Chapter Text
Tommy has shit timing.
He had shit timing lining up his college timetable with his job as a content creator. He had shit timing canceling plans between parties for close friends and hanging out with Wilbur and Lovjoy.
He had shit timing now – realizing that he might have feelings for his favorite American – when they’re in this awkward situation between talking and not talking.
Yes, if you ask Tommy—then yes, they’re on good terms and they’re good mates. Best friends, even.
But they’re not talking, talking.
It doesn’t make any sense to anyone else, but Tommy is well aware of how there’s less and less and less of those two-hour discord calls with Ranboo, and more clips after clips of Ranboo being in Aimsey’s stream, in Billzo’s, in everyone else besides him.
He noticed because he recorded more for his vlog and main channel while the American streamed less.
It was fine.
That’s what he tells himself until one day, he gets the greatest shock of his life. He blinked rapidly at what he’s staring at, eyes wide as his brain tried to process it – at the ten-second instagram stories from Aimsey – Ranboo’s in the U.K. and Tommy had no idea until that moment.
Something dark and hideous and heavy unfurled in his chest just then. He hates what it tells him. He hates that he recognizes the feeling of betrayal right away, ‘He didn’t even tell me.’ , followed by that sneering voice in his head, like Ranboo is obligated to tell him. ‘We’re friends, aren’t we? He should’ve.’
It’s an endless battle of conflicting emotions. At the end of the day, Tommy’s head ached and there’s no clear winner.
There’s more to it than just his clingy and possessive tendencies. Because even when he’s just like that with Tubbo, with the rest of his friends, Tommy has never come home late from a party, absolutely hammered and numb to his senses. He has never tried to dull the pining and the pain in his chest and the thought of him until he feels all floaty and light. He has never done that for anyone until now.
He stumbles in his bedroom with unapologetic carelessness. He might get a stern talking from his parents the following morning but he’ll deal with that in a couple hours.
Tommy plopped himself in his bed, on his stomach with his shoes still on.
It’s late for him, probably three or four in the morning now. No one should be awake at this hour, but he finds himself staring blankly at a stray branch lightly poking his window while he blasted Taylor fucking Swift in his ears.
He doesn’t let anyone know this particular detail about himself but he enjoys listening to the thirty two year old singer. From upbeat songs like Shake It Off to a song you lose your breath to while singing out loud like Back to December. It’s all there… If he unprivated his Spotify account, it would just be an unhealthy amount of her songs when he doesn’t feel like listening to his usual playlist, which is becoming less and less these past few days.
Nothing wrong with liking Taylor Swift, but there’s probably something wrong if he keeps looping this one song until every lyric cuts deeply and hurts more.
Somehow, Nothing New (Taylor’s Version) is hitting harder than usual.
“ I've had too much to drink tonight. And I know it's sad, but this is what I think about. And I wake up in the middle of the night, ” It feels like Taylor found out about today and wrote a song that spoke to him.
Tommy frowned at what he could understand, yet Taylor only continued singing in his ear.
“ It's like I can feel time moving. How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22? And will you still want me when I'm nothing new? ” Taylor sang like there’s something fragile wherever she has recorded this. The strumming of an acoustic guitar, the faint violin, the soft production…
He’s not even twenty two yet but it feels like he is running out of time. Like there’s an expiry date printed on the back of his neck and the moment the day hits, he is going to be discarded, replaced—and fuck, if it’s not already happening…
For a brief second, Tommy looks back in his life and he finds out he has feelings for Ranboo this way. He realizes because he is thinking about this boy in particular while Phoebe Bridgers sings about crying in her room and someone’s eyes rolling with affection.
It feels surreal to discover it like this.
But can you really associate a Red Taylor Swift song to someone platonically?
Tommy thinks it’s not possible.
Then fucking Phoebe Bridgers goes on. “ And my cheeks are growing tired. From turning red and faking smiles. Are we only biding time 'til I lose your attention? ”
Fuck.
A stray tear slips past the corner of his eyes and it lands on his pillow.
He has never wanted to cry more.
Morning rolled around to regret his own decisions.
There’s too much going on in the short span that it took for the sun to rise and peak through his window.
First, there’s several messages and missed calls from Wilbur, Tubbo and surprisingly, two from Ranboo. In that order. Second, he can’t stare at his phone screen for too long without feeling like he’s burning his retinas. Thirdly, there’s the impending hangover.
