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Ranboo didn't think anyone would mind him running a little late. It had been a long day, and they weren't planning on making any content until tomorrow anyway. Not to mention the hours of notice he'd given and several apologies to Tubbo about not being there at the agreed-upon time. Tommy had even messaged him to "stop spamming, you prick. Tubbo can't make it any clearer that he doesn't mind." So it was clear that Tubbo didn't care, and Tommy sure as hell didn't seem to. Ranboo didn't think anyone would.
He stumbles through the door Tommy had wrenched open and accepts his welcoming embrace. Tommy's always been a hug-on-sight kind of man. Ranboo's gotten used to it. "Hey, once again, I'm so sorry-"
"Oh my god, Ranboo, literally no one cares. How many times do we gotta tell you?" Ranboo chuckles awkwardly and leans into the hug, taking a moment to catch his breath after speed-walking here from the station.
"Tommy, did you get the door? Oh, hey, Ranboo," Wilbur's voice quietens as he appears in the hallway. "Tommy, let him go, man. He's trekking mud all through Tubbo's hallway." Tommy pulls back slightly, still gripping Ranboo's arms. They both look down at his shoes and observe the significant lack of dirt on the sneakers. Neither bothers to rebut against Wilbur's comment.
"We were just about to order pizza. Which, I'm sure, is why Wilbur's decided to grace us with his presence rather than sit his ass down and wait patiently like the others," Tommy jests with a playful glare. Wilbur rolls his eyes but doesn't argue. "Calm your knickers, Wilbur. I'll order the damn pizza. What do you want, Ranboo? Tubbo's collected like a million Dominos coupons so we can all get our own pizza and a drink." Tommy lets go of Ranboo and fishes his phone out of his back pocket. Ranboo isn't sure if he's going to add Ranboo's order to a note on his phone or if he's just about to call the place and recite everyone's orders off by heart like some madman. He doesn't wait to see.
"Oh, I'm good, thanks."
"Did you eat on the way here?" Tommy queries. "If you don't want pizza, they have a shit ton of sides. Fries, garlic bread, hell, I'm pretty sure they even have pasta these days. The world is your oyster, pal." Ranboo chuckles politely at Tommy's eccentrics because he feels it's the right thing to do.
"Uh... Yeah, I ate already," he responds after a moment's pause. Ranboo pretends not to notice how Wilbur's expression darkens at the response.
"You sure?" Tommy asks, seeming unbothered either way. Ranboo just nods and turns to Wilbur, who remains looming in the hallway, backlit by the lights in the lounge like some movie villain.
"Right... Well, maybe for the next event, you can just focus on getting here on time, yeah? Rest assured, Tubbo isn't gonna let anyone go hungry. You don't need to stuff yourself before coming over." Ranboo flinches at the sudden shift in tone and the surprising amount of animosity leaking from Wilbur's words. Tommy pipes up before he can even begin to form a coherent response.
"Wil ," the youngest reprimands half-heartedly. He steps away from Ranboo and grabs Wilbur's elbow to drag him into the other room. "Leave him be, man. If Ranboo doesn't want pizza, then that's fuckin' fine. You have to..." and they're out of earshot. Ranboo stands in the hallway for roughly thirty seconds, simply reflecting on the turmoil he's just experienced, before realising his shoes are still on, and he should probably take those off.
- - -
The pizza arrives, and it looks to be enough to feed an army. But the boys get through it, and Ranboo watches from the sidelines. The Office is playing in the background, but no one is paying it any attention. They're all far too invested in their feast, and Ranboo's rather investing in watching said feast. His eyes widen as Tubbo grabs a slice of Jack's Hawaiian and Tommy and Wilbur's (they shared, but Tommy got a whole other pizza for himself as well) margarita and promptly shoves them both into his mouth at the same time. He's amazed, to be honest.
"You want some?" Jack asks, his own mouth full of cheesy goodness from the garlic bread. Ranboo definitely thinks there's more cheese than bread on that monstrosity. He looks down to see that Jack's gesticulating to the pizza laid out on the table. More specifically, to Wilbur and Tommy's shared box. Ah, he must've noticed Ranboo's stare lingering on it.
"Hey, fucker, you can't just offer someone else's pizza up! That ain't yours to give away," Tommy sneers, chucking a chip at Jack, who retaliates via a projectile potato wedge which narrowly misses landing in Wilbur's hair. "But yeah, Ranboo, you're welcome to a slice if you want one," Tommy finishes after a moment, seeming subdued after a singular round of potato wars with Jack. Ranboo just smiles lightly and shakes his head.
