Work Text:
Before I met him that day, I lived a life perfectly fine, Now I feel every minute I spend without him will be torture and it's slowly eating at me.
-
Tubbo feels a bullet ricochet off my chest everytime he meets his gaze. Like someone's pulling him underwater only to not fight to swim back up. Wanting a feeling forever but all he can do is run away, tail between legs.
It's only when he's walking home from spending time with him, he realises he's kept a ridiculous smile on the entire time. He tried wiping it away, but it's the kind of smile that comes back whenever his brain supplies the thought of him.
When your life is something of a tornado you're gonna chase to find a breeze, if it's in the form of soft two toned hands that holds you like precious jewel, a pair of iridescent eyes of leaves battling flames on a ying-yang face. Who's face could even crack the slightest grin that he doesn't deserve, it's like when an earthquake breaks the world's surface, inevitable but doesn't understand that damage they're doing.
He finds himself relishing in the memory of making flirtatious comments to the enderian and getting to see a visible circuit malfunction in his brain, Tubbo was alarmed, maybe he subconsciously slapped the taller, because no one should be blushing that hard. What he'd do to open that boy's head and spill it's contents to selfishly look through for himself.
He wants to press so the most delicate pressure on they're skin with his lips but he's afraid he'll turn to a pile of ashes in his touch.
Staring down at his tearing calloused hands, that felt like silk when they rubbed against Ranboo's.
He wants to cry for pain worse than a bow to the arm, he'd rather be pushed to the ground and eat grainy dirt looking up in a blur at a plastered white mask and lime green, then ever be the one to break a pure heart like his,
-
"Grief's not meant to be easy." The hybrid continues. "It's kinda like a...twisted complicated ball of emotions. When you think you've finally unraveled it, it starts twisting up again. But you have to keep working at it." Ranboo goes on, mindlessly, how does this man know exactly what he needs to wants and needs to hear?
Tubbo and grief go way back, and he's sort of accepted that it's like their shadow, waiting to consume him whole. It's dragging him back by tassels of his suit. Ranboo doesn't know, he doesn't know the half of it, but he doesn't need to.
"I just think the world hates me." Tubbo sprawls out on the picnic blanket with a sigh, he wants to hear more of Ranboo's voice.
"You just need to keep working at it, find the right string, maybe you'll find things start to get better." Tubbo's mind is everywhere, is he aware of his conscious right now? Do enderman hybrids have mind reading powers? It only just occurred to him that Ranboo isn't egoistic and constantly talks about himself. The words leave his lips and print permanently in his mind, he's getting given advice not because he's having a mental breakdown and threatening to jump of a cliff, because someone cares and can grasp how he feels.
"It's okay to be sad Tubbo, sadness isn't a weakness, sadness isn't a failure, you're the strongest person I know." I don't want you to smile at me, Im begging you to roll laments of acrimony off your tongue and pierce me harder than the sharpest of diamonds could ever do.
-
It's a dreadful feeling that sends his world into panic, He hates how fragile he is that Ranboo has so much power over him right now it's not fair, How is it that he can miss someone but be standing right their in his arms?
The brick wall of his office suddenly looks very enticing, fighting the primal urge to bash his skull against it. His body fights the horrific realisation that he doesn't spend time with Ranboo because he could be the one to paint the saint in an chapfallen frown, it's because Tubbo genuinely enjoys being in his presence and the thought of kissing him whenever his head hits the pillow.
It's funny how something can feel so good and yet so painful when the circumstances aren't right. In the search of life of finding belonging, when at one point he wouldn't mind if where he belonged was six feet underground. But he couldn't stop feeling this even if they cut his heart of out his chest.
-
"What kind of person do I seem like?" Tubbo mused the question shifting on the picnic blanket to get a better look at the taller's face, he didn't answer immediately but the few seconds of silence we're the worst seconds of his short life and he was immediately met with regret.
"Well you seem like..." Like someone who keep other's at arm's length because you know you can't compromise with them? Someone who doesn't care about what other's think? Someone's who's mastered the art of 'knowing what they're doing' but is in pieces?
"Like you'd want your space maybe." He blinked and Tubbo blinked back as if it sufficed as an answer, trying to convince his lungs to take in oxygen.
But then he smiled and Tubbo couldn't quite breathe.
-
All of a sudden there's charring roll in between his fingers. Tubbo breathes a long, deep breathe in. Maybe he'll be selfish once more, just one more time.
He doesn't want to be broken, but he isn't whole, how can he embrace new people into his life when he's a shattered vase with shards threatening to stab anyone who gets close?
Inhale, exhale.
Who in their right mind would spend their time trying to collapse his strict walls protecting his feelings.
That wonderful burning sensation that he chases, he enjoys it, it feels similar to when Ranboo offers to carry his folders, or when he'd trip and fall over his own words and then physically at a teasing remark. He breathes out the gas and he decides it embodies the pollution the feeling that boy gave him.
Inhale, exhale.
Yet the taste it still there and rolls his tongue to fully feel the cannabis. It soothing and progressively making him ill, although, he shuts his eyes to grovel at the near death feeling of his lungs barking at him to let it out.
-
"Hmmm build me a palace." The brunette jokes, he finds it amusing, this joke between them.
Ranboo watched his face again, Tubbo could see the cogs turning, face getting steamy and slight quiver of the lip.
"How many floors?"
-
There's a blistering eruption in his chest and he knows it'll explode in the form of acid from his stomach, it's making him nauseated, feeble, reduced to a pile on the cold office floor.
Mind feels like vines wrapping around a castle, irritating trying to find a reason why someone's still by his side and doesn't looks at him like he's an abysmal pile of trash. Would it be a matter of time for it to happen? It's like he's playing checkers with himself, good job Tubbo! You're winning! He's finally getting tired of you! But Ranboo's already two spaces in front of him, cupping his cheeks when liquid threatens to spill.
He's in love and Tubbo doesn't know what to do.