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Tubbo decided that staring at the wall for too long makes him think that he is losing his marbles. What also makes him think that he is losing his marbles is that he is talking to himself. Or rather talking to some invisible not there version of his husband to make it seem like he’s not alone. Loneliness eats away at him. Slowly but surely. Tubbo yearns to get back to it all. A community, a place where he belongs. Not as a leader, but as a friend, someone to stand beside everyone else. It’s hard to do that though, when he is so painfully stuck where he is.
Tubbo has had this habit. This bad habit is moving on too quickly. Something happens, he wraps in up in a mental box with a little mental bow and throws it out into the deep space in the back of his mind. He doesn’t have time to care. There's always more work to do. But this time…. There is NOTHING to do. He is stuck. In this cabin. Imagining his deceased husband is standing next to him. Imagining his son is standing right along with them, babbling away about something that he cannot make out.
The sick feeling keeps coming back and all Tubbo can do is ride it out. After his talk or whatever it could be classified as with Ghostboo, Tubbo feels more sick than ever. It’s been a few weeks and he’s still thinking about it. Tubbo looks back over to his side and his imaginations are gone. He takes a deep breath. Another day, another tick of the clock, another breath, another chance. And he still finds himself in the same spot. Tubbo turns sharply, heading to his front door and quickly pulling on his boots and his coat.
It was deathly cold outside, considering he was still close to Snowchester and a little bit away from the Antarctic commune. He lets out another breath, air curling out of his mouth and upwards towards the sky, a spitting image of how it looks when he smokes. Tubbo goes on his way, familiar sounds. Boots crunch on snow, the rustle of sticks as he moves, the sound of pants swiping together. Tubbo walks for a long while. But eventually, he reaches a branch that breaks off from the main Prime path. He follows the main path and it gets less cold, the snow melts gradually and he is soon met with the sweet smell of flowers and grass, freshly baked pastries, and the chattering of residents of the Greater SMP land.
Following the path a little more and taking a sharp left under a bridge, he comes up to Tommy’s house. It’s a hobbit home, sticking out of an artificial hill Tubbo watched Tommy build themself. The house was lined with pretty flowers and whatever other gardening Tommy has been up to lately. Tubbo makes his way to the door and knocks a few times, standing silently as the door gets pulled open wildly and suddenly. There stands Tommy, shoulder-length hair in messy uneven braids, her green bandana wrapped haphazardly around her head, long blue skirt, white tank, light blue sweater, dirty white socks, and those red horns sticking out of her hair.
“Tubbo! My friend!!” Tommy says, pulling Tubbo inside and shutting the door, hugging the shorter. Tubbo instantly hugs Tommy back, digging his face into her shoulder. After a few more moments, they pull away, Tommy smiling with his sharp teeth and bright blue eyes. “We can hang out in just a moment Tubman. I’ve gotta feed Shroud!” Tommy says happily, Tubbo humming. Shroud was Tommy’s pet. Or service animal. Or something. Tubbo didn’t really know. After a few more moments, Tommy comes back, motioning for Tubbo to take off his boots and coat, which he does quickly before walking more into his friend's home.
Tommy’s house smelled of flowers, cinnamon, and candles. And dirt. Lots of dirt. Tubbo tuned out Tommy’s usual ramblings, their tail wrapping around Tubbo’s leg as she pulled the goat into the kitchen. Tommy pushes Tubbo into a chair, going over to get two mugs out of a cupboard. “What tea are you in the mood for? Im thinking….. Chamomile. You like that one, right? Or are you still gaslighting yourself into drinking that earl gray shit?” Tubbo looks up at Tommy. “Chamomile is good yeah. Thanks.” Tubbo smiles softly. Tommy smiles back. Tubbo suddenly remembers how much he missed this as he watched Tommy make the tea and almost spilled it on himself while pouring it into the mugs.
The imp hybrid slides Tubbo’s mug over to him while Tommy sits opposite of him and takes a sip of their tea. “Thanks for letting me in. I know we haven’t talked for a bit so I wanted to just come by and hang out, you know?” Tubbo says quietly, taking a long sip from his mug. Tommy nods. “You're always welcome in my spaces boss. And I know everything’s been hard since Ranboo died. I’m always here for support!”
Tubbo tries desperately to ignore that last part. He tries to ignore how he can almost feel the imaginary Ranboo at his side, holding his hand that rests on the counter. He quickly places both hands on his mug and takes another drink, almost choking. There’s a long pause. Tommy’s eyes dart around and she takes a quick sip. “This reminds me of L’manburg. Remember when Niki would sometimes make us tea and those little cream pastries after running around in the forest all day?” Tubbo says, looking over at Tommy whose eyebrows raised a little. “Yeah. We used to hog all of it so Fundy couldn’t get any.” Tommy snickers, elbowing Tubbo lightly. “Little shits we were.”
“When have we ever stopped being little shits?” Tommy smiles slyly, kicking Tubbo’s ankle. Tubbo lets out a laugh, kicking Tommy’s ankle in return. Tommy pauses. “Wait, you are avoiding the subject again.” They say, pointing at the goat hybrid. Tubbo chews on his bottom lip and looks down at the counter. “I feel like…. uhm. He is dead. He is definitely dead but Ghostboo is here but he’s not….. Them. But it’s a constant reminder of what they used to be and now I isolated myself and I’m alone and I don’t have them. So you can kind of understand why it’s hard to talk about.”
Tommy smiles sadly at Tubbo, seeing where he comes from. “I was like that at first with Ghostbur but it made me feel better to hang around him later on. Don’t think of it as them but also kind of do-? I don’t know, it’s complicated.” He says, taking a sip of their tea. Tubbo nods slowly and finishes off his drink. “Thanks. I have something I need to do.” He says, standing up. “Go on go on, do what you gotta do king.” Tommy waves off. “I’m here if you need me.”
