Chapter Text
Ranboo took a deep breath and triple-checked the card in his hand. Building B, apartment 202, room 4. He glanced back up at the apartment door. Apartment 202, same as the card. This was right. His anxiety could sit down and be quiet, this was correct.
He took another breath, stuffed the card in his pocket, and unlocked the door with his shiny new key.
As the door opened, Ranboo was met with the sound of incredible violence. Two seniors - very big seniors, they were both built like tanks - were wrestling on the floor of the common room, practically snarling at each other, and a third senior was perched on the couch, laughing and cheering.
One of them was slammed into the floor and Ranboo flinched violently backward.
He was going to die in this apartment. This was the wrong one after all, oops, goodbye terrifying seniors, time to go hide under a rock forever -
“Oh, hey!” the third senior said with a grin before Ranboo could get the door closed again. “Squid, Tech, quit fighting, our roommate’s here!”
The two wrestling stopped almost instantly, sitting up and nodding pleasantly to Ranboo, like he’d walked in on them relaxing instead of fighting.
“Uh,” Ranboo squeaked.
The third senior stood up and walked over, holding out a hand. “Ranboo, right? They told us you’re a freshman.”
“I - yeah, uh, I. I am. They ran out of room in the freshman dorms, they said,” Ranboo said weakly, shaking the senior’s hand.
“Man, that sucks, sorry. But hey, you get to stay in upperclassman housing! Get your own room and everything.” The senior beamed at him. “I’m Phil, these two idiots are Techno and Squid.”
“Hullo,” said the one that Ranboo now realized had bright pink hair.
The other one - black hair - waved. “Techno’s my baby brother, he’ll tell you otherwise, don’t listen to a word he says.”
Techno turned to glare at him. “I’m a day older than you, nerd, watch it.”
“It’s. It’s nice to meet you,” Ranboo managed. “What, um - why? The um, the fighting… ?”
“That’s just a thing they do, mate, don’t worry about it,” Phil told him with a laugh. “Feel free to interrupt them if there’s something more important going on, though, they’re usually pretty good about stopping if something needs their attention.”
Techno had turned his attention back to Ranboo, squinting slightly and looking him critically up and down.
Ranboo shifted nervously. This felt scarily like a test.
Finally, Techno seemed to find what he was looking for and nodded. “You plannin’ to try out for the soccer team, kid?”
“Uh. I. What?”
“You’d be a good player.” Techno said it like he would say the grass was green and the sky was blue. “We could use a goalie with some height.”
“Techno and Squid are both on the soccer team,” Phil explained. “Personally I couldn’t care less about Sportsball, but hey, whatever makes them happy.”
Ranboo almost. Almost. Got very upset by the “sportsball” comment. Almost. But he couldn’t comment on it, because these three were terrifying and he didn’t know how well Phil would take something like that. So it did not annoy him, nope nope.
“Call it sportsball one more time and I’m throwin’ you off the balcony,” Techno grumbled.
Phil laughed brightly. “Like to see you try, mate!”
Well, that answered that question, Ranboo supposed. But he still wasn’t really interested in trying out for a team in a sport that he had never played before.
Two weeks later, Ranboo was standing on a soccer field, his hands shaking and his mouth very very dry (why hadn’t he gotten water before this that had been stupid he should have listened to Phil).
He was one of a surprisingly large group of freshman and sophomores trying out for the Vipers, which was actually a pretty cool team name, and one of a depressingly small group desperately trying to keep up with the rules and the directions from the coaches.
Techno and Dream, another senior that Ranboo had run into once or twice (he was pretty sure the guy had borrowed one of his pens once and forgotten to give it back) were evidently the co-captains of the team. Techno was senior co-captain this year or something like that, big rivalry, Squid had told Ranboo a little of it beforehand. According to him, Dream and Techno fought for the top spot every year, but they’d mellowed out over their four years here into a friendly back and forth.
“But hey,” he’d said with a grin, “you don’t need to worry about any of that until you’ve made the team. Now go stretch, you’ll thank me for that later.”
