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It’s 9.30 pm, and Tommy can’t sleep again.
He sighs, rubbing at his eyes, hoping the exhaustion will either leave or sleep will take him, but nothing happens. Rain is pattering on his roof, and though it would usually calm him, it’s only making things worse, so he gets up and makes himself a hot chocolate, pushing away every memory that resurfaces at his attempt at self-comfort.
By 11.30 pm, Tommy’s crouching by the lit fireplace, sorting through his ender chest, deciding what to keep in it. He tosses out a stack of emerald blocks, putting them in another chest and replacing them with a stack of diamond blocks. Outside, thunder rumbles and Tommy smiles at the sound; he’d loved watching thunderstorms with Phil, back when they all lived under the same roof. His father had taught him so many cloud shapes, weather conditions, and how they affected his flying as they sat and watched the rain pour outside. Other times they’d sit in silence, listening to the dripping on the rooftop and drinking hot chocolate. When it would snow, Tommy and Wilbur would watch excitedly, waiting for the moment when their father would let them run outside to play, dragging Techno with them.
Back when they lived together, of course.
Tommy shakes the memory and straightens up to relight the fire that had died out. He only takes one step before lightning strikes.
It’s clearly nearby, but Tommy doesn’t focus on that. Rather, he focuses on the large, dark silhouette that the brief flash of light shows to be at his door.
He tenses up, holding his breath in fear of whatever could want to disturb him at this time. His mind goes through every possible thing that could be out there to hurt him, to come in and ruin yet another peaceful moment of his life. He begins to reach for his sword by the fire when there’s knocking.
“Hey, uh, Tommy? Are you in there?”
He feels his shoulders drop in relief as he recognizes the voice: an option he hadn’t considered. Ranboo. He drops the sword back down before opening the door, coming face to face with the tall hybrid hiding under a fabric cape.
He narrows his eyes,but makes sure he doesn't look directly into Ranboo's. “What are you doing here?”
Tommy’s relationship with the enderman hybrid is… strange. He initially despised him for marrying Tubbo, for existing, for being a better person, somebody Tommy could never be. Now, he can’t take back the words he said, no matter how much he wishes to, and he’s stuck being an asshole to someone who doesn’t deserve it in the slightest. And Ranboo never stopped being kind to him. Not for a minute. Sometimes, Tommy wishes he did. Even though being a prick wouldn't suit Ranboo, Tommy thinks he'd deserve it.
“Hey. I’m sorry I came here – I know I’m probably just disturbing you and I don’t want to do that; I know you hate me already, but it’s freezing cold out here. I should probably go home, but Tubbo and I had a fight, and I don’t want Michael to see us like that… he’s too young to understand, and I don’t want to make him cry, and Tubbo’s better with calming him down anyway. The fight was my fault, so I left to go for a walk, but it started raining and I’m too scared to go back and-” He stops, realizing he’s rambling, and their voice drops to a mumble. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
Tommy sighs, moving aside; he isn’t an asshole. “Come in.”
And Ranboo does, standing behind Tommy awkwardly as the latter shuts the door. He gives them a hoodie from its spot draped over a chest which they use to wipe the water off their face in rapid motions before they take their soaked cape off and toss it onto one of the chests. Tommy leads Ranboo to the dying fire, grabbing his knitting supplies off his makeshift nightstand, knowing how much Ranboo likes to listen to the sounds of knitting.
They sit in silence for maybe ten minutes, Tommy knitting and Ranboo watching The thunderstorm rages in the background, and Tommy swears he sees Ranboo flinch. He watches Ranboo more intently after that, and not long later, he sees them shudder. Only then does it register that they are probably freezing from their outside adventure. He stands up and tosses the yarn on the table by his armchair.
“Oh fuck, Ranboo. You’re freezing.” Ignoring Ranboo’s protests, he fishes a flint and steel out of a chest beside him and relights the fire. He grabs a throw blanket and tosses it over Ranboo, touching his skin momentarily and jumping back with a hiss. Even though enderman hybrids run colder than humans, this isn’t natural for Ranboo, even. He puts his hand back on their shoulder, feeling him shake.
“Holy shit, dude. You’re shivering.” Tommy stands back, looking around in confusion and consideration before letting out a sigh and dropping down beside them, leaning against one of the chests and opening his arms.
Ranboo tilts his head (Tommy thinks he look like a confused puppy), but Tommy cuts him off. “You need to warm up. Tubbo will kill me if I let you get hypothermia.” He adds the last part quickly. “Come here.”
