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Ranboo was never home on Saturdays.
That wasn’t an exaggeration from Tubbo, it was simply the truth - Ranboo didn’t stay in Snowchester on Saturdays. He’d disappear in the early hours when the only things lighting the world were fireflies and glow worms, when both Tubbo and Micheal were sound asleep curled up tight in many layers of blankets and fleecy pyjamas in an attempt to fight off the bitter, chilly air. When the new layer of glittering snow was still untouched, not yet tainted by small, playful dancing feet or long strides from worn leather boots whose owner looked just as old and tired despite them still having the last days of childhood in their clutches.
His return would always be on Sunday morning, halfway through the breakfast Tubbo would have burnt because he was still half asleep. He was never able to sleep when Ranboo wasn’t home, his thoughts plagued with terrible visions of Ranboo being alone and getting hurt with nobody around to help him until it was too late or of Ranboo forgetting how to get back home and Tubbo never seeing him again. Michael wouldn’t sleep those nights either. The toddler would scream all night if both of his fathers weren’t there to tuck him in. And, so, Tubbo would gather his son into his softest pyjamas after bathtime, swaddling him like a baby and they would snuggle beneath a mound of blankets in the big bed, leaving Ranboo’s side unoccupied in case he would arrive back in the middle of the night. He never did.
Tubbo’s husband would leave him alone to deal with a screaming child who couldn’t be calmed by anything. He was left sitting on dead legs as he rocked their son for hours in a feeble attempt to keep him warm and comfortable enough so the toddler could fall into an uneasy sleep when his tears had exhausted him, leaving his face damp with water, snot and spit. Tubbo would continue to rock his son at this point just so he had something to do before his alarm would go off and he would be forced to start having to make food with all the coordination of an enderman in a thunderstorm.
No, not an enderman. He wouldn’t let his mind think of those until his husband would stroll through the backdoor as if nothing had happened. Until his partner would blow raspberries on the bright red cheeks of their grizzling baby who would immediately fall into peals of giggles - his anger and lack of sleep completely forgotten in the presence of his ‘Boo’.
Tubbo would receive a sheepish greeting at best and a small wave from across the room at worst. No matter the reaction, Tubbo would proceed to ignore Ranboo for the rest of the day despite all his worries from mere hours before the reappearance of the teen. This never affected Ranboo as he spent all day dozing on and off, clearly exhausted from the previous day’s activities. Mondays would be back to normal and they would act like any other regular family. Well as regular as family a comprised of two teenagers and one piglin toddler could get.
That was just how life in the Underscore-Beloved mansion was. It was how it had always been, from when they were still living in their first house together which was really nothing more than a shed, and it was how Tubbo always expected it to be. For two days each week Tubbo would essentially be a single teen parent, and the rest of the time they would muddle their way through the mess of life together. As much as Tubbo hated Ranboo just up and leaving in the middle of the night once a week without explanation, he couldn’t really say anything. There were plenty of things that he kept from Ranboo and had no plans of ever sharing, so it would really be a dick move if he demanded this piece of information from Ranboo. Besides, their relationship had lasted this long with the secret keeping so Tubbo didn’t see the point in possibly complicating things now.
Until things complicated themselves.
First it was the cookie outpost in Las Nevadas which would have been fine on its own, if it hadn’t turned into each of the teens working at opposing burger shops, neither willing to quit their position. Maybe that wouldn’t have been that bad either if it hadn’t been for their bosses.
Wilbur Soot and Quackity.
Now both men were far from perfect but, in Tubbo’s opinion, Quackity was definitely better. He didn’t turn children into soldiers over petty conflicts or use the same children as distractions for mass destruction. Speaking of, why the actual fuck was Ranboo working for Wilbur? Not that Tubbo had actually told Ranbo about what he went through with the undead man but surely his desperate pleas for Ranboo to quit should’ve been enough.
They hadn’t.
So it became just another thing the teens would skirt around at home, pretending the rivalry didn’t exist and they were just oh-so-happy to be with each other. Tubbo would ignore Ranboo’s uniform draped over a radiator to dry before his next shift and Ranboo would ask Tubbo about every topic under the sun but how his day was, if he knew Tubbo had gone in for a shift. Things were just fine, or they were so good at acting like it was that nobody suspected a thing.