He decided to call Wilbur first.
“Hello, Tommy?”
“Hey.”
“Just wanted to check up on you. Are you okay?”
Tommy scoffed. It wasn’t unusual for Wilbur to be taking the older brother role seriously, but what’s peculiar is how he’s awake in the morning to check up on him.
He doesn’t buy it.
“I’m fine. I was at a party last night, I just have this massive headache but I’m good. Who gave you the idea that I’m not? Is it Phil?” He wouldn’t be surprised if Phil’s son senses were tingling and he just had to make sure all was well.
“Twitter.”
Okay, nevermind.
Tommy clicks his tongue, narrowing his eyes at the wall. “Since when do you listen to Twitter?”
“Since someone decided to loop a Taylor Swift song for two hours straight…” Tommy’s eyes widened as he gasped out loud, Wilbur must have picked it up. “You’ve made your account public, king.”
He quickly checks to see and for some fucking reason, his Spotify account is in fact, public, and he groans as if he’s man left for dead.
“Can’t a guy listen to Taylor Swift without having to mean anything?” Even though it does mean something… Wilbur doesn’t need to know about that. He can pine and be hopeless in silence.
Thankfully, the musician doesn’t notice anything different or suspicious with him. “That’s what I thought too. I think people are overreacting. I just wanted confirmation.”
“Well, here’s your confirmation.” Okay, rolling his eyes is a bad idea. It felt like he snapped a nerve behind his eyeballs. He whined. “Fuck. My head hurts.”
Wilbur chuckles lightly at his misery.
“Take some aspirin, king and eat something.”
He brushes him off dismissively. He needs to end the call right now.
“Yeah, yeah. Will do. Thanks.”
Surely enough, when he booted up his laptop and checked Twitter, Tommy, Nothing New and Taylor Swift were trending in that order.
User 1 @user1 • 4h
tommy sure is going through it atm. who hurt you king??
User 2 @user2 • 4h
Tommy listens to Taylor Swift. My whole life is complete.
User 3 @user3 • 3h
he’s been looping nothing new for two hours now. i wanna ask if he’s okay but it’s probably just because the song is a bop lol
User 4 @user4 • 2h
Guys. can we stop assuming tommy’s going through something just because he’s looping taylor swift?? what if he really just likes the song?
Ranboo @Ranboosaysstuff • 1h
You good? @tommyinnit
Before he could respond back, returning to his timeline might have been the wrong move because the first thing he encounters is a set of photos.
It’s Ranboo’s tweet confirming he’s here with Aimsey and Serena. Somehow, his hangover didn’t matter when he could feel something resurfacing in his chest, a painful lump lodging in his throat as he coughed.
It should make him happy. It should. One of his best mates is here, yet no matter how much longer he waits, he doesn’t feel himself jumping for joy as he sends a reply back to his tweet.
TommyInnit @tommyinnit
Replying to @Ranboosaysstuff
welcome home
It’s agonizing to be jealous. Not because the American is at the center of the spotlight, everyone knows that if anyone deserves the attention and recognition, it’s Ranboo. It’s ridiculous and irrational. But he’s jealous of Aimsey and Serena for having his company… For days now it seems.
And he would like to scream about it, thrash around, throw a fit, break something—anything that doesn’t sound like a piece of his heart splintering off the more the world stresses that Ranboo’s here, one train ride away.
But he should do something about the parasocial concern of the people on Twitter first… Should he? Because no one can’t seem to mind their own business and leave him alone to wallow.
Fuck it. He should just embrace it and keep his Spotify public for the meantime.
TommyInnit @tommyinnit
In case anyone is wondering why I have Taylor Swift on blast, it was for a Minecraft parody but now that the surprise is ruined, I’m not doing it. Fuck you
Then, his phone rings and he doesn’t look up who’s calling as he shuts down his laptop and he answers, “Hello?”
“… Tommy?”
It’s Ranboo.
What a surprise.
He let out a breathless gasp as goosebumps appeared all over his forearms, like his body knew when to react around him. Tommy doesn’t think too much of it as he clears his throat, grounding himself when he closes his eyes. “What? You better not have called to ask if I’m okay just because I’ve been listening to Taylor Swift.”
A nervous laugh followed right after.
