Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1

Tubbo didn't meet Ranboo and Tommy for the first time in history class. He didn't know when he actually met them, they weren't in his life until they were and he couldn't imagine himself without them. But the first moment the trio had something resembling friendship—resembling family —was history. 

The teacher had assigned a project, and Tubbo allowed the brief panic that always set in during projects where their entire grade was practically dependent on how many friends they had—which was honestly a stupid and cruel method of teaching, he knew he didn't have many friends and wasn't the most popular, he really didn't want his teacher of all people to rub it in—to grow to a frenzy as he looked around at the classmates easily pairing up without him. 

A clunk came from beside him, and Tubbo pivoted around to see two people pull up chairs and sit next to him. He recognized both of them: Ranboo, the taller, was in his English class and was pretty nice, despite having to put up with a ridiculous amount of shit they didn't deserve from the teacher. Tommy wasn't in any of his classes, but he was the younger brother of Wilbur and Technoblade, who were practically campus legends and a certain amount of respect and fame was conveyed with being the younger brother of the twins. 

"Hey, you good with working with us?" Tommy asked, sounding like he wasn't going to take no for an answer. 

“Sure?” Tubbo would take it. They both seemed…nice. Tommy had a pretty big reputation for being loud and annoying in class, but he was also—from what Tubbo had seen—generally very kind. He was one of those guys everybody kind of knew and kind of had opinions on. 

“So what do we want to do for the project? I feel like it’s kinda vague,” Ranboo spoke up. 

“Oh it for sure is, that’s fucking…Ms. Thomas loves her super unclear prompts. When Wil had her, she gave ‘God’ as the prompt. At least this is marginally better.” Tubbo and Ranboo both nodded, turning towards the board and the light blue writing.

“I can start drafting up some rough ideas if you guys want to grab textbooks?” Tommy took charge immediately, giving directions with a practiced ease. Tubbo and Ranboo both nodded, turning to each other to divvy up the subjects. 

Tubbo walked off, piling the thick textbooks onto his arms. “Hey, do you need help with those?” Ranboo turned to him, giving a helpful smile. 

“Nah, I’ve got it!” He did not in fact have it, he’d been cleaning all last night and the heavy books were weighing on his already exhausted arms. Ranboo raised an eyebrow, but they didn’t say anything. 

As he walked back to the table, some asshole next to him stuck his foot out and Tubbo tripped. The books went flying, but before Tubbo’s face could smash into the cold ground, Ranboo roped their arm around his chest. 

“You good?” Tubbo nodded. Ranboo raised an eyebrow but didn’t press it, instead just nimbly scooping the textbooks to their chest and walking back, arm near Tubbo in case he fell again. 

Settling down next to Tommy, Tubbo knelt over his paper and started taking notes. Ranboo settled next to him, and they got to work. 

—

2

Tubbo, Ranboo, and Tommy were walking home. They’d had to stay late, there had been a problem with one of their graphics processing. 

“ Tommy ,” a singsong voice called. Tubbo looked up, staring at a tall man, who had his arms crossed. Tommy seemed to know him, moving back. After squinting for a little bit, Tubbo suddenly recognized the guy. He’d been in and out of school for a while, before he was expelled for sending anonymous death threats. Probably not the kind of guy anybody wanted around. 

“Fuck off, dude.” 

“Tommy, who are your friends? I don’t think I’ve been introduced to them.” He cracked his knuckles, advancing. 

“I said fuck off .” A note of fear was in his voice, and Tubbo moved to the front. 

“Hey dude, I think you should listen to my friend over here.” Tubbo crossed his arms. He knew he didn’t cut a particularly imposing figure, but he’d been doing martial arts training since he was a kid. 

“Tubbo, you don’t have to get involved.”

“No, but I’m gonna.” Tommy sighed, and Tubbo advanced. “So, I think you should leave before me and my friends start to have a problem with you.” 

A hand rested on his shoulder. Ranboo was there, standing tall as ever. “I agree with Tubs, you should leave.”

The guy turned around, rolling his eyes. “Jesus Christ, whatever dude.” He walked off, and Tubbo and Ranboo both relaxed. 

“You didn’t have to do that, I had him handled.” There was some false bravado in his voice, but Tubbo chose—hopefully wisely—to not comment on it. 

“Yeah, but we were there. We weren’t going to stand back and just let him threaten you,” Ranboo spoke up. Tubbo was grateful, he didn’t really know how to handle this situation. 

