“So, uh, about that,” Phil began, wincing. His wings folded behind his back. “I told you and Jack about a week after the district was notified. It’s more like five days at this point.”

“I told him to break the news earlier to take advantage of the time-”

“Don’t blame this on me.”

“What do you mean? This is entirely your problem!”

“I was busy-”

“Doing nothing.”

Phil squawked indignantly, the sound high-pitched and offended. It was so unusual for Phil that Ranboo just had to laugh. They laughed as silently as they could manage while Dream and Phil playfully went back and forth, but after a particularly loud gasp from Dream, their attempt at silence was no more. Both Phil and Dream turned to them when their quiet giggles became full-blown laughter. They let themself rock back and forth where they were sat on the floor as their tail whipped in sync behind them.

“Look what you’ve done, your kid’s laughing at us now,” Dream said, accusatory.

Their words were nothing but a slight whisper to Ranboo, barely heard over their own boisterous laughter. Even then, the words made something deep in their heart settle, something that they couldn’t take the time to examine right now even as their giggles died down.

Phil sighed, shaking his head in disapproval. The amused smile on his face let Ranboo know it was playful, not something they should take seriously. “We’re getting sidetracked!”
Dream conceded and raised their hands like they were surrendering. “Alright, alright, what do you need help with?”

“Mind helping Jack pack up the kitchen? He wanted to do it by himself, but it’s a lot. There’s things we’re not keeping in there that Jack already knows about, should be pretty easy.”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

The rest of the day was spent packing the rest of the things away. It was so strange to see the house so empty of everything that made it, well, the house. Ranboo couldn’t help but feel as if the home was lifeless, like they took out all of its blood to leave its corpse rotting. Since the beginning of the process of packing, they’d had trouble sleeping since things started becoming different. They didn’t doubt that they’d be facing sleepless nights until the new house is all furnished. Even then, they might need to get used to the new house before they could get proper sleep again. Oh, the downsides of having a funky brain.

Once the last books in the study were all safely in boxes, Phil and Ranboo went to help Jack and Dream. With four people, as opposed to one, it all went by much quicker. Soon enough, the kitchen was packed up. Now every room in the house was in boxes. Ranboo frowned at the last box.

It was beginning to feel real. They knew they were moving out. Hell, they were really excited about it when they first found out! They were even excited writing the names of the rooms on the boxes!

They’d be leaving the first home they’d ever had. That was terrifying.

Ranboo must’ve been sulking for too long because next thing they knew, Jack was there, in front of them. Phil and Dream were talking about something that was probably important by the dining table. Jack was the only one to notice. So not that obvious. Alright.

“You okay, Boo?” Jack asked, placing a steady, careful hand on their shoulder. He was smiling and his eyes were reassuring. Jack was nice. Nice, good, kind. “You look a little down, is all.”

Ranboo wrapped their tail around Jack’s ankle and he, in response, gave their shoulder a gentle squeeze. They looked at the last box one again, now full-on pouting. “We’re moving.”

“Do you not want to move?”

“I do! I do. Just. It’s scary. Really scary,” Ranboo explained, wringing their hands together as they got more and more embarrassed. They were acting like a baby, a dumb little baby who needed constant reassurance. Phil and Jack weren’t scared by it but they were. It was just a little humiliating.

Jack hummed in understanding and Ranboo immediately chirped back. “I’m a little scared, too,” he admitted, voice dropping to a whisper like he was telling them a secret.

“Really?”

“Yeah! I just got used to the house and it’s weird to be leaving so soon.”

Ranboo nodded quickly, making themself slightly dizzy with how much they moved their head. It was hard not to, not when Jack was understanding Ranboo. Nice, good, kind, and understanding.

They kicked the ground and pouted. “I’m going to miss it. The house. And the garden.”

“Let’s think about it this way,” Jack said, using the hand not on Ranboo’s shoulder to push a loose strand of their hair behind their ear. It was a very Phil move. “We’re going to get a new house that we can decorate. We’re going to have a new garden that we can start right from the beginning. You can choose all new decorations and all new plants! The new house is going to feel a lot more ours now that we have full roam.”

As Jack’s words properly sunk in, Ranboo found that their anxiety waned and their excitement once again returned. He was right. There were so many new opportunities! They could think about neighbors and sleep later! Right now, all they could think about was pretty little flowers and nice candles. Ranboo chirped and it was laced with pure static.

Jack clicked his tongue in an attempt to mimic the sound and Ranboo trilled back. “So I take it we’re happy about the house again?”

“Yes!”

Chapter Text

The new house was a beautiful thing, two stories and made of stone and wood. It was wider than the old one with four bedrooms and an attic. Everything in it was larger, more spacious than anything Jack had ever known. The kitchen had an island (which Jack didn’t know could be a thing outside of the castle) and the bathroom had an actual bath.

The new place matched the architectural style of the old house and that familiarity made the move easier. With every new thing, there was an equally as familiar thing that set any worries at ease.

The first few days were spent unpacking and arranging things the way they needed to be. Philza took charge with most spaces, but left Ranboo and Jack in charge of the living room. Jack knew he had no eye for this type of thing and neither did Ranboo. It was a mess, a really fun mess. Ranboo would put little trinkets together, giggling under their breath that they were friends. They put all the blue things on one shelf, claiming that the best color needed the most attention. The side tables ended up right next to each other, holding empty flower pots full of pens (they needed to be there, Ranboo’d insisted) and Jack’s favorite paperweights. The center table was set by the window and crystals arranged on top of it just to catch the sunlight. Philza never said anything about the choices made, but when Ranboo and Jack were both out and occupied, they came back to the living room slightly rearranged.

Everything was unpacked much faster than they were packed and with that done, all that was left was to live and get used to the change of scenery. There was the promise of buying more things to fill the house and Jack knew it was going to be a while. A house wasn’t cheap and Philza was no aristocrat.

