Chapter Text
Lesson 6: Trust no one
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From the moment Ranboo set foot in XD Kingdom Church’s orphanage, an unexplainable darkness began to seep into them. Tendrils stretched out from each dark corner and shadow. Like snakes slithering out of tall grass, the swirling darkness wrapped around Ranboo’s limbs and slid up to their face, forcing them to inhale it like smog until it could make a home in their chest and lungs.
It started when they were young. Seeds of doubt planted in that ever growing hole, turned into roots that branched anxiety and cold numbness through them, apathy becoming a thing to help them survive the thoughts in their head that never seemed to leave, no matter how much they tried to get them out.
Ranboo only made the mistake of asking for help once.
They were twelve. It was hours past bedtime. The thoughts in their head were getting louder and louder and louder, until their claws dug deep in their sides and tears streamed silently down their face, because it wouldn’t stop, and it felt like there were thousands of eyes watching them, all screaming disappointment stupid nobody fly on the wall can’t do anything right D r i s t a ‘ s s p a w n and it was taking everything in Ranboo not to scream.
It was rare that Ranboo was the kid to wander up to an older child’s bed, tapping gently against shoulders with whispered asks of “Can I please sleep with you?” and it hurt to do, they knew they’d get rejected, but their sides stung with scratches just deep enough to bleed and their breath was a staggered staccato stuck in shallow inhales.
Cleo wasn’t an option. She was curled up in her bed, her wings tucked uncomfortably under her and drool slowly making its way down her cheek. But Rickie… He was like Ranboo. Awake. Staring at the ceiling. Pretending to sleep whenever a Sister came to check on them. And it didn’t take long before Ranboo was sheepishly padding up to his bed, head aching and world pulsing menacingly around them, reaching a desperate hand out to the only other person who was conscious.
“R- Rickie,” Ranboo had whispered, almost inaudible, but loud in the silence of the night. It was desperate, almost animalistic, and their legs shook so hard their knees nearly gave out under them. Their voice was choked in a series of warbling that sounded distinctly inhuman, and they tried hard to stop, tail lashing harsh and fast around them, and it didn’t take long before Rickie was sitting up, eyes flashing with something that almost looked like concern.
“Ranboo?” Rickie had asked, and his voice wasn’t scathing like it normally was. It was almost soft. Comforting. “What’s…” He hesitated, looking around, as if making sure Cleo wasn’t watching before continuing, quieter, “What’s wrong?”
Ranboo inhaled a sharp breath, chest stuttering under the overwhelming weight of want, of longing, of pain and darkness and disappointment disgrace to our Lord XD help me what did I do wrong why can’t it stop don’t wanna die- and they stuttered out frantic and entirely incompromprehensible, “I-I-I- h- help me I’m- I- drowning-”
Rickie’s face went through a series of emotions. Shock, anger, disgust. But what stuck out most was what it settled on: concern. It seemed completely unnatural, the way Rickie’s scaly arms wrapped around Ranboo in a cool embrace, and it was the first- the only time Rickie wasn’t touching them to hurt.
“You’re fine,” Rickie had murmured, hands firm in their placement beneath Ranboo’s shoulderblades, a deep pressure reaching deep into their muscles and smoothing out the way their lungs spasmed.
“I- I’m sorry,” Ranboo had cried, ducking their head into the side of Rickie’s neck, trying to pull away, still somehow pushing closer into the older boy’s arms. “I- I- I don’t know what to do I didn’t want to- to-” it trails into a low warble, a click sounding hard in the back of their throat, and Rickie just pulled them closer.
“You’re fine,” Rickie said again, but it sounded more like he was saying it to himself. His long, scaly tail writhed its way around Ranboo’s waist, and his claws slowly worked their way up and down Ranboo’s back, and it wasn’t soft, necessarily. Not in the way Sister Rose was. But it was soft for Rickie, and Ranboo’s breath only jumped harder as Rickie rocked them slowly side to side.
It took a while, but eventually Ranboo could breathe again. Their head was still reeling with thoughts they didn’t want to be thinking- take that jump don’t wanna die just don’t wanna live she left SHE LEFT YOU nobody n o t h i n g fly on the wall- but it was manageable. Tens of thousands of eyes were no longer watching them, and when Rickie sent them to bed again they were able to suck in air well enough that it filled up the entirety of their lungs, not just the shallowest parts of them.
What Ranboo didn’t know was that, after that night, Rickie’s bullying was going to get a lot worse. Less taunts and more fists, elbows into ribs, and glares that felt like daggers, as if trying to make up for the brief stint of kindness he showed to them.
What Ranboo didn’t know, was that Cleo had woken up at some point during that interaction, and it took all she had right then not to tear them and Rickie to shreds.
***
“Oh good, you’re still here.”
Ranboo jumps, eyes blowing wide as they turn to the voice behind them. They’re sitting in a patch of grass not too far from the train, watching the sunrise with a weight in their chest that they can’t seem to shake.
They hadn't left their room with much of an intention. Sure, the thought of leaving has been floating around since after lunch yesterday, but them leaving their room wasn't related to that. It was more motivated by the same thoughts that caused Ranboo to go up to the roof back at the orphanage, an incessant need to get out crawling from the cold, icy depths of that hole in their chest, curling dark tendrils through their mind and locking their voice up as if prohibiting them from being able to ask for help— not that they would.
They left their too-quiet room much too early in the morning after drifting in and out of uneasy unconsciousness. The sky had been dark, then. Stars blinked at them like Mama’s glowing eyes, and Ranboo’s always found solace in the idea that she's up there somewhere, dancing amongst the heavens, looking down on them with her soft smile, the trill of a deep rumbling lullaby caught in her throat. They like to think that maybe she’s looking out for them. To the best of her ability, at least.
