Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first thing Phil noticed was that Ranboo didn't talk a lot. 

Of course, they were only in the car, driving away from the foster center, so Phil couldn’t throw too much shade–but the enderman hybrid had yet to say a word apart from a timid greeting.

It was a little unnerving.

Despite that, Phil drove as steadily as he could, his hands poised on the steering wheel at ten and two. He kept glancing over to the passenger seat, where the boy was sitting, stiff as a board and backpack clutched in his shaky hands. 

It's just nerves, Phil told himself, sliding his sweaty palm on the wheel. 

And maybe it was. It made sense. 

Heck, Phil was nervous, too. 

Deciding to foster Ranboo had been a split decision sort of thing, and the impromptu choice was already causing everyone's anxiety to ramp up.

But Ranboo’s social worker had specifically connected him . 

“He’s been through some things,” she had said, over the phone, voice dropping low like she didn’t want anyone to hear. 

“What sorts of things?” Phil responded. 

She hesitated; spoke. She didn’t go into any detail, just glossed over things. 

Physical abuse. Emotional. Neglect. 

But it was enough, and Phil’s heart broke more and more with each word uttered. 

“He’s out of options,” the girl on the line had whispered, when she was done. “You have a high success rate–he needs someone like you.”

Phil knew what the woman really meant was that Ranboo needed a home .

He needed safety.

And Philza, for all his problems and quirks and fears, knew he could give him that. 

So he had agreed, driving to the center, meeting the social worker with a shake of her hand. 

And hiding behind her had been the boy, a little enderman hybrid with mismatched skin and a long, thin tail. His green and red eyes were fearful as he studied Phil for the first time. 

Ranboo. 

Ineptly, they had climbed into his car. Said goodbye to the worker. 

And started to drive. 

“So, Ranboo,” Phil asked, now, stretching out the words on his tongue, just to break the silence. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ranboo stiffen. “What do you like to do for fun?” 

“Um,” the enderman said, awkwardly, tone shy and body leaning away from Phil. “I don't–I'm not really–” 

His voice cut out suddenly and he ducked his head, face flaming, giving up. 

Phil felt his stomach turn at the reaction. 

“It's okay if you don't know,” he told the boy, as gently as he could manage, switching on his turn signal. 

Ranboo nodded too quickly, too many times, like he had been corrected. “R-right. Sorry.” 

“You don't have to apologise.”

“Sor–um, okay.” 

Phil swallowed, uncomfortableness crawling up his spine. He shoved it away and asked, “Do you have any food allergies, Ranboo?” 

Ranboo shook his head, tightening his hold on his backpack for a moment. It was an old, run down sack, something held together by poor stitches and a lot of patience. It was the only piece of luggage Ranboo had brought with him. “...No.” 

“Good, good,” Phil murmured, mostly to himself. That would make cooking easier, at least. 

They settled back into that uncomfortable, awkward silence. Phil tried to think of something to say, but he couldn't seem to pull anything out of the air. He tapped his fingers on the wheel to give himself something to do. 

Ranboo, for his part, just sat there ineptly, long tail swishing anxiously near his feet. He looked for all the world like a scared little kid. 

(Phil realised, distantly, that he was a scared little kid.)

A few minutes later, they finally pulled up to the house. It was kind of late at night; at least, dark enough that the outside lights were on, and Phil watched Ranboo take it in.

It wasn’t a very big space. Two stories, at least, which was a nice plus. And it had everything Phil needed. It wasn’t decorated too badly, either. 

“You’re going to like Techno, Tommy, and Tubbo,” Phil said as he slowly pulled in, switching the gear into park. “They can be a little obnoxious, but they’re nice.” He paused. “Usually.” 

Ranboo nodded, not responding. His ears were sort of pressed against his skull. He waited until Phil unlocked the doors before opening his and scrambling out. 

For a moment, Ranboo simply stood there, staring up at the house. His tail had naturally flicked forward, wrapping anxiously around the boy’s leg, and his mismatched hands clung to his backpack. 

In the dim lighting, Phil took note of the twin scars trailing down Ranboo’s face. They weren’t very prominent, but they were there when the angle was right. 

His stomach clenched at the sight of them. He wondered what they were from. Part of him wanted to ask, but he shoved it away. He didn’t want to come across as too abrasive, too upfront. 

He knew from the boy’s social worker that Ranboo had been through a lot. But seeing the results of those situations, up close…

It was almost too much. 

Almost. 

“Are you ready to go in?” he asked, gently, moving to stand closer to Ranboo. He didn’t touch him, didn’t place a hand on the boy’s shoulder like he wanted to, but Ranboo still jerked away. 

Phil swallowed away the sudden sadness. 

Ranboo tried to recover, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. Nervousness sparked in his eyes. “Um–yes. Yes, sir. I-I’m ready.” 

Phil frowned at the honorific, something like nausea climbing up his tongue. He wanted to address it, but he shoved it away. 

Later . When Ranboo was a bit more comfortable here.  

“Are you sure?” he asked, looking from Ranboo to the house. The last thing he wanted to do was rush the boy. 

But Ranboo nodded, hair shifting over his pointed ears. “Y-yes.” 

That…didn’t sound very sure, but Phil nodded anyway too, deciding not to comment on it. “This way, then.”

Slowly, the two of them advanced towards the house. Phil went first towards the door, shooting an encouraging glance back at Ranboo as he unlocked it. 

Ranboo’s face was pale. He stood tense, hands clutching his bag like his life depended on it, his distressed ears falling back. For the first time, Phil noticed what the boy was wearing: a stained collared shirt and too-small black pants. 

Concern crawled into his stomach. It seemed to be making a home there. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Phil told Ranboo before he could stop himself, his wings twitching behind him. 

Ranboo swallowed, looking at Phil for a moment before glancing away. Nodded jerkily. 

And with that, Phil pushed the door open. 

The door opened up into the kitchen. It was cool, a stark contrast to the warm, early summer air outside. Phil held the door for Ranboo, who crossed the threshold hesitantly, eyes flitting about nervously. 

“The dining room is that way,” Phil explained, pointing down the hall, “and the living room is just past that. Bathroom is down the hall, door on the right.” 

Ranboo nodded, taking in the information with a pale face. He was hovering awkwardly by the door, like he might bolt. 

Phil tried to shake that thought away. He knew from the social worker that the boy didn’t have a track record of running, but after Tommy… 

Well, he tried to be prepared for anything. 

“The others will probably be in the living room,” Phil explained, moving deeper into the house to hopefully encourage Ranboo to follow. 

It worked. The enderman hybrid trailed behind, shoulders hunched as he took in the scenery. He walked sort of stilted, like he was falling into every step he took. 

Phil tried to imagine seeing his house from the eyes of an outsider. It was messy, that was a guarantee given who lived there. Pictures of Tommy, Tubbo, and Techno lined the walls, and just about every light in the house was on. 

He hoped it looked cozy rather than disorganised. Charming rather than cluttered. 

Either way, the closer Phil and Ranboo got to the living room, the louder it was, until they could perfectly hear the arguing. 

“Hey–give me back the controller!” 

“No! You were cheating!” 

“It’s Mario Cart, you can’t cheat in Mario Cart!”

“Uh, yes you can! This is proof!”  

“Will you both shut up ? I’m trying to win!” 

Phil flashed Ranboo an apologetic smile. “Sorry, they’re kind of loud.” 

Ranboo lifted the corners of his mouth, offering a breathy laugh, the sound punctuated by anxious flicking of his tail. 

“You get used to it,” Phil explained more, pushing towards the living space. “They’re loud, and they argue a lot, but I love them.”

Ranboo nodded, looking away. He didn’t reply. 