At first, Jack and Ranboo strayed from their given rooms (Ranboo’s with a nice view of the yard and Jack’s which catches the best sunsets). The two of them camped out in the living room, curled up next to each other and sharing a quilt, until Philza caught them and offered the both of them a spot in his room. Ranboo never told Jack why they found their room uncomfortable, but Jack had to guess they shared the same thought process as he did. His room, while nice and lovely and more than he could ever ask for, felt lifeless. All it held was a wooden wardrobe leftover from the past owner, his mattress and its frame, a pillow, bedsheets, and a quilt. Sleeping in the old living room had Jack constantly surrounded by colors and life. His room didn’t give him that. Jack knew Ranboo was dealing with the same change and he wouldn’t put it past them if they also couldn’t sleep because of it.

Ranboo found comfort in their room much faster than Jack did, leaving him alone to sleep in the simple safety of Philza’s room. Without Ranboo, Jack felt all the more embarrassed to be seeking comfort. He was too old to nervously knock on Philza’s door and ask to sleep there. It was shameful, but Jack preferred sleep over the hits to his dignity. Philza never said anything, never discouraged him yet the feeling of judgment was ever present and Jack wasn’t quite sure where it came from.

Eventually, as time crept on, Jack’s room began collecting more items and it felt like a space he could comfortably occupy. It started with a bedside table that Ranboo helped paint a light blue and a simple lamp followed. Then there was the fluffiest rug Jack had ever seen, made of the softest wool. The quilt was joined by a heavy comforter that trapped every ounce of body heat and a pillow that came in the shape of a flower. The wardrobe gained more sets of clothes and shoes, as well as hats (which Jack had never worn much before but had quickly fallen in love with). A cozy chair, a framed painting made by Ranboo, a potted plant, a knitted toy from Philza, and a wooden sculpture of a blaze were the final things that made Jack finally find solace in his bedroom.

Getting used to the new environment around and outside of the house was just as difficult as getting used to the house itself. Jack would go out exploring whenever Philza left for a job with Ranboo at his side (he didn’t want to leave them alone, especially after such a big change). The two of them would go and take in everything they could. Ranboo would point out stores and shops that caught their interest, all from a nice carpenter shop to a little candy shop that gave them free taffy, and Jack couldn’t do much more than go along and indulge them.

With the help of Ranboo, little hand wrapped firmly around his and tail wrapped around his ankle, Jack learned more and more about the area surrounding their house. He could confidently navigate the streets, sure enough to never get lost if he ever got stranded in this part of the Capital.

It was a good pastime, especially as Philza’s presence around the house got less and less. Every morning after breakfast, Philza would say something or other about a job he’d taken on then he’d say goodbye and be off. Jack and Ranboo were typically on their own until the evening. It wasn’t like he was never gone before, but it was more common now and the two of them had to deal with it. Before Jack made it his mission to get out and explore, Ranboo would trail after Jack and sit by his side any chance they got. They’d never let go of Twitch and they spent most of their time asleep rather than awake. Going out more made them happier, Jack would say.

Jack didn’t bring Ranboo outside of the house everyday though (because that’d be cruel, what with their general aversion to crowds and all). Sometimes he’d spend the day out in the backyard with Ranboo, sitting in a familiar wicker chair and soaking up sun as Ranboo bothered bugs or cared for the budding garden. Other days Jack would attempt to read some of Philza’s books to Ranboo, not able to read more of the complicated works with his limited vocabulary. Very rarely, Jack would open a recipe book and attempt to make something along with Ranboo, trying to figure out the terrifying world of cooking.

Occasionally, whenever Hannah Rose, sometimes accompanied with Antfrost, came along to check up on Jack, she’d take both Jack and Ranboo to the barracks for Jack’s training. Ranboo would sit on a little wooden bench, journal open on their lap and bag of paints next to them, and watch as Jack trained with Hannah Rose. He was bound to wooden swords and leather armor and basic drills. Hannah Rose was still scared after what the Head Guard had done and Jack couldn’t blame her; he would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared, too.

Every single time, without fail, after Hannah Rose deemed enough time had passed, she’d make sure Jack and Ranboo were fed. Whether she took them to the kitchens or to some trusted store, she wouldn’t let them leave without anything in their stomach. Jack appreciated it more than he could say, especially when she’d fret over Ranboo and their startlingly small appetite. It was a shame that it took getting injured to see Hannah Rose show this much active care.

Almost as often as Hannah Rose would train with Jack, Ranboo would insist they go see Dream in the market. Jack quickly learned that he was weak to a pleading Ranboo after they asked a total of two times before he was caving and leading them to the market. No matter how eager they were to see Dream, Ranboo’s hate of the crowds that came with the market never faded. They’d hold onto Jack like he was the only piece of driftwood they could find in an ocean storm, the grip of their hand and tail always too tight and never more than a few centimeters away from Jack. Sometimes, they’d shut their eyes and trust Jack to not let them hit anything. The trip was always easier with Philza, who’d always scoop Ranboo into his arms and make it easier for them to ease their anxiety.

Ranboo and Jack’s solo trips to the market became a bit of a habit and Dream got used to seeing the two of them alone, always sans their guardian. Every visit, Dream would offer them a choice of anything they sold and, usually, both Jack and Ranboo declined. There was only one instance when Jack came away from the market with something from Dream’s shelves.

It was early afternoon and Ranboo had gotten bored of sitting at the kitchen table and painting. They’d put their boots and cloak on and urged Jack to do the same, impatiently waiting by the front door as Jack slipped on his shoes.

The walk to the market was much calmer than usual, the streets less crowded and everything generally more subdued. It was a pleasant change of pace for Jack, though the same couldn’t be said for Ranboo. Their anxiety surrounding people, namely strangers, must not have cared about the amount of people.

Soon enough, Dream’s stall was in view and Jack hurried his pace to get there faster.

“No Phil?” Dream asked in lieu of a greeting as the two of them walked up to their stall. Their eyes looked concerned, like seeing Ranboo and Jack on their own once again was the most worrisome thing Dream had ever had to think about.

“He’s out in the mines again,” Jack answered, shrugging. Ranboo’s tail unwound itself from Jack’s leg and they let it sway gently behind them. “Getting some gold for someone.”

Dream sighed and Ranboo took one step closer to Jack at the disappointed noise. “I swear, if he tried he could get a good job with good money that doesn’t have him leaving you guys alone all the time.”

