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The day the news broke, Ranboo felt numb. There... there was no way this was happening. There was no way Sam just told them that Tommy had died. Tubbo had laughed it off rather hysterically, denying the words that came from the warden were true. He could see the realization setting in, though. This was different from seeing the remnants of Logsteadsire and the tower of wood and dirt that reached up to the clouds. This was confirmation from the man who had seen it all, who had known what was happening but didn’t stop it .
Ranboo had to pull the hybrid boy away from the prison because despite denying the fact that his best friend was gone he still tried to go in, still wouldn’t leave the prison’s entrance without Ranboo’s coaxing. He could see Tubbo’s ears pinned down to the side of his head as they made the trip back to Snowchester, Tubbo rambling along the way to fill the silence.
“I don’t believe it. Tommy did this last time too, but he came back.“
“Yeah, There’s no way he’s dead.” The words were heavy in his mouth as he spoke, lying to his husband as a way of consoling him, but if Tubbo noticed he didn’t comment on it. Just nodded along to his words as if they were fact.
“He’s gonna come back. I know it.”
It wasn’t until the next night that Ranboo really got to process the fact Tommy was gone. He had spent the day before watching over Tubbo in Snowchester, not entirely sure how he was going to react when it finally set in. Would he lash out? Break down? He didn't know. He knew the nightmares Tubbo had faced since Tommy’s ‘death’ in Exile, made only worse by the final day of the Disc War. Tubbo told him he had been ready to die in his best friend's place that day. He had accepted he was going to die to protect Tommy. And now, Tubbo hadn’t been able to do anything to save him, hadn’t even known that Tommy was actually in danger.
But the day after getting the news, Tubbo did nothing but work on Snowchester, masking his sorrow with false cheerfulness, acting as if nothing had happened. He didn’t know if that was better or worse. The British boy had all but forced him to go back home and get rest himself. Honestly, Ranboo was worried Tubbo would do something dangerous or impulsive without him there, but he reluctantly agreed, giving him space and promising to come back the next day to check on him, and Michael too of course. Even so, though he promised to get some rest, Ranboo couldn’t sleep.
He found himself wandering aimlessly for a while, trudging through the heavy snowfall in their front yard; but he couldn't just sit here feeling sorry for himself, and that was how he found himself past the SMP spawn in the flower forest close to Kinoko Kingdom. It was quieter there, a different kind of quiet somehow than the snowy tundra he usually lived in. And there was no chance of anyone like Techno or Phil overhearing his thoughts he let slip out loud. The new kingdom wasn’t fully formed yet, the shells of buildings starting to pop up around the uninhabited land, hauntingly beautiful in a way. The longer he looked though, the more of an anxious pit formed in his stomach. This was just another county, another government.
History was doomed to repeat itself. Countries and governments didn’t last long here. He knew of the Revolution and of how L’manburg came to be this beacon of freedom, but when Ranboo arrived all he saw was war torn land. The country had been scarred by tnt, but they still rebuilt over the crater. Even through the chaos and loss, Tommy never lost hope. It was what made the British boy so interesting to him. Made him get to want to know him better.
His friendship with Tommy was... complicated. If Tommy had actually liked him, the blonde made sure not to show it. He quite actively made it known that he hated him most of the time but…
“He was my first friend.” Ranboo’s words echoed on the breeze as he stopped walking, letting them sink in. Even if their first interaction had been awkward and clumsy and loud, Tommy was one of the first people that had ever shown him a bit of kindness in the SMP. After everything went wrong, Tommy had kept him safe and really had no reason to do so. There was evidence that he had been there too when George’s house went up in flames. He still remembered the smell of burning wood and mushrooms, the flames licking out of the building and across the grass littered with flowers.
Oh. Right. Flowers.
He had come all this way and found himself frozen in thought, letting his gaze dance over the bursts of color that surrounded him. He hadn’t even realized the handful of daisies he had gathered until now, the fragile flowers and the feeling of dirt under his nails breaking his train of thought. It was completely dark now, and he could hear the sounds of mobs both passive and hostile moving their way through the birch trees. Either on purpose or by sole luck, they kept their distance from him, never getting close enough to see, which Ranboo was more than grateful for. He didn’t want to deal with mobs now.
He knew he should be heading back home soon; he was tired. Instead of heading home though, he made his way out of the forest and into the Greater SMP, his feet guiding him before he really had a plan of where he was going. Restlessness kept him from letting him sleep. He needed time alone to let himself… grieve? Could he even call it that now? The half enderman had learned not to cry a long time ago, to control his emotions in the only way he knew how- keep them buried away and force them down. If they couldn’t bubble up to the surface then he couldn’t be hurt by them. Why should he have been grieving anyways? This wasn’t about him, this was about Tommy, who had not been able to have a moment of peace. This was about Tubbo, who had lost a true friend. There were others that deserved to grieve, not him.
His tail flicked in irritation as he crouched down low, digging his hands into the earth to scoop up the obnoxiously bright red tulip at the edge of the forest, gingerly tucking it into his inventory with the other flowers before continuing on.
