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Ranboo had never really cared about his appearance. It didn’t matter. In the hunter camps, he never had the chance to take care of his appearance, and when he was with his original haunting he was still just a child. So no room to care.
Now he was living at the Pub. He had the chance to wind down and take care of himself. While they didn’t really have a solid mirror, and Ranboo never got close enough to water to see his own reflection he could tell when he got dirty. Though as he had been living here, his hair had started to grow out longer and longer. Going from a choppy noncommitted bob, to down to his shoulders, to a bit farther down his back. The black strands were unbrushed and tangled, somehow managing to grow longer despite the split ends.
Ranboo preferred not to acknowledge his hair, tying it back with a piece of string and ignoring the tingle on the back of his neck or the way it frizzed up and fell in front of his face. He didn’t have anything to cut it with, he couldn’t bring himself to ask Phil either. If he asked Phil, that would bring up more questions or a conversation that Ranboo didn’t want to have.
So, he decided that out of sight, out of mind was the way to go.
All throughout his years in the hunter camps long hair was a liability. But there was nothing that he could’ve done about it.
Long hair meant someone could grab you easily. Long hair meant neglect. Long hair meant that he was in danger. Long hair meant pain. It meant that he wasn’t safe. He only had long hair when he was in the camps. He never got it cut while he was in there.
Hunters would grab at his hair violently, pushing him to the ground. Long hair meant that he was easier to get to cooperate. It meant days without food or water. Days and days of not being able to fall asleep listening to the cries and screams of agony around him until he passed out from sheer exhaustion. It meant struggling to push himself up when he was awake sometimes because his hair was caught in the chains.
Ranboo jerked awake from whatever nightmare that he had been wrapped up in prior. His heart was thrumming loudly and the remnants of particles were starting to settle around him. His hair fell in front of his face, dirty and stringy. And it took Ranboo a long time to figure out where he was, through the haze in his mind and the darkness that surrounded him.
His chest was heaving and his breathing was coming in fast pants. He stared at the room around him with wide unfocused eyes. He couldn’t see anything in the dark room. There was the sound of rustling from next to him and Ranboo froze, his breathing quickening.
Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t move.
If they hear you you’ll get hurt. The lights are off. You’re not supposed to make noise.
“Ranboo?”
Silent tears streamed down his face, stinging against his skin. He couldn’t focus on his surroundings, his heartbeat was so loud. They would be able to hear. He’d get hurt. His tail curled under his shirt, tightening around Ranboo’s stomach. There was someone next to him, they shifted again and grumbled something. Ranboo could hear the ghost of chains rattling.
“What are you doing awake?”
He didn’t say anything. Should he? Were they talking to him?
“Ranboo.”
He clenched his jaw tightly, fighting back the distressed keen that threatened to surface. Hunters would be coming in any minute, they were being too loud.
Ranboo curled in on himself, moving slowly with practiced precision. The chains wouldn’t rattle if he moved slowly, no one would hear. He dug his nails into his scalp, burying his face in his knees. He curled his fingers around his hair, pulling until he felt the pain, everything was in its own hazy cloud of nothingness.
A hand touched his arm, it was gentle but even so, Ranboo jerked away, a full-body flinch that nearly sent him sprawling. He looked over, his eyes widening and still unfocused. But he saw the figure that was sitting next to him staring at Ranboo with a concerned expression, tears welling in the corners of his eyes.
Tommy had one hand outstretched, his mouth half-open like he was about to say something. His wings bristled and he looked Ranboo up and down. There was blood under Ranboo’s nails, he couldn’t get a full breath in.
His head spun, he was close to passing out.
“Ranboo breathe,” Tommy whispered, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. Ranboo was frozen in place, half jerked away from Tommy. He could barely hear anything over the loud thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears and Tommy’s soft voice. Tommy didn’t move to touch Ranboo again, nor did he say much other than small reassurances and reminders to breathe.
Ranboo gulped short breaths, his chest heaving, and his ender pearl whirring painfully. It was so close to being reformed, he was able to get the fizzle of teleportation out before he was pulled back in the same spot. Particles enveloped his form multiple times and his skin burned from it.
“Tommy,” Ranboo gasped out, breathing steady enough to speak. But his chest still heaved and he was wheezing with hysterics.
“I’m here, Ranboo,” Tommy whispered. Ranboo’s hair was brushing against his back and his elbows and some strands fell in front of his face. It nearly sent Ranboo back into another spiral. He could see more clearly where he was now. He was in Tommy’s nest in the living room of the pub, but that was about as much as he can process.
“Do you… do you have a knife…” Ranboo’s voice was shaking, his teeth chattering. He lurched forward, gripping Tommy’s arms in an almost painful death grip. He swallowed thickly, his eyes darting around.
“Wh—what?” Tommy grimaced, his face expression terror, “what do you need a knife for?”
