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Ranboo rubbed at his legs, the fabric of his pants scrunching up as he sat on one of the couches in the middle of the living room. Tommy sat on the floor with Michael, who was stacking colorful wooden blocks and giggling softly. The Ender hybrid’s tail flicked and his hands stilled in his nervous movements.
This was his own house, he shouldn’t be uncomfortable. His house was safe and Tommy didn’t hate him, they were friends. And yet the room felt suffocating, it was quiet. Tubbo had gone out to check on something but said that he would be back soon and Tommy was staying the night.
The silence shouldn’t feel this uncomfortable. And Ranboo even liked silence, it was kind on his sensitive ears. On most days, he would appreciate this silence, but right now it was setting him on edge.
“I’m gonna put some music on,” Ranboo said suddenly, pushing himself up from the couch. Tommy looked up, blinking at Ranboo. One of his wings twitched and he shifted the way they were resting against his back.
“Okay.”
Tommy sniffed and leaned back some, watching Michael stack the blocks as high as he could before the inevitable downfall of the overly colorful wooden bricks. Ranboo stepped around the two, padding across the living room to the old jukebox that was sitting in the corner.
It wasn’t used much, only on quiet nights like this or sometimes at dinner when he and Tubbo felt like being fancier. He flicked his hand, brushing some of the dust off the top of it, and crouched down to the small cabinet of music discs beside it.
He could feel Tommy watching him, his eyes tracing his movements and that caused the hair on the back of Ranboo’s neck to stand up. His tail swished back and forth in the air, the fluff at the end of it curling.
Ranboo sifted through the old discs, worn from countless times of use. The label on most of them was scratched off and unreadable, but the ones they played often Ranboo knew the scratches on them.
Though, this time, he hesitated. Ranboo usually didn’t think that hard about which disc he put on, avoiding the ones he didn’t like and putting on the ones that he knew Tubbo enjoyed.
But Tommy was different. Tommy had his whole thing with the discs, and of course, the discs were tucked away carefully in his ender chest. He was a bit of an obstacle in the way that Ranboo usually put music on and for some reason, it was causing more of a hangup than he should.
“Kinda quiet in here?” Tommy commented with a small laugh, he shifted from where he was sitting and Ranboo nearly jumped out of his skin, his ear twitching.
“Right…” Ranboo selected one of the discs, his hands were shaking minutely. He half-turned, holding the music disc up so that the label was clearly facing Tommy, “this one good?”
Tommy regarded the disc, his mouth half-open like he hadn’t expected Ranboo to ask him. It took him a second to recognize which one it was from the incomprehensible label, but after a few seconds, he nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.” He gave Ranboo a thumbs up, turning back to Michael as the piglin child squealed in surprise as his block tower fell.
“Ah, I’ll help you rebuild it,” Tommy reassured him as Michael sniffled and rubbed his eyes, his nose twitching with unshed tears, “don’t worry, I’m a master tower builder.”
Michael squeaked happily, clapping his hands together as Ranboo inserted the disc into the jukebox.
It took a second, then there was a small scritch, and warbled melodies started to come from the jukebox. The crackling of the music disc mixing with the notes in a calming way.
Ranboo sat back down on the couch, Tommy had relaxed a bit more, his wings half spread behind him. The russet-colored feathers draped over the rug and Ranboo traced the different color patterns with his eyes as he sunk into the couch.
He pulled his legs up to sit on them as he listened to the song and watched Tommy and Michael build blocks. His tail swished back and forth behind him with content, humming quietly to the tune of the music.
When Tubbo returned from wherever he had been, there was soot dusted across his cheeks and his hair was ruffled. He smelled lightly of gunpowder and Ranboo worried about what he had been up to. But he brushed off Ranboo’s obviously concerned expression with a wave of his hand and a small chuckle.
“Don’t worry, it’s taken care of,” Tubbo said, trotting off into the kitchen to wash his face. His statement only made Ranboo worry more.
He came back into the living room a few moments later, rubbing a towel over his face and he plopped down on the couch next to Ranboo, swinging his hooves up over the armrest of the couch and leaning against Ranboo’s side.