They finally arrived at the living room to see Tommy on top of Tubbo, reaching for a controller that Tubbo had stretched high about his head. Techno was smushed on the couch next to them, tongue stuck out in concentration as he stared at the screen, his own controller gripped tightly to his chest. 

“Hello, guys,” Phil greeted, slightly embarrassed at their behavior but knowing there wasn’t really a thing he could do about it anyway. “This is Ranboo.” 

“Hi,” Tubbo said, still stretching the controller. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Ranboo opened his mouth to respond, but Tommy cut him off, shouting, “Give me that back !” With that proclamation, he pounced, wings puffed behind him as he and Tubbo rolled onto the ground. 

Aaand they were back to arguing. Great. 

Phil exchanged an awkward glance with Ranboo, who watched the chaos with wide eyes. For some reason, he looked more nervous than before, glancing back and forth between Phil and the two boys, as if expecting Phil to do something. 

He wondered what it was and shook the thought away. 

“Techno,” Phil said. 

“Hello, Ranboo,” Techno replied, eyes glued to the screen. 

Phil wanted to put his head in his hands. Techno was closest to his age, at least an adult, and yet–

Well, actually, him acting like this wasn’t surprising at all. 

On the TV screen, Techno’s portion lit with victory, and the man cheered, stomping to his feet. “Woo!” 

“No fair,” Tubbo exclaimed, at the same time that Tommy said, “Frick you.” 

Techno stuck his tongue out at both of them. His braided pink hair swished over his back. 

He tossed his controller onto the cushions, moving to stand in front of Ranboo with crossed arms. It was his default position. 

He studied Ranboo for a long moment, then said, “You’re an enderman hybrid, right?” 

Ranboo shuffled nervously, nodding. “R-right.” 

“Woah,” Tommy cut in, finally getting out from under Tubbo and stomping closer to Ranboo. “Your eyes are weird!”

“Tommy,” Phil snapped, feeling his face flush in time with Ranboo. 

Tommy blinked unapologetically. “Don’t worry, they’re cool,” he added, almost as an afterthought. 

Behind the avian, Tubbo struggled to his feet, dusting his clothes off. The goat hybrid crossed over and joined the small group, standing next to Tommy. “I’m Tubbo,” he introduced. 

“Tommy,” Tommy said, sticking out his thumb to point at himself. “And that’s Techno.” 

Techno nodded.

“And you already know me,” Phil added, offering Ranboo a small smile. 

Ranboo tried to grin back, eyes looking between each person as if caught in a snare. “Um,” he tried, his voice wavering. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m R-Ranboo.”

Awkward silence filled the air. 

Finally, Phil cleared his throat. “Well, I’m going to show Ranboo to his room, okay? Techno, can you go check on the noodles on the stove? Tommy, Tubbo, set the table.” 

The three of them groaned at their various jobs but ultimately scattered off to do as they were told. 

“This way,” Phil told Ranboo in the waking silence, leading the boy towards the stairs in the corner of the room. 

They scrambled up the creaky steps, entering a smile hallway. Phil pushed the first door on the right open. 

Inside, the room was…kind of small. Phil hoped Ranboo wouldn’t mind that too much. There was a bed shoved in the corner, a small desk, a dresser, and a little door that hid a closet. 

All things considered, it wasn’t a lot. 

It had used to be Tommy’s room, but Phil had gathered everyone up to explain that he wanted Ranboo to have his own space for a while. 

“I know it’s going to be an adjustment for everyone to have a new person in the house,” he’d said, meeting everyone’s anxious eyes, “but Ranboo needs a place to stay.”

“But why does Ranboo get to have his own room?” Tommy had complained as Techno and Phil helped move his stuff into Tubbo’s room. “That’s not fair.” 

“Because,” Phil huffed as he lugged the mattress, “he might be uncomfortable around you guys for a while, and we want him to settle in nicely.” 

“Can’t imagine why he might be uncomfortable,” Techno muttered, peeking in at the mess of Tubbo’s room. 

That had been a little over a week ago, and now–here they were. A new room, a new space. 

He just hoped Ranboo liked it. 

The enderman hybrid walked inside the make-shift bedroom, standing in the middle, still holding his backpack tight to his chest. He spun in a slow circle, taking in the cramped space. His eyes were wide. 

“Is this–” he started, turning to look at Phil, “this is really all mine ?” 

Phil felt his heart drop slightly at the hope, the awe in the young boy’s voice at such a small, simple space. “Yes, Ranboo,” he whispered. “It’s all yours.” 

“I… thank you ,” Ranboo told him, staring, like he couldn’t quite believe it. He looked frozen in space.

Phil swallowed. He tried not to wonder what Ranboo was used to living like if a bedroom made him react so strongly. “You’re welcome.” He paused. “Why don’t you set your backpack down? Then we can go to the dining room and eat.” 

Ranboo hesitated. He tightened his grip on his bag, glancing at Phil with smushed eyebrows. 

Phil felt his feathers ruffle, trying to puzzle out why Ranboo didn’t want to abandon his things. 

“No one’s going to steal it, I promise,” he tried, watching Ranboo’s face flush like he’d been caught red handed. His stomach clenched at the reaction. 

“Sorry,” the enderman murmured, immediately dropping the luggage to the ground. Phil winced. 

“Nothing to apologise for,” he tried to assure. “It’s okay.” 

Ranboo nodded jerkily. His tail swished forward and he grabbed it with his hands, twisting his fingers around the end of it. 

“Let’s go, then,” Phil said when it was silent for too long, leading the way back into the hall. Ranboo followed. 

“My room is right next to your’s,” the avian explained when they were back out, gesturing to the proper door. “Tommy and Tubbo’s is across the hall. Techno is older, so he has his own apartment, but he’s over here most of the time. When he spends the night, he’ll sleep on the couch.” 

Ranboo blinked at the onslaught of information, taking it all in with a hunched stance. “He, uh–T-Techno can have my room if he needs it,” he told Phil, gaze pointed towards the ground. 

Phil blinked, feeling unease roll through his stomach. Oh-kay . “That’s alright, Ranboo. Techno’s okay with sleeping on the couch. Really.” 

Ranboo swallowed and nodded shakily. 

Phil nodded too, concern a present force in his body, and turned towards the stairs. He started at them, and after a moment, he heard Ranboo follow him. 

They made their way downstairs, going straight for the dining room without another word. 

“Phil, why do we have to eat spaghetti?” Tommy asked the second he saw them. The young avian was already seated in a chair, frowning at the food on his plate. 

“It’s the easiest to make,” Tubbo answered for Phil, quoting the words Phil had said a hundred times. He was seated next to Tommy, using a fork to push around his own meal. 

Techno settled into the chair across the table from Tommy. “I thought you liked spaghetti.” 

“I’m sick of it,” Tommy snapped, using his fork to stir the noodles around. 

Despite everything, Phil felt a little smile creeping onto his face. “Tomorrow we’ll eat something else,” he promised. He lowered himself into the chair at the head of the table. 

Ranboo hovered awkwardly, hands straight at his sides. He eyed the spot next to Techno, tail swishing. 

“You can sit there,” Phil murmured, pushing the chair out with his foot. 

Ranboo’s face flushed and he nodded, as if to say of course, I knew that . He sat down ineptly. 

Techno had already loaded every plate with food. Everyone began eating, even Tommy. 

Well, everyone except Ranboo. 

“What’s the matter?” Tubbo asked, gesturing to Ranboo’s still full plate. 

Phil frowned. “Do you not like spaghetti, either?” 

Ranboo flushed again, tucking his head towards the table. He mumbled something. 

“What?” Tommy asked, loudly. 

