Chapter Text
True to his word, the next few days are filled with trying to give him his memories back.
The first time, Ranboo wakes up in a bed. Which is strange, because that shouldn’t be possible. The bit of grass he’s been stuck on for who knows how long at this point is barely big enough to sit on, much less fit a bed. He reaches out blindly, feeling with his hand, and sure enough there’s sheets, a blanket, a pillow under his head. And he can’t hear water anymore.
Where the hell is he?
Exploring the house he finds himself in reveals it to be empty, which leaves him more confused. Maybe he can find someone who can tell him where he is. When he steps outside, he’s startled by two people: a bee hybrid and someone with wings. They don’t appear to be dangerous. Is this their house? Have they been waiting out here this whole time so that they could catch him when he tries to escape?
When they see him, they definitely don’t look surprised, but they don’t look mad, either. They just sort of wave hello.
“Hey Ranboo,” the one with wings says. “How’d you sleep?”
He hunches in on himself. How do they know his name? Does he know them? He doesn’t think so, but they clearly know who he is.
Maybe this is a dream. A weird dream where he’s alive again but he has no idea what’s going on. Even if it is just a confusing dream, it’s more welcome than it isn’t. He can’t remember the last time he dreamed something that wasn’t burning water.
“How do you know my name?” he demands. “Where am I?”
The two look shocked, and share a look.
“Shit, I guess we’re diving headfirst into this immediately,” the bee one stage whispers, and the winged one shrugs. It doesn’t do much to dampen the anxiety growing in his chest.
“So you don’t remember us?” the winged one asks, and Ranboo shakes his head hesitantly.
The bee one sighs. “Oh boy. Okay, you’re gonna have to bear with us. You didn’t exactly tell us how we’re supposed to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Jog your memories.”
Ranboo isn’t too surprised that he’s forgotten something, but he thinks he would remember coming to this place. And being alive. How is he supposed to be able to trust what they’re saying, anyway?
It ends up taking a couple of hours to get him close to how he was the day before. He’s very reluctant to answer any questions, and doesn’t like how much they seem to know about him that he can’t remember ever telling them.
Eventually, they’re able to tell him things about himself that they would only know if he had told them, so he has to admit to himself that he must have been the one to share that information. Just acknowledging that seems to flip a switch in his brain, and he’s able to remember most of what happened the previous day. Some things are still fuzzy, but the most important stuff is all there.
The day after that, he wakes up with no memories again, only this time, Tubbo and Tommy don’t realize it at first. They still expect him to be super confused and wary around them, but when he walks out of the cave, he acts like he knows who they are. He seems even more nervous than usual, but for a while they don’t think anything of it. Until Ranboo asks them to remind him where he is, and then it’s revealed that he barely remembers anything and has just gone with whatever they’ve said because they’ve acted like they know him, so he just assumed they were right and tried to follow along to the best of his ability.
Luckily, he is much more trusting this time, and it doesn’t take long to fill in any gaps that he has.
***
It’s a nice enough day that they’re taking a walk. Tommy had called it a tour and Tubbo referred to it as ‘seeing the sights’, but most of it has consisted of walking through forests and fields. Ranboo has definitely learned more about this place, but he doesn’t know how much of it he will actually remember. He still hasn’t gotten any materials to make a new memory book, and after the last few days, having one sounds like a decent idea.
Like usual, Tommy and Tubbo are walking slightly ahead of him, lightheartedly arguing about, honestly he doesn’t know what it is at this point. Sometimes he thinks they just like having the chance to debate something. But he doesn’t mind it. It’s fun listening to them, and it means he doesn’t have to focus on a conversation and can look around instead.
He’s been surprised at how many flower fields there are. The one they’re walking through now is covered in an assortment of colors, and thankfully the flowers are all ones that he recognizes. It’s one thing for the people here to be different, it would be a whole other thing for the plants to be different.
One of the fields that they’re walking in the direction of is almost patterned in stripes, pink, yellow, and reds alternating over and over. When he squints, he can’t quite make out what they are, but they’re getting closer so he’ll find out soon enough.
It’s like a punch to the gut when he finally sees what they are. Rows and rows of tulips that seem to stretch on forever, swaying ever so gently in the breeze.
He feels his knees hit the ground more than he consciously does it, and it’s loud enough to make Tubbo and Tommy pause their argument and look back at him, concerned. Not that he notices, as gently, carefully, he reaches out and picks one of the flowers. He holds it in trembling hands, and his vision goes blurry for a few seconds before his face is burning, tears building up and falling almost immediately. His chest feels tight, and all he can do is hold the tulip closer, pressing his nose to it as he takes shaky breaths.
Hands grab his shoulders and shake, and oh, they’ve been saying things to him, trying to get his attention. It finally registers that they’re concerned, asking what happened and if he’s okay. He blinks at them before remembering that he needs to breathe, to take deep breaths.