They didn’t say anything. They didn’t need to. It was comfortable. The music playing was soft and loud enough that they could hear it nicely but it wouldn’t infringe on any conversations if they decided to have one. Tommy was relaxed on the floor, chuckling with Michael and helping him build a tower out of blocks while Tubbo leaned against Ranboo, occasionally switching which leg was crossed on top of each other over the armrest.
Ranboo tapped his fingers along the fabric of the couch, his ears drooping with content as he sat there. Soon he would have to take Michael up for bed, and the piglin would struggle and wriggle around in his grasp because he seems like he’s having fun playing with Tommy. And then Tommy wouldn’t help very much in the whole ordeal, making it worse even. But that would be for later, right now Ranboo could be content to listen to the melodies fade off into light static and then silence.
Ranboo’s anxious ordeal at the jukebox the other night hadn’t meant to be a regular thing. But with Tommy stopping by more often, and the silent afternoons and nights spent together in tense quiet were starting to become more often. Ranboo wasn’t used to Tommy being quiet but since Ranboo wasn’t one to start a conversation, he didn’t.
So he played music, holding up the music disc he intended to play before putting it on. Waiting for Tommy’s nod of approval.
It had just become a habit by now. Even though now that Tommy was spending more time, the songs that would remind him of his time during exile, or rough moments from the past were put away into a box that Tubbo had dubbed the “no-no box”. The “no-no box” sat on a shelf in the living room, the cardboard top taped loosely down.
Ranboo figured that he didn’t have to worry too much anymore, but with his shoddy memory, he didn’t trust himself to remember the songs that Tommy liked. So he made sure to confirm. It was just a common courtesy anyway.
He barely even registered when Tubbo had picked up the habit as well. The goat hybrid standing by the jukebox, his small tail wagging behind him as he shifted through the collection of music discs. He held up a music disc to Ranboo who was sitting on the rug near the fireplace and made a small huff to get his attention.
“Sure,” Ranboo said, tilting his head to the side as he stared at the label on the disc. Tubbo muttered some response that Ranboo didn’t catch all the way before slipping it into the jukebox.
Tubbo slid back down on the rug, hooves tapping along the wooden floor. He grinned mischievously, reaching back and pulling down a small box that he had set down on the coffee table earlier. Not the “no-no box” but one that Ranboo would’ve rather have gone in the “no-no box”.
“C’mon, show me your paws,” Tubbo said, raising one eyebrow, his bangs clipped back so that he could see what he was doing better.
Ranboo warbled indignantly and tucked his feet underneath himself, looking away from Tubbo.
“Are you going to drag this out again?” Tubbo asked, “you know I’m stubborn.”
“I can wear you out.”
Tubbo just laughed at that.
Ranboo didn’t know they had that disc. He didn’t know that it was in the selection next to the jukebox. If he had he would’ve put it away silently, in the no-no box where a couple other discs were. He wouldn’t have said anything.
But Ranboo didn’t know. And he hadn’t told Tubbo.
“You want some music?” Tubbo asked, moving from where he was sprawled out obnoxiously next to Ranboo, his legs resting in his husband's lap.
“Sure, if you move though I’m not gonna let you lay on me again,” Ranboo warned, holding up a finger. Tubbo frowned at that, one ear flicking.
“Tommy put a disc in,” Tubbo said, letting his hand flop down off the side of the couch. He turned to Tommy who was warming himself in front of the fire, his back to the flames and his wings spread behind him. His feathers were slightly damp from his romp through the snowy woods and he shivered lightly.
“Why don’t you do it,” Tommy spat, his tone laced with fake irritation.
“Because I’m so comfortable and Ranboo will move if I get up,” Tubbo complained, pressing his other hand to his forehead dramatically.
“Because your hoof is digging into my thigh,” Ranboo said, shifting slightly. Tubbo crossed his other leg, further digging his hoof into Ranboo’s leg who just sighed and shook his head.
Tommy gagged and rolled his eyes, pushing himself up to his knees, and shuffled over to where the jukebox sat. His wings dragged tiredly on the ground behind him. He pushed some of the discs aside, pulling one out seemingly not looking at it.
Without thinking, he held the disc up to the two on the couch. The label, like the others, was torn off, and hard to tell what it actually was, Ranboo didn’t recognize the markings. He saw a small remnant of purple on the disc but didn’t think too hard about it. He nodded his approval and Tubbo hummed in confirmation.