Ranboo was fairly sure he would not be thanking anyone for any of this. This was a terrible idea. He shouldn’t have agreed to this, he should have grown a spine and said no thank you, Techno, I do not want to try out for your soccer team actually.
Suddenly, an elbow dug into his side.
“Hey bossman!” Tubbo said cheerfully. He had been one of Ranboo’s first friends, latching onto him and another freshman named Tommy during orientation. Ranboo was honestly more intimidated by Tubbo than he was by Techno, sometimes. “You excited?”
“I feel like I might throw up,” Ranboo admitted a bit distantly.
Tubbo shrugged. “Understandable. It’s not like they’re judging you or anything, though, you’ll be fine.”
Ranboo turned to stare at him. “I - Tubbo, they’re literally judging our performance, what - Do you understand how tryouts work?”
“Of course I do! They watch us play, then they pick the coolest people to be on the team. You and I are obviously the coolest, so we’ll be fine,” Tubbo said with a grin.
That wasn’t at all how any of this worked, but it actually somehow made Ranboo feel a bit better. “... Sure, Tubbo. Thanks.”
“No problem bossman!”
“Alright, idiots, time to see how fast you can run!” Coach Schlatt barked, and they didn’t have any more time to talk.
Ranboo was pretty sure he was dying. This was it. Death approached. His lungs were about to just give up on him and they weren’t even done with tryouts yet.
He was paired up with a sophomore he vaguely recognized - he was pretty sure Phil had brought him to their apartment once to study? Wilbur Scoot or something like that.
“Don’t use your toes,” Wilbur told him as they kicked the ball back and forth. “Use the side of your foot or the top of your foot.”
“Soccer is terrible,” Ranboo wheezed. It did hurt less when he tried kicking the ball Wilbur’s way, but it hurt his brain more, so who was the real loser here? Ranboo. It was still Ranboo.
Wilbur kicked the ball back to him. “You’ll get the hang of it. I hardly even think about it anymore.”
“You’ve played before?”
“Yeah, in high school,” Wilbur said with a shrug. “I didn’t play last year, though. Too busy trying out other things.”
Ranboo nodded, still trying to get enough air into his lungs. Breathing is important and difficult, someone please save him.
“You’re the freshman rooming with Phil and Techno, right?”
“Uh-huh.” Ranboo stopped paying attention to his feet again and winced as the ball made contact with his toes. “Techno took one look at me and said I’d be a good goalie.”
Wilbur gave him the same sort of once-over that Techno had. “You know what, I can see it. You’ve just got to get used to getting hit with the ball a bit.”
Wait he had to what -
“Come on, Ranboo, let’s go a little faster,” Wilbur coaxed, and kicked the ball back to him.
You know what? Ranboo could worry about this later, if he even made the team, which he doubted he would. He decided to just go with it and go at Wilbur’s pace.
Phil had dragged Ranboo into a study session in the common room. Granted, Ranboo hadn’t argued very hard, since Phil was a great study partner, and he had some homework that he really needed to get done.
Techno leaned into the living area, bracing himself with one hand on the doorway. “Hey, Ranboo?”
“Hm?” Ranboo looked up from his Psych 111 worksheet, trying to blink away all the technical terms he was trying to cram into his brain.
“What’s your email address? I need to send you an official email sayin’ you made the soccer team.”
“Uh, [email protected]?”
“Cool, thanks.” Techno pushed off of the doorframe and went back to his room.
It took Ranboo a good few seconds to register what had just happened.
“Congratulations, mate,” Phil told him with a grin, grabbing his worksheet away. “Get your shoes on, we’re going for pizza.”
Ranboo made a pathetic little grab after the paper. “But - I - hang on -”
“Nope, you made the team, we’re getting pizza. Techno!” Phil called, leaning toward his and Techno’s side of the apartment.
“Yeah?” Techno called back.
“Did Wilbur make the team too?”
“Yeah, he did. This kid named Tubbo did too, he said he knew Ranboo.”
“Pog.” Phil pulled out his phone and started texting. “Text Tubbo, then, Ranboo. We’re all going to get pizza to celebrate.”