“That was nice of you guys. He’s not a huge problem most of the time, just pops in every now and again to remind me that he knows where I live and has no reserves about beating me up. It’s whatever, honestly. He’s just a fucking bitch.”

“I feel like that’s not great, honestly. Could you try mentioning it to somebody? In the interest of making sure you don’t fucking die or whatever?” Tubbo cringed after he finished the sentence, he felt like that was more aggressive than helpful. Tommy laughed however, so he couldn’t have fucked it up too bad. 

“Yeah, I should…I should mention it to my dad. I’ll do that tonight.” Tubbo and Ranboo nodded, smiling. 

“Great! Let us know how it goes, alright? And if he keeps on bothering you, just tell us. I’m a horrible fighter but I look intimidating which always helps.” Tommy snorted, but nodded. 

“Yeah…alright, thanks y’all. You’re good friends.” They parted ways, Tubbo smiling wide. Friends . He had those now. Fucking weird. 

—

3

Tubbo knew, vaguely, that Ranboo didn’t have the best home life. It was little clues, like how they always stayed out late, as if avoiding something. Or how they were clearly frustrated that they weren’t allowed to change their name with the office, meaning that all their official information had their deadname on it. But he never thought that it was as bad as it clearly was.

It was late in the evening when a call rang out from the group DM, and when he saw the caller ID was Ranboo, he immediately picked up. Ranboo wouldn’t call if it wasn’t urgent, and Tommy clearly had the same thought, as he hopped on the line right after.

“You good ‘Boo?” It was a rhetorical question, there was no way in hell they were. Labored breathing came from their end of the call, and there was a deafening silence soon after the question. 

“I—no, not really.” They laughed sheepishly, hollow and empty. 

“Right, what do you need from us?” Tubbo asked, already planning how fast he could get to Ranboo’s. His parents were away, so he could probably just walk out the door, and it wasn’t dark enough that being outside was dangerously unsafe. 

“I think I need a place to stay.” 

“You can stay at mine,” Tubbo immediately offered. “My parents don’t get back for a few more days, and I can call them about you staying more permanently.”

“And if that doesn’t pan out, Phil will absolutely take you in once I explain the situation. We’re farther away though, so it’s probably best if you go to Tub’s.” 

“Thank you guys, seriously. That…that means a lot. Tubbo can you—” 

Already anticipating their question, Tubbo was throwing his shoes on and running out the door. “Just drop me a location pin, I’ll be there in a bit.” Ranboo made a noise of assent, and Tubbo hurried off. 

They all stayed on the call, quietly offering Ranboo reassurance and distracting them with small meaningless tales—about how shitty the math teacher had been, the weird thing a classmate had said to one of them, the absolutely ridiculous scam email Tommy had gotten (this one was accompanied by a very dramatic rendition that involved a 5 minute long improv monologue which somehow managed to quote both Shakespeare and Boris Johnson. It baffled Tubbo that Tommy had never gone into some sort of theater)—until Tubbo got to their location. 

Ranboo was curled up inside a tucked away corner of a convenience store, the fluorescent lights illuminating their already pale skin. “Hey,” Tubbo said quietly, kneeling down. Ranboo looked up and smiled weakly. “Let’s get you home ‘boo.” They nodded, and began walking home. 

Tommy stayed on the line, and they kept on talking, but Ranboo was quite obviously nervous. Duh. Of course they were. Anybody in their position would be. 

“You’ll be safe. We won’t…we’ll keep you safe.” Tubbo wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say, but the overwhelming gratefulness on Ranboo’s face gave them an indicator that it might’ve been. 

—

4

Seven Years Later

“Shut up , Ranboo. We get it, we’re not as good as you with your three different degrees and knowledge about everything . Some of us couldn’t get a scholarship because we’re just that charming, some of us are going to be in debt forever. You don’t need to lord it over all of us.” Tubbo sighed. They’d been going at it all fucking day. 

Tommy and Ranboo fought often to be honest; it was a consequence of the two of them being as different and opinionated as they both were (and slightly stubborn, but Tubbo would never say that to either of them, knowing how fervently they would deny it, thus proving his point even more). Usually they made up soon after, while Tubbo just stood to the side and got involved if anything got too aggressive. 

But today was horrible timing, more than anything. Tommy had been stressed all day—his teacher was refusing him accommodations and he was barely scraping through passing the class, letting alone getting the high enough grade he needed to keep one of his scholarships—and when Ranboo made a bad comment about how they could help him with one of his philosophy papers because they did ‘have a degree in the subject, which is a little more than you have’, Tommy flew off the handle. 