The air around them suddenly felt uncomfortable at the reminder that, yes, Jack and Ranboo were getting less attention from Philza as he threw himself into work. The both of them had come to terms with it, in their own ways; money was unfortunately a necessity and Philza only knew one way to get it. They had no choice but to learn how to cope and they were fine with it, really. (Ranboo would cry, sometimes, burning themself after Philza hadn’t come home in time for dinner. Jack did what he could to help them understand, but they depended on Philza more, needed his presence more).

“But that’s not what you’re here for,” Dream said, most likely sensing the discomfort of his visitors. “How are you doing?”

It was a question aimed at the both of them, but Jack took charge and ranted on and on about everything that had happened since last seeing Dream, omitting all of the parts that weren’t too joyous. Ranboo would work up the courage to occasionally chime in with details Jack forgot that they deemed important. Dream listened intently, already used to the way Ranboo and Jack came together to communicate. They’d ask questions when necessary and, every time, Ranboo’s tail would go still so quickly that Jack couldn’t help but find it amusing.

At some point, Jack’s eyes began to wander from Dream and to the shop and items that they owned. He scanned over everything he could before a certain something caught his attention.

Sitting on a shelf, in front of leather gloves and matching boots, was a pair of goggles. The lenses were mismatched, one a vibrant red and the other a deep blue. The frame around the red lens was a beautiful gold and the frame of the blue lens was an equally beautiful iron. The leather that made up the rest of the goggles was dark, scuffs and cuts in the material obvious.

Jack gasped. He needed them. “Where’d you get those?”

Dream followed Jack’s gaze, confusion taking over their features as they saw just what had grabbed his attention. “A pirate. Came with a box full of hand-me-down gear. You like them?”

“Yes! It’s cool!”

Dream contemplated something for a second, eyes locked on the goggles Jack was so fond of. “Then you can have them.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Jack grinned and he had to stop himself from bouncing on the tip of his feet. He’d never wanted anything more than he wanted these damned goggles. And he was getting them! He was getting them!

Dream’s eyes squinted, a smile of their own taking shape under their mask. They took the goggles off their spot on the shelf and then the goggles were in Jack’s own hands.

For a few moments, Jack simply stared and held the goggles in wonder. Ranboo peered at the goggles from their spot next to Jack, just slightly reflected in red and blue glass. They gently tapped at the red lens with a clawed finger.

“We match,” Ranboo muttered, pointing at their own red eye.

Oh Gods, they matched now.

Jack was putting on the goggles before he could really process that he did it, the world suddenly bathed in conflicting reds and blues. The goggles fit just right, snug and nice on his face without even having to adjust the strap of it. It was like fate. Jack was meant to find these goggles, he was sure of it.

Ranboo was smiling, small and barely noticeable yet so wonderful.

“Looking stylish, Jack,” Dream complimented.

“Thank you,” Jack said, finding himself giggling as he spoke. He pushed the goggles up to rest on his head and the world was back to normal, less vibrant but much less confusing. “I’ll treasure these forever.”

“I don’t doubt it. So, is there anything else you guys want?”

Ranboo shook their head and Jack took a second to look over whatever else Dream had. Nothing else caught his attention, not catching his attention in the same way the goggles did. “Nope, we’re good.”

“Well, I guess this is where we say goodbye?”

Ranboo’s tail curled back around Jack’s leg and their grip on his hand tightened, most likely preparing to go back into the swarm of people moving behind them.

“I guess so.”

“Be safe, okay?”

Ranboo nodded as Jack echoed back an “okay.”

“See you guys later.”

“See ya later, Dream!” Jack said at the same time as Ranboo said their own little goodbye, waving with a toothy grin.

Jack led Ranboo back safely and they arrived to an empty house, Philza’s cloak and hat absent from their designated resting places.

Chapter Text

Ranboo woke up abruptly to a ray of sunlight hitting them directly in the eyes. They groaned and turned their head into their pillow, running away from the light that woke them up. Bones tired and head still full of fog, Ranboo remained safely tucked in bed and far away from the slight chill of the house.

It was early, Ranboo noted, much earlier than they’d usually be up. The sun was just beginning to rise and the birds were just beginning to sing their songs. They stared out the window for a while, tiredly watching as the sky fully woke up and bathed the world in color. Coming from downstairs was the barely noticeable sound of cupboards opening and closing.

They stayed like that for a while, letting themself stay in that special brand of morning calm. Last night had been devoid of any nightmares or dreams, a blissfully blank few hours of sleep that made them much more lethargic than they might’ve been usually. It made their bed much harder to move from.

A crash from downstairs made them startle, jolting up with a racing heart. So no more resting. Ranboo grumbled to themself, complaining about something or other as they grabbed Twitch from her perch next to their pillow and slipped out of bed. They took one last look out their window before opening the door to their room and trudging downstairs.

The house was just barely too cold to be comfortable. Ranboo shivered. Phil must not have turned the fireplace on yet. They held Twitch up to their chest and wished they’d brought a jacket with them as they went down the stairs as carefully as they could.

Ranboo made their way to the kitchen, excited to see Phil since he hadn’t exactly made it home before they went to bed. When they made the small journey, they froze in the doorway. The first thing their eyes took in was the distinct lack of Phil in the kitchen.

Phil missed dinner (that was a thing he was doing more often than not), but he never missed breakfast. Never. Every morning would have Phil in the kitchen, smiling whenever Ranboo walked in, tired and barely able to keep their eyes open. He wasn’t there, though. Instead of Phil and his big, big wings fussing over the stove, it was Jack with measuring cups and a recipe book.

Jack had his back turned to Ranboo as he measured out flour and sugar on the counter, mumbling something about it under his breath. He was diligently working on it, constantly looking back to the book next to him most likely as reference.

Ranboo tried to be hopeful, they really did. Maybe Phil was doing something in his office or room and asked Jack to get started on cooking for him. It was a possibility; Jack had been getting more experienced in the kitchen and Phil had tasted his food before. If he had enough faith in Jack’s skills, it wouldn’t be a stretch that he’d pass off the work. Or maybe he could just be somewhere else in the house and he’d be there eventually. That was believable enough for Ranboo to not immediately cry like a baby.