Ranboo folded towards himself more. His voice was barely above a whisper. “I was…asking if I was allowed to eat.”

Silence. 

Phil swallowed, slipping his eyes to exchange a glance with Techno, who had gone still. They looked at each other, expressions mirrored versions of the same concern, the same horrible knowing that passed between them.

“You–you want permission to eat ?” Tubbo asked, listing his head, horns glinting in the light. His voice was laced with genuine confusion; he didn’t understand. 

“Ranboo,” Phil said, slowly, when the enderman didn’t reply, “you are always allowed to eat. Always.” 

“I–yes, sir.” 

“No, no,” Phil murmured, heart shattering slightly, “you don’t need to call me that, okay? You can call me Phil.” 

Ranboo glanced up at the avian, something like suspicion and weariness and fear dancing in his eyes. He swallowed. “Sorry.”

Phil shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise, either, Ranboo. It’s okay.”

“I–okay.”

The last word was a whisper.

The silence that filled the room felt charged. Phil could feel the mounting horror in his gut, and another glance at Techno told him the man felt the same way. 

This boy really had been through a lot. 

“Eat,” he told Ranboo, softly, filling his own mouth with noodles. He wasn’t hungry anymore, but he got the feeling that if he didn’t eat, the enderman hybrid definitely wouldn’t. 

Ranboo complied, taking what had to be the tiniest bite out there. 

But he was eating. Phil tried to focus on that. 

After a moment, everyone else went back to doing the same thing. Even Tommy didn’t complain anymore, the younger avian engrossed in his own thoughts, sneaking glances at Ranboo every so often. 

They all pretended not to notice. 

Dinner, which was usually a time for chatter and chaos, was a quiet affair, and all too soon it was over, plates scraped clean of noodles and meatballs. 

“Thanks, Phil,” Tubbo told the man, always the first to offer gratitude. 

“Thank you,” Ranboo whispered. Tommy echoed him, much louder. 

Techno stood and started gathering dishes. He’d probably go back to his apartment tonight; Phil didn’t think he’d want to stay the night when Ranboo was still so new. 

Give him time to adjust. 

“It’s been a long day,” Phil said, standing up, wings stretching out behind him and then folding again. “Maybe…we should all go to bed early.” 

“It’s, like, eight o'clock," Tommy said, dryly. 

“Well,” Phil murmured, shooting the young avian a look, “I think we should wind down a bit.” 

Tubbo could see where he was going with this. The goat hybrid nodded. “Yeah. Come on, Tommy. Let's go to our room.”

Tommy looked like he was going to argue again, but Tubbo grabbed his arm, whispering something in his ear. After a moment, he begrudgingly followed the other boy upstairs. 

“Should I–do you want me to go to my room, too?” Ranboo asked, scrambling to his feet. His eyes were flashing with something akin to fear, ears moving down. 

Phil held his hands in front of him in what he hoped was a calming gesture. “That's okay, Ranboo. I just want to talk about a few guidelines.” 

Ranboo blinked, gaze moving around the room. He didn't seem to be a big fan of eye contact. “Um…r-rules?” 

“If you can call it that,” Techno joked, leaning closer. Ranboo jumped a little, but no one commented on it. “Phil here is the most lenient man I've ever met.” 

Ranboo glanced at Techno, considering the words, relaxing a microscopic amount. “O-okay.” 

Phil smiled in what he hoped was a comforting way. “Right. Well, I don’t think you’ll be much trouble, but there are a few things I want to go over. One, please try and respect other people’s privacy. So–like–don’t go searching through their things or something like that.”

Ranboo paled at just the thought. “Of c-course.”

“And, two, if you go out somewhere, I would like to know where you are, who you’re with, and when you plan on being home. Just so I don’t worry.” 

The enderman nodded his head. “Yes, sir.” 

Phil tried not to wince. “Oh, and…don’t call me that, remember? Call me Phil.” 

Ranboo shrunk in on himself. “Sorry, si–sorry, Phil.” 

“It’s okay,” Phil assured, feeling slightly out of his depth. He shot Techno a look before looking back at Ranboo. “And…I think that’s it.” 

The boy blinked, surprise written on his face like a book. “That's…it?” 

Phil nodded slowly. Sure, there were a few other things he might want to address eventually–chores or cooking duty or something like that–he didn’t want to overwhelm the poor boy. Heck, everything was still so new to him, so scary. 

He wasn’t going to contribute to that, not if he could help it.

“Yes, that’s it,” he told enderman. 

Ranboo stared up at him like Phil had grown an extra head. He couldn’t seem to understand, to grapple with the idea that there were so few things he had to remember. “I–thank you, si–Phil.”

Phil let his lips lift in a small smile. “You’re welcome, Ranboo. Now, how about you head to your room to unpack?” 

“Okay,” Ranboo agreed, immediately, automatically. He practically fled towards the stairs as if carrying out a strict order, somehow managing to be quiet on the old creaky steps. 

Phil sighed as soon as Ranboo was out of sight, concern and fear and weariness washing over him all at once. He felt very heavy. 

“He’s been through a lot,” Techno observed, continuing to gather up the dishes. Phil joined him. 

“No kidding,” he murmured, picturing the timid, fear-ridden boy, the boy who had thought he’d had to ask to eat a meal right in front of him. 

No wonder the social worker had been so concerned. 

Techno passed him a cup. Together, they headed towards the kitchen, starting on the dishes without a word. 

That was typical of them. Phil and Techno often fell into an easy rhythm, years of being friends making their motions automatic and smooth. Once upon a time, they’d lived together, but then Techno had gone and gotten older and rented himself an apartment down the road. 

When that had happened, the house had been so quiet, so lonely, that Phil hadn’t been able to bear it. So he’d started fostering, taking in kids who needed someone to love him, and he’d met Tommy and then Tubbo. They were with him for a while before he filed for adoption, the thought of one of them leaving too much for him to entertain. 

He didn’t want the house to be quiet. Not again. 

After that, he’d thought his days of fostering had been over. Two boys in the house was a lot, especially with Techno coming over most of the time. It felt like the right amount of chaos in Phil’s life. 

But then they reached out to him. 

And he never had been good at saying no. 

His mind automatically ran through the conversation with the social worker again. It seemed to be playing on repeat, playing in the back of his brain at all times. He kept dissecting her tone of voice, her words, as if that might give him a complete story. 

When she’d requested him to consider it, Phil had told her he would think about it. 

And he had. He’d even talked to Techno, both of them mulling over the benefits, the unknowns and fears and dynamics that would change.

But ultimately, Phil knew the decision was already made in his mind. And before he knew it, he was already driving to pick Ranboo up.

Like he’d said, he wasn’t very good at saying no. 

Now, though, in the kitchen, it was hard not to wonder what Ranboo had been through. If they’d made the right choice at all. 

They didn’t actually know that much about Ranboo. Social workers always played an angle, talking up good traits and ignoring the bad. Pulling at heartstrings. 

They were good manipulators, even if they didn’t realise it. 

“He’s an enderman hybrid,” Techno said aloud, breaking the silence, as if he could hear Phil’s thoughts. He dunked a plate under soapy water. “Do you know much about them?”

Phil shook his head. “No,” he admitted. 

Techno nodded. “Me, neither. Aren’t they–can’t they, like, not get wet or something? Like water hurts them.” 

Phil blinked, mulling this information over. He hadn’t known that. “They can’t?”

“No,” Techno answered, sounding more sure as he passed the dish to Phil to dry off. “That’s probably what those scars on his face are from.”

Phil made the connection in his mind, the horror growing stronger. 

Crying. 

Phil took a deep breath to try and calm the swirl of emotions. 