Tubbo couldn’t blame him. Ranboo should’ve read the situation a lot better, but they had gotten immediately defensive when Tommy started yelling and were refusing to back down. 

“Right, like I had it so easy? Oh, of course you would think that. It’s not like you ever noticed that I was struggling, not until I was passed out in English because I hadn’t eaten in 4 days.” Tubbo winced. That was a low fucking blow. He knew Ranboo wasn’t mad about it anymore—they had a very long conversation about it—but Tommy still blamed himself. 

He should probably intercede, before either of them said anything more that they would regret later. Stepping out into the living room, he raised his hands in the token mediator position. 

“Ranboo, Tommy, take 5. You guys are too wound up, take a fucking break and then we can talk.” Tommy seemed about to nod—Tubbo could see the telltale signs of tears in his eyes, and knew he probably wouldn’t want to cry in front of them—but Ranboo started yelling. 

“Oh right, perfect Tubbo here to tell us all how we’re being so irrational and we just need to take a break instead of acknowledging that there’s a problem. You can’t fix this with a few drinks of water and a nap. Just stay out of it, you’re just stepping in so you can feel good about yourself.” Wow. Ranboo was clearly a lot more keyed up than Tubbo had thought, and he started preparing to talk to them. 

But before he got the chance, Ranboo stormed out. “It’s not like I need you guys. Have fun, I’m leaving.” They ran into their room, emerging with a duffel bag, neatly packed with pretty much everything important to them. How long had they had that? Had they been preparing all this time, just waiting for a good opportunity to start a fight and then leave? How had Tubbo missed the signs?

They stormed out, the door slamming closed on its hinges. Tommy stared, and Tubbo could tell he was close to tears. Moving closer, he pulled Tommy into his arms. 

“They’re just angry right now, they’ve been dealing with a lot. They’ll come back soon and we can talk.” Tommy nodded mechanically. 

“They’ll come back soon.”

—

5

They hadn’t come back. 

It had been a year. Both Tubbo and Tommy had graduated college, and had their own jobs—Tubbo as an entry level coder, Tommy as a waiter while he applied to various law firms. Things were tense between them, ever since Ranboo had gone. They were still good friends, and had their own bond separate of Ranboo, but the two of them weren’t the same without their friend’s presence. 

They were meant to be a trio, not this weird disjointed pair. 

Tubbo waited at first. He waited for them to knock the next day, then to show up sheepish and upset on his doorstep the next week. At Tommy’s birthday, he hovered near the door and tried to ignore the way Tommy did the exact same thing. 

After a month, Tubbo realized they weren’t coming back. He stopped leaving an extra chair open for them and startling at each knock, started saying he was getting back to his roommate instead of roommates. 

Tommy did the same, and slowly they moved on without discussing it. 

At one point, Tubbo got worried about them, about if anything had happened. He was blocked from anywhere he could potentially contact Ranboo, obviously, but found their Twitter pretty easily with one of his old burner accounts. They had started a new job, interning as a teacher at a far away university. 

They had a new apartment, downtown. Tubbo had passed the building once or twice on his commute. Some part of him wanted to go over there, break down the door and fall in front of Ranboo and tell them that he was so fucking sorry, that he never wanted this. 

But Ranboo had left. They knew where to find Tubbo. The least he could do was respect their right to privacy. 

(Secretly however, Tubbo didn’t want to go because he still hadn’t given up hope that one day, Ranboo would come back. He didn’t want to ruin that by showing up and making a fool of himself, only reinforcing Ranboo’s resolve).

Tommy and Tubbo had started fighting a lot more, clashing without Ranboo to add a differing perspective. They had never fought much before, but everything was more tense and fraught. 

They were doing that again tonight. Tubbo couldn’t remember about what, but they’d been going at it for a good few hours. 

“What about you just fucking leave? Join Ranboo, go sit together. You guys always liked each other more anyways. Go sit together talking about how horrible I am, if that’s what you want.” 

“Tommy, I—” but before he could say something, a hardened look came into Tommy’s eyes. 

“No. Leave. I don’t fucking want you here.” Tubbo tried to intersect, but Tommy didn’t give him the chance. “You have an hour to leave before I start dragging your stuff and you along with it outside.” 

“Tommy, I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Yeah? Well I sure as fuck do.”

“You said it was us against the world. What changed?” Tubbo pleaded, backing up. 

