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An echo of a ringing phone waiting for a caller to pick up hangs over the walls of Ranboo’s Brighton home. He’s all too painfully aware of the extra few minutes it takes for Tubbo to pick up ever since the breakup. That he’s not worth an immediate answer of a fondly amused gasp on the other line in this day and age.
The tone of Tubbo picking up startles Ranboo. He’s waiting for the day the late answers turn into text message apologies, then eventually nothing.
“Hey, what’s up? Is something wrong?” Tubbo asks in that gravelly barely-awake tone that coils him back to warm summer mornings, when hiding under the covers was all they needed.
“Nah, not yet at least-” Ranboo quips, and the mere chuckle he gets out of Tubbo gives him an iridescent rush just for a few seconds. “-You sound tired, did I wake you?”
“ No ! I’m uh… yeah, you did.” Ranboo can almost hear Tubbo bucking his head down. He wonders if he also feels it, that bittersweet taste of how well they still know each other. If he’s also wondering how soon they’ll be strangers who know each other’s secrets.
“You’ve been sleeping a lot lately.” It’s another way for Ranboo to say, “ I’m worried about you, are you doing something about that?”
They both know he’s not allowed to say that though. Ranboo cringes at how he’s toeing at these overcomplicated lines, like red string ribbons hanging across canyons. Ranboo can manage, he’ll do anything; but he knows It’ll get exhausting for Tubbo at some point.
“It’s fine. it’s nothing really. My- Um Ash is coming by tomorrow. i’ll be alright”
The silence churns low, crackling its way high into the air. The air they now share in the same country, in the same radius over a phone line because if they know if they see the other in front of them they’ll break. It’s a mellow game they’re playing, even if it won’t last long.
“Oh? That sounds good. I’m glad.” Ranboo says, hoping he sounds happy for the other more than ever right now.
“Yeah, it is.” Tubbo smiles into his covers and Ranboo knows he’s thinking of his boyfriend; his boyfriend that’s not Ranboo.
At this point there’s a silent countdown as to who will find a way to end the call first. Usually they’d go a bit longer before Tubbo mentions Ash, a few jokes that Tuboo doesn’t laugh as loud at anymore and awkward filler conversations about what they’re doing that only remind them of how separated their lives are now.
“I think i’d better go-” There it is. “-it’s a bit late to be on call”
What kind of person would he be to test those boundaries?
“Why do you say that?” Ranboo’s playing with matches now, he’s very much aware when the call goes silent with Tubbo’s cautious breathing.
A horrible one, that’s who.
Then it’s the overwhelming feeling of being clueless as to what Tubbo’s next words will be. He could say he’s had enough of Ranboo’s selfishness and leave forever, he could yell about all of Ranboo’s flaws, he could let him stay .
The small suspense almost kills him, and maybe Ranboo wishes it did when the next words tumble out of Tuboo,
“Goodnight Ranboo.” He says in a patient tone, and it’s so not fair how polite he’s being, how he’s not screaming and cursing him out like he deserves.
There’s a deep urge to hate Tubbo, and he wants to, so fucking bad. Tubbo and his lovely rose cheeks, Tubbo and his always so sweet voice and the way he wouldn’t dare treat Ranboo less than kindly.
Ranboo falls asleep, under warm duvet covers, dreaming of a future he’ll never get. In which they’re 30-something-year-olds who can pick up where they left off. It doesn’t necessarily have to happen in this timeline, and he’s fine with it being nothing more than a distant dream