They stayed out and watched the sunrise. The sky turned velvety purple and light pink before finally settling on light blue. Sister Rose used to have a saying about them— something about fresh starts. New beginnings. Ranboo had been thinking about that, about her, a barely contained keen stuck in their throat, when Techno came out of nowhere and startled them.
“Kinda thought you’d bailed,” Techno continues, a low hum in his chest. He shrugs, as if he doesn't really care. “You hungry? I'm hungry. C’mon.”
He doesn't wait for Ranboo before walking into the train car to the left of him. Wearily, Ranboo pushes themself up and follows.
When Ranboo enters, they take in the space. Half of it is set up like a kitchen. The other half is set up like a dining room. Techno has made his way groggily to the coffee machine, fiddling with a few things before he turns with a lazy smile. His blood-red eyes are half open, assumedly from tiredness, and the golden chains hanging from his glasses shine in the light that comes in through a window. It feels… safe, somehow. Comforting. Simple.
“You know how to make pancakes, Ranboo?” Techno asks in that lazy drawl.
Ranboo nods rigidly, standing up straight like they were taught, tail carefully still behind them as their hands clasp behind them.
“Good.” Techno grabs the mug from the coffee machine. The rich smell of it wafts through the room as he brings it to his lips, eyes slitting closed for a moment as a hum rumbles in his chest. When he opens them again, his eyes feel like a gentle weight beneath Ranboo’s skin, like a comforting hand on their shoulder, and it's inviting. Ranboo struggles to keep their mask from crumbling, and, oh, he’s good. “Mind helpin’ me?”
Ranboo doesn't respond, but they walk across the room like a shadow, heading to Techno’s side, who has put his coffee mug down in favor of rummaging through cabinets.
“Milk, eggs, and butter, please,” Techno asks in a tone that is gentle, but it’s a command Ranboo is quick to follow. They jerk the fridge open as carefully as they can, grabbing the ingredients with ease. When they put them on the counter, Techno has laid out a display of various ingredients, organized for easy access. He's sipping from his coffee mug as he pushes a small plastic cup to Ranboo. “Put some butter in here.”
Ranboo does as told, and Techno easily grabs the cup and sticks it in the microwave above the stove. He hums a tune under his breath as he waits, bopping his head to some inaudible rhythm, and he opens the microwave door before it can beep.
It’s easy, the way Techno asks Ranboo to do things. It turns into something like a dance, them moving around each other, mixing batter and pouring it onto a hot pan, and Techno grins wide as he picks the pan up by the handle, the underside of the pancake cooked and ready to be flipped.
“Yo,” he says, drawing Ranboo’s attention away from where they’ve begun setting up the table. “Ever flipped a pancake like this before?” With a flick of his wrist, he sends the half-cooked pancake flying, and he catches it easily, raising a brow as his lips pull in a crooked smile.
Ranboo feels a twinge of amazement burst through their chest, and the ease with which Techno speaks begins slowly pulling down their carefully crafted walls as their tail flicks somewhat excitedly behind them.
For the first time, they raise their hand and sign, “No.”
Techno hums, putting the pan back on the stovetop. “Wanna try with the next one?”
Ranboo responds a little too excitedly, a nod that throws their hair into their eyes, and their ears pin back as they catch themself— show no emotion can’t give him something to use— but Techno just gestures them over with a lazy grin.
It’s stupid, the nervous excitement that bubbles up in their chest, but they feel like a little kid again when Techno hands them the pan, gently explaining how much force to use. Their tail sweeps across the floor in fast, flickering arcs, curling and uncurling around their feet, and they're unable to stop the excited yet shocked sound that breaks free of their chest when they do it right the first try.
“There ya go!” Techno exclaims, clapping a hand quick and gentle and proud against Ranboo’s shoulder. “You’re a natural.”
Ranboo tries to push down the pride surging through them, tries to steel their expression into something more cold, but warmth spreads through them fast and shocking and all they can manage to do is look down to hide their smile. They manage to shrug, though, as they go back to the table, continuing their mission of setting it up. Techno just chuffs, amused, and goes back to pouring batter.
It’s quiet and comforting and free, and for the first time ever, Ranboo can't seem to find the double meaning behind the interaction.
It’s in the middle of them walking over to Techno that the door on the kitchen side of the car slams open. Ranboo freezes instantly, pulling their walls up fast, and they stand up straight, tail still, head ducked as Tommy, Micheal, and Shroud come crashing through the room. Behind them, Tubbo walks more slowly, wrapped up in a blanket with an exhausted look in his eyes.
“Tommy,” he whines, walking through and plopping down in the chair in the corner. He lays his head down against the table and breathes, “Too loud.”
Tommy just rolls his eyes, though he freezes when he sees how the table is set up. “Who did this?”
Ranboo feels anxiety pulse through their veins. It’s dizzying. But they feel Techno’s hand brush quickly against their shoulder, and the pressure is grounding.
“My good friend here,” Techno says, dropping his hand from Ranboo as he saunters by, holding a plate stacked full of pancakes. “They’ve got manners. Unlike the rest of you. Helped me make breakfast and set the table. Didn’t even haft’a ask.”
The anxiety calms slowly at the praise. They’re quick to follow behind the man, picking up the small bowls of fruit he’d gotten out of the fridge a few moments earlier.
“Oh,” Tommy says, a bit delayed. He's quick to be loud again, though, and his eyes fall on Ranboo, shooting a tingling sensation through their skin as he grins, “Thanks, Ranboob. ‘S there any batter left?”