“Ranboo left. Because of you . We all know you’re the reason they did. How about you follow suit? It’s my name on the lease anyways.” 

That stung. That stung a lot, because deep down Tubbo did know it was his fault. “Fine,” he hissed out, as cold and biting as he could make the singular word. 

Grabbing his stuff, Tubbo ran out. He was going on fight or flight, just trying to charge to the nearest destination. He didn’t know where to go. Tommy was all he had. His family had moved across the country, and he’d never made any friends at college or his job. 

Except Ranboo. Except Ranboo, who had an apartment only a little bit away from where he was. And maybe Tubbo was acting like a dumb teenager again because he’d been hurt in a way he hadn’t since he was a kid, but Tommy already hated him so what was one more?

Before he blinked, he was at Ranboo’s door. Somehow, he knew exactly where he was, feet navigating the terrain like it was the way to his home even though he’d never gone to the apartment before. 

He was banging on the door, tears streaming down his face. Ranboo opened the door and…wow. They looked different, their hair longer and curlier. But at the same time they looked the exact goddamn same, even with the way their lip curled ever so slightly like it did whenever they were confused. 

“I—please. I know you probably hate me and I probably deserve it but Tommy kicked me out and I don’t have anywhere else to go and I need somebody to help me, and just please .” Ranboo sighed. 

“There’s a guest bedroom down the hall, on the right. All the stuff you need should be in there.” It was as close to acceptance as he was gonna get. 

Tubbo nodded, silently walking into the room. It was nice, all light shades of white and eggshell but with enough color that it didn’t feel totally boring. Ranboo had always liked interior design. 

Tubbo was tired. Tubbo was always so tired and his friend despised him and Ranboo was in the other room and didn’t deny that they hated him and yet they were right there . It was all too much, everything piling on top of him like a stack of tilting furniture. 

He went to sleep, body curled up in the corner of the bed. 

—

+1

Tubbo woke up slowly. He was confused for a moment, before his brain kicked back into gear with the many, many events of last night. 

Right. 

Ranboo was outside, bustling around and making small noises. Grabbing his backpack that—as of yesterday—contained pretty much everything he owned, Tubbo went outside to face the music. 

Hearing his footsteps, Ranboo turned around, seizing him up. Tubbo tried to pretend he was imagining the look of hatred in their eyes. 

“Good. You have your stuff. It’s time for you to leave.”

“Ranboo—”

“It’s time for you to go, Toby.” Their tone was cold, impersonal, as if they were talking to a slightly annoying coworker instead of the person who’d been their best friend for seven fucking years. 

“No! No I fucking won’t! We were supposed to be family , Ranboo. This isn’t what family does. This isn’t what family is supposed to feel like.” Tubbo’s voice cracked, eyes welling up with tears. 

“We haven’t been family for a long time.”

“I don’t even know you anymore,” Tubbo pleaded, desperate for one more chance to stay. 

“Maybe you never did. No leave.” So Tubbo left. 

He didn’t know what else to do. Tommy hated him—Tubbo had seen a finality in his eyes and had tried to text him, he was fully blocked—and Ranboo was done with him. 

They—the three of them, who were supposed to stand together through thick and thin, who were each other’s everything , no matter what—were done. Crushed under a boot like an ant. 

Tubbo was alone. 

—

A week later, Tubbo walked out from his hotel room to see a flyer, advertising for new roommates at the apartment he and Tommy used to share. 

He ripped it down and went back inside. He pitied the poor soul who found it. 

Chapter Text

Something about today felt wrong. Ranboo originally chalked it up to exhaustion; they had been disoriented all week from some absolutely awful classes and a photo of them with Tubbo and Tommy had come up in one of their memories—the three of them pressed next to each other, licking their popsicles together and laughing—that had thrown them horribly off balance. They knew they should delete it, but they couldn’t bring themself to because they looked so happy there, so carefree. They were wearing an expression Ranboo could barely recognize, one that they hadn’t seen on their face in years. 

But it was deeper than this. They couldn’t pinpoint it, but something was horribly wrong, an old ache that had been disturbed. They were offbeat, the gentle rhythms of their heart askew. 

But why ? Their place in the world had cemented itself relatively easily, after they had forced Tubbo out of their life for the last time. 

They were Ranboo: the teacher, the good roommate, the quiet one, funny, smart, good enough. Never perfect, but good enough and for years Ranboo could live with that. For years, they were content to just barely scrape through on scraps of praise and the barest hints of love. 