"I'm alright, thanks." It appears his answer is a little too short, because Tubbo feels the need to push.
"Really, dude. I know you said you don't want any, but it's not like we're getting through all of this anyway. You should take it." Ranboo blinks and Tubbo's suddenly got an arm across the table between them, holding out a slice of tomato and cheese pizza, ripe for the taking. Ranboo does his best not to screw his nose up at the stench of grease that hits him at having the pizza so close.
"Hah, yeah, thanks, guys. But I'm good," Ranboo knows he has to explain further if the three disbelieving stares he gets are any indicator. For the first time all night, he wishes everyone would behave a little more like Wilbur, who's kept his head dutifully down as he munches away on his-... first? No, it has to be second by now- his second slice of pizza. (Which is kinda weak. Like, it's been at least fifteen minutes now. Tommy's finished an entire meat-lovers already. Come on, Wilbur, do better.) "The cheese probably wouldn't agree with me, this late at night," is the excuse Ranboo decides on. Topped with a "and, not gonna lie, this dominos looking especially greasy tonight, and that isn't exactly tempting my hunger" for good measure. Ranboo tacks on a little chuckle at the end, and thankfully, Tubbo laughs with him and retracts his hand.
"Fair, man. Real fair," Tubbo says. He even wipes his hands on a napkin after placing the slice back in the box. Ranboo is about to continue the conversation, just for something to do, but Tubbo turns back to the well-forgotten television show and climbs across Tommy for the remote. "Oh, man, we missed this entire episode. It was a good one, too. I'm gonna rewind." Jack and Tommy both start complaining. The reason for their uproar is beyond Ranboo because he's pretty sure neither was invested in the show, considering both of their backs have been to the screen this entire time. The arguing causes the three to miss the sound of a second pizza slice hitting a box, but Ranboo's head darts to spot it. He notices immediately which slice it is because it's landed askew, overlapping the untouched piece adjacent to it. There is also a sad little bite taken out of it. No more than a mouse's mouthful, really. Ranboo lifts his gaze slightly from the depressing sight to see one arguably worse. It's definitely a more concerning picture, that's for sure.
Wilbur's arm is still hovering over the box, and the fingers are twitching, seemingly on their own. His other hand has fisted a clean napkin that he's bringing to his mouth. Wilbur doesn't see Ranboo watching. The younger definitely feels like he's watching something he shouldn't, but he can't quite look away as Wilbur subtly spits whatever is in his mouth into the napkin and diligently folds it till the sin is well hidden. After he's performed the act, Wilbur meets Ranboo's eye. Ranboo curses himself for not being a better spy and suffers the consequences. The main one being him ending up on the receiving end of what's got to be Wilbur's scariest death glare to date. (And Ranboo's seen the stares Wilbur shoots at fans that are a little too forward on their disinterest in Tommy when meeting the two in public.) Ranboo thought Wilbur had forgiven him for his tardiness; just before dinner, they'd been joking back and forward about ridiculously impossible stream ideas really for no other reason than pissing Tubbo and Tommy off, who were actually trying to work. They'd had a good thing going, but now Ranboo can feel the heat in Wilbur's stare, and, quite frankly, he doesn't feel safe anywhere near the man. This works out perfectly, it seems, as Wilbur has stood and is making his way out of the lounge. Tubbo makes a noise of confusion and opens his mouth to question the older, but Wilbur answers before he can.
"Just going to hit the can. No worries. I'll be back in a jiff, ol' Tubbster." He grins on the delivery of the line, and there's a bounce in his step as he skirts around grease-stained cardboard and scattered napkins on the floor. He looks a little unhinged if Ranboo's being entirely honest.
"Wilbur..." Tommy begins in a tone far too heavy for the situation before them. Ranboo can tell from the way Jack recoils slightly to stare at the blond and how Tubbo's shoulders tense that he isn't the only one who notices the shift.
"Two seconds, Tommy," Wilbur says, sounding a lot less upbeat. He steps into the hallway and spares a single glance back at the four pairs of eyes still on him. Wilbur doesn't look anywhere but at Tommy, though. "'M just pissing, man." And then he's off. The silence quickly becomes too much, and an awkward laugh bubbles out of Ranboo. It doesn't feel appropriate, but Tubbo joins in weakly, and it's much better than sitting in the dead-air Wilbur left them with.
"What's the time, Tubbo?" Tommy asks for the third time in the past twelve minutes, and Ranboo knows he's worried about Wilbur.