Ranboo nods quickly and turns, going back to grab the bowl Techno left on the counter. The door swings open again seconds later, though it’s more gentle this time. Phil and a girl Ranboo doesn’t recognize come in. Phil’s eyes feel like how they remember— tingly and friendly and supposedly safe— but the way the girl’s eyes feel has Ranboo stopping in their tracks. It’s softer, feels more like a cool breeze on a summer day, like moonlight soft smiles and home, and that thought spreads cold through their veins because that’s how Mama’s eyes felt, how Sister Rose’s did, and she’s not, they don’t even know her, and there’s no way there’s no WAY this is happening can’t fake out instinct you know she’s safe motherly familial familiar you know these people are safe- they are NOT- and Ranboo has to remind themself to breathe.
“I told you it was pancakes,” the girl says, voice soft and sweet and breathy as a laugh falls like honey from her lips. She elbows Phil gently before walking towards Ranboo- no, to the coffee machine. “Must be gettin’ old, Philza. Can’t smell pancakes anymore.”
She brushes past Ranboo with a gentle, “Excuse me.” Ranboo almost stumbles trying to move quickly enough.
“I smell things fine, thank you,” Phil snaps good-naturedly as he makes his way to the large, round table. He sits in the chair beside Techno.
“Philza Minecraft,” Tubbo hums, sing-songy, and Tommy, Shroud, and Micheal all join in, “is quite old.”
Phil cackles. Techno rolls his eyes. Ranboo stands in the middle of it all awkwardly before remembering that Tommy had asked for the leftover batter. They walk to the counter, grabbing it quickly before the girl can turn around and look at them again.
“Hey, Tubbo?” her voice rings out, a gentle clinking sounding behind Ranboo as they walk to the table. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Oh, yes, please, Niki,” Tubbo sighs. “You’re a godsend.”
Ranboo hands Tommy the bowl of batter, and he takes it with a grateful smile before his face twists into something like offense, and Ranboo almost thinks it’s directed at them before he turns away from them to look at the girl- Niki- and all but shouts, “I’d like some too, Niki!”
“Oh, boy,” Techno sighs at the same time as Phil and Niki both say, “Absolutely not,” Tubbo following up with a stern but tired-sounding, “Tommy.”
“Sorry!” Tommy is quick to apologize, clearly meant just for Tubbo, before rounding on Niki again. “Why not?”
Ranboo is still standing awkwardly, not knowing where to sit. Techno lifts a hand and waves them over to the seat on the other side of him, right next to Tubbo. Gratefully, Ranboo scurries over and sits down, wincing at how their speed pulls on their ribs.
“Tommy,” Niki says, exasperatedly. “Have you met yourself on caffeine?”
“I think I’m perfectly normal-”
“Tommy,” Tubbo says again, a little more bite to it. “Leave it, man. ‘S… loud.”
The tone of his voice has everyone turning to him, brows low and confused, and Ranboo sits with their hands carefully still in their lap, eyes cast down because they don’t know what to do.
It’s uncomfortably silent for a moment. Niki walks over and slides Tubbo’s coffee to him before sitting down with her own. Tommy is the first to break the silence.
“...Are you okay?”
Tubbo lets out a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he opens them again they’re apologetic. “‘M sorry. Got a migraine and… i-it was just a… rough night. But… caffeine and food should fix it, I'm just- Yeah. Sorry.”
“Nightmares?” Phil asks sympathetically.
Tubbo nods. He picks up his mug and lifts it to Niki. “Thanks.”
“Of course,” she smiles, soft and warm and Ranboo tries not to stare, but their head is starting to feel fuzzy from all the conversation, how open all of them are, how easily they’re all able to read each other.
“Alright,” Tommy huffs after a moment, scraping a finger against the side of the bowl he’s holding, and that’s all it takes before everyone is loading their plates with pancakes and fruit. He passes the bowl to Tubbo, who does the same thing while he loads his plate, and they pass the bowl back and forth.
At some point, it gets offered to Ranboo, but they shake their head, nervous about intruding and also about what Sister Bernice would think, but they shake that thought away with a flick of their ear, thinking she isn’t here but still not accepting when they ask again a little later.
It’s odd, not taking a moment to pray together before eating. Ranboo tries, but their mind roars with insults and disappointment and… threats. So, they bend their head down and close their eyes, pressing their palms together like they were taught, thinking something quick and fast despite knowing that XD won’t receive it— never does not when it’s you— but finds they can’t not. It just feels… wrong.
Breakfast passes by in a blur, after that. Ranboo is the first to finish eating, used to having to be quick about it, and it’s automatic when they start gathering empty dishes to wash. Tommy hands his over gratefully, at this point picking fruit from the bowls without any care, and Tubbo’s voice is soft under the steady flow of conversation when he murmurs, “You don’t have to do that.” His eyes are warm where they land on Ranboo’s face, and they’re quick to look down, taking his plate anyway and feeling the way his eyes follow them as they walk to the sink.
They nearly jump out of their skin with Niki walks up next to them, but they’re quick to still themself, forcing their breath to be even when she smiles. Her eyes feel the same— summer breeze friendly tingle moonlight smiles Mama and Sister Rose— so Ranboo knows it isn’t a fluke, but their shoulders are still tense and their jaw hurts with how bad they’re clenching it.
“It’s Ranboo, right?” she asks softly, and it’s only then that they realize she’s also carrying plates. She waits for them to nod before continuing, “My name’s Niki. It’s actually my day to do the dishes, but you can help me if you’d like to.”
Ranboo nods again, knows they need to be helpful, and her smile widens a little.
“Okay,” she says, handing them a towel. “I wash, you dry.”