Until Tommy. Until Tubbo. Until if they wanted something, they just had to ask and it was scary and far too much for them to bear but it was so much better than the alternative. 

And then they ruined it. And the house of cards came tumbling down and Ranboo was lost again. Which was okay. High school friends didn’t last forever. But they were supposed to be more than that. But they weren’t and that would be okay if Ranboo didn’t miss them so much. 

They weren’t supposed to. Because Ranboo didn’t want to go back to them, because sometimes it just doesn’t work out and that was what happened with them. But if they came back, Ranboo didn’t know what they would do. Didn’t know if they were strong enough to close the door, the same way they did with Tubbo all those months ago. 

But they weren’t strong enough then either. They let him in and cried for hours when he left because Ranboo didn’t need him but they wanted him so bad. 

But reminiscing on old friends that they wished they could’ve still called family wasn’t what Ranboo was supposed to be doing. They had work in a few hours, and glancing at the clock showed them that time had slipped away from them again. 

Walking over to the calendar, they checked their classes when they saw it. In an innocuous black, just the same as every other number. November 2nd . Of course. That’s what was wrong. It was their fucking birthday. 

Which wasn’t a big deal. Because the time when that would’ve hurt Ranboo was long gone, because they were 24—25 now, and that was wrong in every way it could be—and they were not the same vulnerable kid who could be hurt with something as simple as that. 

Work was soon. They couldn’t be late. 

—

So Ranboo went about their job, dutiful till the end. Passing out papers, answering questions, and doing good.

Trying to ignore how it was their birthday. 

And if this was before, Tubbo would’ve stolen their phone in the night and called them in sick and they would have woken up late and pretended to be annoyed while secretly being more relieved than they had ever been. 

But this wasn’t and if Ranboo wanted something they would have to do it themself and maybe it was better like this but it didn’t feel like it. Because Ranboo wanted so much and if they asked for it they were admitting to it, instead of telling themself they could live without it until the need slowly faded away, taking part of them with it. 

So instead they did work—that was all they really did anymore, they didn’t have that many friends and barely cared enough to maintain relationships with the ones they did have—and did everything they could to keep themself from thinking about how, on other days, they’d be drinking hot chocolate and eating Thai as Tubbo distracted them from whatever Tommy was cooking up in the kitchen. 

Thank god nobody knew about their birthday. They had long stopped mentioning it, dodging the question whenever it came up or saying that they never really celebrated. And people nodded because it wasn’t like it was a huge deal, just a way to make conversation. 

Ranboo used to think it was a big deal. Their parents didn’t celebrate any holidays but they had to celebrate their birthday . And it wasn’t that they didn’t care, it was that they were busy, and money was short even though their parents had gone to Hawaii for 3 separate trips, all for fun and the bakery offered free cakes to people with kids under 10, and they had just had a party when summer started so they should really stop being greedy. 

And then hope turned to apathy and joy turned to chalked up disappointments and Ranboo became disillusioned with birthdays. Which happened to everybody. They weren’t special or anything. Just dramatic. 

And then Tommy and Tubbo came along and Ranboo thought they might’ve been wrong until the curtain was lifted and the illusion dissipated and they turned out to not even have scratched the forefront of how horrible the world could be. 

They were getting distracted.  They needed to focus. They didn’t need to be upset because of some dumb birthday. Ranboo was an adult, they didn’t need to be upset about stuff like this. It was stupid. They were stupid. 

A stupid, dumb kid at heart, who was still butthurt about something that happened 11 years ago. 

“Ranboo? Are you okay?” Their boss turned to them, eyes raised in concern. Niki was kind, she’d probably understand if Ranboo asked for a day off—especially if they mentioned it was their birthday. 

But that would require them to admit that something was wrong. They couldn’t do that. Couldn’t admit to weakness. 

“Y-yeah, Niki.” She looked at them for a little while before half nodding. 

“Be that as it may, I’m giving you the week off—with pay, of course. You’ve been working very hard and deserve a break.” Ranboo wanted to protest, but didn’t know how to without sounding ungrateful. 

“Alright, thank you.” Ranboo walked home, feeling awful. Work was all they had, the only constant in their life. 

Unlocking their door, they sat on their couch and sighed. They hated their birthday. 

Ranboo’s 14th birthday had started out alright. It was a weekend, meaning they didn’t have school, and they had been saving up money for the last few months so they would have enough cash to afford a small cake. 