He tried, for a moment, to imagine what that might be like. Every time you were upset, every time tears pricked your eyes, to be burnt, hurt, as you cried. 

Ranboo wore his sorrow on his face, clearly, for everyone to see. 

“Enderman hybrids also have a hard time making eye contact,” Techno said. He seemed to be changing the subject quickly so neither of them had to dwell on the scars. 

 Phil just nodded numbly. He pictured Ranboo’s shifting pupils. That made sense.

“We’ll just have to adjust,” Phil finally said, placing the dry dish in the cupboard. 

They would figure this out. 

He would make sure of it. 

Chapter Text

These people were weird. 

Or, at least, weirder than the other people Ranboo had stayed with. 

For one thing, the other boys didn't seem concerned about punishment at all. They were loud and they argued and they talked back and Ranboo got dizzy just watching them. 

Weren’t they–weren’t they scared ?

Heck, the one boy–Tommy–had even insulted Phil’s cooking! That was–Ranboo didn’t–

Ranboo couldn’t even imagine doing that. 

But, to make everything weirder, Phil hadn’t even seemed mad. He’d just promised to make something else the next day. 

Hearing that had felt like the ground was falling away. He kept expecting Phil to shove away from the table, scream, yell, slap–something. 

But he just sat there. 

Ranboo tried to consider that when he got into bed that night, heart racing. Maybe Phil was the type of person to punish when no one else was around. 

Ranboo swallowed at the thought. He’d been at a few houses like that; houses where the ‘parent’ wanted to save grace around the other fosters. They would pretend to laugh, pretend to be amused at someone’s antics, but then…the second they were alone…

Ranboo shivered, rolling over so he was facing the door. Those types of homes were almost worse than the others. You never knew when you’d done something wrong. 

And somehow, someway, the foster parents always lulled you into a sense of security. 

Sometimes–Ranboo even felt safe at those homes. At ease. 

But then the other times…

He tried not to think about the other times. 

Either way, that had to be the angle Phil was playing at. The avian had seemed so comforting, so soft . He hadn’t yelled at Ranboo yet, or hit him, or anything like that. 

And he’d even let Ranboo eat, and given him his own room . Not to mention the list of rules, which were more self-explanatory than anything drastic. 

It was…almost too good to be true. 

Which meant it was too good to be true. 

Ranboo cemented on this fact, rolling over again. He didn’t like putting his back to the door, but he was an anxious sleeper and moved around a lot. 

He needed to observe, he decided. Watch how they acted. Mimic it. It was how he’d survived so many homes. 

Watch. Wait. Be invisible. 

Because when they noticed you, that’s when they hurt you. 

So Ranboo did just that. He got up early the next morning, creeping down the stairs as silently as they would allow. 

The living room was dark, the curtains pulled shut. He thought about trying to make breakfast for the others, but if Phil caught him rifling through the cabinets…

Best not to test it. Instead, he awkwardly sat on the couch, waiting for the others to appear. 

First came Phil, maybe a half hour later. Ranboo sat there, staring, his heart pounding hard, but Phil just went straight for the kitchen. He didn’t even seem to notice him. 

That was fine with Ranboo. He figured the less interactions with the strange man, the less chances to mess up. Win, win.  

A little while later, Tubbo came down, stumbling slightly on the steps. His bleary eyes trailed to Ranboo. 

“Good morning,” he mumbled. 

Ranboo nodded at him, nervousness swirling in his stomach as he straightened his spine. 

He wasn't very sure of the other boys yet. In other homes, he’d sometimes found people he could consider acquaintances. A small layer of trust could be built between them. They could count on the other to help patch them up after a beating. 

But in others, the other children had been more like enemies. They constantly competed, fighting to be the best. 

Ranboo hoped the boys here weren’t like that. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. 

That morning, Tubbo didn’t do anything alarming. He just settled silently on the armchair like he might go back to sleep. 

For a while, the two of them sat in silence. Ranboo tried to think of something to say, but everything seemed too personal or too broad. His anxiety doubled. 

When he heard the tell-tale creaking of the stairs, he shot his gaze to Tommy. His mind flashed to the night before, where the avian had insulted Phil. He studied him closely for any signs of injury. 

Did it look like the other boy was moving stiffly? Were there bruises under his clothes? Bloody marks on his back? He tried to guess, leaning forward on the couch, hands pressed to his knees, trailing his eyes over Tommy’s form. 

“What are you looking at?” the boy snapped as he walked by, settling down near Tubbo. 

Ranboo felt his face flame. He looked away quickly, shrinking in on himself. “Nothing. Sorry.” 

Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid stupid–

“It’s okay,” Tubbo told him, shooting Tommy a look that Ranboo couldn’t quite read. There was a small pause before anyone spoke. “Did you sleep well?”

Ranboo hesitated a moment before nodding. 

He had, actually.  Better than he had in a long time. 

It was amazing the difference an actual bed could make. He was so used to sleeping on cold concrete floors, on balled up piles of clothes. The bed was…Heaven. Like sleeping on clouds. 

Of course, he didn’t say any of that. For a while, they all just sat there, not really talking. 

Eventually Phil came, and got them for breakfast. Ranboo tried to endure as best he could, hesitantly eating. He wasn’t really sure how he was supposed to act; what he was supposed to do. 

“Ranboo,” Phil said quietly when Ranboo just stared at his food, “you need to eat, buddy.”

Ranboo had ducked his head, the words stuck in his throat. He knew he was skinny, probably underweight, and that he should eat when he had the chance. Before the privilege was taken away. 

But he wasn’t used to having regular meals. It was weird, sitting there with everyone watching him, his appetite much smaller than theirs. 

He shoved his anxiety aside and did as he was told, eating. 

When breakfast was finally over, there wasn’t much to do. When Ranboo offered to help clean, to help do chores, Phil had waved him off. 

“Go do something,” he’d said. 

The problem was, Ranboo didn’t know what to do. Tommy and Tubbo were off playing a game or something, the Techno guy wasn't around, and Phil had told him not to clean. 

That didn’t leave very many options. 

Finally, Ranboo just scrambled up to his room. He remained there until Tubbo got him for lunch, and then the process repeated until dinner. 

He figured it was a good enough strategy. Stay out of people’s way, only come down when you’re told. 

Don’t be a burden. Don’t be a bother. 

Invisible. 

He settled into this routine. For the next few days, Ranboo walked on eggshells. He stayed in his room as long as he could, trying to keep out of the way of everyone. He came down for most meals, but otherwise he scrambled off, keeping himself busy by organising and reorganising his minimal things. 

He hardly spoke to anybody; hardly saw anyone at all. It was boring, but it wasn’t bad .

Maybe if he didn’t bother them, they would let him stay. 

He really wanted to stay. Sure, it was a little lonely, but compared to other houses, compared to being punished , Ranboo would take this any day. 

The strategy didn’t solve all his problems, though. At night, whenever he thought he heard someone up and about, Ranboo would tense, trying to melt into his sheets. He pictured footsteps stopping at his door, someone barging him and yanking him from bed, hurting him and hitting him and yelling–

But that didn’t happen. 

No, instead, on the morning of the seventh day, exactly one week since he’d come there, Ranboo dragged himself out of bed. He had planned to sneak downstairs, maybe grab an apple or something, and then retire back to his room. 

Safe. Invisible. 

But on his way to the kitchen, he had to pass the living room. And there, on the couch, was a tired Tubbo. 

For a second the two of them just stared at each other. 

Finally, Tubbo said through a yawn, “Good morning.”

Ranboo felt his tail twitch behind him. “Um. Good morning.” 

“How did you sleep?” 

Awkwardly, Ranboo took a small step towards the dining room. “G-good. You?” 