Ranboo follows along, drying plates that she hands to them and putting them where she points, starts to get lost in the repetition when someone bangs on the table and their mind rattles up the memory of a journal dropping into metal, guitar smashing against the ground twanging loud like it’s crying out for help, last things of hers they were for you aND YOU RUINED THEM JUST LIKE HOW YOU RUINED HER-
Ranboo closes their eyes and sucks in a deep breath. It rattles down into their lungs, and they try to focus back on drying the plate in their hands but someone bangs on the table again, laughter loud and- and- splash of water take that jump don't you just love-
“Ranboo,” comes a voice, soft and sweet, and there are eyes on them that tingle like starshine and moonlight smiles and it takes everything in Ranboo not to fall into it when they turn their head entirely too fast in her direction, realizes numbly that's it’s not either of the people they wish it were.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Niki murmurs gentle and light, and Ranboo haltingly puts the dish they're holding away. “They get to be too much for me, too, sometimes.”
Ranboo says nothing, but they take the last plate from her and dry it, putting it carefully in the cabinet where it belongs and shutting the door. When they turn to her again, she’s leaning back against the sink, holding her coffee mug in her hand, watching the table with a soft smile on her face. When she realizes they're watching, she turns her soft gaze to them and says, “Thank you for helping me, Ranboo.”
The sincerity with which she says it startles them enough to look away. They turn to look at the table, offering her nothing in response, knowing their vocal cords won’t work no matter how hard they try— no matter what her gaze feels like.
Tubbo seems to be in a slightly better mood. The blanket he’d had wrapped tightly around him is now just draped across his shoulders, and he's poking at Tommy, who is indignantly squacking and slapping his fingers away.
It won't last long, something in their mind breathes, low and dark and swirling. Happiness isn't a reward, remember that Ranboo.
I know, they think back, but Micheal and Shroud are laughing as they team up with Tubbo, tiny fingers jabbing into Tommy’s sides, and they're all biting quips back and forth and they look so natural like that, like that's how kids are supposed to look.
Ranboo drags their gaze away, looking instead at the floor as if to remind themself that they can't have that.
Why not? the stupid, quiet voice that sounds like a younger version of them asks, and Ranboo shuts it down before it can continue.
Because I'm not them.
“You should join us for dress rehearsal,” Niki says suddenly. Her fingertips are fleeting when they brush against Ranboo’s arm, but, for some reason, they're not startled by it.
They turn their head to look at her, brows pinched together in confusion, but she smiles and Ranboo can't ignore how utterly safe she feels.
“You don't have to,” she clarifies. “This is your first day up, after all. I just… Maybe you’ll feel a bit more comfortable after getting to know us a bit. Not just watching, this time. Seeing.”
“She’s right,” Phil says, and Ranboo hadn’t even noticed he’d gotten up. “I understand if you’d like to keep resting, but a little movement wouldn’t be so bad for you. It’d actually help with your broken ribs. Are you still having those bouts of pain?”
The combination of Phil’s warm smile and Niki’s eyes has them nervously shaking their head, overwhelmed at the attention they’re being given.
Phil hums, nodding to himself. “That’s good.” He shifts his gaze to Niki, then, and says, “Techno and I are gonna go ahead and head to the tent. We’ve still gotta grab all the apparatuses and organize them for Schlatt.”
“Okay,” Niki easily agrees. “I’ll go find Jack and we’ll be out to help you soon.”
“If Ranboo comes to rehearsal, they can sit with Sneeg and Charlie,” Tubbo pipes up from the table. His warm gaze sends trails of fire over Ranboo’s face, and they turn to look at him, knowing their mask has fallen again as soon as he smiles. “You ever had popcorn before?”
Ranboo blinks stupidly. Before they can respond, Micheal exclaims, “How about cotton candy?!”
When Ranboo manages to shake their head, Tommy gasps like it’s a personal offense.
“How have you not had popcorn or candy floss?” He doesn’t give Ranboo a chance to answer before he’s pushing himself to his feet. “You’re coming to rehearsal, now, Ranboob, we’ve gotta show you what you’re missing.”
Ranboo knows better than to argue, so they just bow their head like they were taught. Someone might say something to them, but they don’t pay much attention to it when the door opens and closes. Soon enough, it’s just Ranboo and Tubbo in the room, and, despite themself, they feel their shoulders relaxing when he looks at them.
“We should probably start gettin’ ready,” Tubbo says, brushing against Ranboo as he washes his mug in the sink. Ranboo steps easily into spot, taking it from him to dry it. “Change out of our pajama’s, ‘n all. I can… We can walk to the tent together, if you’d like?”
Ranboo nods a little too quickly. Tubbo doesn’t seem to mind, though, because he just grins and tells Ranboo where to put the mug.
It isn’t very long before they’ve gone back to their rooms, gotten dressed, and made their way to the tent. Even before they walk inside, Ranboo can tell that it’s going to be busy. There are people laughing loudly, and music is playing through speakers even louder. Ranboo pins their ears against the sides of their head, but Tubbo’s eyes glance up to them and he smiles, and it makes the anxiety stuttering to life in their chest lessen.
As they walk in, the music is lowered to something more manageable, and Ranboo is able to find the source of the laughter— Tommy, who is leaning against a table pressed back against the tent on the left side of the entrance. Behind the table is one of the men Ranboo recognizes from the last time they stepped into this space. It’s weird, not having Crumb by their side here; they remember how excited she had been to see the circus, and now, here they are, about to watch the dress rehearsal for a show they’ve seen but hardly remember.
“Tubbo!” Tommy exclaims, noticing their appearance first. “Ranboo! Get your asses over here! Sneeg’s gonna cook up some popcorn for you to try.”
“Can we have some?” Micheal asks, bounding over to Tommy with his hand in one of Shroud’s.
“Uh, yeah,” Sneeg says, fiddling with his glass machine. “I’ve got, like, a stupid amount of this stuff. Just don’t get anything on your costumes.”
Micheal nods excitedly, bouncing from foot to foot. Shroud looks to be excited too. Their eyes drag over to Ranboo, and they offer a small smile as they wave Ranboo and Tubbo over.