“Jack?” Ranboo asked, trying their best to be as quiet and unobtrusive as possible. If Jack didn’t hear them, he wouldn’t be able to tell them that Phil was still out and gone.

Jack hummed a high pitched noise, startled, and nearly dropped the measuring cups in his hands. He turned around rather quickly, goggles hanging around his neck and a strained grin on his face. “Ranboo! Hey! Did you sleep well? You’re up earlier than usual.” Jack laughed nervously and his tone of voice screamed distraction.

“I, um. The sun was bright. Really bright.” Ranboo took a seat at the kitchen island, clutching Twitch in their hands like she would fly away if they didn’t. It was looking more and more like Phil’s absence wasn’t temporary. They couldn’t trick themself for much longer, they knew that, but they could try.

“Y’see, this is why I keep telling you to ask for curtains,” Jack said, a familiar and caring yet scolding tone to his voice. His smile turned a bit more genuine and a little less like he was attempting to distract Ranboo from the very obvious absence. “Blinds can only do so much.”

Childishly, stupidly, Ranboo found themself tearing up. Phil wasn’t home and he was barely ever home anymore. It wasn’t pure abandonment, but it felt like it all the same. No longer was Ranboo worth spending time with or worth focusing on.

It didn’t make sense, it couldn’t make sense. Things were good and happy and nice and finally falling into place and apparently that wasn’t good enough for Phil. They weren’t good enough, Jack wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t fair, not at all. He gave them hope and love and then he was gone, off to focus on things he deemed better than the children he’d taken in.

“Where’s Phil?” Ranboo’s voice cracked and they were surprised that they didn’t start bawling then and there, still managing to keep themself composed enough.

Jack’s face fell and any attempt to maintain the calm was broken. He looked away from Ranboo, staring at the floor more upset than Ranboo had ever seen him. “I don’t know. He didn’t come back this morning and I- I looked for him and he was nowhere and now, and now. It’s- I just don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Ranboo bit their lip and dug their claws into Twitch, poor little Twitch whose plush wings reminded them too much of real wings that weren’t there. Their eyes were beginning to burn and the skin surrounding them were beginning to itch so they shut their eyes. Crying wouldn’t help; it’d hurt and then their face and head and heart would hurt. They wanted to, though, they wanted to break down so bad.

Jack cleared his throat and tried to compose himself, ultimately failing as his eyebrows remained drawn together and his smile wobbly. “Uh, I’m trying to make us crepes. Thought it’d take your mind off of, well, y’know.”

Despite their best efforts, Ranboo cried, just a little bit. A few painful tears ran down their face and Jack was hurrying to their side, using his sleeves to wipe away the tears. Jack could barely work the stove and he had to because Phil was working. Jack had to distract Ranboo, had to feed them, had to care for them in place of Phil, and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair for Ranboo and it wasn’t fair for Jack and why did things have to be the way they were?

Surely it didn’t need to be like this, there could be other ways to get money, there had to be. This couldn’t be what Ranboo and Jack had to deal with; they’d already been trying so hard to keep everything okay, but it was all feeling more and more wrong. The house was missing part of its warmth and energy, losing more of its charm as Phil’s kind blue eyes and familiar green clothes became scarce.

Their tears multiplied the more their brain worked.

“Oh Ranboo,” Jack began, gentle and calm. “It’ll be okay, I swear. It’s a bit rough right now, I know, but we’ll get through it, we’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t want to!” Ranboo cried. This new normal wasn’t what they wanted. It shouldn’t be what they had to settle for; they shouldn’t need to get used to the familiar little ache in their heart.

Jack took in a shaky breath. “I don’t want to, either,” he admitted, broken. “But we have to. It’s his job, yeah? And to make sure we still have food he has to work. You know this, I know this, we know this.”

Ranboo leaned in towards Jack and he understood the message, holding them tight against him. “Not fair,” they mumbled into his chest.

“I know,” Jack replied instantly, pressing the words into their hair.

The two of them stayed like that for a while, sharing in their mutual upset over their current circumstance. While Ranboo was obvious about how he felt about it, Jack was usually more reserved. Always too good to them, Jack tried to stay strong for Ranboo’s sake. Now, though, he shook with all of the upset of someone finally letting go.

When Jack finally pulled away minutes later, his eyes were red rimmed and puffy. He was smiling despite it, small and reassuring. He ruffled Ranboo’s hair and quietly giggled when his hand was quickly swatted away. “We’re going to get through this, alright?”

Ranboo didn’t quite believe him, but they nodded anyway.

It was mid-afternoon when Phil came back home. Ranboo and Jack were tucked upstairs in Jack’s room, a picture book spread out between them. The second they heard the door open, Ranboo was out the room and dashing downstairs with Jack following behind them.

Phil was in the foyer, taking off his cloak and hat and getting himself adjusted to being home again. Ranboo let out a delighted chirp, happy and ecstatic at the sight of him after a whole day. Phil turned to them and his wings puffed up as he trilled back.

He was smiling, apologetic and loving and everything good. Ranboo couldn’t stop themself from running to Phil and hugging him as tight as they could. “It’s nice to see you too,” Phil chuckled and then he was hugging them just as fiercely. Barely even a second later, Jack was being pulled into the hug with a startled laugh.

Ranboo felt like they could finally breathe properly with all of their family in arms reach. It was a level of happiness that made their bones feel like jelly, melting into the sturdy arms of Phil and the comforting hold of Jack. Their tail moved rapidly and flit about, unable to decide where it should land. It went from swaying behind them or latching onto Phil or Jack.

“We missed you,” Jack muttered and Ranboo could hear the smile in his voice. They gave a noise of agreement, high-pitched and unabashedly ender. Oh, they missed him so much. So, so very much.

Phil hummed, low and comforting. “I’m sorry, I tried to make it back sooner. The customer kept adding demands and threatened to take away payment if I didn’t meet them. I’d already put so much time into the job that I couldn’t pull away at that point.”

Ranboo didn’t quite understand that, not at all, but they didn’t quite mind. It didn’t matter now that Phil was back and present and right next to them. They tried to move in even closer to Phil, pressing their face into the soft fabric of his shirt.