Tubbo nodded. “I slept okay.” He paused, eyeing Ranboo’s pointed feet. “Are you going to have breakfast with us today?” 

Ranboo winced slightly at the straight forward question, glancing over his shoulder like the answer might appear out of the air. “I–I guess so.” 

“Cool.” Tubbo took a sip of tea out of a mug that Ranboo hadn’t noticed before. “Wanna sit down?”

“Uh, sure.” Slowly, Ranboo lowered himself down next to Tubbo, keeping his back straight, his posture as good as he could. His heart was beating widely. 

Tubbo watched him with unsure eyes. “You can relax, you know,” he said after a moment.

Ranboo felt his face flush. Slowly, he leaned back into the cushions, hands automatically twisting together in his lap. He did not feel relaxed.

Tubbo listed his head slightly, considering Ranboo with questioning eyes. For a moment, he looked like he might say something, but Tommy’s voice cut him off. “Hello, losers.” 

Ranboo shrunk into the couch more. Out of everyone, he thought Tommy was the hardest to understand. The avian was loud one second and then quiet the next, constantly arguing or poking fun at somebody. “Hi,” he murmured shyly, not quite meeting the boy’s eyes. 

Tubbo offered a small wave. “Good morning.” 

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Tommy commented towards Ranboo, plopping down into the armchair.  

Ranboo shrugged, shoulders raising towards his ears. “Sorry.” 

Tommy eyed him for a moment before looking away. “Well, you should come out more. Phil’s worried about you.” 

Ranboo felt alarm spike in his stomach. Phil was worried about him? “Is he angry?” he asked quickly, glancing towards the hall that led to the kitchen as if Phil would appear out of it. 

So far since he’d been here, Ranboo hadn’t seen Phil angry once . Part of that was because he was always upstairs, hiding away in his room, but still…it was odd. 

But Ranboo knew that could change at any time. What if in his effort to avoid making Phil upset, he’d only made everything worse? His heart was beating fast. 

“No,” Tubbo answered after a long moment had passed. “He’s not mad.”

“Why would he be?” Tommy asked, cocking his head, 

Ranboo glanced at him, then looked away again, eyes burning. “I don’t know,” he admitted. 

Because I’ve been bad. 

Because I messed up. 

Because foster parents are always mad. 

The silence was deafening.

“Well, he’s not upset, I promise,” Tubbo said after a moment.

Ranboo nodded, as if that was something he'd known all along. He couldn't shake the sense that he'd just done something wrong. He licked his lips, tail swishing, body tense against the couch.

“So…do you like your new room?” Tubbo asked when the silence got to be too much. He tiled his head a little and his goat horns caught the light of the lamp, glinting.

Ranboo nodded again, swallowing. He should probably say something. “It’s really nice.” 

“I know it is,” Tommy jumped in, eyeing the boy. “It was my room.” 

Ranboo tensed, feeling his stomach drop onto the floor. His eyes widened and he stuttered in a breath. “It was?”

“Yeah.” Tommy stretched his wings out behind him. He looked slightly annoyed. “I moved to Tubbo’s to make room for you .”

Ranboo flinched at the words, heart beating faster. 

They’d what ? He’d–he’d kicked Tommy out of his room? 

Why had– stars, why–

“I’m sorry,” he blurted to Tommy. He was back to sitting ramrod straight, hands twisting in front of him, trying to focus on breathing. “You–you can have the room back. It’s fine. I can share. Or, or I can sleep down here. I don’t need a room.” 

“Woah, hold on, now,” a new voice said, and Ranboo started. Phil. “What’s this about you sleeping elsewhere?” 

Ranboo swallowed, glancing at the avian for a moment before looking back to the side. His nerves felt like they were on fire, hyper aware. “Um, I–um,” he stuttered, feeling his face grow hotter and hotter until he could barely talk. 

Tubbo saved him when the silence got to be too much. “He was offering Tommy his room back.” 

Ranboo risked a glance at Phil, wondering how mad the avian would be. Instead, he just looked somewhat sad, concern dancing in his eyes. “Oh, Ranboo,” he murmured, coming closer as if to reach out to him, but his hands stayed by his sides when Ranboo pulled away. “You don’t have to do that.” 

“Sorry,” Ranboo whispered before he could stop himself, wincing when Phil’s expression turned sadder. He shied away the slightest bit more.

“It’s okay,” the man said after a moment, looking briefly at Tommy and Tubbo. “We want you to have your own room. It’s okay.” 

“I–alright,” Ranboo replied, glancing at Tommy, too, to see if the blond was mad. He couldn’t tell. 

Phil clapped his hands together softly, lips lifting at the corners in what looked like a forced smile. “Right. Well, Techno should be here any minute. Then we can eat.”

Ranboo swallowed at the news. He had hardly seen Techno since his first day. 

“What did you make?” Tubbo asked, jumping up. 

“Waffles?” Tommy guessed. 

Phil shook his head. “Pancakes and eggs.” 

Tommy stuck out his tongue. “I like waffles better.” 

Ranboo awkwardly stood up, following the group back to the dining room. He was hungry, but hesitancy still clung to him from times before. His mind flooded with memories, the flashbacks vivid. 

What are you doing, getting into the food like that? 

I-I’m sorry, I was just–

I don’t want your excuses! Get back to the basement!

Ranboo shivered, shoving the thoughts away. He wasn’t there anymore. He wasn’t. He was here, with Phil and the weird rules and strange people and he wasn’t there. 

Stumbling only slightly, Ranboo settled into the same seat he’d occupied on his first day. Tommy sat across from him, and Tubbo chose the chair next to Ranboo’s right. 

Phil disappeared into the kitchen for a moment. He returned carrying plates stacked in one hand and cups in the other. 

“Would you like help?” Ranboo asked immediately, guilt clouding his mind. He should have thought to ask before, he should have–

“That’s okay, Ranboo dear, I just have one more thing to grab,” Phil replied easily, setting the stacks down. He went into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a large plate of pancakes and another plate of eggs. 

Tommy and Tubbo started loading their dishes up immediately. Ranboo watched them, slowly starting to do the same. He tried to take similar portions. 

Two pancakes, a small scoop of eggs. Seemed alright. 

“Hello all,” a voice greeted, and Ranboo turned to see Techno. His pink hair was braided back and he was dressed in casual clothes. 

“Hi,” Ranboo said, shyly, turning his gaze away. 

Techno sat next to Tommy, fluffing the boy’s hair with his hands. 

“Hey!” Tommy snapped, and Ranboo looked at Techno with wide eyes, wondering what he would do at the outburst. 

But Techno only laughed.

Weird. 

Phil joined them, carrying silverware, which he passed out. He sat at the head of the table.

Ranboo took note of that, mapping it out in his head, trying to commit it to memory. Phil seemed to always sit there, then. And the rest of them were free to switch it around if they wanted to, it seemed. 

Okay. That was fine. As long as Ranboo didn’t accidentally steal someone’s chair, he should be okay. 

Ranboo waited, watching until someone else ate, to take his first bite. 

He blinked at the taste, looking down at his plate. He wasn’t used to eating that much, especially breakfast, but he had had pancakes a few times before. 

Even still, Phil’s tasted much better than anything he remembered. 

The others must have thought so, too, because the meal commenced in mostly silence. Even Tommy, who Ranboo had noticed talked a lot, seemed to be absorbed in his own thoughts. 

The meal passed slowly. One by one, the others finished and left the table. Tommy first, then Tubbo closely after, then Techno. Ranboo tried not to be amazed; they hadn’t even asked for permission before leaving the room..

Was Phil really that unstrict? 