When the two of them get to the table, Sneeg greets Tubbo with a complicated handshake before extending a hand out for Ranboo to shake.
“What’s up, man?” he greets. “Heard you’ve never had popcorn before. Lucky for you, I make the best in town.”
Ranboo doesn’t have anything to say, which is good because Sneeg is quick to turn around when popping sounds start coming from the machine.
The popcorn is done quickly, scooped into bags and handed off to Ranboo and Micheal respectively. Micheal and Shroud go running off to the bleachers, and Tubbo leans up against the table, a brow quirked up as he looks at Ranboo.
“Go on,” Sneeg says, a grin on his face.
Ranboo glances at Tubbo, who nods encouragingly, and Ranboo finally pops one of the puffy, cloud-like snacks in their mouth. It’s more buttery than anything they’d ever have been allowed back at the orphanage, and their tail flicks in surprise at how good it is.
“Soooo,” Tommy drawls, wings fluttering behind him, and it’s anxiety-inducing, the amount of eyes looking at Ranboo for an opinion. “Is your life forever changed?”
Ranboo looks at Tubbo again, hesitant to respond in sign language.
“‘S alright, bossman,” Tubbo encourages, moving his hands along with his words, and it’s seems so natural for him that Ranboo finds themself loosening up about it. Still, they check over their shoulder before lifting their hands, a small, nervous smile pulling at their lips.
“It’s… good, yeah.”
“See! Told you!” Tommy exclaims. “C’mon, let’s get you a good front-row seat.” He grabs some popcorn from Ranboo’s bag before bounding off, his wings fluttering and helping him to go faster.
Ranboo looks back at Sneeg, who shrugs with a grin, and signs a quick, “Thank you,” as Tubbo leads them after Tommy.
“We’re probably gonna start soon,” Tubbo admits once Ranboo is seated. “Mike and Shroud might come over and sit with you. They’re not technically a part of the show, but they ballwalk during the pre-show and during intermission, so. We all will probably end up sitting with you at some point; we don’t really go backstage during these because it’s the only time we get to watch each other."
“‘S really unfair,” Tommy pouts half-heartedly. “We put so much effort in just to sit backstage for a majority of the show.”
Tubbo rolls his eyes. “Anyway.” He looks at Ranboo again. “I’ll come back after acro, alright? I’ll give you some insider information while the show goes on.”
Ranboo nods, and Tubbo smiles. It’s bright and warm, just like how his eyes feel, and this up-close Ranboo finally notices his dimples, thinks how cute they are before shoving that thought out of their mind just as fast as it had arrived.
“Cool,” Tubbo hums. He wraps his arm with Tommy’s and pulls him slightly away. “We’ll see ya soon, Ranboo! Enjoy the show!”
Ranboo watches as he leaves, hands wrapped securely around the small bag of popcorn they don’t have the appetite to eat, mind starting to go a hundred miles per hour as they wait. They don’t get why everyone is being so nice to them— giving them any kind of attention. It’s overwhelming, having people their own age and older looking at them as if they’re worth something, as if they’re safe and wanted instead of just… needed. They can’t help but think it won’t last long.
They’ll get sick of you eventually, the corners of their mind whisper. They’ll get tired of taking care of you. You have nothing to offer them, anyway. You’re not that interesting, not talented at anything, can’t do anything right-
You can play guitar, something that sounds like them responds, and the weight of the piece of Sister Rose’s guitar is suddenly heavy in their pocket. She taught you how to play, always said how good you were, maybe if you ask you could prove-
What? That you haven’t played in months? Probably lost all that skill when a part of you died. After you killed her-
I didn’t-
Sure you did, blood on your hands flowers in a casket, all the same you couldn’t save her just like how these people can’t save you, you know what’s coming you know the end just-
Something presses against their legs, startling them out of their mind. When they look down, it’s the cat that had been on the train with them— the one that had given them away. It stares up at them with large, amber eyes before meowing. Ranboo sticks a hand down, brushing gentle fingers along its spine.
Hello again, they think, and it’s a bit dumb. They know the cat can’t hear them. Still, it presses into their hand. And then music starts, loud and emphatic, and the cat startles, running away. Ranboo watches it scamper off under the bleachers before turning their gaze to the stage.
The show begins with Phil saying something about this show being a reenactment of their journey as a group. Niki and a man with hair cut close to his scalp come out, Tubbo and Tommy behind them, and they do an acrobatics routine to upbeat music. Ranboo is easily sucked into it— since they aren’t worried about Sister Bernice turning this into some twisted lesson about knowing your place, they’re able to take in how awe-inspiring the tricks are. Every once in a while, Tubbo’s eyes fall on Ranboo, sending warmth curling through their chest as if trying to melt the ice that’s made a home there, smiling brighter than all the light in the world, before his eyes fall away as he and Tommy do another trick. It’s still just as confusing as it has been— why do his eyes feel like that, like something more like something only he can give— but it’s starting to feel less jarring. When Niki’s eyes fall on them, their heart spikes in the same way it did whenever Sister Rose would look at them, excitement fluffing the tip of their tail out wide before they can remind themself that Niki isn’t her, and that’s just as confusing, just as frustrating, and they think, the longer the act progresses, the more eyes that tickle instead of stab fall on them, they might be making all of this up. But they can’t make this up, they know, because eyes don’t feel like anything when they’re dreaming. Eyes don’t feel like anything when they’re hallucinating, either, which means this is real, they’re safe here, must be, and that sends a wave of vertigo through them right as the act ends.