“Thank you.”
~~~
Tubbo doesn’t think this is his brightest idea. Nowhere near, actually. He would rather eat dirt than try to befriend that… thing that wore his husband's face. Tubbo sighs. But Tommy brought up something that made him think. The “don’t think of it as them but also kind of do”. He didn’t understand, hell, he didn’t even think Tommy understood what they themselves were saying. But Tubbo has a surge of confidence. Well, something of the sort.
He misses Ranboo, that's a fact. But he can’t see HIS Ranboo. But Michael is still around. His son. His son he hasn’t seen in months, maybe almost a year. Tubbo tried to get over it, but he truly couldn't. Ghostboo knows where Michael is. They have been caring for him. That’s what Tubbo was hoping. Ghostboo was probably too caught up in spending time with their new best friend, Aimsey, to give Michael the care he needed. Tubbo’s resentment bubbled up higher. He will see Michael by the end of today, he swears it.
So, the goat marches down to Aimsey and Ghostboo’s outside cafe. Many people were sitting in the cute chairs, sipping drinks and eating pastries, chatting about random stuff. Tubbo didn’t care, though. Michael was his kid. And he can’t talk to Ranboo, but he can talk to Michael. Ghostboo was the one thing in his way. Every single day, Tubbo utterly regrets handing Michael over to them. Sure, he was in no mental state to take care of a child alone, but if he could just see Michael for an hour, he was sure he could turn the tide of his recent awful months.
Tubbo breathes a sigh of relief as he realizes there is no line and he can immediately just walk up to Ghostboo, ask to see his son, see said son, and then leave. Easy plan. But things always have to go south for Tubbo, huh? Because Ghostboo is very much not behind the counter, but Aimsey, who looks sort of bewildered that Tubbo is standing in front of them. “Oh! What are you doing here?” They ask slowly, looking side to side like Tubbo isn’t staring daggers through them.
“Where's Ghostboo?” Tubbo asks.
“Uh, Ran left to get supplies a few hours ago. I’m sure they will be back soon. If you have something to say, I can also pass it on-” Aimsey says slowly, sounding cautious of every word they say. “Give you something to pass on? Please. Like I’d tell you shit to pass on. Anyways, how soon is soon?” Tubbo says, crossing his arms. Aimsey looks uncomfortable, biting their lip and leaning on their cane as they scratch at the counter. “I dunno. Why are you here if you just want to talk to them anyway? Just go to their house.”
“No.”
“Well. Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” Aimsey says slowly, turning around to go back to working. Tubbo sighs and leans against the side of the counter, waiting for his hu- that's not right. His husband's ghost. Yeah. Tubbo sometimes wonders if things would have gone differently if Ranboo hadn’t died. If they met Aimsey while they were truly themself and introduced them to Tubbo and maybe he would've made friends with Aimsey. But that’s not what happened.
After awkwardly standing by the stall for 20 or so minutes, Tubbo was getting restless. That was until Ghostboo turned the corner and locked eyes with Tubbo. They looked surprised, sort of had the same look Aimsey gave him. “Ran! Your back!” Aimsey said, going out from the counter to hobble over to Ghostboo, whispering something to them. From what Tubbo could read from their lips, “he won’t leave” and “he’s been waiting for you for some reason”. Acting like he’s a feral beast. Which he could be if he so pleased.
Ghostboo walked up to Tubbo, Aimsey standing next to them. Tubbo gave them both an unimpressed look but mainly kept his focus on Ghostboo. This conversation wasn’t for Aimsey. “Can I see Michael?” Tubbo asked. Ghostboo snorted. “Oh. So now you want to see him? Absolutely not.” They said quickly. Tubbo deflated a bit, but he tried his best to maintain his composure. “The fuck you mean no? You can’t stop me from seeing him!” He growled, looking straight into Ghostboo’s eyes. They don’t even flinch.
Huh.
Weird.
“You can’t just ask to see their son after proving you are a danger to others!” Aimsey interjects. And oh my Prime, Tubbo felt like smashing his skull into something. Tubbo chooses to ignore them. “I didn’t bother asking a few months ago when I wasn’t well enough. I’m better. Let me see him.” Tubbo asks again, narrowing his eyes at the ghost. Aimsey looks thoroughly confused. It's like… Ghostboo didn’t tell them. About them. About their marriage.
“I can’t believe that, when you just a few days ago were so incredibly rude to me,” Ghostboo says, crossing their arms. “I never should’ve given him to you after all that shit. I was the one who got him from Sam!” Tubbo points harshly at them. “Yeah, well, I’m the one who DIED for him!” Ghostboo yells, and everything seems to go quiet for a quick moment.
“Let me see my fucking son.”
Another bout of silence as he hears a small gasp from Aimsey, who has seemed to finally put two and two together. “You will not see Michael. Not ever. You are not mentally stable enough to be around our son. I don’t trust you. You hurt Aimsey. What’s stopping you from hurting Michael?” Tubbo scoffs so loudly that he feels the wind change. He wasn’t even going to fight on this. He had no energy. “Fuck you man.”
Tubbo spins on his heel and walks away. He can hear a small ‘you two were…’ from Aimsey as he walks away. He can hear Ghostboo respond, but it’s not clear enough to him. Tubbo never got anything in the end. All he got was a sad trip home alone without his son. He sat in his bed that night and looked down at his scarred and fucked up hands. Hands that used to hold such delicate ones in them, like it was the last thing he’d touch. Tubbo can almost feel their kiss against his lips.
In a perfect world, Tubbo would’ve gotten to spend time with Michael. In a perfect world, Ranboo would’ve lived. But this is far from a perfect world. A far too broken world. And Tubbo is left to pick up the pieces.