Sure, the small number of rules had been hard to believe. In the good foster homes, Ranboo could remember adults laying the guidelines out immediately, a long list of things he was expected to do and where he was and wasn’t allowed to go. 

In the bad homes, the adults waited until Ranboo broke a rule before actually telling him he had done something wrong. Then they’d punish him, and Ranboo would struggle to keep track of the ever-growing list of things he wasn’t allowed to do. 

They called that “learning the hard way.”

Privately, Ranboo called it “learning the painful way.” 

But the lack of punishments was getting really hard to believe. Most homes beat him on the first night, just so he didn’t get any ideas. 

Phil hadn’t even yelled at him yet. 

Heck, Ranboo hadn’t even heard him raise his voice , not even at the other boys when they were horse playing or complaining. 

And–and Phil had only given him three rules. 

Which…Ranboo knew could only mean there were unspoken things he was meant to follow, things he had to guess to do. 

It made sense. It was fine. He’d done it before. It was fine. 

“It's nice to see you, Ranboo,” Phil said into the silence. It was awkward, just the two of them left at the table. 

Ranboo nodded, fiddling with the fork in his hand. He still had an entire pancake left, but when he went to take another bite, his stomach twisted. He was full. 

“How have you been?” Phil asked casually, continuing the conversation easy, as if Ranboo had actually replied. 

Ranboo swallowed. “Good, si–Phil.” He wanted to kick himself for the slip. 

If Phil noticed the mistake, he didn't comment on it. “I’m glad.”

Ranboo nodded, his default response, and forced himself to take a bite. He was determined to finish and not waste the food that Phil had spent time making.

But after a few minutes in which he’d only managed to choke down about half of the pancake, Phil suddenly murmured, “You don’t have to eat that if you don’t want to.” 

Ranboo felt his face burn. Was he that transparent? “I don't want to–I mean, I shouldn't waste it…”

He trailed off, the way he so often did. 

Phil didn't seem to mind. In fact, when Ranboo quickly looked at him, the avian seemed…kind. Soft. Calm. “If you're worried about that, we can save it for later.” 

Ranboo swallowed. “Oh.” 

The word was a quiet, pathetic thing. 

Phil smiled softly and pushed himself to his feet. His plate still had food on it, too. 

Ranboo scrambled up as well, his tail curling around his calf. “I can help tidy up,” he offered, already starting to grab the plates up. 

Maybe if he proved himself, maybe if he acted useful…Sure, Phil hadn't really given him any chores to do, but he could obviously help. That was a given, he was supposed to help. 

He realised with a start that he'd been wasting the last few days hiding in his room when he could have been making himself useful. When he should have been doing that. 

“I'm sorry,” he blurted out, gripping the plates in his hands tightly. He wouldn't meet Phil's eyes.

“Why in the world are you sorry?” Phil asked, voice so gentle and kind and something Ranboo didn't deserve. 

 “For–for avoiding you,” he responded, feeling his face hot, his body shrinking in.

It was silent for a moment, horriblly quiet, and Ranboo risked a glance at Phil.

He was surprised to find the avian's eyes were filled with concern. “Ranboo…is that what you've been doing? Why?” 

Ranboo winced, focusing on stacking Tommy's plate. He answered after a moment, “To, to stay out of your way.”

“What?” Phil asked, sounding so shocked that Ranboo flinched. 

“I didn't want to bother you,” Ranboo explained further, standing awkwardly with his hands clutching his stack of dishes. His breathing felt weird. 

Phil just looked at him, wings twitching, eyes sad. “Why would you think it would bother me if I saw you?” 

Ranboo looked away. “I don't know,” he whispered. 

The silence felt like a blanket, smothering and covering everything. 

He could tell Phil wanted to question him more. He expected it. 

But instead the avian changed the subject, murmuring, “Let's head to the kitchen.” 

Ranboo nodded, tightening his hold on his plates. He scrambled after Phil, and under the avian's careful direction, slowly settled the dishes into the sink.

“Techno said enderman hybrids are allergic to water,” Phil said, somewhat conversationally.

Ranboo froze. For a moment, he wasn't in the kitchen anymore. He was at a different home, a hand fisted in his hair, being dragged towards a basin. 

“I'll teach you,” the man had snarled, dragging Ranboo closer, closer. 

“Please,” Ranboo begged, burning, painful tears streaking down his cheeks. “Please.” 

“Shirt off,” he had snapped back, practically ripping the fabric from Ranboo's skin. 

With shaky hands, Ranboo unbuttoned his top, lifting it above his head. His chest and back were already lined with more than his fair share of scars, but it was about to get worse. 

With a glint in the man's eye that looked way too close to glee, he grabbed a rough, wet rag from the tub.

And he began whipping Ranboo's back.

“Ranboo? Are you okay?” Phil asked, dragging Ranboo back to the present. He reached a hand out, and Ranboo flinched, staring with wide eyes.

Phil swallowed, his fingers hovering in the air, concern twisting his face. “Ranboo?”

“I'm–I’m sorry,” Ranboo gasped out, unable to stop himself from leaning away, from gasping out breath after breath. “I'm sorry."  

Phil curled his hand in the air, bringing it to his chest, his wings ruffling behind him. “No, no, no, Ranboo, it's okay. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have–I’m sorry.”

Phil was…apologising? Ranboo tried to make sense of it, tried to understand, but he couldn't grapple with it. “I–what?” 

“I'm sorry for scaring you,” Phil asserted. “And if I just accidentally triggered something.” 

“I–” Ranboo's mouth didn't seem to be working. He was incapable of forming words. His tail wagged back and forth around his legs. 

“Are you okay?” 

He nodded, swallowing thickly. “Yes, sir.” 

Phil cringed. “No ‘sir’, remember?” 

Oh, yeah. “Sorry.” Why was his heart beating so fast? 

“It's alright, Ranboo,” Phil assured. 

Ranboo nodded again, looking away, his gaze landing on the sink. He hesitated, licking his lips. His body felt out-of-touch, expecting a hit that hadn’t come, skin alive with a million different buzzing nerves. 

He forced himself to open his mouth. “Um, to–to answer your question…no. Enderman can't get wet. It…it burns.” 

The last words were a whisper. 

Phil glazed over them, nodding slowly. “Okay. Thank you for telling me, Ranboo.” 

Ranboo shivered, unsure why Phil was thanking him but not turning it away. His face felt pale, body cold, hands shaking at his sides. “I–you're w-welcome.” 

Phil gestured down the hall, towards the living room. “I'm sure Tommy and Tubbo and Techno are playing Mario Cart, if you'd like to join them.” 

Ranboo hesitated, rocking on his feet. “But–I should help.” 

Phil leaned down the slightest bit. Ranboo was tall, but Phil was a little taller, and when he bent forward, he was eye-level with him. It should have been intimidating, should have made everything worse, but for some reason it didn’t. “Ranboo, you don't have to help me clean up.” 

“But…”

But if I don't I'll feel guilty. 

But if I don't you'll be mad.

But if I don't I won't be able to stop thinking about it. 

“It's okay,” Phil murmured, as if he could hear Ranboo's thoughts. “You don't have to help. You can go have fun.” 

“I don’t know how,” Ranboo admitted, softly, not quite meeting the avian’s eyes.

Phil's voice was kind. “Go learn.” 

Ranboo looked at the man for a moment, then nodded, slowly. He moved towards the living room, but at the last second he turned around and blurted, “Thank you.”

Phil smiled gently. “Of course.” 

Ranboo hurried along before the silence became too awkward. 

In the living room, Ranboo found that Phil had been right. Tubbo, Tommy, and Techno sat scattered, eyes glued to the TV screen. 