When the spotlights turn off, Tubbo doesn’t go back to where he had come out from. He walks straight to Ranboo, chest heaving but a smile on his face, and he practically falls into the seat next to them. Tommy is right behind him, and Niki and the man Ranboo doesn’t know the name of, but knows that his eyes feel far too kind, walk over, sitting on the opposite side of Tommy. They all are breathing hard, smiles on their faces and pride obvious in how they look at each other, quietly breathing out words of praise and encouragement to each other.
“Not gonna lie,” Tubbo hushes as the lights come back on, “I fucked up a little on purpose so tomorrow goes well.”
Tommy scoffs, but it turns into something more fond as he bats at the brunet with his wing. “I didn’t purposefully. I just did.”
Tubbo laughs, pushing at him lightly, and Niki looks over at them with color high on her cheeks.
“It’s alright,” she says, all soft and breathy and full of pride for herself and her friends, “I think we all did that. On purpose or not.”
“Anything to get the real thing perfect,” the man on the opposite side of her agrees, shrugging.
Everyone else nods before turning their eyes to the stage, where Techno has come out. From the ceiling, two long ribbon-looking things hang down, loops at the bottom opening up as Techno slides his hands through them.
Tubbo leans closer to Ranboo as the music starts, and warmth blooms where his shoulder brushes their upper arm. “Those are called straps,” he murmurs. “They hurt like a bitch. Tech’s the only one of us who can do ‘em.”
“You can,” Tommy interjects. Tubbo waves him off.
“I’m learning. Still not good enough to perform them. I’m okay at best.”
Tommy scoffs, but there’s no real bite behind it. They fall silent, and Ranboo looks back at Techno, watching the way he performs with powerful, strong movements, as if he’s dancing with the apparatus instead of fighting against it. It’s clearly an emotional routine, but when Techno comes down it’s with a smile.
Hesitantly, Ranboo admits to themself that they wish they could do that, too.
***
Dress rehearsal ends an hour and a half later, but work is yet to be done. Sneeg and Schlatt work hard to reorganize apparatuses in places that make sense and are easy to grab for rigging changes, and a man named Charlie fiddles with the lights, making sure they’ve all been placed where they should be. Throughout all of this, Ranboo trailed behind Tubbo like a shadow, helping when asked but generally standing awkwardly to the side, hands clasped behind their back and head bent down, waiting for directions to be given to them.
“You can sit down, you know,” Tubbo had said at some point after Ranboo had followed him backstage, hands bleeding grey with how hard they had them clasped behind them. “Or… go rest, maybe? I just- You’re still hurt, ‘s all.”
“I’m not incapable,” Ranboo had signed, eyes narrowing as they watched Tubbo pick up backstage. “I’ve done more feeling worse. Tell me what I can do.”
Tubbo had opened his mouth as if to argue. He closed it upon realizing Ranboo was serious, but the expression on his face was complicated, as if he were trying to pick something apart. Still, he gestured over to a box of throw pillows and blankets, asking Ranboo to set them up in the middle of the area.
“We like to have somewhere comfortable to sit,” he had explained while helping. “Since we’re back here a majority of the show, I mean. It’s a nice hangout space.”
That was over an hour ago, now. Ranboo’s back in their room, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about the logistics of leaving. It shouldn't be that hard, it’s just a matter of figuring out where to go.
The corners of their mind scoff.
Like you need a place to go. You already know how it ends, Ranboo, find that roof, that river, that creek. Third time’s the c h a r m-
They flick their ear, rolling onto their side. Their ribs still hurt, but they ignore it as they fish out the guitar piece from their pocket, lifting it up to look at it. She would've had a plan.
She did, their mind whispers back. It'd be easier for you. It's not like you have much of anything to give away.
Oh, come on, something else whispers, small and child-like. I keep saying this. She’d want you to give this place a chance. A real one. Mama would, too-
Mama l e f t she wouldn't care about anything-
That’s not true and you know it.
Ranboo groans quietly, tail flicking haphazardly behind them, and they press the broken guitar piece to their chest as they close their eyes. The breath they release is heavy, weighed down by the frustration swirling through them at their thoughts.
I’m not supposed to be a burden, they think miserably. But that’s all I've managed to be recently.
Or ever.
Very helpful.
You should leave tonight. Forget about this morning with Techno, about the way Tubbo and Niki’s eyes feel, about that stupid, fairytale show. You don't belong here and you know it. If the orphanage doesn't miss you, nobody here will. The only person who would is already dead just g i v e i n-
There’s a knock on the door before it creaks open, warm eyes landing on Ranboo’s back that could only belong to one person.
“…Ranboo?” Tubbo’s voice asks, breaking through the thoughts snowballing in their mind. “You awake, bossman?”
Ranboo flicks their tail, taking a deep breath as if the exhale that comes next will help send the thoughts away. When they manage to turn on their back again, they hold the guitar piece close to their side, not wanting Tubbo to see it— not wanting him to take it. They glance at Tubbo long enough for him to know to continue before training their eyes on the ceiling again.
“Uh… Tommy and I planned to explore the city some, but he doesn't wanna go out anymore. I… was wondering if you wanted to come with me?” Tubbo asks, a bit hesitantly. His eyes flicker around Ranboo’s face before falling away, returning seconds later. “I thought maybe we could get to know each other.”
Get to know each other, yeah, right, the darkness scoffs, expanding ice through them with each breath. More like figure out how to pick each other to shreds.
Maybe you could go just to explore the escape routes, find a river, maybe?
How about a cliff?
It’s been so long since you've-
XD, just- Shut up.
“Uh,” Tubbo says awkwardly. “I- It’s okay if you don't… want to.”
Ranboo closes their eyes and tries to straighten out their breath. They feel the way their ears have pinned themselves back, can feel the pinch between their brow and the tension in their jaw, and they try to let some of it go as they exhale. It feels like exhaust burning through their lungs. Somehow, Tubbo’s eyes still flickering around their face, waiting for an answer, helps to ground them as they sit up.