Ranboo stared at the fire as Tommy slipped the music disc into the jukebox. It took a second, and it crackled lightly before the song started.
If he had known that disc was in there he would’ve burned it.
He let out a small warble involuntarily, his entire body tensing up. Tubbo noticed immediately, furrowing his eyebrows and taking his legs off of Ranboo’s lap. Ranboo was frozen, staring at the fire, his eyes blown wide as his heart rate sped up. The notes grated on his ears, making his thoughts fuzzy, the only coherent thought was that he needed to leave or it needed to stop.
Memories of the panic room, memories of his voice. The whispers in his head, from behind him, a phantom hand brushing against his shoulder in a feather-light touch.
Tubbo was speaking to him in a worried tone, he put a hand on Ranboo’s shoulder and he flinched, finally moving from where he was anchored in place. He blinked, everything was fuzzy, his head was spinning. A low whine drew itself from his throat and he curled his hands around the fabric of his pants.
His chest ached and every breath that he took was barely more than a wheezing gasp. He felt the cloudiness in his mind and the small pressure against the back of his eyes. Tears prickled against his eyelids.
“Ranboo?” Tubbo asked, he made no move to touch Ranboo again but he was looking at Ranboo nervously. Ranboo was barely aware of Tommy standing in the corner, his eyes wide near the jukebox. His feathers were fluffed up and he was staring.
Ranboo couldn’t breathe, his chest was aching and he couldn’t stop himself from letting out another low warble. His heart was hammering, the rushing of blood in his ears almost enough to drown out the song if it wasn’t for the fact that it seemed to echo in his head. To dance around in the empty mist-covered space.
Ranboo stood up suddenly, his limbs as heavy as lead and his entire body trembling. Out . He was half begging himself, willing for his legs to move. And yet he feared that if he left the room, would the music follow?
Tommy was speaking now. Then Tubbo. And Ranboo clenched his hands into fists, breathing heavily. His chest hurt, he was going to pass out. The pressure behind his eyes was worse and he could hear someone talking from behind him, their breath small puffs against the back of his neck and Ranboo left. Half stumbling out of the room to wherever his legs could carry him.
There was a haze in his mind, causing his thoughts to form sluggishly. And his stomach twisted painfully with nausea. Not now, please not now. It was as if the walls were closing in on him and the air thinner.
The crackling of the disc, the haunting waltz that followed him as he walked, everything.
Someone called out to him, Ranboo didn’t flinch. He dug his claws into his palms until he drew blood, the iridescent purple liquid dripping down towards the floor. He could see steam, tears rolling down his face and the small hiss of the water against his skin was almost completely drowned out. The sting against his hands and face didn’t register, he couldn’t breathe.
Then, it was gone. As suddenly as it started. The music was gone.
The cold air nipped at his bare skin, smooth wood clenched tightly under his fingers. Ranboo grit his teeth, curling in on himself and tugging at his hair. His ears were pinned back against his skull and his tail was wrapped tightly around his ankle.
Without warning his knees gave out and he collapsed onto the wooden porch, sobbing. It was like he was there again. He was getting better, he thought he was at least.
The weight of his memory book was heavy in his pocket and he couldn’t move to pull it out. He had to make sure, but he couldn’t move. He was stuck, curled up against the side of their cabin, wind blowing against him and causing his trembling to worsen.
He could still hear it. Could hear the song playing in his head. His hands were going numb. His head throbbing with a growing headache. His nails dug into his scalp, tugging at the long strands of black and white hair that fell long down his shoulders.
There was someone by his side, knelt down next to him. He could sense their presence and Ranboo didn’t want them there. He wanted to hiss at them, tell them to leave. But if he tried to open his mouth to speak only a mangled sob came out, half mixed with a warble.
Go away. Go away. Go away.
Not now. Please. Why now?
A hand against his shoulder, a whisper of a taunt against his back. He cried. The darkness behind his own eyelids seemed to spin somehow as the growing dizziness game back full force. He couldn’t get a full breath in, panting and gasping. He was wheezing painfully and tugging at his hair.
The notes were muffled, everything was muffled. He was swimming through a world full of haze. When he opened his eyes colors seemed to swim, inverting before switching back to the proper color. Whatever the proper color was at this point, he wasn’t sure.