For a long moment, none of them noticed Ranboo, and the enderman almost decided to go up to his room instead. He’d socialised a lot today; maybe that was enough…

“Ranboo,” Techno said, and the hybrid jumped slightly. “Do you want to play?” 

Ranboo glanced at Techno for a moment, then to Tubbo, then finally to Tommy. 

“We have an extra controller,” Tubbo encouraged. 

Ranboo glanced at Tommy. 

The avian scrunched his nose. “There’s no way you’ll beat me. But…I guess you can try.” 

None of them minded, then, if Ranboo joined. 

Cautiously, he made his way over to the couch that Tommy and Tubbo were sharing. He settled on the edge, next to Tubbo and by the armchair that Techno occupied. 

Tubbo smiled at him, passing him a controller.

“I, uh, don’t know how to play,” Ranboo told them, face flushing. His voice felt too quiet.

He expected them to make a big scene out of it. But all Techno did was reach over and point at the buttons, explaining what they did, while Tommy restarted the race with the added player. 

“Ranboo,” Tubbo said as the clock started counting down, “Relax.”

“Right,” Ranboo said, leaning back against the cushions. He’d forgotten. 

The game started. 

And they played.

Chapter Text

Techno was trying really hard to understand the new kid. 

It was just–it was hard . He was always quiet, always shying away from everyone and everything. Even at meal times, he mostly just observed, always shooting glances at Phil. 

At least Techno knew why. He’d been through plenty of foster homes himself; Ranboo was just trying to get a feel for the people. Understand the rules, how certain things were dealt with. 

What the punishments were, if there was any. 

Of course, Techno knew him not living with Phil and the others anymore didn’t help the matter. He had, for a few years, but now he rented an apartment down the road from them. 

A place of his own. 

(He told himself it was freedom, not loneliness.)

So he wasn’t an idiot. He knew he would have a higher rapport with the boy if he was around more. But between working and maintaining his own space, he wasn’t over as often as he wanted to be. 

But still, that being said, he found himself at Phil’s house at least a few times a week. He even had his own key, his own mug, his own place at the table for the meals that he attended. 

And yet, even with all the extra time he spent over there, he was still struggling to figure Ranboo out.

It had been nearly three weeks since the enderman had moved in, and Techno still hardly knew the boy. The most he got were semi-frequent updates from Phil. 

He was getting more comfortable with them, Phil told Techno. Slowly but surely. 

“And he’s starting to eat better,” the avian had said. “Oh, I also took him shopping.” 

“How did that go?” Techno had asked. They had been doing dishes after dinner, while the younger boys were off doing who knew what. 

Phil had been honest with him, the way the avian always had been. A big thing with Techno was telling the truth. He hated lies. “It was difficult. He didn’t really know what size clothes he wore. And I had to wrestle a lot of what he needed out of him.” 

Techno had frowned, soaping up a cup. He knew firsthand how hard it could be to admit you needed help, and something in him sympathised with the poor kid. “But you did get him what he needed?” he clarified after a moment. 

Phil nodded. “It was a lot, and he definitely doesn’t like to be around crowds. But…yes, we did.” 

“And how is he adjusting to Tommy and Tubbo?”

“I think,” Phil started, then paused, his words developing into a sigh. “I think good? He–he still seems so hesitant around us. Like he’s waiting for us to snap or something.” 

Techno considered this. “He probably is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Techno said, turning his gaze back towards the sink, “the kid has been through a lot of messed up stuff, obviously. How many homes has he gone through? Five? Six?”

“Six,” Phil clarified. His voice held something, something like a truth he didn’t quite want to believe. 

Techno nodded slowly. “I’d bet my braid that at least a few of those weren’t the best conditions. Maybe even all of them. That’s what his worker said, right?” 

Phil had nodded and then went quiet, mulling the words over. He had obviously known that there was abuse in Ranboo’s past. 

But maybe he hadn’t considered to what extent. 

Techno cleared his throat, changing the subject. “Has he stopped calling you ‘sir’ yet?”

Phil shook his head, something like frustration bubbling in him before he managed to stomp it down again. “No. Whenever he thinks I’m upset he defaults back to that.” 

Techno tried not to imagine what that might mean, why a teen’s first instinct was to say that. 

He didn’t like the implications. 

“What about his enderman side? Figure any more out for that?” 

Phil had nodded slowly, his wings clenching behind him. “Yeah. He has to bathe with an awkward potion, otherwise it hurts him.”

Techno hadn’t even thought of that. Stars, it was a good thing Phil was the one taking care of everyone. 

They talked for a while longer. When they finished the dishes, Techno called goodbye to everyone, gave Phil a hug, and drove himself home. 

The next day, Techno had to work, so he didn’t get to the house until much later. When he finally did, dinner was already going on. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he plopped down in the only empty seat, right next to Ranboo. 

“Hi, Techno,” Tubbo greeted him. Tommy stuck his tongue out, which was his version of saying hello. 

Ranboo glanced at him briefly. “Hi,” he whispered.

His voice was so quiet. 

Phil passed Techno a bowl filled with some sort of soup. “Potatoe and beef,” he explained. 

Techno grinned. “Thanks, Phil.” 

“Welcome.” 

They all ate, scattered conversation filling the air. Techno noticed that Ranboo didn’t participate much; he observed and ate his small serving without actually talking. 

Techno tried to focus on the positive. At least the boy was eating. 

It was a good thing, too. Ranboo was way too skinny. Looking at his small portion, the way he ate like he was just waiting for someone to take it away…it made sense. 

(Techno kind of wished it didn’t.)

Eventually, towards the end of the meal, Tommy suggested, “Techno should sleep here tonight!” 

“Yeah!” Tubbo agreed, pumping his fist. 

Phil didn’t need to think about it. “The couch is open if you want it,” he told Techno. 

Techno nodded. He didn’t have work tomorrow. He looked sideways to try and gauge Ranboo’s reaction to this. 

The enderman’s face had paled slightly, tear scars on his face more noticeable for some reason. He swallowed, nervousness flashing in his red and green eyes. “Um,” he murmured, not quite looking at anyone, “Techno can–you can have my room.” 

Techno stilled, lifting his eyes to meet Phil’s concerned one. The way Ranboo was offering, like he was being forced to–he didn’t like that. 

Not at all. 

“Ranboo, dear, do you remember what we said? That room is yours to sleep in. You don’t have to give it up.” Phil’s voice was gentle as he explained, but Techno could pick out the worry. He glanced at Tommy and Tubbo; they both had looks of understanding on their faces. 

Techno wished they didn’t understand. In this one circumstance, he wished the boys were naive, were confused and didn't know. 

They had all been through way too much. 

Ranboo ducked his head at Phil’s words. “I’m sorry.” 

Techno frowned at the apology, something twinging in his heart that felt like care. He shoved it away. “You don’t need to be sorry, kid. I appreciate the offer.” 

“Does this mean you’re still sleeping here?” Tommy jumped in, eyeing Techno with pale eyes. 

Techno nodded slowly. “Sure.” 

Tubbo and Tommy cheered, and Ranboo offered the tiniest smile ever. Techno returned it, trying to appear nonthreatening, calmer than he usually was.

When dinner was over, the enderman offered to help clean. Phil sighed, shaking his head, and Techno got the feeling that this was a regular occurrence. After a moment, Ranboo nodded and scrambled upstairs as fast as his long legs could carry him. 

“He’s weird,” Tommy commented in the silence that followed. He got up and walked to the kitchen, the rest of them following slowly behind. 

Tubbo nodded as he tossed his plate into the sink. “He’s always so quiet.” 

Phil cast a glance down the hall, towards the stairs. He was concerned, Techno could tell, but unwilling to force Ranboo to confide in him. 