Shakily, they lift the hand that isn’t holding onto a shard of Sister Rose’s guitar so hard it hurts, and they sign, “I’ll go.”
“…Are you sure?” Tubbo asks, and the heat beneath Ranboo’s skin gets warmer the longer Tubbo stares at them. “I’m not trying to force you, or anything. I- I get it if you’d like to rest.”
Ranboo shrugs, pulls up their mask and stands, shoving the broken piece of guitar back into their pocket as they sign, “I’m fine.”
Tubbo stares at them with scrunched brows, lips tipped down in a slight frown, like he's trying to figure out some puzzle as he looks at them. Ranboo looks away from him. He finally turns away from them.
“Okay,” he says. “C’mon, then. There’s this little café a friend of mine works at. I was thinkin’ we could grab some late lunch there and then explore a bit.”
Ranboo nods, despite knowing Tubbo isn't looking at them. They follow behind him closely as he leads them out of the train car, eventually falling into step by his side as he leads them to the town.
“I don't really know what you like to do for fun, but, uh, there’s this little bookstore near Q’s café that’s really neat. I don't really read, but… I dunno, you kinda seem like the type,” Tubbo says as the field turns into a cobblestone path, shrugging a bit. His eyes flick up to Ranboo’s face, almost as if he’s looking for something, but Ranboo is quick to shove down the excitement at being able to go into a bookstore. They haven't been in one since the incident with Sister Bernice years ago, back before they knew that their curiosity would get them killed. In fact, they haven't read anything but the bible and children’s fairytales in years.
The more they think about it, the harder it is to shove the burst of excitement down. Still, they try. They know they're not doing a good enough job when they glance down at Tubbo and see the way he's smiling, like he’s proud he guessed right.
You know better than this, the darkness breathes, curling thick like smog through their mind, and it sounds like Sister Bernice. What would the Lord say, seeing you like this? Excited over what, disobeying everything we’ve taught you? Sister Rose gave her life for Him.
I don't believe in Him anymore, Ranboo shoots back, but they find their tail stalling in its wide, sweeping movements. The spark of feeling in their chest dies quickly alongside it.
You believed in her, the darkness bites back, and Ranboo’s feet stutter below them.
Tubbo asks something, but Ranboo doesn't hear it as they bump into someone walking by.
“Watch it,” the person bites, but they're gone before Ranboo can think.
Tubbo is quick to be by their side, his eyes flickering over Ranboo’s face before falling away as he looks in the direction of where the man was going. His hands hover around Ranboo’s arm as he whispers, “Fuckin’ dick,” under his breath. When he looks up at Ranboo again, his eyes are full of concern. “Are you okay?”
Ranboo takes a moment to process what just happened. They blink slowly, tail coiling tightly around their leg, and it takes a moment but they nod.
“I’m fine,” they sign, hands low, like they're trying to hide the fact they're not actually talking.
“…Okay,” Tubbo says, but he’s slow to pull his warm gaze away, and instead of dropping his hand from Ranboo’s arm, he loops his elbow with theirs and pulls them along slowly. “The café’s over here. It’s quiet. Peaceful. I think you’ll like it.”
Ranboo doesn't respond. They have no reason to. But they pay more attention to the environment around them, making sure to stay well away from the other people walking through the street. A majority of the buildings are tall, made of stone and wood, and mushrooms and vines grow along the walls of a majority of the buildings. When Tubbo pulls them into a shop, it’s one with a sign that reads Kinoko Café, and Ranboo realizes that Tubbo wasn't lying when he said it was peaceful.
The lights are dim, but Ranboo’s eyes adjust quickly. The walls are painted a dark blue color, string-lights in the shape of stars lining the tops of each wall, and the smell of coffee and baked goods fills the air with a rich aroma that has Ranboo’s mouth watering. Paintings line the walls, depictions of other buildings, sunsets, and vegetation that are beautiful, and, standing at the counter is a man with a crooked grin and a scar splitting through his left eyebrow.
“Tubbo!” he exclaims, immediately walking out from behind the counter with his arms held out wide.
“Big Q!” Tubbo exclaims, just as excited as he pulls his arm away from Ranboo’s in favor of running into the man’s arms.
“I didn't know you guys were in town!” the man— Big… Q?— says, hand thumping against Tubbo’s back once before he pulls away. “How’s it goin’, man?”
“Oh, you know,” Tubbo shrugs. “Same old, same old. We start shows tomorrow, just got through dress rehearsal. You and Karl should come by!”
“You know we will,” the man says, and he sounds sincere about it.
Ranboo stands awkwardly in the doorway, watching the interaction silently until Tubbo pulls away from “Big Q” and gestures them forward.
“Quackity, meet Ranboo,” he facilitates easily. “They’re, uh… staying with the circus for a while. I’m just showing them around, thought to bring them here. You guys make some of the best pastries out of anywhere I’ve ever been, so.”
“Awh, thanks, Big T, that means a lot,” Quackity says, bringing a hand up to his chest as if pressing the compliment to his heart. He reaches out with his other hand for Ranboo to shake, dragging his gaze up to Ranboo with a dull, tingling sensation as they land just below Ranboo’s eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, Ranboo! Hope this one’s not givin’ ya too much trouble.”
Ranboo looks at Tubbo, who just rolls his eyes and slugs Quackity in the arm.
“I am a joy,” he states.
“Yeah, yeah,” Quackity breathes, dropping Ranboo’s hand. “I’ll send Karl over to you guys. Sit literally anywhere. We’re not that full today.”
“Awesome. Thanks, bossman.”