“So much for protecting us.” Protecting them, the children that lived here. Some of the ‘adults’ of the server had been preaching this lately and it wasn’t fair. Where was this before? Before Ranboo had arrived, before the 16th, during the L’manburg Revolution. Tubbo and Tommy had been protecting themselves long before all of this. So why be set on making false promises now? With his hands full of flowers, he didn’t even realize the tears starting to fall until they burned his skin, making him flinch back against the pain he couldn’t get away from.
“Ah- haha...” He dropped the flowers he had, dirty hands trying to wipe away the tears and get the burn to stop. How unfair. All of this was so unfair. But wasn’t that just life anymore? The bitter laugh died in his throat as he forced himself to stop crying. He couldn’t even cry for Tommy. Yet another unfair situation he had been dealt. None of this should have been happening in the first place. It could have been avoided if just one person had done something. Puffy or... or Sam, one of the people who had promised to protect others, to protect Tommy . Had he even thought about the fact that Dream had already threatened to kill in the first place? He would have killed Tubbo if it wasn’t for the fact Punz and the rest of the SMP citizens had come storming through the portal.
He found himself at Tommy’s house before he could continue the thought. There were small gifts littered around the front of the home built into the hill, notes and baked goods and little trinkets that Tommy would never get. In a few days he was sure they’d be gone, picked up by the same people who left them or stolen just like anything that was left in the open for too long in this city. For a moment all he could do was stare, emotions muddling his thoughts. He didn’t know what to do, what he could do. He wanted to cry, to yell, to let out everything he was holding in. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. Of course he couldn’t. He would just hurt himself if he did, make the already visible scars on his face grow deeper. It was selfish of him to cry anyways. He could try to find closure, but it wasn’t his place to find that. All he could do now was just say goodbye, do the same thing everyone was doing. Make his memorial and say goodbye.
Ranboo dug his hand into the soil, turning up fresh dirt and planting the red and white flowers wherever he could until his hands cramped. It was pointless; it was all pointless and Ranboo knew that. But, he had to do this. At least his memorial, his gift to Tommy, wasn't performative. He had a debt to repay, not that he could now. But he could at least do this small act of kindness. He could celebrate him. Celebrating someone's life was good. To think back fondly and be happy that someone was in your life, that was good. But people weren’t celebrating his life, they were just celebrating his death. Celebrating the fact he wasn't here anymore. Celebrating that they didn’t have to deal with him anymore. Because so many people saw him as trouble, as a problem. They didn’t see a kid, traumatized from war, loss and exile. He was a kid that shouldn't have had to go through any of this. No one tried to protect him. It was easier to pretend they weren’t a bunch of scared kids when it was convenient. Treat them like adults when so they could have someone to pin the blame on.
Ranboo stood after the final flower was placed and stood back on the path taking a look over his work. Just another memorial added to all the others that were there, and to the ones that would be added in the following days. Who knew if it would be there for long; Tommy’s stuff usually never went untouched. His buildings, L’manburg, even in exile, he had lost what he made. But this would stay for a little bit, and that's all that could be asked for. Even if all of it disappeared, Tommy’s influence on the SMP would never be forgotten. There was no way it could be destroyed or tampered with. Tommy had left a lasting impression on every part of the land whether he knew it or not.
As the half enderman looked over the land, he could see the start of red rising over the horizon signaling the coming of the next day. Had he really been out all night? His mind was still a jumble of emotion and thoughts keeping him awake, but he knew he had to sleep at some point. For Tubbo. In a way, looking out for Tubbo was just a fraction of a way to repay his debt to Tommy. If that’s the one thing he could do for Tommy that wasn’t just another memorial from someone then that's what he would do. He hesitated for a moment, pulling out his inventory to make sure he didn’t have any flowers left, and almost froze seeing the splash of pale purple sitting there. Allium . He had picked up a single allium without even knowing.
“Of course I did, of course.” His words were choked as he tried to speak, finding it harder to stop the emotions that were bubbling to the surface. He plucked the flower from his inventory, rolling the stem gently between his fingers before finally holding it out to the empty landscape before him.
“Remember this? The first type of flower I gave you, and you immediately insulted me.” He spoke to the empty wind as if the boy was there, as if he would just... show up. But no one was around, no one could hear him.
“And then I helped you with what led to your demise. So here, Tommy, have a flower.” When he threw the flower down he could feel the stinging on his cheeks, but he didn’t try to stop it. “There’s no one there to pick it up anymore.” He shouldn’t have expected anything, but there was still a disappointment in seeing the flower laying there, still and unmoving. He took a step back again, not ready to leave just yet.
“Why didn't anyone do anything, why didn't I do something, why didn't anyone do anything .”
He didn’t know why he hadn’t done a single thing to help. He was the one who knew what had happened to Tommy in exile. He knew Dream was dangerous but didn’t do anything. Why? Was it fear? Was it him trying to feign ignorance and pretend everything was alright? Or just him forgetting the problems like he always did? He didn’t know. And he didn’t think he ever would know.
He had lost a friend in Tommy, but he hadn’t lost everything yet. He still had Tubbo; he still had Michael. He could still help them, protect them. But in order to do that, he had to take care of himself. And that started with getting some sleep.
“Goodbye, Tommy. You were interesting, but you were still a friend. I’m sorry, I wish I had done more. I just don’t get why I didn’t.”
And with his final words, he turned to leave, tears still streaming down his face, deepening the scars beneath.