"Dude, really?" Tubbo questions, exasperated. Tommy holds his stare with a blank expression, and Tubbo just sighs before pulling his phone out of his pocket. "It's... quarter past. Literally two minutes later than it was last time you asked." Tommy's jaw clenches, and he nods once.
"Right. Thanks." He glances towards the hallway, and Ranboo's had enough.
"I need to pee now, too," he lies. "I'll go see what's taking Wilbur so long."
"Oh, no, it's fine. I can-" Tommy begins, voice high and back straightening, lightning quick. His eyes fall onto Ranboo, and the words appear to die in his throat. "Actually, yeah, go for it, man. I'm too comfortable to move." Tubbo raises a sceptical eyebrow from Tommy's left, and both of them eye the boy's taut frame disbelievingly.
"Alright. Be back in a sec, then," Ranboo says.
He heads towards the bathroom and is startled to find it empty. Since Ranboo doesn't actually need to pee and his only mission if to find a wandering Wilbur, he doesn't bother stepping inside. Ranboo heads upstairs to the second bathroom and finds the door locked and the fan on. He can also hear running water. Has Wilbur decided to shower on a whim? Without informing anyone or asking Tubbo where the clean towels were? It only takes a few more seconds of listening to the running water to identify it as the tap. Wilburs running the tap, huh. This has to be the longest handwash known to man. Wilbur has definitely had enough time to sing through the happy birthday song twice in his head. Ranboo turns to leave Wilbur to his mega-long handwash in private and just tells Tommy the man's being very thorough with his hygiene, but he's interrupted by a terrible sound. Ranboo snaps back towards the door and places his hand on the nob, solely on instinct. Is Wilbur hurt? Should Ranboo be calling for help? His thoughts are interrupted by a horrific gag and an undeniable splash, and Ranboo's heart stops beating.
"Eurgh," is the disgusted exclamation from inside the bathroom, and Ranboo shuts his eyes, leaning his back against the wall. "Fuckin' gross, man," Wilbur complains to himself. There's a pull of toilet paper and then shuffling. Ranboo assumes Wilbur's stood up. He considers darting out of sight, but he only makes it two steps before he hears Wilbur sigh, sounding forlorn, and a heavy thud of knees hitting the floor before there's more gagging. He isn't done. Wilbur is doing anything he can to regurgitate his food and turn his stomach inside out, and Ranboo feels sick.
Wilbur turns the knob slowly when he exits the bathroom. He leans against the doorframe and sucks in a long, choked breath. He looks awful, which excuses why it takes him several seconds to notice Ranboo lurking in the hall. His eyes go wide, and he straightens immediately, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. If Ranboo hadn't been sure what had happened before that movement, he's now certain. Wilbur's just purged in Tubbo's upstairs bathroom after consuming what couldn't be more than a few slices of pizza, and Ranboo's caught him exiting the scene of the crime. Wilbur's expression is horrified, his arms are wrapped protectively around his torso, and Ranboo knows Wilbur's on defence.
"You can't tell Tommy," he croaks, and sadly, Ranboo isn't even surprised that that's his first priority. He heaves a burdensome sigh and opens his mouth to deny the request, but Wilbur's not finished. "Seriously, Ranboo. It's... It was just the once. I'm fine now. I'm better. It was just a little slip-up, and there's no use in worrying Tommy when he's got so much going on, okay? Use your head, man." Ranboo is using his head. Wilbur is pulling out all the stops in his book on emotional manipulation and isn't above using Tommy to keep Ranboo quiet, but it isn't enough. Ranboo is using his head, and his head is telling him to go get someone. Footsteps on the stairs interrupt him before he can act on it.
"Why're you guys up here?" Tommy asks, rounding the railing and coming towards them. Ranboo sees Wilbur nervously wipe at his mouth again, and from how Tommy falters mid-step and eyes Wilbur's hand (his clean hand, because there really isn't anything on Wilbur's face), Ranboo's pretty sure Wilbur's just given himself away with the action. "There's a perfectly good bathroom downstairs, you know..." Tommy adds vacantly. Ranboo wracks his brain desperately for something to say. He feels like he needs to get out of there. He gets lost in the winding road that is his own mind, useless ideas serving only to frustrate him as he begs his head to come up with something that'll get him out of their hair.