And their parents did nothing. They didn’t wish Ranboo a happy birthday, or say that they better not ask for anything, or do anything besides just nod at them when they came down for breakfast. Which was good. Ranboo could deal with being ignored. They preferred it, to be honest. The less they had to talk to their parents, the better. 

So Ranboo made and ate breakfast and tried to ignore the ache in their bones. And then they went for a walk and as far as birthdays went, it was good. Their parents didn’t bother them, and they got a nice cake—plus the baker threw in an extra cookie for their birthday. 

So they ate it, and had relative fun. As far as birthdays went, it was good. 

And then their parents walked in. “Hey, we’re going on a date. Maybe we’ll pick you up something for your birthday tomorrow if you clean.” Oh . That was why it was good. Because to them this was just a normal day, and not their birthday. 

“Right. Sounds good.” Their parents walked off, and Ranboo sagged to the floor. They cried themself to sleep that day, and the next when they woke up to a small takeout container of coffee cake with a note of Happy Birthday . 

And then their 15th birthday came around and they woke up to a knock on their door and Tommy holding a cake with a huge smile. And they went to a restaurant and ate lunch until Ranboo was stuffed. 

And it was good. 

And the next year, Tubbo had gotten them tickets to a musical and they watched it together, snacking on popcorn and Whompers, and Ranboo thought they were going to die of happiness. 

And it didn’t stop, and slowly, Ranboo started to look forward to their birthday. 

But now it was their 25th and they were spending it the exact same way they spent their 14th—crying on the bedroom floor. Because that was what they were doomed to do, as long as they continued to let something as stupid as their birthday be a problem. Because they were incapable of just getting over it like a normal person. 

And it would continue to suck because the only people who could make it better were Tubbo and Tommy and they were gone . Yeah, sure, Ranboo could reach out—they’d stared at their social media enough times on burner accounts that they could find them in an instant—but how weird was that? To just text your old high school friends you hadn’t seen in a year after you stormed out on them just because it was your birthday and you were kind of sad. 

They didn’t share an apartment anymore, at least from what Ranboo could gather. They didn’t know what had happened—and it was none of their business anymore, they didn’t have a right to the details of their lives anymore—but some part of them felt a selfish satisfaction about it. If they couldn’t have them, they couldn’t have each other. It was selfish and greedy and cruel and Ranboo didn’t care. 

It was stupid to care this much about some old friends. People lost those all the time, it was just part of life. Even if Ranboo had a dream that they would somehow last, past all the broken down relationships, the three of them would stand tall. Because that was all it was, even from the beginning: the dream of a scared kid looking for stability. 

A scared kid who never truly left, who changed their thoughts from maybe they’ll stay to how long can I keep them until they realize what I am? And Ranboo was right back where they started, so many years ago. 

Because when it came down to it, each and every bit of “progress” they’d made had been wiped out the second they lost their friends. The boundaries they’d learned to set, the joy they’d found, all the healing they’d done, had gone out the window the second they lost the people who meant everything to them. They were each other’s everything, and without them, Ranboo was lost. 

(The same cruel part of them wished they were lost too.)

Ranboo was selfish and greedy and too much and took and took until everybody else was withered and broken while they were still unsatisfied. 

And they thought Tommy and Tubbo loved them in spite of that, in spite of the obvious flaws and broken parts. But they knew when people were getting bored of them, and Tubbo and Tommy had been nearing that point. They saw it in each pause after they spoke, each sigh when they were half asleep after college or work and unable to help or do chores or anything to justify them staying there. So Ranboo made the first move, didn’t give them a chance to break their already glued together and weak heart. 

And maybe they left first but it wasn’t all their fault. They did what they had to do to keep themself safe. Even if they felt themself shatter until there were no more fractures to spread across the cracked web of their heart. 

Ranboo fell asleep that night, curled up on the floor, the same way they had so many nights before. This time though, there was nobody. No parents to reprimand them, no friends to carry them to bed. 

Ranboo was alone, a nameless speck in the universe. 

The price they paid. 

Chapter Text

Tommy felt like he was about to pass out. His head hurt so fucking much, and everything felt like it was spinning around. He supposed it was—that was kind of what the world did, it spun around and around. But the point still stood. 

He’d taken a Tylenol a little while ago, but it hadn’t done anything, and he was starting to develop a headache. Work was in a few hours, but Tommy felt like he would collapse into a boneless pile on the floor if he was to do so much as stand up. 

He should probably take his temperature—if it was high enough, work would give him the day off no questions asked—but the thermometer was in his bathroom along with his ADHD meds that he should probably have taken but forgot about and now was too exhausted to get. 

