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Today was the one day in the past week that hasn’t been filled with snowfall. Tons of snow is normal, as the name “Snowchester” suggests. But it’s nice to have a break. To be able to go out at night and experience the peacefulness without worrying of a blizzard.
Tubbo looked up at the stars. His back was touching the snowy ground, hands reaching back and supporting his head. Even with all the thick coats and layers he wore, the cold still managed to somewhat seep through.
The stars looked pretty tonight. They look almost brighter than they were the last time he was out here.
He used to come out here more often. But not much anymore. Before, stargazing was a break from all the stress in his life. A moment of peace, where he could just lay down— most of the time either alone or with Tommy— and stare at the stars above. But now he’s not as busy and stressed, so he doesn’t really have much of a reason to be out here.
He thinks he could probably scope out at least two constellations.
His eyes search through the night sky, but before he can find one, he hears footsteps.
“Didn’t think I'd find you here.”
Tubbo smiles softly as he turns his head slightly to the person who spoke. He could recognize that voice anywhere.
“Hey Ranboo,” Tubbo mutters back.
“Was looking for you,” Ranboo informed.
Tubbo wondered if there was a reason for that. He opened his mouth to ask, but Ranboo spoke first, seeing Tubbo's worry. “Oh, don't worry, nothing’s wrong. Michael's in bed. I just wanted to see you.”
That made him feel warm inside. There were plenty of times where he felt no one cared about him, so being here, with Ranboo and Michael, is really nice.
“Have you come to just see me, or are you going to sit with me?” Tubbo joked.
Ranboo must've just realized he was still standing. He quickly sat down and leaned back against the snow-covered grass.
Tubbo breathed in the cool and brisk air. This time of year was nice. Well technically it's like this all year round, since they live in a tundra.
The two sat next to each other in comfortable silence. Tubbo closed his eyes and just listened to the light sound of the wind whirling and his own breathing.
“I wonder how our souls get up there,” Tubbo spoke softly, his voice almost being carried away in the slight breeze.
“Hmm?” Ranboo turned their head toward him, confusion warping his facial features.
“I mean, like, when we die, how do our ghosts just become one with the stars? I haven’t really thought about it in a while, I stopped about the same time I stopped stargazing.” He paused. “Do you really think stars are where we go when we die? I know they are just actual suns, balls of gas in space. But thinking about it from a more religious or theoretical standpoint, do you think so?” His eyes kept clear watch on the stars above, as if they were the ones supposed to answer.
Ranboo turned his head back, copying Tubbo. “Huh. Never really thought about it before. I don’t really think your ghost or soul going into the stars after you die is religious, though. But anyway, even if it was, I never grew up in a really religious household, so I just kinda always believed that we didn’t actually have ghosts. In the way that, after we die, we just die. There’s nothing to it.”
Tubbo’s eyes caught the— rather dim— shine of a shooting star. He watched it fly across the sky.
When he was a young child, before all this political noncence, his parents used to take him outside every once in a while and tell him stories while they watched the stars. Mostly stories about the constellations and their backstories. He loved those nights the most. Because some nights, they would tell him about how each star is another soul that’s moved on from this world. That was always his favourite because he always found it so beautiful that after someone dies, they will live on in the sky as something so mundane, and yet so breathtaking at times.
Sometimes he thought about how someday they, and eventually him, would also be up there. He doesn’t think it would be that bad though. They have stories about collections of them, studied, sought after, and most importantly, someone at least every night has looked up at the stars and noticed how magical they are.
Tubbo turned his head and gazed at Ranboo’s facial features. The moonlight was shining a beautiful cascade of light, making their eyes almost seem glowing. Ranboo’s eyes were darting to look at different stars.
Even though his face showed no emotion, his thoughts kept going to “how can something so beautiful exist?” He’s had this thought many times before: a few times when Michael was sleeping, looking at L’Manberg in the olden days of it, seeing Ranboo play with Michael, and finally, when he first looked at the stars again after years of not star gazing.
It had just been the first real attack on L’Manberg that night, and he and Tommy went to just calm down from the immense stress they just had to endure that day. The night sky had looked so beautiful that night.
Tubbo continued to stare at Ranboo’s face, almost forgetting that they could probably, most definitely, see him in the corner of their eye. “Why ya starin’? Am I just that pretty to stare at?” Ranboo tilted their head and winked at him.
Quickly Tubbo shifted his gaze, blushing slightly. “Maybe,” he quietly muttered, smiling softly. “You look so beautiful in this lighting I found myself wondering how you could even exist.”
“Maybe I don’t, and I’m just a figure of your imagination, a creation of the perfect husband,” they teased. “Maybe I’m secretly Twinkle Twinkle Little Star because they wanted to see what it was like to be alive again.”
Tubbo’s grin grew at how stupid that was. He giggled softly as he scooted closer to Ranboo, wrapping his arms around their’s. “That’s not how it works, idiot.”
“Well that’s how it works with, like, normal ghosts who possess people.” They shrugged, wrapping his arm around the small body next to him.
Tubbo sighed quietly, letting the air grow quiet again. The warmth from Ranboo’s body was nice. It felt nice being next to another person.
He looked up and wondered if his own parents were looking down on him now. He thinks they would be pretty proud of where he is now. He is himself.
There definitely were some roadbumps, no one could argue that. But he thinks that now, everything might just be okay.
Someday soon he’ll take Michael out here and tell him the stories that his parents told him. Michael will live on with the same memories and moments that he did, hopefully looking back on a time when he didn’t have to worry about anything.