And then Wilbur once again decided he needed to drag an innocent teenager into his fights that didn’t concern them. He didn’t actually know why the two of them were sneaking around that night stealing that poor horse and he didn’t care. Nothing that ever came out of Wilbur’s mouth led to anything good.
So Tubbo did what he always did because nobody else ever wanted to - fix the fucking problem. Maybe if he got back Quackity’s horse then Wilbur would get some sense knocked into his skull for the first time ever and he would leave his husband alone! Then there would be less things being hidden or ignored in the house and the air wouldn’t feel so thick to the point where Tubbo was convinced somebody had hidden a spore blossom in a cupboard somewhere. He had to find that goddamn horse.
***
The room was dark.
When he had first found his way into the room through the hidden door next to the lake, there was some light. It had been peeking through small cracks in the ceiling of stone above his head but it had long since disappeared. So Tubbo was left alone in the cold darkness for he didn’t know how long. The constant looming fear of the trap he was stood on going off if he so much as flinched was permanently at the front of his mind. Another thing that seemed to be permanently there was an annoying tickle up his nose from the particles of redstone dust floating around the room but the sneeze never arrived.
He stood on that stupid pressure plate for what could have been five minutes as easily as it could have been a full day - he had no way to tell. Tubbo was alone in the small, damp room more terrified than had ever been in his short life as his stomach screamed at him in anxiety. And then he heard it, muffled through the layer of glass and stone ahead of him. The booming, cocky voice of Wilbur Soot, full of life and dripping with mockery as he led Quackity into his trap.
As much as Tubbo despised the man, he had never been happier to hear that voice, because he knew Ranboo would be close behind and Tubbo would be safe again soon. Someone must have flicked a switch because the room was suddenly filled with humming light that made Tubbo squint. Now that Tubbo was actually able to see, he noticed the viewing room just a few metres above him where the trio now stood, all with mirroring expressions of terror. (Tubbo was certain his face was doing the same, too.)
He couldn’t remember the exact order of events after that, not that he really wanted to remember if he was being honest. He knew that Wilbur and Quackity had started fighting and Ranboo had disappeared, because of course he had, and now he was alone again but this time it was so loud and yet so quiet all at the same time and he just knew that he was going to be left on that pressure plate until the day he died whatever the reason may be. Oh Prime, what was going to happen when he died? It would be the last time so he couldn’t come back which meant that he would be leaving Michael and Ranboo all alone.
Michael…
Tubbo hoped that Ranboo remembered to drop him off at Tommy’s that morning or else he would be in the mansion all day by himself, thinking he had been abandoned again. Tubo could deal with that feeling but he would never let his child experience it again if he would help it. On that train of thought, where had Ranboo gotten to?
As if summoned by his husband’s thoughts, Ranboo’s hand was placed upon Tubbo’s shoulder. In that moment Tubbo wanted nothing more than to simply collapse into the elder’s arms and cry but he couldn’t. They still had to find a way to get him off the trap without setting it off. Ranboo placed a foot next to Tubbo’s. His arms found their way around Tubbo, cheek resting against greasy hair and narrowly avoiding being cut by horns.
With two feet now on the pressure plate Ranboo pushed Tubbo off, “I have a plan. Go!”
Tubbo didn’t hesitate to scramble his way up the ladder to the viewing platform but just before he reached the top he snuck one last look back at his husband’s warm smile and kind eyes. Tubbo collapsed onto the platform’s floor, then proceeded to crawl on shaking legs into the furthest corner of the room. He plugged his ears, though he knew it wouldn’t do much, and screwed his eyes up as tight as he could.
The room shook, and Tubbo was once again choked by thick smoke.
***
When Tubbo arrived home to the mansion that night, all the lights were off. That meant Tommy must still have Michael then. They’d be back soon though because it was already getting dark and Tommy could never make food the way that Michael likes, and the toddler would refuse to sleep if his parents weren’t nearby. Tubbo sighed. Maybe he could sneak in a quick nap and by the time he woke up Ranboo would have respawned, Michael would be home and Tubbo would have the energy to play happy housewife.
Taking a slow walk up the stairs to his bedroom, Tubbo used his sleeve to clean his face from the remaining ash. He would shower later, he told himself. Tubbo flopped face first onto his side of the bed, rolling over to look at the space Ranboo should be respawning in.