Tommy hated being sick so much, he’d take anything else over this. Literally anything, any broken bone or weird injury. He would probably regret that later, but Tommy didn’t care because his head hurt and everything was spinning and there was sweat making his sheets stick to his skin and he hated everything so fucking much. He also needed to piss really bad. 

But the heat was up too high and his skin felt too tight and his throat was too dry and Tommy felt like everything was so horribly wrong. 

He’d felt like that a lot recently. 

It had been 2 years since Ranboo left. Which was fine. Ranboo was an asshole. A fucking asshole who left the people who were supposed to be their friends and didn’t even bother trying to talk it out when that was what they did . 

That’s what they always did. Talked it out. They weren’t masters of healthy communication, but they tried. They talked until Ranboo decided that they were just going to up and leave with absolutely no fucking reason. 

That was a lie. There was a reason, and the reason was Tommy motherfucking Innit. Who had pushed right past each and every one of their boundaries because he was a little stressed out. And he could deflect and call Ranboo a bitch all he wanted but when it came down to it, Tommy had fucked up. And he needed to take the blame. 

And the exact same thing applied to Tubbo. Who had just been trying his best, until Tommy snapped and kicked him out of the house. He’d checked up on him every now and then. He was doing alright. Had a decent job. Which was good. 

Some part of Tommy wanted to reach back out to both of them. Tell them that he was sorry, ask them to come back and stay. 

But who would say yes to that? It was Tommy’s fault. They owed him nothing. He just had to be alright with that. But he wasn’t, and maybe he was shitty for that but he wasn’t sorry. 

(Yes he was. Tommy was so, so sorry, and he would repent a thousand times if it would give his friends back. He would convert to any religion, pray to any god, go to any lengths as long as it meant he would have his friends next to him where they belonged.)

His phone dinged, and Tommy checked the time. Fuck. He really needed to go into work or call out. Sitting up, Tommy braced himself on the wooden frame. A dizzying way of nausea hit him, and Tommy tried desperately to breathe through it. 

Slowly, he made his way to the bathroom. The thermometer was lying on the sink, next to his meds. A glass was there too, and Tommy filled it up quickly, placing his pill on his tongue and swallowing. The water tasted amazing on his parched throat, and he quickly downed the rest of the cup. 

Pulling out the thermometer, he took his temperature; 102. That was much higher than it should’ve been. Not hospital worthy—he thought, he didn’t know that much about being sick and didn’t care enough to google it—but pretty bad. Shit, he would probably have to call in sick. 

He hated doing that. He hated being sick so fucking much because everything was spinning again and there should’ve been somebody there to help him because Tommy was supposed to have a family to help him until he went and ruined everything. 

So instead he typed up a semi-coherent email, dragged himself back to his room, crawled into his bed and squeezed his eyes closed until the thumping behind his eyes turned from unspeakable pain to something more muted—horrible, but he could breathe through it. 

He didn’t get sick often, which was good most of the time but whenever he did, it was horrible. His nose was getting stuffed up and he could barely breathe through it and if he opened his mouth the air would dry it out more and Tommy felt like he was acting like a stupid child but everything hurt so much all the time. 

He wasn’t a kid. He could take care of himself. But he was treading water and sinking down and everything was too hard and he felt like he’d been thrown into the deep end of the pool and just for once he wanted somebody to tell him to sleep and wake up to the never ending list of responsibilities he had diminished.

That’s what they had done for each other. Kept each other in check because between the three of them they could usually form a pretty coherent unit. Pick up the slack where others couldn’t and all that good stuff. 

And now Tommy was on his own with a spool of fabric getting away from him, playing constant catch up, racing to get to the beginning when everybody else had already crossed the finish line. 

He didn’t know what to do. He’d tried fucking everything : therapy, meds, every schedule and planner and cure he could think of but despite everything he was still sinking deeper and deeper into quicksand.

He had 3 different projects he was supposed to be working on today. He should get started on those, sickness was no excuse for being late with his work. 

But he was so tired and it felt like his eyes were being weighed down so instead, curled up in a mess of sheets and a shitty blanket, Tommy fell asleep. 

—

He woke up to a soft voice calling him. “Toms? Toms? You in here?” He recognized the voice in the back of his mind, but not who it belonged to. Just a feeling, of safety and kindness and good . 