The other does so (though very hesitantly), sliding closer until he’s next to Tommy. The latter huffs as if annoyed by Ranboo’s awkwardness, but he actually doesn’t mind in the slightest. He leans forward a little and yanks Ranboo to his side with a single sharp movement, causing the taller to yelp. He snickers at that.
They stay like that, motionless and silent, with Ranboo shivering until he shivers more strongly, at which point Tommy pulls him closer and Ranboo goes willingly, curling into Tommy’s side. The motion reminds Tommy of cuddling into Tubbo’s side when he was sick – back at the start, before the war, before exile and before Tubbo’s presidency. His throat tightens at the thought, and he tries to push it away.
“Keep knitting if you want to.”
“I can’t reach the supplies, Ranboo.” At the sound of this, Ranboo stands up abruptly, dragging Tommy with him to sit closer to the fire. The latter lets out a noise of surprise, but then he’s sitting in the armchair he’d made himself months ago, knitting supplies beside him and Ranboo’s flopping in his lap, curling into a ball, and burying his head in Tommy’s neck, tail flapping happily. Tommy’s arms are in the air, but when his mind catches up with his surroundings, he slowly lowers his arms, placing one on Ranboo’s back and rubbing back and forth slowly.
“Yeah, sure,” he mumbles, “just use me as a pillow I guess.”
Ranboo hums happily in response and Tommy uses his spare hand to reach for the blanket behind them, laying it on Ranboo, who’s still shivering. They curl further into Tommy, who grabs his yarn off the table and continues his project, revelling in the sound of the needles clicking together softly.
It’s only five, ten minutes later when Ranboo starts snoring and Tommy looks down, smiling softly. They’ve stopped shivering, too.
“Ranboo? Are you awake?” There’s no response, and Tommy continues speaking gently, convinced the taller can’t hear him.
“I know you think I hate you – you said it yourself. But I don’t. You’re pretty cool actually. I mean – I’m pissed you married my best friend without warning, but you make him happy. You guys look happy together. I wish I could find something similar, but I guess life just sucks too much to be good to me. But I don’t mind, you, Ranboo. You’re pretty chill.” He continues knitting, occasionally looking down at the other. He speaks up again a bit later.
“You know what I’m knitting? I’m making you a scarf. I know how cold you get from the sound of rain, and I wanted to make you something waterproof, but I couldn’t think of anything, so this is the next best thing. It’s a surprise. I hope you’ll like it.” He sighs, not seeing (or feeling) the way Ranboo smiles.
“I wish I could talk to Tubbo again. Tell him I’m sorry. I wish he wouldn’t hate me the way you think I hate you.” He stays silent after that, knitting away the time until the sun is rising and the fire is dying out. He falls asleep at some point. He doesn’t know when, just that when he wakes up, the finished scarf is next to him on the table and Ranboo’s gone.
He promises to himself that he’ll give it to Ranboo the next time he sees them.
And he does.
And weeks later, Ranboo clutches it to their chest, remembering the way Tommy had held him that night which might as well have happened years ago with how much has happened.
Just like then, it’s raining, and Ranboo is wearing his cape. Not that it changes much – the fresh burns on his face aren’t from the water droplets, but rather from the tears.
“Go on,” they say to Tubbo, who’s holding Michael tightly, trying to force away tears of his own. . It isn’t working too well; the pain is coming out in the form of trembling (it reminds Ranboo of shivering on Tommy's floor). Ranboo knows there’s a long night ahead of them.
Tubbo turns to leave, but then turns back. “I don’t hate you, Tommy. I never could.” As soon as Tubbo leaves, Ranboo drops to his knees, feeling the soaked fabric of his pants burn his skin. He ignores it and places another scarf down, one that they'd held close to their chest besides their own.
“Hey, Tommy. I made you your own scarf. It was hard to learn how to – it would’ve been nice for you to teach me, but I hope you’ll like it. It matches mine.” He smiles sadly.
“I’d love to be your friend, too. I never got to thank you for letting me stay with you that night.” They glance back momentarily watching Tubbo as he talks to Michael. Tubbo catches his eyes and gives him a small smile. Ranboo returns it and turns back to Tommy.
“I wish I could’ve talked to you more, but I was too scared. I always thought you hated me. It’s nice to know you don’t. I just wish I would’ve known sooner. Thank you for everything, Tommy." A beat. "Y’know, I care about you. So does Tubbo. I just wish I could tell you that in person."
A hand on his shoulder. Tubbo. “Come on, Boo. Let’s go home.”
Ranboo stands up, walking away from Tommy on the edge of the cliff. He doesn’t look back, instead reaching down to grip Michael’s hand.
And so, Tommy’s grave is left alone in the rain, his scarf soaking through slowly as night falls.