Chapter Text
Tubbo blinked. Once. Twice. Once. Twice.
Tubbo blinked again.
Why was it so warm? He was pretty sure it was October.
“Oi!”
He blinked again. Maybe if he kept blinking, everything would come into focus.
Surely, this wasn’t another dream. Surely, he wouldn’t -
He blinked again because it was almost grounding. Everything else in his body felt like it was floating away. It all felt so out of reach. He had to stay on the ground.
Please, please, let him stay on the ground?
“TUBS! OI!!”
Huh?
God, he was so warm. This couldn’t be right.
“TUBBO! Wake up, bro, it’s almo-”
Tubbo woke up with a gasp that hurt his chest. This time he blinked slowly, eyes assaulted with a rush of cold November air.
He could see.
“.. Good afternoon, bee boy.”
Tubbo blinked dazedly, and abruptly fell six feet from where he had apparently sleep-hovered with a clatter to the cabin floor. Yep, he was back.
“You’re a right dumbass, you are.”
“Go fuck yourself, why don’t you, Tomm-”
“Yeah.. yeah okay. Good comeback for a guy who just woke up at 3pm and fell from the ceiling, real classy one, beebie-”
“Go hop off a bridge and float slowly to the ground like the dipshit you are. Gonna eat some vegetables? Maybe some almond mil-”
“Low fuckin’ blow. Go pick some ugly fucking flowers, Beeber, go regenerate healt-”
“Go run a little faster, you huge, massive, fucking twa-”
“Good morning, Tubbo!”
Tubbo was pretty sure he froze. Even if it was only for a second, and even if he wasn’t quite sure why, he felt it, the little chill to his core. He felt the shiver down his spine, and then it was all gone, and he was just looking at Wilbur, and everything was as expected.
Wilbur was smiling, and it reminded Tubbo of someone. Of some thing? Of-
“Good morning, Wilbur,” he smiled back.
“Don’t you mean good evening- ”
“Shut the fuck up, Tommy.”
Wilbur was silent for a moment, a second too long to be normal, a second too short to be unusual. Tubbo caught it, and he wasn’t quite sure why. This was Wilbur, this was-
He was standing perfectly still, eyes glazed over, glassy as he stared at some indistinct spot between Tubbo and Tommy. Small smile still on his face, frozen like a photograph. And Tubbo liked Wilbur, he did, they were friends, Tommy and him were.. are-
Wilbur’s eyes cleared. He glanced up, looked between Tubbo and Tommy. “Phil got dinner,” he announced. “It’s ready.”
Tommy, grievances suddenly aside, let out a long whoop at the news and sped past Wilbur - just the slightest bit faster than the average human being - the cabin door slamming in his wake. Then Tubbo was alone, and why was he nervous?
He opened his mouth and closed it again. Wilbur was watching him. Tubbo could have sworn the cabin had felt larger a couple seconds ago.
Wilbur smiled. They smiled at each other.
With a swish of a turn and the flurry of air, the half phantom phased through the door. Tubbo was overcome with the overwhelming need to breathe.
Dinner was nice.
They sat around a campfire - well, Jack sat in the campfire - Niki laying in the shallow of the lake beside them, rolling in and out at her leisure. Ranboo lay in the crook of Phil’s wing, and Tubbo could feel his eyes on him every now and again. Tubbo didn’t look up.
They always joked around during dinner. Charlie would shrink and dive into Wilbur’s nostril, emerging a couple minutes later out of Jack’s ear, Wilbur would always start singing eventually, Tommy would challenge various people to contests; that seemed to be his latest Thing. Races up to the forest, lengths up and down the river bank, who could steal the most of Tubbo’s petal collection before he noti-
The usual stuff.
Phil never partook in Tommy’s contests, he seemed to prefer his spot cross-legged by the fire, a cheery grin, cooking whatever they had found during the day. Phil really liked to cook.
Tubbo liked to watch him.
Phil had always felt safe, like if Tubbo stayed near him nothing in the world would try to hurt him. Tubbo thought he would trust him with the world.
“Here, mate.”
A carrot stem landed in his lap, bushy with green leaves that filled his senses with a wonderful smell. Tubbo pounced on it instantly, beaming up at Phil as, eagerly, he began to chew. Bee hybrids don’t eat, so this was simply the best it was gonna get.
Until, of course, a familiar weight settled right beside him.
Ranboo didn’t say a word. He was eating a burger. He was chewing rather loudly.