It was empty. Completely free from the red particles that accompany the long, painful process of respawn. Ranboo was respawning somewhere else. In a different bed which Tubbo didn’t know the location of so he couldn’t help his husband through his first respawn, which everyone knew was always the worst because you never knew what to expect.
Tubbo screamed.
His whole world was falling apart yet again and, like usual, he had no control over anything. He pulled himself up and staggered into the bathroom. It took all the effort he didn’t have to force a healing potion down his throat, hoping that the burning in his body was from the start of a fever and not pure anger at the entire world.
He slept on the bathroom floor that night and didn’t wake until noon the next day.
***
Tubbo was still alone when he woke up. Neither Michael nor Ranboo had found their way home apparently. He would have been woken up if they had. He sighed and pulled out his communicator. He’d sort out the pain in his back later. (Prime, was he really getting back pain from that? Was he getting old?)
“Tommy, where the fuck is my son? Why didn’t you bring him home last night?”
On the other end of the phone, Tommy snorted and sounded just as tired as Tubo when he spoke, “Dunno, Big man. Nobody dropped him off yesterday so I just assumed one of you had him for the day. You sure he isn’t just with Ranboob?”
Tubbo hung up and threw the communicator as hard as he could at the mirror. It shattered. Tubbo would never get around to fixing it.
Time ticked by slowly that day and Tubo watched every second pass on the kitchen clock, not moving from his seat at the table. Maybe, somehow Tommy was right and Ranboo had just respawned really fast and had taken Michael so that Tubbo could have time to relax after the recent events - Ranboo was really selfless like that. But that still didn’t explain where Michael was the rest of the day before that. He’d just have to wait for Ranboo to return and he could question him.
Only Ranboo didn’t return that night. And nobody showed up with Michael either. It was a whole week before he heard anything about either of them. An entire seven days of radio silence with nobody to turn to who could help him look for his missing family.
The Day It All Got Even Worse was a Saturday and Tubbo was able to pretend, if his focused really hard, that it was just like any other Saturday and Ranboo would be back in the morning and Tommy had asked to spend time with this only and favourite (only) nephew which is why the house was empty. But deep down he knew it wasn’t the truth.
That morning was just the same as every other morning had been that week. Silent and cold and lonely where the only thing Tubbo had to do to entertain himself was sitting on the staircase facing the front door until his vision went fuzzy, not wanting to miss the moment if his husband or child came back home. It was mid afternoon that changed. There was no tearful reunion for the family, no, there were sirens. Loud and blaring, notifying the whole server that Dream had finally escaped the prison. Tubbo didn’t move from his spot. If Dream wanted to come after him then he could but he wasn’t going to abandon his wait for his family for that bastard. Then barely an hour later a knock sounded on the door.
Tubbo rushed forwards, opening the door and narrowly avoiding hitting himself in the nose. On the other side was nobody he wanted to see. Instead it was a tall half-piglin whose hair was falling out of its usually well-kept braid, cheeks pink from the cold air. Neither person seemed to be the one who wanted to talk first so there was a long, awkward pause filled with equally as uncomfortable extended eye-contact. It was Technoblade who spoke first.
“So, uh, I need to talk to you about Ranboo. You knew him, right? Like were you close?”
Tubbo gave a snort and shifted on his feet, subtly moving the door between him and Techno. Was he close to Ranboo? What a stupid question. Well, it wasn’t for Techno, he supposed because they never had actually told anyone but Tommy and Eret about their platonic marriage. He realised that he still hadn’t given Techno an answer.
“Yeah , you could say we were close. I’d say he was my best friend, apart from Tommy of course.”
Technoblade didn’t seem to like that answer, his face scrunching up in what Tubbo could only assume to be pain. The man hesitated, taking a deep breath to give himself time to carefully choose his next words. Tubbo tapped his foot impatiently, the soon Technoblade left the sooner he could go back to worrying about his family in peace.
“Tubbo, I’m so sorry. Ranboo, he-” Techno paused again. “A couple of days ago Sam arrested Ranboo. So I broke in to rescue him and Dream but when we got out Sam was waiting for us and… Look, Tubbo, I just want you to know that I tried to save him, I really did but I couldn’t get to him in time. Ranboo’s dead, Tubbo. Sam killed him.”