“You need to have some more respect for yourself, Philza,” Jack stated in that smart little way of his that fascinated Ranboo.

Phil laughed and ruffled the little bit of hair on Jack’s head, his head bumping against the goggles secure on Jack’s head. “I respect myself plenty, it’s just that some others don’t.”

“Then they don’t deserve to hire you, simple.”

“I wish it was,” Phil said. “So, did you guys do anything while I was out?”

“Well, yesterday we weeded the garden and planted some new flowers.”

“Daisies!” Ranboo chimed in, smiling even more just because they could remember something so small.

“So now we’ve got some daisies and the garden is much prettier. For dinner I managed to make steak with potatoes because Ranboo really wanted potatoes.” Ranboo nodded in confirmation and Phil’s chest moved in a silent laugh. “This morning we made crepes and after that we basically spent all day reading. So nothing too interesting, but we still had fun.”

Phil pulled away slightly from both Ranboo and Phil and he fixed the two of them with a grin. “I’m glad you guys aren’t bored out of your mind when I’m working.”

“We’re very resourceful.”

Ranboo nodded again and hummed. “Mhm!”

“The day I can’t find a way to entertain us is the day the world ends,” Jack said with complete seriousness, even if he was smiling all wide and happy.

Ranboo and Jack were released from Phil’s hold. At the loss of contact, Ranboo’s ears fell and angled towards the floor. After too many hours without him, the hug felt far too short and they wished it could last a million times longer. They could tell that Jack was in the same boat as he shifted a little closer to Ranboo and put his hand on their shoulder, a simple little act to seek contact.

“The world is going to be sticking around for a while,”

Jack shrugged. “Then we’ll be entertained ‘til the end of time. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Ranboo parroted, delighting in the way Jack’s hand lightly tightened on their shoulder as he giggled.

“How do we feel about an early dinner?” Phil asked as a quick change of subject. “I’m starving and in the mood for some soup.”

“Actually,” Jack began, voice stilted and awkward. He reached up to the goggles sitting snug on his head, readjusting them in a movement that could be seen as nervous. “I need to talk to you about something. It’s rather important, yeah?”

Phil looked at him with an eyebrow arched, a sort of confused Ranboo has yet to ever see on his face. “Yeah, of course. Did anything happen?”

“No, no, not at all. I’ve just got some concerns,” Jack reassured in the least assuring way possible.

“What type of concerns?” Phil frowned and his wings rustled behind him.

Jack’s gaze quickly darted to Ranboo before focusing back on Phil. They shifted, ears twitching as they realized what was going to happen. “Maybe in, uh, private? Just you and me?”

“Sure, that works. Would the office be fine?” Phil remained confused about Jack’s intentions as he nodded at the request. He then turned briefly to Ranboo. “You’ll be okay on your own for a bit?”

Ranboo nodded and the rest of the conversation between Jack and Phil sounded a little too close to static for them to decipher the words. Soon, they were both gone and Ranboo was by themself. It didn’t take too much thinking for Ranboo to figure out what Jack wanted to talk to Phil about. There was really only one thing that could even be classified as a concern and Ranboo had no doubt that it was Phil’s absences.

Really, it was inevitable after today, Ranboo thought as they took a seat and prepared to wait. Phil being gone during the day was dismissable, unenjoyable yet easy enough to write off as typical working adult behavior. The issue began when Phil’s presence in the evenings became less and less dependable, when Jack had to teach himself how to start the fireplace. Today was the tipping point; gone since the morning prior to only come back with an excuse and an apology. Jack, ever so vocal, couldn’t have kept silent.

Ranboo wasn’t sure just what Jack would tell Phil. He could simply mention what it was like without Phil around, informing him that the emotional toll was becoming too much. He could also ask him to stop working, maybe bring up any one of the ideas Dream had mentioned for a different career. There was a lot that could be going on up there and Ranboo couldn’t decide if they were glad or not to be cast aside for the conversation.

Sure, they were emotional (maybe too emotional) and it could slow important conversations when they burst into tears, but this was something they should be included in, right? It wasn’t just a Phil and Jack issue, it affected them too. Maybe the effect it had on them wasn’t important enough for their voice to be necessary.

Ranboo huffed as their heart twisted. They were being paranoid and too worried over something that didn’t matter. But did it matter? Should they be upset? Should they not be? It was all so confusing and they wished they could feel the easy happiness of Phil coming home.

They picked at a thread on the chair they were sitting on, wanting to unravel it until the seams of the chair were nonexistent. Breaking the chair would be easy. It wasn’t a strong thing, the wood something soft that got chipped often and the fabric a weak little thing that gave way easily to Ranboo’s dull claws. They bit their lip, watching with rapt attention as a small hole formed as the thread continued to fall away.

A small shadow of a memory hit them and Ranboo instantly ripped their hand away. The memory had no substance, no words, no images, not a single defining trait, and yet Ranboo was struck with the strongest type of shame. They were breaking something, something that cost money, because they were just a little high-strung. So they were stupid, alright. Their eyes stung with the usual tell-tale sign of tears.

They bit their finger as a little punishment, letting their brain know this wasn’t something they did. Bad Ranboo, bad. Their fangs didn’t go deep enough to draw blood, only enough to make the slightest sting. If they could hide the hole, no one would notice and no one would say anything and Ranboo would not have to face any repercussions.

Hm.

It was taking a while, wasn’t it? Ranboo tapped their fingers together and wondered just how much time Jack needed to say what he needed to. Surely it shouldn’t have taken this long, they’d been sitting here for a while, haven’t they? They peered out the nearest window and the sun looked approximately the same. The sun could be lying to them, tricking them so they would think not that much time had passed. Their tail flicked unhappily.

What if something went wrong? What if Phil got upset that Jack brought anything up and decided that questioning his career choice was the final straw? Oh Gods, what would happen then? Nothing good, nothing good at all. What if Phil kicked Jack out? Could Ranboo even stomach living in this house without Jack there? He was about as necessary to the house as Phil was.

No, Ranboo was being unreasonable. Phil cared for Jack in the same way he cared for Ranboo, there was no way he’d even think of kicking Jack out. When Jack was injured, he hovered like crazy. Phil wouldn’t kick Jack out. He wouldn’t.