The presence next to him shifted, reminding Ranboo of their existence. This time he let out an audible hissing growl. A warning. The pressure behind his eyes made it like his eyes were going to burst from it.
Go away.
Go away.
Go away.
Help.
Ranboo felt everything tilt upside down for a moment, his vision going dark for a few seconds. He spoke words that were barely even registering to his own mind, the warbled syllables sounding foreign even in his own mouth. Everything felt far away and hazy.
Was the presence next to him actually there or just another mind trick. Like the voice. Like the notes ringing in his ears.
He was going to pass out, if he passed out then he wouldn’t be in control anymore. He couldn’t pass out.
He couldn’t.
Ranboo clenched his jaw tightly, pressing his forehead into his knees. Through the thick haze that he was living in he registered his gasping and wheezing breaths, the ache in his chest, and the second presence nearby. He tugged at his hair, hard enough that he could feel the slight sting. It was muddled and hidden behind layers of numbness.
The pain was grounding, he blinked rapidly. Holding his breath and coughing out the air. He repeated this process a few times before he could let out the breath he held without coughing or wheezing. The floor he was sitting on seemed to sway and Ranboo was glad that he wasn’t standing up because he would’ve immediately collapsed.
He heard a voice talking quietly from beside him, “breathe, Boo, it’s okay. You’re okay.”
He blinked again, his eyes darting around as he peeked his head over his knees. His breath hitched with each sob that still bubbled up his throat. And his headache had only increased. There was snow around him, soaking into his clothes and stinging against his skin. The sting that he was now able to register and let out a small hiss.
“Hey, you with us?” Came the voice from beside him and Ranboo didn’t turn to look who it was. He stared straight ahead at the trees between the wooden railing, trying to decide if he was going to pass out or not. He was taking slower breaths, not normal but the ache in his chest had lessened. The pressure behind his eyes loosening up.
Deciding that he wasn’t going to pass out, Ranboo moved, uncurling his legs from where they were pressed against his chest. The person next to him spoke again but he didn’t process what they were saying.
He flexed his hands, curling and uncurling his fingers until he felt the sharp cold that was biting against his skin. From there he tried to decide what to do next.
First plan of action: get up from where he was sitting. Sitting in snow, not a good idea and it was starting to hurt worse as the feeling was slowly starting to seep back into his skin.
Reaching up and gripping onto the railing, Ranboo pulled himself upward, his paws slipping on the melted snow beneath him but he managed to get himself upright. There was movement beside him.
Ranboo’s previous confirmation that he wasn’t going to pass out was immediately thrown to the window. His vision swam and the world tilted in a very unnatural direction. His knees buckled and he collapsed again.
Tommy had barely even known what disc he had put on, he just held one up and waited for whoever to agree or disagree. When he got a noise of confirmation from Tubbo, he slipped it in the slot and moved away from the jukebox. Waiting for it to spin a few rounds before the music eventually carried out.
He recognized the tune, the short waltz of mellohi that while he wasn’t the biggest fond of, could appreciate it at times.
Though, as he turned, he saw Ranboo freeze up like a deer in the headlights, his ears pinned against his skull. The reaction was almost immediate. Tubbo moved off of his lap, his eyes wide with worry. His breath speeding up.
“Ranboo?” Tubbo asked, “Hey, what’s wrong Boo?” He brushed his hand over Ranboo’s arm and the enderman hybrid flinched away, finally pulling his gaze away from the fire where his eyes were still blown wide, his pupils dilated. He let out a low warble, his tail lashing back and forth.
“What’s up with him?” Tommy asked, worry half-hidden in his tone with a small scoff.
“I don’t… know?”
Ranboo stood up from the couch, swaying dangerously from where he was standing. His entire body was shaking and he warbled again, making a low whine. His ears twitched and Ranboo flinched again.
Tubbo gestured to the jukebox, worry filling his expression. Tommy furrowed his eyebrows but switched the music off, pulling the disc out of the slot. Ranboo whined again, sounding more inhuman than not.
Without saying anything, he walked away, his steps shaky and his paws slipping against the hardwood floor. His tail lashed behind him and blood dripped down from where he was digging his claws into his palm. Tears rolled down his face leaving steam to lick against the air.
Tubbo stood up quickly, his eyes wide. He followed Ranboo, his steps quick to match Ranboo’s long panicked strides. Tommy stalked off after them, his feathers puffing up and he hastily tucked them behind his back before he could get caught in the front door.