“Yeah… Imagine.”
That’s it. He doesn’t want to talk anymore.
“I’m hanging up now, bye—“
“No, wait! I, uh—I actually called because Toby and I wanted to invite you over... If—if you’re free and only if you want to, that is…”
That’s pretty thoughtful of them. But isn’t everyone already there? Freddie, Aimsey, Serena, probably Billzo. What more could he offer that they can’t already give?
It’s gonna be a whole can of worms if he voiced out his insecurities. He knows Ranboo’s gonna say it’s bullshit, that any second now he’d be adamant of how they would want him there, and it would only feel more like a consolation, a desperate hail mary attempt to convince him.
“Um, I don’t think I can go—“
“It’s just gonna be us! Um, you, me and Toby.”
He swears he could hear a bit of desperation in Ranboo’s voice and oh, what a tempting proposal that was. Tommy would have felt himself ascend and float, if not for the fact that Ranboo felt the need to mention that it was just gonna be them.
Why? Was his discomfort obvious? Is he being intervened? He can’t just ask, can’t he?
An uncomfortable itch makes its way down his throat and he swallows around nothing. “I’ll see what I can do, Ranboo. I’m gonna go now.”
“… Okay, alright. Just give me or Tubbo a text.”
When he ended the call, he released a stuttering breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
Now what? Is he going to go through it?
Suddenly, the door swings open and he’s face to face with his very angry looking mother.
Answers would have to wait, however.
“Tom, downstairs now. We need to talk.”
Well, he can’t say he’s not expecting this.
“Tommy!” Tubbo runs up to him as soon as he answers the door, hugging him for all he was worth as Tommy struggles to pull them back inside.
He’s gonna be honest, it’s at least nice to see his brunet friend again.
“How are you, bossman! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Tubbo grinned toothily at him, his excitement is admittedly contagious.
“We’re literally gonna be together all week after this. Why are you already so clingy?” He joked, before a tall figure joined them.
“Toms!”
There’s an excitement to him that overwhelms Tommy when he gets trapped in his arms. He’s all lightheaded and dizzy from their sudden proximity. It’s a bit more awkward when he returned the gesture with tentative pats on the back before pulling back with a grin.
“Uh, hey Ranboo! It’s always nice to see you’re back here,” He maintains a proper tight-lipped smile, because despite what he tells himself, Tommy is really glad to see him.
In turn, Ranboo happens to act just as timid.
“Yeah, yeah! It’s been great…”
Ugh.
Fuck. It’s coming back up again. The urge to walk out the door is pretty tempting if they keep standing there and Ranboo keeps staring at him with that formal and cordial reverence. That shouldn’t be a thing. They’re friends, not fucking strangers!
“I’m just—I’m gonna go and get my stuff inside.” He didn't wait for a response as he walked deeper into the house towards the extension.
His chest feels too tight, like he’s trying to breathe into a straw. It’s crushing, the type of regret that accompanies him around as he sets his bag down, kicking himself over why he agreed to go here.
Well, he actually knew why.
Pathetically speaking, he thought seeing Ranboo in person would help soothe the pining to a minimum. Yet, when presented with the real deal, he has no idea what to do with himself.
“So, what’s the plan for today, boys?” He asks once he returns to the pair talking in the living room.
“Nothing much. Just hanging out. It was actually Ranboo’s idea to invite you,”
This piece of information shakes Tommy’s world a little as he raises a questioning brow in the American’s direction. He needs to keep his cool.
“It’s been a while, man. I kinda miss it.”
It’s been a while with what? Since they actually talked that isn’t just limited by Twitter interactions, by a few games of Risk? Or is he talking about the obvious? Seeing each other eye to eye and face to face like this? Which would he have preferred? ‘He asked Toby to invite you over, you idiot! He does want you here!’ His mind screams, yet he still wanted him to clarify and elaborate.
But Tommy doesn’t ask and it kills him a little inside as he chooses the shallow option, playfully rolling his eyes before crossing his arms.
“You can just say you missed me, big man. I’m just gonna say you’re just as clingy as Toby.”
Jokes. Those were safer territories, the easier option. It’s much better to ignore the underlying awkwardness between them, just brush it under the carpet.
He watches the pair crack wide smiles before a laugh and the coast is suddenly a little clearer.
It hurts but Tommy still preens at successfully making them laugh.