Ranboo balled their hands up into fists, released them, and did it again and again and again and again, syncing their breathing to the movement of their hands. What was taking so long?

Thankfully, Phil and Jack were coming back downstairs and Ranboo was no longer left to sit with their thoughts. Any sort of happiness at their waiting being cut short was gone the moment they caught sight of Jack’s face, all red and blotchy. Their stomach twisted as they realized he’d been crying. One look at Phil revealed a guilt ridden face and Ranboo’s mind scrambled to fit everything together, trying to figure out what exactly happened.

Jack naturally moved over to where Ranboo was and, not knowing how else to provide him comfort, they held his hand. “Did you get tired of waiting?” he asked, voice strained as he squeezed Ranboo’s hand.

Yes, actually, but Ranboo shook their head. They didn’t want to give Jack anything else to be too worried about. “I was fine.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” Jack said and he turned to look at Phil. Ranboo held onto Jack’s hand even tighter, not surprised when the force was echoed back to them.

“So, uh, dinner?” Phil suggested with too much hesitation and too much unease.

Jack huffed a laugh. “Great misdirection.”

“I wasn’t misdirecting anything.”

“Dinner would be. Good,” Ranboo mumbled. Phil smiled at them, the guilt mixing in with something nice and fond.

Jack tugged on Ranboo’s hand and got them to stand to their feet, letting out a startled ‘vwoop’ at the change. He grinned at their reaction and Ranboo mirrored it right back at him, glad to have somehow made his face lose some of its sadness. “We can help in the kitchen, I’m an expert with a knife.”

Phil snorted. “I am not letting you anywhere near a knife.”

“But he knows how to use a knife,” Ranboo argued playfully. They were trying their best to go off of the change in energy, wanting to make sure the people that meant the most to them kept this little bit of happy after a most likely tough conversation.

“You’re going to lose a pinky.”

“I haven’t lost one yet!”

“Oh my Gods!”

Ranboo giggled and followed Phil into the kitchen, Jack’s hand sitting reassuringly in theirs. They hoped things would be okay.

Chapter Text

Philza was a liar. It may have sounded harsh, but it was true; he was a liar.

After Jack had talked to him, he stayed home for two days. Jack was ecstatic for those days and he knew Ranboo was too. Philza helped them with garden work and taught Jack how to use the training crossbow and he read books upon books to Ranboo. It was his way of apologizing, Jack figured, using actions that resonated with them instead of grand words that held no true weight.

The first night, Philza stayed up with Jack after putting Ranboo to bed. They talked some more about what exactly Philza could do to help and to amend things. Jack recommended everything he could think of, offering up the most random assortment of jobs he knew were open around the Capital; anything to keep Philza from his stupid freelancing bullshit.

The second night, Jack woke up to Philza putting on his coat and tying up his boots. There was no doubt in Jack’s mind about what he was up to and it made him sick. Sick and tired and incurably upset. How dare he? After everything he’d learned and after everything Jack had told him, Philza was still ready to go and throw himself back into work. In the middle of the night, nonetheless.

“Seriously?” Jack asked as he watched Philza flit about the foyer. His voice was raspy, a mix of exhaustion and oncoming tears making himself much less composed then he would’ve liked to be. Bitterly, he reminded himself that he wouldn’t need to keep composed if Philza would just listen.

Philza turned to Jack, wings drooping and mouth twisting into a frown. He looked guilty and apologetic, things that didn’t matter at all since he was still preparing to leave. “I have to, Jack,” he muttered, voice nearly a whisper in the dark of the house. “It’s hard to understand, I know, but I really do need to.”

“You said you’d change things.”

“And I will. Right now, there are things I need to take care of.”

“You’re supposed to take care of us,” Jack spat, angry and unanchored and useless.

Philza looked away from Jack, instead staring at the front door with his face all troubled. Coward. He couldn’t even look Jack in the eyes.

“I’ll be back before breakfast,” Philza lied. Again. He wouldn’t be back and Jack knew it. How could Jack trust him when all he’d done was lie? Philza was supposed to be there for them and he wasn’t.

Please don’t go, Jack wanted to say. How could you keep doing this to us? After everything we’ve been through? This isn’t fair.

He kept quiet instead, watching as Philza finished getting ready to leave. His stomach turned and he had the thought that he should be doing something, anything, to get Philza to stay and to change and to keep his unsaid promises. But hadn’t Jack already done what he could? He’d tried his best to get Philza to understand how hard it was to sit and wait for someone who wouldn’t come home, how difficult it was to see Ranboo’s face fall when they realized they wouldn’t be seeing Philza that night. If Philza didn’t stop now, would he ever?

“It’s just this week, Jack,” Philza pleaded as if that would do anything. “Then I’m done. I swear.”

Jack stuck to his silence. Even if he had any words to say, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to say them without breaking down into tears.

Before he left, Philza pulled Jack into a hug that he couldn’t help but reciprocate, smaller arms wrapping around Philza. He tried to put how much he needed Philza to stay into that one hug, channeling all his emotions into that tight embrace.

In the morning, Philza was there. He was cooking with Ranboo in one arm, moving about the kitchen like this morning didn’t even happen. Jack’s emotions warred inside him, trying to figure out whether he should be bitter or hopeful. Philza was here, just like he said. Even so, he still left. He would keep leaving, wouldn’t he? One breakfast didn’t mean anything, did it?

Jack felt impossibly small as he saw Ranboo grin happily at Philza, like the man had single handedly stopped the sky from falling. It would’ve hurt less if Jack didn’t know he felt the same exact way Ranboo did. (There would never come a time that Jack didn’t idolize Phil in a way; he took him in, despite all odds, and treated him like no one else had. No part of Jack could forget that, no matter how mad he got.)

“Jack!” Ranboo exclaimed. “Morning!”

Philza turned to look at him and he smiled, very soft and very apologetic. “Good morning, Jack.”

“Good morning,” Jack replied, happiness crawling into his voice even if he didn’t want it to. He meant to be very strict, so Philza understood that things needed to be different, but it was hard when Philza was there and smiling. “What’s for breakfast?”

