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Tubbo wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say something. Surely watching your estranged husband from the doorway without giving him any sign of what you were doing wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Ranboo was bandaging his arm, sitting on the sofa. He seemed to be struggling to do so, fingers slipping on the fabric. Tubbo sighed, clearing his throat. Ranboo sat up, turning to face him. Tubbo smiled slightly, shifting his weight between his hooves. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Ranboo agreed with a small laugh. He nodded towards the space beside him and Tubbo approached carefully, stepping around a few toys scattered across their living room hardwood floors. He sat down beside Ranboo and they acknowledged each other for a moment before both of them tore their gazes away, Tubbo coughing nervously. He could see the burns running down his arms, the unnatural rippling of skin due to the excessive amount of heat. The bandage was grasped tightly in Ranboo’s other hand shakily.
“Did you put lavender on it?” Tubbo asked, rubbing his scars. They felt hot all of a sudden. He knew it was a phantom pain, but it burned and made his heart race, slamming against his ribcage in a frenzy. Ranboo’s eyes traced his expression, opening his mouth softly, then shutting it with a quiet nod. Tubbo gave him a thumbs up. There was another beat of silence. “Did Micheal go to bed easily?”
“Mhm. He wanted to know about how I got my ‘daddy boo-boos’, but I made something up, he’s fine.” Ranboo chuckled. Tubbo pursed his lips at the image of Micheal’s concerned expression. His nails began to dig into his skin. He wanted to rip it off, tear away the burn scars and pretend like it would be fine. If he could feel a different pain than this one he knew wasn’t real, some part of him insisted, things would be fine. He would be fine. Ranboo exhaled slowly, his voice choking up and catching Tubbo’s attention. “Are you… Are you really not happy here?”
“I don’t know, Ranboo. I feel so stuck, and yet I’m doing nothing. This place? Snowchester? I thought it’d give me something to do, to work for, but no one here even cares.” Tubbo stood up, pacing. It helped to move, to get this stress out somewhere. He tried to ignore how his shoulders straightened up automatically. He crossed his arms, gritting his teeth. Ranboo stayed seated, glazed over expression pinned on the floor as Tubbo listed off things on his fingers. “You’re barely ever here, Jack is busy with other things, Foolish is over at his vacation home– It’s L’manburg all over again. No one wants to be here, they just feel bad for me.”
“I don’t feel bad for you.” Ranboo grumbled. Tubbo scoffed. That meant nothing to him; Ranboo would’ve said anything to make him feel better. He knew he did. He knew this marriage was built on lies and pity and the want for one thing to be better, to be different. He started to pick up speed, but Ranboo stood up, cupping his face and forcing him to stop. “You’re my husband, you’re Micheal’s dad, isn’t that enough?”
“That’s not the problem, Ranboo.” Tubbo snapped, tugging himself away. Ranboo shifted backwards, swallowing as Tubbo sank in his posture and avoided his gaze. “I’m not enough. Micheal wouldn’t notice if I disappeared, you don’t need me, we don’t even live in the same house and you said it yourself, this is just for tax purposes and supporting Micheal. No one wanted me, but Quackity offered me something where I could do something and stop depending on everyone else to make me feel better about my stupid fucking existance.”
“Micheal would notice. He loves you, just like I do. You seem so determined that everyone hates you or that you’re a failure, but you aren’t. Please, Tubbo, I don’t care about the burger van, or the shop, or Las Nevadas right now. I care about you. I care about the sweet, funny, real person I married.” Ranboo softly outstretched his arms. Tubbo studied him, freezing. His chest hurt, but not because of how fast his heart was thumping, but because he was trying too hard not to let his emotions overtake him and fall into a mess of tears. “I care that you’re unhappy, I care that you feel like you’re stupid and like you aren’t doing anything, but I can’t help you unless you let me.”
Tubbo hesitated briefly, then let himself collapse into the embrace he was being offered, shoulders heaving with the effort of breathing, existing. His eyes stung with tears he didn’t want to cry. His fingers gripped around the fabric of Ranboo’s jacket like it was a lifeline, despite his tremors, feeling acid drip down his cheeks and onto his hands as Ranboo’s arms wrapped around his neck, face burying in his hair, his warm anxious breaths shaking Tubbo’s entire existence. He sobbed out weakly, “I want to go home, Ranboo. I want to feel home.”
There they stood huddled in each other’s being, Tubbo choking on feelings he hated. He didn’t want to carry this torch. He didn’t want to have to bury his childhood and now it was coming back, hitting him like a mudslide. His entire mountain he’d built came apart and hit him with the weight of a truck. Ranboo didn’t say anything more, just felt him convulsively gasp and wail and be completely fragile and disgusting. It hurt. All of it hurt.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” Ranboo suggested at last with a tearfilled laugh. Tubbo nodded, sniffling weakly. Ranboo sat down on the sofa and Tubbo curled up beside him, calming down with soft hiccups and deep breathing. He grabbed the bandages Ranboo was trying to use earlier and silently raised them. Ranboo blinked, then nodded and Tubbo helped him bandage himself up, the background noise of whatever they began playing soothing them into laughter and crude jokes.
The noise stopped.
Tubbo was alone.