"I told you, Tommy. He's fucking triggering!" Wilbur yells, gesturing towards Ranboo. And, oh, he must have zoned out. Well, now appears like a better time than ever to keep paying attention to whatever shitshow he's apparently caused. "It's not my fault Tubbo decided to host this and invite his token disordered friend. You couldn't possibly expect me to-"
"Wilbur!" Tommy barks out, and Ranboo's jaw drops. He recognises that tone, but he never thought he'd hear Tommy use it. Ranboo definitely didn't think he'd witness Tommy speaking in such a way to Wilbur, of all people. "You're a grown man. Shut the fuck up. Stop acting like I caught you with your hand in the cookie jar. You're not in fucking trouble for relapsing, and there is no need to get so defensive." Tommy takes a big breath once he's finished speaking, and Ranboo realised just then that he's quaking slightly. From his shoulders to his toes, Tommy's whole body is shivering. Wilbur has to notice, too, because he takes a step back and his shoulders cave inwards in defeat.
"Sorry," he spits out before clearing his throat. There's a nasty amount of phlegm he seems to cough up, and all three of them screw up their faces at the noise. "I'm sorry," Wilbur repeats after swallowing whatever has ended up back in his mouth. "To you too, Ranboo." Ranboo's eyebrows lift in surprise. He didn't really expect to be involved anymore. "Your shit has nothing to do with me, and I know you didn't mean any ill intent. Tommy's right. I'm an adult, and it was petty of me to try to blame you for anything."
"Oh, it's..." Ranboo shifts his weight and avoids whatever sincere eye contact Wilbur is trying to have. "It's chill, man. I get it. You're going through something right now. No hard feelings," he stutters. Ranboo winces at the concerned looks both Wilbur and Tommy are giving him now. He feels completely out of his depth.
"Ranboo, man, have you got someone you're talking to?" Tommy asks gently, worry leaking into the words.
"About...?" Ranboo asks, even though he doesn't want an answer.
"About... About your eating troubles. You-"
"What?" Ranboo interrupts, laughing forcefully. "I don't... I don't have eating troubles, dude. What are you on about?" He folds his arms over his chest and stares down Wilbur and Tommy's doubtful looks
"You didn't even consider having dinner," Wilbur states.
"I ate before I came."
"You looked at that pizza like it killed someone."
"I told you! The grease was..." Ranboo trails off as discomfort colours Wilbur's face. "Sorry. I just wasn't hungry, though."
"Alright, how about the weight, then?"
"The weight...?"
"Come on, Ranboo. You've dropped like four sizes in the last three months. You can't possibly think no one could tell." Ranboo bites back the retort that it would've been nice for someone to say something if it was all so obvious. He would have appreciated a compliment or two to know his efforts were being acknowledged. Ranboo decisively doesn't say this because he doubts it'd help his case.
"I've just been eating healthier. You don't know what-"
"Take it from me, man. You deserve better," Wilbur interjects sternly. "We can't make you do anything you don't want to, but at least look into getting help."
"I..." Ranboo doesn't have the energy to keep fighting. "Okay, yeah."
"And for god's sake, tell someone. You don't have to deal with this alone." Ranboo wants to argue, to explain how it's hard enough for himself to identify this ugly thing that lives inside him, let alone talk to someone else about it, but he realises halfway through the semi-formed sentence that that's what he's doing right now. He actually does want to talk about it, as surprising as that is. Ranboo bites his tongue, mainly because he figures venting about his disorder in front of a mostly-recovered-and-working-hard-to-stay-that-way Wilbur is a bad call, especially after the night they've all had. Instead, he simply stretches a thin smile onto a thinner face and nods enthusiastically.
"Yeah, of course," he says, and actually kind of means it. "I'll talk to someone. I'll figure it out. Thanks, guys."
They return downstairs, and the tv is blasting a lot louder than it was last time Ranboo was down here. From the way Tommy immediately reaches for the remote and turns it down several notches, he assumes the younger had amped up the volume before going to find them. Always the thinker, that kid. Ranboo settles next to Tubbo on the couch he and Jack appear to have retired to. The pizza remains appear to have been cleared from the table, and the boxes are folded neatly by the door. Damn, how long had they been gone?
"You okay?" Tubbo murmurs quietly into his ear. Ranboo looks away from the cardboard pile to face his friend, who's watching him carefully.
"Yeah," Ranboo says, pairing the answer with a soft smile. He is. Or... He will be. "Hey," he continues before he can change his mind, voice still hushed so, hopefully, no one else can hear them. "Can I talk to you later tonight? Once everyone's gone to sleep?"
"Of course, dude." Ranboo's smile widens slightly, and he turns back to the tv. It only takes five more minutes for Tommy to complain about having seen this episode "literally twenty times before, guys," and insists they change it. Ranboo leans into Tubbo's side and lets himself doze in and out of sleep, lulled by the familiar hum of his friends' petty arguments.