“Cut it off… cut it off… please… I can’t, I can’t,” Ranboo begged, his words thick with distortion. He was unsure if Tommy could even hear him, or if he was even speaking common at this point still.
“What? Cut what?” Tommy’s breathing was speeding up, he looked at Ranboo with worry. He shifted out of Ranboo’s death grip, small scratch marks on his arms from Ranboo’s claws.
“Hair, hair, please… I can’t… cut it off, cut it off,” Ranboo ducked his head, a low sob bubbling out of his throat, “please.” More tears ran down his face. He couldn’t deal with it anymore, it had to be cut. Phil had told him that long hair was an Enderian status symbol and he wanted to reclaim that. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. Ranboo’s breathing quickened up again and his mind was working at a mile a minute.
“What? You want me to cut your hair?” Tommy asked in bewilderment.
“Please,” Ranboo sobbed again, “please, please.”
“Ranboo you need to take a moment to calm down first, breathe with me,” Tommy tried urging him, he put his hands on Ranboo’s arms but Ranboo pulled away, shaking his head quickly.
“Tommy you don’t… you don’t understand… please… please just,” he pressed the heels of his palms against the floor and struggled to push himself to his feet. His knees were practically vibrating with how hard he was shaking. Ranboo stumbled and Tommy was quick to follow him up, his wings flaring out behind him.
Ranboo should’ve tied his hair up before he went to bed. Every time his hair brushed against his face or arm he wanted to curl back in a ball and cry. To hide from the world as small as possible.
“Ranboo I’ll cut your hair but you have to stop for a second,” Tommy’s voice raised in pitch, “whatever’s going on, it’s going to be okay. You’re okay.”
Ranboo was getting desperate at this point. His stomach was doing dangerous flips of nausea, and he stumbled to the kitchen knowing there would at least be some sort of knife there. Tommy had no choice but to follow him. Ranboo couldn’t focus and it was much too dark to see anything, the moonlight that shone through the window barely doing anything. He fumbled with the drawer.
Tommy put his hand over Ranboo’s arm. He licked his lips nervously, Tommy’s hands were shaking.
“Sit down, you’ll hurt yourself.”
Ranboo sat on the ground, he clutched at his shirt, tugging at it as his chest constricted painfully. The tightness was suffocating.
Tommy opened the drawer, lighting one of the candles on the counter as he did so. He moved to a different drawer, there was a pair of shears.
“Are you sure about this?” Tommy asked nervously, turning back to Ranboo.
Ranboo let out a low whine, his face contorting into a grimace. His eyes were hazy and unfocused and the way he was hyperventilating seemed painful. Tommy had never seen him in such hysterics and it was terrifying. He didn’t even have the chance to try and find Phil to wake him up, or even Wilbur, wherever the Phantom was.
“Please, please, please,” Ranboo begged, his voice clipping. He gripped Tommy’s arm tightly, his nails digging into Tommy’s skin. His eyes darted around the room, flinching every time he saw something move out of the corner of his eyes.
Tommy sat behind Ranboo, the candle resting on the floor as far as possible from Ranboo but close enough that it would still give Tommy the light he needed. Ranboo was whining and whimpering, clawing at his arms, and Tommy’s chest ached. He crooned and made small chirps, trying anything he could think of to try and get Ranboo to calm down at least somewhat.
Ranboo’s hair was long, falling down to his mid-back. Tommy brought the shears up to the strands and snipped them as carefully as he could with his hands shaking and his nerves pent up. Ranboo was trembling like a leaf making it hard to cut evenly. And Tommy was especially not a hairstylist.
All the while Ranboo was babbling in a mix of common and ender, thickened with distortion and his whines. Though as Tommy cut the hair that framed his face to short choppy strands Ranboo’s eyes blew wide. His breathing caught in his throat and he managed to take a few slower breaths.
There was a pile of hair growing on the wooden floor between them as Tommy snipped at his hair, his fingers unsteady in the shears with lack of experience and his own worry.
When he was done, he pulled the shears away, barely conveying to Ranboo that he was finished when Ranboo slumped forward. He brought his hands up to his head, his fingers curling through the now short strands. He snagged on a couple tangles but when he curled his hands by the hair at the nape of his neck, he wasn’t able to tug as well.
Tommy nearly jumped out of his skin at the melancholy wail that Ranboo let out. Choking with sobs he curled over his knees, his hands on his hair, and Tommy’s heart leaped to his throat thinking that he had made a major mistake. He could hear between the sobs and whines Ranboo muttering something that might’ve been in Ender since Tommy couldn’t understand what he was trying to say.
If the others hadn’t woken up before this, they certainly were now from Ranboo’s sobs. His tail thrashed back and forth, almost hitting Tommy in the face.