Tubbo’s eye twitched.
Ranboo kept chewing. Obnoxiously, really.
Tubbo chewed a little in retaliation, but when he was just chewing on the stem of a carrot it felt quite pathetic.
“You’re meant to shut your damn mouth when you’re eat-”
“Hey, Tubbo!”
Tubbo groaned. Once again, he had fallen victim to Ranboo’s trickery.
The burger was in the enderman’s lap now, and his attention was completely on Tubbo, all bright eyes and earnest smile and fucking hell..
“Look, if you’re going to go on to me about that weird fairytale of yours again..” he said reluctantly.
Ranboo paused. Something flashed across his eyes, but that could’ve just been the fire.
“No.. no, of course not, um, I actually-”
Tubbo groaned, biting off a carrot leaf with unnecessary fierceness. “C’m on bro, you’ve got to give that stuff up. I get some people are creative and imaginative or whatever but couldn’t you tell it to.. Wilbur or some-”
“No!”
Ranboo blinked a few times. He sighed. Tubbo watched him in surprised silence.
Ranboo coughed. “I mean I.. I just thought you liked that kind of stuff.”
Tubbo frowned, watching out of the corner of his eye as an ant approached Ranboo’s burger. “I guess so. I guess I used to. Just.. no offense, man, but your stories are kind of..”
“Sad?”
“Sad, strange, insane-”
“Sometimes that’s how life is, I suppose.”
Tubbo frowned again.
Ranboo noticed the ant, then, and captured it between his index finger and his thumb. He handed it to Tubbo, who took it slowly and tossed it in his mouth.
They sat in silence, and Tubbo listened to the crackle and spit of the fire, Phil’s low humming, and Tommy and Jack shrieking from the lake. He started when Ranboo’s hand landed gently on his shoulder.
“I know you’re having nightmares, Tubbo.”
Tubbo inhaled sharply and stood, Ranboo’s hand burning red hot onto his shoulder. He looked down at the enderman, and tried to breathe a little readier.
“Sorry?”
Ranboo was watching him, face illegible. Ranboo had always been illegible to Tubbo, but apparently Tubbo was an open book through reading glasses.
“I know you’re having nightmares,” he repeated, eyes firmly on him. They were intense, they felt like the sun. Tubbo had to look away.
“I’m.. not,” Tubbo answered, eyes darting.
“Tubbo, please.” Ranboo sounded upset. Why was he upset?
He cleared his throat. Once. Twice.
“Let me help you. I know stuff. I know you’re having nightmares about my-”
This time Tubbo didn’t hesitate to meet Ranboo’s eyes. He marched a little closer, certain that his face was bright red with frustration. He bent down, and Ranboo’s eyes were even more searching up close. He took a deep breath.
“Shut the fuck up about your fucking story, Ranboo,” Tubbo muttered.
As he stormed away from the campfire, Phil’s voice calling to him but sounding so far away, Tubbo felt Ranboo’s eyes on him all the way back to the cabin.
Tubbo lay on the top bunk. The ceiling had swirls in it, dips and bumps that could form a picture if he looked too long.
He pulled up the iron fence Phil had constructed to stop him sleep-hovering out of the bunk, and secured it carefully. He must have forgotten to do that before he'd fallen asleep last night.
He let his hand trail along the bars of the gate before falling back onto the mattress. Tubbo breathed.
He could hear them singing now. The whole group, it seemed.
Wilbur was the clearest voice, he always was. He would always start the singsong. Sometimes it would be one everyone knew, something familiar from who-knows-where, but sometimes Wilbur would just sing.
Sometimes, when Wilbur sang, not a lot of it made sense. No one ever knew his songs, but he seemed to know them like an old friend. He would stare at the sky while he sang. His hands would move up and down the guitar like a mother tongue.
When Wilbur sang, it was always silent. It was as if the world stopped to listen. Tommy would always watch Wilbur sing like it was him that hung the stars on the sky. Sometimes, Tubbo thought, maybe that was true.
Tonight, he was glad he had fled before the campfire singing. This song sent chills down his spine.
“Your faith was strong but you needed proof..”
Tubbo stared at the ceiling. Maybe, if he looked hard enough, he could see his own face printed in the circles.
“She tied you to a kitchen chair..”
Was it louder now?
Tubbo wished they could sing more quietly.
“And from your lips she drew the-”
Tubbo wished he could stop, but he cried anyway.
“Hallelujah.”
Not for the first time, Tubbo wished things would make sense.