He brushes past them to go straight to the kitchen, if it means keeping up with the lighthearted mood he set themselves in. “I’m fuckin’ starving. I haven’t eaten lunch yet. Do you have any food around here, Toby?”
“Uhm… There’s a bit of ingredients left for pasta bolognese but we could just order something.”
“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll cook…” He crouches at the bottom cupboards for some utensils, before realizing how intrusive he’s being. “Do you mind?”
“Go on ahead. We can go do the stream once you’ve eaten.”
Tommy nods his head as he gets started in the kitchen. There’s something therapeutic about cooking. After helping his mother cook dinner most of the time, he gets around keeping his hands busy, body moving with purpose to create something for himself. He feels accomplished every time.
It must have just been that or it must have been something else, but he lets himself go whenever he cooks. So, when he’s humming this one song, singing between the short period it took to go from the fridge down to the counter, he doesn’t notice it.
“I've had too much to drink tonight. And I know it's sad, but this is what I think about… And I wake up in the middle of the night. It's like I can feel time moving,” He knows every word to heart by now. He spent two hours making sure every word and every cord sticks, he could probably play the song with the guitar or ukulele even.
“You’re singing that song.”
He almost flinched at another voice cutting through the air.
Tommy honestly forgot that he isn’t alone. He shouldn’t bare his heart out like this in the open so carelessly, he thinks. When he looked behind his shoulder, he saw Ranboo just standing in the space between the living room and the kitchen.
Shrugging his shoulders, he turns back around.
It’s not a big deal. He was just singing.
“It’s stuck in my head. Fuckin’ sue me.”
“I’ll say. You’ve had it on loop for hours.” Ranboo chuckles weakly.
“Are you making fun of me or what?” He scowled back defensively.
“No, no. I can relate. I looped Jubilee Line for hours and people thought the worst… I honestly thought that girl from college rejected you.”
“… There’s no girl from college.” He tells him in a tired voice.
Well, there is… Was… But she’s not—she’s not the object of his affections. Not anymore. They’re just friends now.
“So, guy from college then?”
Tommy hears the grin in his tone.
He knows Ranboo is kidding. He knows it’s to poke fun at his heterosexuality. The joke was that it can’t be for a guy from college because Tommy is not gay. Tommy is so painfully straight, he’s the wife haver, a woman lover, a men slayer, all those obnoxious titles he has given himself.
But there’s a discovery and acceptance in knowing that he has feelings for the guy making these jokes.
Tommy is not straight.
“No. Not a guy from college… Just a guy.” He ended up whispering.
He gives him a gripping stare.
Surely, Ranboo sees the truth. Surely, he can see that Tommy is not dicking around. He wants to let him know—needs to let him know. Maybe Ranboo would get the inkling, he’s a smart guy, Tommy’s certain he can figure it out.
“Wait, Tommy… So, you’re not—“
“Tommy, where do you wanna sleep?” Tubbo’s voice interrupts them first before the brunet appeared seemingly out of nowhere with a bunch of pillows and blankets tucked in his arms.
Tommy lets it go as he waves a dismissive hand when he turns around to attend to the boiling pasta.
“Anywhere’s fine. I’m leaving in the morning anyway.”
“You’re leaving right away?”
Shit timing. It doesn’t end.
“My mum was not too happy with me going to a party last night. I need to go home right away.”
“You’re an idiot.” says Tubbo before moving to hang out in the living room putting everything in one end of the couch.
Tommy doesn’t respond back, focusing on cooking instead. He takes the time to recall his conversation with Ranboo before they got interrupted.
The American was going to ask if he was not straight, wasn’t he? He knows Ranboo understood, he just wants to hear the verbal confirmation for some reason.
Because it’s so impossible for Tommy, that the Tommyinnit can’t be straight, right? If that’s what Ranboo is thinking, he’s gonna punch him in the throat.
The real question he should be asking is who’s the guy? Because Tommy thinks—if he asks him now, if Ranboo just fucking asks, he would drop everything and tell him.
He was under his mercy right there.
He gave him a chance when their eyes met and communicated.
But Ranboo didn’t take it as he joined Tubbo in the living room.
Fucking hell.
“And my cheeks are growing tired. From turning red and faking smiles. Are we only biding time 'til I lose your attention?”
Tommy continues to sing in a whisper.