Philza gestured Jack closer with a jerky nod of his head and Jack listened without any convincing. “We’re making pancakes.”

“With blueberries,” Ranboo added happily. The tip of their tail tapped happily against Philza’s arm, the rest curled around his arm in a vice like grip. The sight made it even harder to be mad. Ranboo was so happy; not sharing that happiness would be an offense of the highest order.

“Why blueberries?” Jack asked. He stood by Philza, on the side devoid of any little endermen and looked at the pan, currently cooking a rather big pancake. Just like with all of Philza’s cooking, it looked absolutely perfect. Jack’s stomach grumbled.

Ranboo giggled, hiding their face in Philza’s hair as he responded. “We had some leftover and I thought we should use them before they go bad.”

Jack nodded absentmindedly, watching with unabashed joy and fondness as he saw Philza finish cooking while Ranboo did their very best to help while being held. It was so easy for Jack to forget that he’d caught Philza sneaking out to leave them again.

Ranboo had been gradually getting more and more open as time went on, but all those efforts seemed to double under Philza’s fond gaze. They spoke like they were made to, their usual hesitance gone as Philza nodded along to their rambling. They would turn to Jack with a smile and get him to join in and then for a while, it felt like nothing was wrong.

The rest of the morning passed peacefully, Ranboo attached to Philza like a fungus and Philza just as he always was. Jack was the only one who felt any different, a sour undercurrent to his lifted mood. He was happy to know that Philza hadn’t lied, but it was mixed with the knowledge that Ranboo didn’t know that he left; for all they knew, he’d stayed and hadn’t even thought of leaving them.

Eventually, Ranboo was tired enough to take a nap, curling up happily next to Jack on the couch. Their ears twitched with every little snore and he couldn’t stop the swirl of affection crawling up his throat.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Philza said when Ranboo was definitely lost to the land of dreams. He was on Jack’s other side, a comforting block of warmth as the sun just began to set. “When I said I had to, I meant it. Just one more week and then I’m done. I’ll be around.”

“Why?”

“Hm?”

“Why do you need to? And no excuses, I want to understand.” Jack tried his best to sound serious, serious in the way Sam often was when he was still around the guard. He needed Philza to get it, really get it, and maybe the only way to do that was to be like an adult. “It hurts, Philza. Whenever you leave without telling us, it hurts.”

Phil breathed in deep. He looked grim, like a man preparing himself for war. It was a look Jack had seen on a lot of the guards’ faces before they left for patrol. It shouldn’t be on Philza’s face, Jack thought with a frown. The second he frowned, Philza breathed out.

“The man that currently employs me is dangerous,” Philza explained, slowly. He was uncomfortable with sharing this, that much was obvious. “I didn’t know when I took this job, but I know now and I can’t leave until I’m done. When I’m done, I’ll be free to go.” He sighed and Jack repressed the urge to hide his face away. “Just one more week, then I’m free.”

Jack’s face creased into something terribly sad as he felt so close to crying. He shouldn’t be so close to crying, not over just a conversation, but Jack cared so much and it hurt and he wanted everything to be fine.

“How can I make it up to you?” Philza asked, taking Jack’s hand in his own. With Ranboo, Jack was used to being the one with the bigger hand, the one offering comfort. To have that reversed… Jack suddenly felt his youth like a physical thing. “You didn’t deserve all that I put you through, and if I can do anything to fix it, I will.”

“Like I’ve told you before,” Jack said, recalling the conversation they had the day Philza missed breakfast. “Just stay. Please.” His voice cracked and tears were filling his eyes, blurring his vision and making it hard to feel stable.

“I will, Jack.” Philza hugged him like he was the only thing in the world and, for a moment, Jack fully believed it. “I promise I will.”

Jack didn’t hesitate to nuzzle into Philza’s embrace, fitting himself near perfect in the space Philza’s arms made for him.

The following week went along just as Philza had promised. Morning was spent in the kitchen for breakfast and he’d try to cook something with variety, even though Ranboo asked for pancakes more often than not.

After breakfast, there were a handful of things they could be doing. Hanging around the backyard was a big one; Ranboo was fond of the chairs back there and Jack was persistent that he learnt the crossbow as soon as possible. Philza, a weak man when it came to him and Ranboo, couldn’t help but listen to their demands. On days they weren’t in the backyard, they were either lounging somewhere inside or out and about in the Capital.

Of the seven days, only one was spent in the Capital and that was to dutifully visit Dream. Other than that, Ranboo wasn’t too eager to spend their well-valued Philza time in the bustling city. Jack found himself much in the same boat, not too eager to waste any free time to Philza talking with someone he’d worked for before.

After their morning escapades, lunch would bring them back to the kitchen and Philza was much more amenable to them helping with lunch than he was breakfast. It was mostly him and Jack making lunch, Ranboo much more happy to sit at the kitchen table and draw or write in their little books.

When lunch was said and done, they wasted away the afternoon in the sitting room. Philza would read, sometimes aloud and sometimes to himself, and the two children would find themselves curled together right next to him. Ranboo was often napping with Twitch in hand, still young enough to fall asleep at every opportunity. Jack tried not to follow suit, but he often found himself nodding off as well in the fading light of the day.

One afternoon, though, had found Hannah Rose at their door, completing another routine check on Jack. The surprise on her face when Philza opened the door made Jack and Ranboo giggle, both hidden just beyond the entryway.

“Philza Minecraft,” she said stiffly, squaring her shoulders even more than usual. “You’re here.”

“Miss Hannah Rose,” Philza greeted with a nod. Jack could easily imagine his smile just from the tone of his voice; it sounded like the same smile he gave to Dream whenever he was teasing them. “Nice to see you again.”

She nodded once, then twice. “Same to you. Where’re Jack and Ranboo? I heard them giggling.”

Philza laughed at that and Ranboo once again giggled in their spot beside Jack. “They’re off hiding somewhere. Ran off the second you knocked.”

Hannah Rose clicked her tongue though she was smiling, fond in a way she only got with Jack and Ranboo around. (Jack was sure it was because they were young and Hannah Rose had a soft spot for children; he was sure he was right.) “Rascals,” she said, “the both of them.”