Quackity smiles before turning around to go back to the counter. It’s only then that Ranboo realizes the man has wings. They’re a bit smaller than Tommy’s and gold in color, folded up against his back tightly. It reminds Ranboo of how the kids at the orphanage hold their wings— tucked up tight in an attempt to hide them.
They drag their eyes away as Tubbo starts leading them to a table in the corner. They're only a few feet away when one of the other customers backs their chair up into them, and Ranboo is quick to freeze, mouth opening to apologize but snapping shut when no words come out.
“Woah, sorry, man,” the man says, and his voice sounds scarily familiar as he crouches down to pick up something. “Didn’t mean to run over you. Uh, I think you dropped someth- Wait. Where did you-?” he picks it up, and Ranboo’s eyes widen when they realize what it is, who it is they're talking to, because when the man holds the broken piece of guitar up, a rose burned perfectly into it, his eyes are confused and then shocked, and the skin where his eyes fall on Ranboo’s face hurts in the way it only does when he looks at them.
“R-Ranboo?” Rickie asks, incredulous.
Instinctually, Ranboo takes a step back, their breath getting caught in their throat as they struggle to steel their expression into something that doesn't give away the primal fear racing through them.
“Holy shit, it is you!” Rickie exclaims. “I- Wow. How- How’ve you been? Finally age out of the orphanage?”
Ranboo doesn't respond. They do hold their hand out, though, hopelessly expectant. They’re shocked when Rickie actually hands the wooden piece back. He takes his time examining it, though, and when he finally hands it back, it’s with more questions.
“That’s a piece of Sister Rose’s guitar, isn't it? How’d you get it? Did- Did Sister Bernice break it? Did you?” he asks. Ranboo shoves it back into their pocket without a word, though they have to hold back a flinch. How dare he assume I did it.
You did though, didn’t you? It was your fault you didn’t listen you never listen-
Rickie sighs. “Still don’t talk?”
Mute silent fly on the wall no one would miss you if you-
“Uh,” Tubbo finally, gracefully, speaks up. “Hi?”
“Oh, sorry,” Rickie finally drags his prickly gaze off of Ranboo to look at Tubbo. “Ran’s just… an old friend. Are you…? Wait. Did you actually manage to get adopted?”
When Rickie looks at Ranboo again, he looks almost… excited. Proud, even. Ranboo pins their ears back and shakes their head.
“Oh.” The look falls off Rickie’s face quickly. “Well. I was about to leave, but… I- I actually would like to talk for a second, if that's okay.”
Tubbo looks at Ranboo. The warmth that blooms under their skin is not enough to calm them down, but Ranboo doesn't have a choice here. Not with the way their mind is spinning— he set this up can't trust it, can't trust him why would you come out here you know the rules, the consequences-
Ranboo swallows nervously but stands up taller, bowing their head like they were taught, tail carefully still behind them. Something about it makes Rickie’s face fall.
“Look, Ranboo, I'm… I'm really sorry about how I treated you,” Rickie starts. He's fidgeting with his hands, his thick, scaly tail sweeping the floor anxiously as he… apologizes. “I won't bore you with any excuses, I swear, I just- I was really jealous of you, you know? And Cleo-” Ranboo struggles not to flinch- “was so awful, but… I mean, you know, she ran the place. I felt like I had to appease her and it wasn't- She scared me more than Sister Bernice, truthfully. But… yeah. I'm just- I’m really sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me or anything, I… wouldn't, if I were you.” He laughs, but it isn't happy. His jabbing gaze flickers around Ranboo’s face, but they give him as close to nothing as they can, despite how fast their heart is beating— despite how far away they feel.
Ranboo keeps their eyes on the ground. Rickie’s and Tubbo’s eyes feel dull, now. But the world is starting to spin, and they think they might be stuck in freefall, because this can't be real. Rickie wouldn't ever apologize. Rickie wouldn't- How is he even here? Why is Ranboo here? Should've- Should’ve followed in her footsteps, blood on your hands dripping down onto tile onto the rooftop the ground is so alluring from up here isn't it Ranboo-
“…You know, I heard about Sister Rose,” he says after a long, awkward moment, and Ranboo grits their teeth, doesn't want to relive that moment again, but they always do when someone brings this up. “She always seemed to struggle a little. Before you came along, I mean. You actually helped her, I think. She, uh… She was good. Like you were good. It… made sense, you know? Anyway. I’ve just… been thinking about you, ever since. How you’d cope, I mean. I know how much you leaned on her, so I know it’s probably been pretty hard. They, uh… They wouldn’t let me come to the funeral, can you believe that?”
Ranboo almost scoffs, mocking distantly, Can you believe that, no really I can’t why the f u c k would they ever let you back in after everything you did- Like you k n e w her, you have no right to talk about her, talk about me, how hard it was for me, like she didn’t die in my a r m s like I could have-
They flinch when Rickie reaches out to them, lifting their arms like they used to when they were little, futilely protecting them from the blow they’re about to take when… nothing happens. Tubbo’s eyes are hot where they flicker all around Ranboo, and it’s obvious he’s trying to help when he steps between Ranboo and Rickie.
“Look, bossman,” Tubbo says, voice pointed as Ranboo drops their arms. “I think it’s best if you go.”
Rickie doesn’t respond for a moment. His eyes drop away from Ranboo before returning, prickling beneath their skin like their veins are being frozen, and the only other people whose eyes feel like that are Cleo and Sister Bernice.
“I- Okay,” Rickie sighs, finally. “Yeah, I get it. Uh. I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry and that I- I know-”
What, you know what? Ranboo thinks, poorly restrained anger surging through them as their mind goes haywire. That I could have saved her? That things could have been d i f f e r e n t?
“Ranboo-” Tubbo’s voice cuts out as the roaring static screams don’t trust him don’t trust anyone, and Ranboo is gone before anyone can finish their sentence.