“Y-yeah. Really thirsty though.” The voice walked in, smiling. They had brown hair, tied back to show a kind face holding a bowl of noodle soup. Oh. It was Tubbo. Of course it was, who else would it be? Who else would be in their house? 

But something about Tubbo being there felt wrong too, a little feeling that he shouldn’t be there, that it should be somebody else. No, that wasn’t right either. 

Whatever. Probably just anxiety. 

“I’ll get you some water Toms.” He walked off, leaving Tommy with his soup. It was really good soup, from the place down the corner that he loved too much. He’d eaten food pretty much exclusively from there for a good few weeks, when everything else looked too nausea inducing to bear. 

But he didn’t have a fork. “Tubs!” he shouted out, waiting for the brunet to poke his head in. He did, looking at Tommy as he retied his hair. 

“Yeah?”

“You fucking forgot a fork big man,” Tommy laughed. 

“Oops, my bad!” Tubbo walked off and Tommy let out a light laugh. Tubbo was just as scatterbrained as him if he was honest. 

He walked back in, holding a fork. “Tubbo. This is the wrong fucking fork. This is a big fork. Why would you ever get this?” He rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. 

“Dude, it’s a fork. There’s literally no difference.” 

“Excuse you. There’s such a difference. It’s like asking a person to drink water out of a fucking mug , like are you insane?” 

“Wh—it’s a fork? Why would we have this fork if it was impossible to eat with?” Tubbo looked baffled, reaching over to set the fork in Tommy’s bowl. 

“I wasn’t in charge of buying the silverware for this place? Trust me, I never would’ve bothered with those forks.”

“Well maybe when you’re better we can go to Ikea and you can buy the ‘proper’ silverware.” He made very dramatic air quotes. Tommy did not appreciate that behavior at all. 

“Okay for starters this isn’t just a me thing, there is objectively better and worse types of silverware. And second, I can go right now! I’m feeling great.” His body chose that moment to make him start violently coughing like he was about to hack up a lung. Fuck you body, read the goddamn room. 

“Right. Go to sleep, Tommy.” Tubbo smiled fondly, walking out. Tommy wanted to protest but sleep sounded really good if he was honest. So, with a sigh, he closed his eyes and drifted off. 

—

Tommy woke up feeling much more uncomfortable than he had been. “Tubs?” He shouted out, before pausing. Why was he calling for Tubbo? Where was the soup he’d left him?

Oh. Right. Tubbo wasn’t here because Tommy had driven him away because that was what Tommy was. A plague on everything he touched. 

Right. 

And he was alone, in his room, in the burning fucking heat. There had to be a fucking heat wave going on or some shit, there was no reason for it to be this hot. Wasn’t it like December? Why would there be heat waves in December? He didn’t think global warming was that bad yet. 

He didn’t really know though. Tommy tried not to follow the news too closely, it made him feel like shit. Ranboo loved it though, read it like they were dying and that was the one thing in the world that could save them. 

They would update everybody else at dinner, giving rapidfire recaps of everything they had read. 

He should stop thinking about Ranboo. 

Why should he do that again?

Right. Because Ranboo was gone and Tommy had driven him away because Tommy was a blight on everything good in the world. 

Tommy didn’t realize he was crying. The cold water felt good on his flushed skin. Why was his skin flushed?

Right. Because he was sick. 

Maybe that was why he was hot, not global warming. 

He wanted to keep on crying. It felt good and made his skin stop hurting so much. 

No he didn’t. Why didn’t he?

Because crying was bad, because he didn’t get to cry. It was his fault he lost them, nobody else’s. He didn’t get to sit in a corner and feel sorry that he had to face the consequences of his actions, how fucking obnoxious was he?

But he missed them. He could do better. 

(He hadn’t. He still picked fights and didn’t do enough and blew up and overstepped whenever he was annoyed. He might’ve wanted to do better, but he hadn’t.)

Why hadn’t he reached out? 

Probably because they hated him. Probably because hearing from him would make them start cackling because who was this asshole to think he could just waltz back into their lives after 2 years of ruining everything? It was probably longer than that. Tommy had been ruining things his whole life. 

That was why he barely talked to his family any more. They had tried to reach out and keep in touch, but Tommy got busy and they started to be neglected along with pretty much everything else so now he just left a voicemail on birthdays and sometimes got a Christmas card for all his efforts. 

His fault. 

A lot of things were his fault. Tommy was pretty sure that made him a bad person in the long run. He didn’t want to be a bad person. 

He was so tired. Why was he so tired? He didn’t know. 

Tommy fell asleep.