The pit of anxiety in Tubbo’s stomach filled itself in but other than that he didn’t feel a thing. Ranboo was gone. He wasn’t coming back. But Tubbo only knew of Ranboo losing two of his lives, had Ranboo forgotten to tell Tubbo about the other one? What was the point in wondering, he’d never be able to ask Ranboo. All his thoughts swirled round his brain as if they were a snowstorm. Distantly he could feel his fingers going numb on the door from the frost obscuring the wood grain. He wasn’t sad or scared or angry, he barely felt anything - the numbness was just cold. Why didn’t he feel anything, he wanted to scream at Techno for answers that neither of them had. Not his Ranboo, it couldn’t be. When he came back to his body, he saw Techno flapping a piece of paper in front of his eyes.
“Tubbo, I asked you if you knew who this was. Ranboo gave me this picture before he died but I don’t know who this is or what it means.”
Gently, Tubbo took the photo from Technoblade. He held it in shaking hands. Happy eyes and rosy cheeks stared back at him. His baby. Michael. Tubbo still didn’t react. He still didn’t feel a thing. He stepped away from the door, inviting Techno in.
They walked in silence up the stairs. Tubbo held the bannister in a death grip in case his trembling legs began to fail him. He just had to make it to the nursery and then he could sit down. They made it, finally, and Tubbo flopped carelessly onto his son’s bed, clutching the worn out toy chicken to his chest. Michael didn’t have his chicken. He never went anywhere without it. He must be so scared without it. And Tubbo couldn’t help him. He felt sick.
Gesturing the family portrait on the wall, Tubbo found his words again, “Michael, he’s our kid. He disappeared the same day Ranboo went to prison. I don’t know where he is.”
He neglected to tell Techno that he hadn’t exactly been looking for his son in that time. What a shit father he was. Just assuming that someone else would bring the kid home and not looking for him after a week! Michael was just a baby and relied on his parents for everything but Tubbo couldn’t keep him safe. Ranboo was always the better parent.
Technoblade came to perch on the edge of the bed next to Tubbo, looking uncomfortable. He helped Tubbo to sit up and looped an arm around the teen’s shoulders. They sat quietly for some time, Techno slowly rocking Tubbo. It brought little comfort but allowed Tubbo to lose himself into his thoughts, his mind far enough away to forget about everything, even just for a while.
***
Technoblade had been a surprising help to Tubbo in the next few days. He made sure that Tubbo was eating and sleeping and taking care of himself, while also taking on the responsibility of looking for clues about Michael’s whereabouts. Each day blurred into the next and Tubbo still couldn’t get himself to feel a thing. He pulled himself from his mind to play the concerned parent as best he could because maybe if he faked it enough he would actually start feeling it.
It did seem to pay off because somehow Techno had managed to find a letter from Eret informing him that they knew where Michael was. Before he knew it, Tubbo was being dragged out the house to go and interview Eret about the child. The walk to Eret’s castle was short but in the time it took Tubbo thought he might finally feel some emotion brewing in his chest. The phrase fake it till you make it seemed to be coming true.
Unfortunately, Eret no longer had Michael with him so Tubbo still couldn’t be reunited with what was essentially his only remaining family. He didn’t know how he could ever be so stupid as to think that this would be quick and easy so he could be happy again. He should know better by now. Instead of the easy job he hoped for, the trio had to travel across the ocean to find Sam who had apparently kidnapped Michael. Tubbo wasn’t sure what he would do if it turned out that Sam didn’t have Michael either.
Luckily for Tubbo he didn’t have to think too hard about this because hidden in the back of Sam’s house in the smallest room possible was Michael. Curled up on a nest of blankets and snorting agitatedly from the commotion outside was the baby piglin. Tubbo’s feet moved without instruction towards his son. He whisked the boy into his arms giving cuddles and providing comfort to the now happily sobbing baby. He was never letting Michael out of his sight again. He used one hand to reach into his pocket to grab Michael’s beloved stuffed chicken. He used it to peck Michael’s nose, producing gleeful squeals and failing legs. He fashioned his coat into a makeshift baby carrier so he could take Michael home with him immediately. Well, after they had taken Sam to prison on account of kidnapping.
He didn’t want the young boy to see the prison, Tubbo was slightly scared of it himself. So he made sure to keep the boy’s head tucked into his chest as he tried to work out the complicated keycard system and navigate through the maze of corridors to Pandora’s Vault. Sam’s new home for the foreseeable future. It would do him good to have a taste of his own medicine for once, Tubbo chuckled to himself.