“What is going on?” Phil was stepping into the kitchen, his eyes wide and his feathers bristled. He had a lantern in his hand, the flame inside casting a flickering warm glow over the two of them.
Phil’s eyes darted over the two of them with such speed that Tommy thought he would’ve gotten dizzy. Ranboo didn’t look up from where he was curled up on the ground, his hands still clutching at his hair.
“Tommy, what’s going on?” Phil asked, his tone carefully guarded in a way that he knew he was trying not to make the situation worse.
“I don’t know? He… he woke up panicking and he… he’s freaking out, he… he told me to cut his hair I couldn’t… what else was I supposed to do… he would’ve hurt himself doing it himself,” Tommy rambled quickly, his feathers fluffing up and he spread his hands wildly as he spoke.
Phil stepped over the candle that was on the floor. Tommy grabbed the platter it was resting on and moved it out of the way.
Setting the lantern on the counter, Phil crouched down next to Ranboo.
“Ranboo, can you hear me?” Phil asked softly, he rested his hands on his knees, “Ranboo?”
There were footsteps from behind Tommy, and he turned to see Tubbo standing there. He rubbed his eyes and squinted in the darkness, his wings fluttering. Tommy could see the small tremor in his hands and the way that his buzzing had gone silent.
“What’s going on?” he asked as quietly as possible, his voice was groggy from sleep. Tommy stared up at him, unshed tears he was stubbornly blinking back welling in the corners of his eyes. He patted the ground next to him and Tubbo sat down, Tommy leaned against his side.
Ranboo’s sobs had quieted down some, Phil had his hand on Ranboo’s shoulder, coaxing him into sitting up.
“Breathe, Ranboo, follow me,” Phil took exaggerated and slow breaths. He held onto Ranboo’s hands in a way that he wouldn’t be able to claw at himself from how they were positioned. Ranboo was choking, tears flowing down his face with steam flickering up in the air.
Purple particles were dripping from Ranboo’s skin like water droplets and they shimmered in the flickering light. His ears were pinned to his head and his tail was still lashing back and forth. He sobbed again.
“Is he gonna be okay?” Tubbo whispered to Tommy. Tommy nodded, half unsure of himself, he wrapped his wing around Tubbo.
Phil rubbed Ranboo’s knuckles, tapping out a steady rhythm with his finger. Ranboo’s breathing began to steady. He choked and sobbed but he seemed less on the brink of passing out from hyperventilating.
“You’re okay, see, you’re doing so good,” Phil whispered, tucking his wings behind his back as tightly as he could.
“Phil… Phil,” Ranboo repeated Phil’s name over and over again through his sobs and whimpers.
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Phil whispered with a small nod.
After a few more minutes of Phil’s quiet reassurances and his reminders to breathe, helping Ranboo maintain a short pattern. Ranboo’s breathing had settled enough that while he was still left panting, he wasn’t crying and he seemed to have come back to his senses. His eyes shimmered from tears but were more focused than before.
He went practically boneless in Phil’s arms, slumping forward. His hair tickled against Phil’s chin. It was choppy and messy. Barely coming above his chin, his horns poked up just barely avoiding stabbing Phil in the eye.
Ranboo was still whimpering and making small chirps and warbles that seemed more for the last bit of self-soothing than anything else. Phil rubbed gentle circles on his back.
He went fully limp and Phil looked down to find that he had passed out. Phil let out a small sigh, leaning against the counter, sprawling his wings out behind him.
“Gods…” Phil whispered, staring up at the ceiling, Ranboo still tucked against his chest.
“What was all that…” Tommy asked weakly, even though Phil didn’t know the answer.
“We’ll ask about it in the morning, if he wants to talk about it,” Phil said, “I don’t know what happened…”
“That was scary…” Tubbo whispered, he curled his fingers around the fabric of his pants. Tommy nodded in agreement, struggling to calm his racing heart.
“He scared me… a lot…” Tommy muttered.
“Yeah…” Phil said, “I can imagine. Let’s get you three back to bed, it’s still the middle of the night.”
Hoisting Ranboo in his arms, which looked like quite the awkward task with how long and gangly his limbs were. Phil led the other two back to the nest. He set Ranboo down gently, the burns on his cheeks from his tears weren’t serious and he had thankfully not drawn blood from his claws. At least not that Phil could see. Tommy sat down next to Ranboo, leaving a few inches of space between them.
Tubbo climbed in next to Tommy, half on top of the avian which forced Tommy to lay back down. Phil laid down on his mat, he had been sleeping in one of the rooms down the hall for the night, but after what had happened it seemed that there needed to be a small change in his sleeping arrangements.
Ranboo’s ender pearl hummed yet he didn’t stir.
Tommy exhaled slowly, sinking into the thick blankets of the nest, Tubbo’s resumed buzzing causing his eyelids to drift shut until he managed to fall into a restless sleep.