Jack moved from his hiding place and walked up to the door, subtly nudging Philza out of the way so he could shake Hannah Rose’s hand, as per usual. “Hi Hannah Rose.”

“Hello to you, Jack.” She did not kneel as she usually did and Jack felt that it was because of Philza’s presence. “Are things going well?”

“Very," Jack chirped with as much honesty as he could fit into his tone.

This check-up was just as fun as the others, maybe even more with Philza there. He’d made them all some snacks and Ranboo trilled with a happy wag of their tail. Hannah Rose seemed to enjoy the change of pace as well; she was relaxed in her seat, not as burdened by her armour as she always was.

When she eventually left, taking with her some food that Philza insisted she had, Philza was up and about and ready to cook dinner: the final part of their new routine. This one meal was the only one Jack and Ranboo didn’t crowd into the kitchen, instead staying in the sitting room and entertaining themselves as they waited for dinner.

This routine lasted the entire week and continued even when the week was done. To be sure that Philza kept his promise, Jack stayed and waited on the couch until the sun rose. In all those hours, Philza did not end up leaving and Jack felt an incredible sense of relief. Things would be normal and Philza would be more dependable.

The days went along happily and peacefully, even bringing with them more trips to the Capital. Hannah Rose and Dream were both overjoyed at the change as well, both congratulating Philza when they thought Jack and Ranboo couldn’t hear.

Things were beginning to get quite perfect, Philza even started an apprenticeship with a seamstress he knew. “She was eager to finally have someone who could help,” Philza told them after he’d gotten the position. “Though, I think she’ll lose it with my technique.”

The hours the seamstress gave Phil were good and consistent, like Jack had desired. He was also not working for long, as the seamstress seemed very sympathetic to his plight of raising two kids on his own.

It felt like things were going up and up, not looking like they’d go down anytime soon.

Well, until one unfortunate Tuesday morning where Jack had woken (a tired Ranboo trailing behind him) to find Philza in a bit of a panicked state.

Philza moved about urgently, like time was running out. His wings were tucked in tight and his face was drawn in anxiety. Jack couldn’t help but feel anxious in return, something that Ranboo was definitely feeling as well; their tail wound itself tightly around Jack’s leg as they watched blankly as Philza moved about the house.

“Pack your things,” Philza said, though it came out more as a command than just simple words. He barely spared them a glance before adding another thinly-veiled command. “Kids, your things. Pack them, now.”

It took no more than a second for Ranboo to dash off to their room, no doubt that they were off following Philza’s instructions. Jack did not follow them, more confused than anything; he wanted answers before he listened.

“What’s going on?” Jack asked, watching as Philza shoved the most important things into a pack. “Why do we need to pack?”

“I- Later.”

“We haven’t been here for that long. Please explain, then I’ll go

Philza adjusted his hat, pulling it back while his face looked like he’d just eaten a particularly sour lemon. If Jack hadn’t been so very insistent on getting answers before, he was sure he wouldn’t have even entertained answering now. “My past employer wasn’t so happy about me quitting and, well, what can I say? Reeves is a powerful man.”

Jack mouthed the names ‘Reeves,’ taking in the new information with a slowly growing horror as he realized what Philza was implying. “He wants you dead.”

“Yes, he does. Now, pack?”

Jack nodded and listened this time, rushing off to follow Ranboo to his own room. There was a pack hidden below his mattress that he wasted no time grabbing, dashing about and gathering what he needed.

He knew how these things went; if someone wanted a man dead, they would go after anyone next to him. That put himself and Ranboo on the line, now in much more danger than they would’ve been otherwise. For a second, Jack felt anger and betrayal in equal parts. Philza did this, he put them in danger. He prioritized work and it was now biting him (and Ranboo and Jack) in the ass.

Those thoughts were gone as soon as they came, lost to the rational thinking the guard had hammered into his head since he could first learn to walk. Philza wasn’t aware doing odds and ends for money would put him in danger; he didn’t know he was in danger until it was too late. Could Jack fault him for that? (Maybe, maybe he could.)

The things Jack owned and deemed important weren’t much. It was mostly clothes that ended up in his pack, alongside a few sentimental items. His crossbow was coming with him, obviously, but not in the pack. If he needed to use it, he would. He wouldn’t be weak; the guard had taught him that as well.

Right as Jack was closing his pack, Ranboo was all but sliding into his room, cloak thrown around their shoulders and Twitch held tightly in their hand. Their own pack was full, near to bursting, and Jack didn’t have the heart to mention the impracticality of it. Of anyone, Jack thought, Ranboo deserved to keep most of this life before they had to run off into a new one.

“Ready?” Jack asked as he settled his goggles carefully on his forehead. Ranboo nodded and their face was set into a carefully serious expression, one that was so clearly a mask for the fear behind it. “Then let’s go, Philza is probably done too.”

Ranboo stuck out their hand and, without a word needed, Jack took the small little limb into his own, leading them down the stairs and to where Philza was. He was now holding an extra pack and a few of the shelves looked dreadfully dull.

“We’re done,” Jack announced and beside him, Ranboo nodded their agreement. Their tail had once again curled around Jack’s leg. It was a call for comfort, Jack recognized. It was a call that could not yet be answered.

Philza smiled, though it was strained, but it eased something in Ranboo; their grip on Jack’s hand became a tad more loose, less likely to leave claw marks in his skin. “Good, that’s good. We need to head to Dream’s- they- I had Hannah Rose send a note forward for them to arrange us horses.” With the important talk out of the way, Philza kneeled and opened his arms. Soon enough, two smaller bodies crashed into him with ferocity and two sets of arms wrapped around him. “I’m sorry, we’ve barely just gotten used to the house.”

“We needed a change of scenery,” Jack sniffed. “The Capital was getting boring.”

Ranboo nodded and their ears whacked against Jack. “Very boring,” they said, though it was more an echo than an original thought. They were young, but they understood as well as Jack did that Philza couldn’t give in to guilt. At least not now. Right now, they needed someone who could lead two children somewhere new and somewhere safer.

“We’ll be fine,” Philza reassured, to both himself and the two clinging to him. “We’ll be just fine.”