Getting out of the prison took just as long as getting in, but when they did it Tubbo breathed a sigh of relief. Sam was locked up and Michael was safe. The only thing left for him to do now was get him home and work out how he was supposed to put an overtired toddler down to bed without help. He’d work it out. He’s done it before.
Tubbo opened his mouth, prepared to thank the ‘Revengers’ and takee Michael home but Techno’s hand on his shoulder stopped him from moving.
“Do you have a safe place to take him, Tubbo? Because from what I’ve seen your house doesn’t seem to be the best for him, given the recent events. You could always stay at Ranboo’s old house, if you wanted. I mean he won’t be using it anymore and Phil and I would always be able to protect the two of you if anything were to happen again.”
Tubbo spluttered, “Ranboo’s old house? I’m pretty sure the only house he had was with me, Technoblade.”
That was apparently not the right thing to say as Techno’s face scrunched up in confusion.
“No, he built a house next to mine and Phil’s after doomsday. He stayed there every weekend. Did he not tell you?”
“He must have forgotten to,” Tubbo sighed. “But if you think it’s safest for Michael, lead the way.”
He made a grand gesture to the man who nodded and started walking in the direction of the main portal. Eret and Tubbo fell in line behind him.
***
The trek through the nether was silent and Tubbo couldn’t work out if it was awkward or comfortable but he welcomed it either way. His head was pounding and he was exhausted and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep himself together for. The bubble of emotion had grown and was moving dangerously close to the surface.
They were almost there now. Phil’s perfectly kept snow was being ruined by three pairs of adult footsteps and one pair of hooves belonging to a toddler who refused to be carried any longer. Tubbo only let him down on the agreement of holding hands until they got to the house. He’d die before he let Michael get away from him again.
“Who’s in the window?”
Tubbo didn’t know who had asked the question, the space in his mind occupied with the person moving around through the window. A person with a golden crown on his head and a cape around his shoulders and smart black trousers covering his legs.
What. The. Fuck.
Tubbo knew that Techno had to be lying. He scooped Michael up into his arms again so he could also see into the house.
“Michael, look who it is. It’s Boo!”
Michael flailed his little limbs around in excitement until he was once again put on the ground which upon reaching he immediately took off and knocked on the door of the cabin. Tubbo ran after him. Just as he reached the door, it opened revealing Ranboo on the other side. Only he wasn’t Ranboo, not exactly. He looked the same and he had the same clothes on but he was pale. So pale. A long scar covered him from his right shoulder to left hip and it dripped with phantom blood red and green.
Technoblade was right. His husband really was gone. This ghost wasn’t his husband. This wasn’t who he married. He didn’t raise a child with whoever this was. Because this wasn’t his husband. The ghost was close to what his husband was but close isn’t enough. He may have gotten his son back today but he lost his husband for the third time the same day.
***
Tubbo didn’t spend that night alone.
Laying next to him in the unfamiliar big bed was his son wrapped in many layers of blankets and snuggled into the arms of the ghost of his father. Tubbo flung the blanket from his lap and stood onto the cold floor. He made sure to tuck his now abandoned half of the blanket around his family, he couldn’t have them getting cold. Tubbo took one last look at the sleeping members of his little family. They seemed so peaceful.
With silent steps Tubbo descended the stairs and opened the front door. He left his coat and shoes behind. The snow felt like a thousand tiny pinpricks below his bare feet. Every light in all the cabins was off so he was safe.
Tubbo’s knees buckled and his pyjamas were quickly soaked by the snow. He couldn’t do it anymore. He’d shoved everything he felt down for so long he couldn’t even feel it and now it was all too much. The bubble burst.
Tubbo screamed.
He screamed in pain, fear, sadness, anger. He screamed for his son and his husband. He screamed for the ghost he now had to live with. He screamed for his friends. He screamed for his first family, the men who raised him who had once again taken him in. He screamed for all the secrets kept from him that he would never get answers to. And most importantly he screamed for himself. Whoever that was. He didn’t know anymore.
As quickly as the emotion had come on, it had left. He picked himself up off the floor and walked.
He walked and walked and walked and told himself he wouldn’t look back until he found home. Wherever that may be.