His face still burns from where his tears carved paths down his face, but he thinks he’s managed to calm down enough to speak. All three of them are sitting on the ground now, and Ranboo takes a few more breaths.
“I didn’t know there were pink tulips here,” he finally croaks out. “I haven’t seen one in so long.”
He knows they’re confused why he’s having such a reaction to a flower. He would be, too, if he were them, and they’re just watching him, clearly not knowing what to do or say to comfort him. He sighs, and runs his fingers across the petals.
“These have always been the one thing I remember, no matter what. If I can’t remember his name, or remember who he is at all, I always know that these are his favorites.”
Somehow, it’s clear who he’s talking about. He’s brought up his Tubbo more times than necessary, and it’s something he’s always done. So many things remind Ranboo of him, and then his mouth will move faster than his brain can process what he’s saying. He knows it has to be weird for this Tubbo, because every time he talks positively about anything between him and his Tubbo, he looks. . .Ranboo doesn’t know if uncomfortable is the right word, but he always seems to not be able to believe that they interact in that way.
Right now, Tubbo looks contemplative, like watching this scene unfold made him realize something.
“Can I ask you something?” He questions while Ranboo is trying to carefully pat dry his tears with his sleeve.
“Hm?”
“What’s. . .what’s your relationship with your Tubbo?” he asks slowly. “I’ve just been getting the feeling it’s pretty different from the one between me and this world’s Ranboo.”
“He’s my husband,” Ranboo replies wetly. Tubbo nods like his suspicions have been confirmed, while Tommy’s eyes go wide. It makes Ranboo laugh a little, but it doesn’t stay for long when he continues. “And I haven’t seen him or Michael in so long.”
“Michael?” Tubbo questions.
His boy. The sweet, smart, wonderful little boy that he’s been away from for too long. So many days that he’s missed, accomplishments he wasn’t there for, time he just wasn’t there, period. And Michael was so young when Ranboo died. Does he even remember him? Or know who he is?
“Our son,” he finally says, and the tears start falling again. He doesn’t bother trying to wipe these away. “I don’t even know how old he is now. Time works differently when you’re dead, so I don’t know if it’s been months or years.”
He winces as his face stings again, and reaches up to try and dry it again. He’ll have to find a healing potion later. They all sit in silence now. Ranboo doesn’t really know what else to say. He doesn’t even know what else he could say without crying again. Of course he didn’t last long having a smooth face. He’s always been an easy crier.
He’s still holding the tulip he picked, and when he starts idly twisting it around Tommy looks like he wants to say something. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before the words finally come out.
“How did you die?” he asks, and then immediately starts to backtrack like he hadn’t actually meant to say it outloud. “If it’s alright for me to ask–”
“I was stabbed in the back,” Ranboo answers, cutting him off because it will be better to just tell them than let the awkwardness of trying to be polite drag out for longer than necessary. “Literally.”
Tommy looks startled. “What? Why?”
Ranboo shrugs. “I can’t remember. I think I was taken somewhere that I wasn’t supposed to be, and I couldn’t leave.” He pauses, trying to think. Most of the details from that night are fuzzy, with some of them only being a few colors. There’s a lot of green. “Techno came and saved me,” he continues, slowly, trying to make sure he’s remembering the right things through the haze, “but whoever took me the first time wasn’t happy about it? So he stabbed me. The next thing I can remember is being stuck on a patch of dirt floating above water with no way to leave.”
That all sounds right, but there has to be more to it than that. Like where he was taken, why he was taken, why he had to be killed over it. . .
“Well, at least you’re alive now.” Tubbo says, pulling him out of his thoughts.
“Yeah. I’m still getting used to it.”
“Does it feel weird?”
Thinking about it too hard makes him feel itchy. But not enough to try and scratch at, just enough for there to be a strange sensation. He looks down at the flower, and it goes in and out of focus for a few seconds. “It’s like my senses aren’t working correctly. Sometimes I can barely feel anything, and other times everything is too much.” He looks at his other hand, slowly twisting it around. “Nothing really moves smoothly anymore, and my head. . .I don’t know, it’s not like I’m having even more trouble remembering, but my head still feels fuzzy. Floaty, maybe? Like I’m not fully tied here.”
“That could also be because you’re technically not tied here since this isn’t your world.”
“Hm. Maybe.”
“I’m sure it’ll go away soon,” Tommy says confidently. “And if it doesn’t, we should have you home somewhat quickly.”
Ranboo sighs. “Here’s hoping.”
Tubbo nods in agreement and then stands up, doing a couple of dramatic stretches as if sitting down for a while tired him out. “Alright, I think we should see if there’s something we can do about those burns now.”
They help Ranboo get to his feet, and he follows them back to Tubbo’s house, still holding the tulip close to his heart. He just needs to focus on home. He’ll be there soon.