Was it the music? But Ranboo had agreed to it too hadn’t he? If he had said no, Tubbo would have said no as well. Tommy wrung his hands nervously (a habit stolen from the enderman hybrid himself) wracking his brain for ways that it could’ve gone wrong to cause all of this.
Tubbo sat next to Ranboo, a few feet away to give him some space. He spoke softly, cooing and whispering reassurances. Ranboo was sobbing, tugging at his hair and rubbing his ears, his knees pulled up to his chest. He muttered in what seemed to be ender.
“Ranboo, what’s going on? Can you hear me?” Tubbo asked, holding his hands out in front of himself. His hands hovered in the air like he wanted to put a hand on Ranboo’s arm but was deciding better not to.
Ranboo growled. A low, distorted growl that sounded akin to a hiss and Tubbo backed up a bit farther, his eyes wide. There was a moment of silence besides Ranboo’s ragged breathing and panicked whimpering.
He clawed at his head, tugging at his hair and whining. His whines broke off at the end, clipping with hints of distortion that Tommy hadn’t heard from him before. Tommy backed up some, rubbing at his arm and wanting desperately to disappear back into the house and hide.
But he sat there with Tubbo and Ranboo, unsure of what to do or if Ranboo was even hearing the small reassurances that Tubbo was trying to mutter. Neither of them had any idea of how to help as it seemed like Ranboo was barely even aware that they were sitting there.
Then, Ranboo shifted, he held his breath and coughed before doing it again. Tommy furrowed his eyebrows. Tubbo continued whispering reassurances.
After a few minutes of Ranboo attempting to calm his breathing, he seemed to have it relatively under control. He even stretched out slightly, making a move to stand up. From then everything seemed to move slower than normal.
Tubbo stood up, saying something to Ranboo softly, holding his hands out in front of himself in a placating gesture. Ranboo standing up straight to his full height before hunching down. He took a second to steady himself and it seemed like he had everything under control.
And then his knees gave out. Tubbo cried out in surprise, dropping down and grabbing him before his head could hit against the floor.
“What happened?” Tommy squeaked the first thing that he had said in a while. Tubbo was silent for a moment, looking Ranboo up and down and examining his face.
“He’s out cold,” Tubbo finally reported, his ears flicking with growing concern.
“What the hell happened?” Tommy asked, his voice cracking in the middle of the sentence. Tubbo looked over his shoulder at Tommy, looking just as helpless as Tommy felt.
“I don’t know, I don’t know what triggered this,” Tubbo exclaimed, his voice rising in pitch, “just… help me move him inside.”
Ranboo woke up to silk sheets wrapped around his ankles, the only light in the room being from the small flicker of a flame inside a lantern that was resting on the bedside table. The lantern illuminated that corner of the room in an orange-yellow glow. His head felt like it had been split open with an axe and he was sure that this was not where he had passed out which caused his heart rate to spike with alarm.
It took him a second to process that he was in his own bedroom. The blinds were drawn, the door was shut and there was silence surrounding him. His hands were wrapped in bandages and he could feel the tightness of wrappings around his head as well. He didn’t have the time to take stock of the rest of his body besides the dull ache that seemed to radiate from everywhere.
The door opened slowly, deliberately trying to avoid the squeak of the hinges that ended up being to no avail as the door squealed aggressively upon being pushed. The figure in the doorway froze, their face illuminated by nothing except the flickering candle stub pressed onto one of the plates.
“You’re awake,” Tubbo said softly, his tone filled with relief, he stepped further into the room, his hooves clicking against the ground. Ranboo said nothing, he frowned, sure that Tubbo didn’t see it in the darkness.
“How are you feeling?” Tubbo asked, pulling the chair from Ranboo’s desk to sit down near his bed. He set the candle down on the nightstand next to the flickering lantern. In his light, Ranboo could see the slight bags underneath Tubbo’s eyes and the way his hair was disheveled.
Even if he could barely remember what had happened right now, Ranboo knew that he was at fault for the state of his husband at the moment.
“Sore…” Ranboo muttered, his voice thick and hoarse from lack of use, “What…” he licked his lips, “what happened?”
Tubbo tugged at his shirt collar, twisting the fabric between his fingers.
“You uhm… earlier… we were in the living room and Tommy put on a disc and you…” Tubbo paused for a second, stumbling through the explanation like he didn’t know how to word it, “you freaked out a bit, bossman… I don’t know what caused it.”
That’s when the rest of the memories slipped into the gaps in Ranboo’s mind. He shrunk in on himself, looking away from Tubbo.
“I’m sorry,” Ranboo muttered, unsure if Tubbo could even hear him from the way he whispered.
“Don’t be sorry,” Tubbo said, firm but soft, “Don’t ever be sorry for something like that.”
“Where’s Tommy?” Ranboo asked, picking at a loose thread on his quilt.
“He’s in the living room asleep, do you want me to wake him?” Tubbo asked, already moving to stand up.
“No!” Ranboo steeled himself, lowering his voice, “no… he needs sleep.”
Tubbo sat back down in the chair, “Do you want to talk about what happened?”
Ranboo clenched his jaw. No, he genuinely didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t even know where he would start, or how he would explain it. If he went into full detail it would just make him sound crazy.
“It was the disc,” Ranboo said, clenching his jaw. His tail began lashing back and forth from where it was previously lying limp on the bedsheets.
“What?”
“It… I have… I’ve had…” Ranboo fumbled, his voice cracking and tears threatening to slip from his eyes, “bad experiences… with it…”
He didn’t want to explain, he didn’t want to go into detail about it. Everything still felt much too raw and he felt that if he tried to explain it to Tubbo right now he would get himself all worked up in a panic again. He couldn’t do that, he needed to keep himself calm. Couldn’t have two panic attacks in one night.
“You should have said something,” Tubbo reached out, putting his hand on the bedsheet next to Ranboo’s. Not touching, but giving Ranboo the opportunity if he wanted it. Ranboo took Tubbo’s hand, intertwining their fingers.
“I didn’t know what disc it was… I couldn’t tell,” Ranboo said quietly, almost embarrassed to admit it, “the labels are all scratched off the discs you know… I didn’t know it was that one…”
“I’m sorry, I knew we should’ve fixed the labels on them,” Tubbo said, rubbing Ranboo’s knuckles softly.
They didn’t say anything for a while, Ranboo stared at his lap intently, like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
“I guess that’s going in the no-no box too…?” Tubbo asked, laughing weakly. Ranboo rubbed at his face, chuckling sadly and nodding.
“Yeah… I guess so.”
There was another beat of silence before Tubbo finally stood up, “you should get some more rest, it’s really late. I’m gonna get to bed too.”
Ranboo nodded, wrapping the sheet around his hand and picking at the hems. Tubbo hesitated by the bed and Ranboo swallowed thickly, reaching his hand back out to Tubbo.
“Stay?” Ranboo asked nervously. Tubbo just nodded and stepped back towards the bed, Ranboo shuffled over, leaving room for Tubbo to climb in under the covers.
“Maybe you should go wake Tommy after all…” Ranboo muttered half to himself, rubbing his arms.
“Do you want me to?” Tubbo asked and Ranboo nodded timidly.
Tubbo nodded understandingly and told Ranboo he would be right back.
And as promised, a few moments later he returned, dragging a half-asleep Tommy into the room. The avian grumbled something unintelligible and flopped down on the bed, patting Ranboo on the knee. Ranboo just laid back down against the pillows, pulling Tommy to get under the blanket.
Tubbo sat up near the nightstand, blowing out the lantern and his candle before he laid down next to Ranboo, pressing his face into Ranboo’s shoulder.
Ranboo held onto Tubbo’s hand, his tail wrapping around Tommy’s ankle.
“Glad y’r okay.”
Ranboo nodded, patting Tommy’s head. Tommy just grumbled and rolled over to his other side so that his back was facing Ranboo. Ranboo got a mouth full of feathers but wouldn’t dare complain about it. They were both warm, pressed against his side with Tommy’s wings draped loosely over both Ranboo and Tubbo.
His nerves were still shot and he figured that he might collapse again if he tried getting up. But right now he closed his eyes, letting himself fall asleep next to his family, doing his best not to think about what happened.
One day he would tell them, Ranboo promised himself. When the wounds weren’t as fresh and the scars not that deep. He could tell them what happened and what had gone on inside his own mind. But that was for another time.