He was playing the long game, Techno knew. Watching. Waiting.  

There was nothing Techno could do about it except join the game as well. 

“Something happened to him,” Tubbo said after a long moment of silence. 

Tommy shook his head. “Some thing s ,” he corrected. “Plural.”

Phil looked back at them, nodding slowly. “Yes.” 

The word hung in the air.

Tommy and Tubbo exchanged a glance. Techno knew they were probably thinking of their own experiences, trying to guess which ones aligned with Ranboo's. 

To stop them, Techno said, “We just have to be patient with him.” 

Phil nodded, waiting for Tommy and Tubbo to do the same before he added, “And we'll be kind. There for him when he needs it.” 

“Just like you did for us,” Tubbo said, slowly.

A smile played at Phil's lips, softening into something real. “Yes, exactly.” 

Tommy's wings twitched behind him. He was always a little uncomfortable when it came to feelings and emotions, but his eyes were determined. “We'll help him,” he said, and it kind of sounded like a threat. 

But Techno brushed it aside, nodding. They would help the boy. 

Phil brought him hands together in a silent clap. “Well. It's been a long day.”

Techno nodded. “We should all head to bed.” 

Tommy and Tubbo both hesitated, but eventually they agreed and left.

Phil and Techno stood there, looking at each other. For a long moment, they didn't speak, their conversation made entirely of blinks and upturned eyebrows and stretched lips. 

The spell was broken when Phil said, "I'm going to go to sleep.” 

“Me, too,” Techno replied.

They both moved towards the living room, parting ways at the stairs with a hushed “Goodnight.” 

Techno settled himself on the couch, laying his head on a spare pillow and kicking up his feet. He wasn’t actually thrilled about sleeping on the springy cushions, but he wasn’t going to complain.

Not after Ranboo had tried to offer his own room up.

Techno shoved the thought away. This would be fine. Besides, it was even supposed to storm, and he always slept better during storms.

He was right. Less than five minutes later, he was out like a light. 

*****

Techno jerked awake to the sound of creaking steps. 

He shot up immediately, eyes squinting into the darkest, cover clutched tightly in his fists. His breathing was coming in fast pants.

Outside, he heard thunder boom, and his ears picked up on the sound of rain. His heart beat loudly in his chest, skin electric.

Slowly, every slowly, his eyes adjusted to the darkness of his surroundings. He lifted his gaze to the stairs, eyes searching for an intruder, for the person who had woken him.

They were empty. 

Techno swallowed, sweeping his gaze around the dark room.

Nothing. Not a sound. 

He sighed, feeling slightly foolish for his reaction. It was probably just the house settling, or something. 

He was about to call it and go back to bed when a light flipped on in the dining room, spilling yellow light across the floor.

Interesting…

Steeling himself, he climbed out of bed. He walked over there, peeking around the corner to find–

“ Ranboo ?”

The enderman jumped hard at the sound of his name, whipping around with wide eyes that only calmed slightly when he caught sight of Techno. “T-Techno?”

“What are you doing up?” Techno asked, staring at the boy. He was dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, probably something Phil had bought him. 

In the dim light, Techno started when he saw the tears streaking down the kid’s face.

“Oh– shoot ,” he said, alarm coursing through him. For a moment he just stood there, not quite comprehending what was in front of him. “Are you–kid, are you crying?”  

“No,” Ranboo hurried to say, turning his face away so that Techno couldn’t see it. 

Oh- kay . Not ideal, considering the fact that Techno very clearly had eyes that could see. 

“Hey,” he tried, slightly surprised when his voice came out so soft, “it’s okay. You–uh, you're allowed to cry.”

Ranboo was quiet for a moment, still facing away. Outside, the rain pattered against the windows. The enderman let out a whimper. 

“Oh,” Techno realised, connecting the dots in his sluggish mind, the clarity coming in strength. “You…don’t like storms, huh?” 

Ranboo folded in on himself, shoulders hunching forward until he looked like a shell. He still wouldn’t face Techno. “No,” he admitted quietly. 

Techno wanted to ask. He wanted to pry, wanted to look inside the younger boy’s head and see what made him tick. 

Instead, he turned around and went to the kitchen. 

He didn’t really know what to do. He was way out of his depth here. Phil had always been the comforting one, the one who knew what to say and how to act. 

Techno…wasn’t that. 

But, but he would have to be. For tonight, at least. He couldn't just –he had to do something . 

Nodding to himself, he grabbed milk from the fridge, pouring two glasses. He put it away and walked back to the dining room, settling himself in a chair. 

“Here,” he said, setting the other glass in front of Ranboo. 

Ranboo glanced at it, then up at Techno, tears shining in the light. It was amazing how well they followed the scarred path, the burning liquid falling on its familiar trail. Techno tried not to stare.

“Thank you,” Ranboo whispered, sitting down opposite Techno. He hunched over his glass, wrapping shaky hands around it. 

Techno opened his mouth to reply, but a loud thunderclap drowned him out. Lightning struck, and the wind suddenly surged, the rain pounding against the roof. 

Ranboo flinched hard at the noise, nearly knocking his drink over. His eyes were wide with panic, staring at the walls like they might cave in, and his tail was rapidly swishing back and forth. He started crying harder. 

Techno winced at the burns trailing down the boy’s face, unsure what to do, mind reeling. Part of him wanted to reach out, wanted to give the kid a hug, but he stomped it down. 

Stars, he really wished Phil was here.

“It’s okay,” he told Ranboo, trying to be comforting. He leaned forward to be heard over the storm. “It’s okay.”

“I–I can’t, I don’t–” Ranboo couldn’t seem to form words. 

“Shh, it’s fine. Why don’t, hey, why don’t we go to the living room? It’s nicer in there.” 

Ranboo peeked at Techno, face screwed in slight pain from his own tears, before he jerkily nodded his head. “O-oay.” 

Techno pushed himself to his feet, watching as Ranboo did the same, shakily. They each grabbed their glasses and headed towards the living space. 

“Sit down,” Techno instructed, gesturing to the couch as he turned on the lamp. Ranboo obeyed immediately, curling up, shrinking away into the corner. His eyes were still wide, face still streaked with tears.

Techno sat on the opposite end, curling his feet beneath him. Wordlessly, he passed his blanket to Ranboo, who hesitated only a moment before grabbing it.

It was quiet, for a minute. Techno sipped his milk, trying to think of something to say, until finally he settled on, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

The enderman took a drink of his own. Techno pretended not to notice that Ranboo had waited for him to drink first. 

“Um,” Ranboo sounded, looking away. He was still crying, but the tears seemed to be slowing down a nice amount. The walls felt thicker here, the storm quieter.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Techno told him. 

Ranboo nodded; chewed his bottom lip. After a moment he whispered, “It’s stupid.” 

Techno tried not to grimace at the words. “Try me.” 

The enderman met his gaze for just a moment before they swept across the room. Outside, lightning struck again, and Ranboo squeezed his eyes shut, more burning tears leaking out. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s fine,” Techno soothed, voice somehow louder than the thunder. “You’re fine. Talk to me.”

Ranboo swallowed, his face slightly contorted into pain. His body was scrunched up, hunched, smushed into the cushions. “I’ve–I’ve never liked storms. They’re too loud, plus–enderman, rain…it’s not the best mix.”

Techno nodded like that was something he could understand. Ranboo shivered, sinking more into the cover. For a moment, Techno wasn’t sure he was going to continue, but then he did. “At, at one of the other homes…they got mad at me a lot.” 

Techno took a sip of his milk to try and stop the sudden concern, the sudden anger, threatening to cloud his mind. The way Ranboo said that…his heart ached. “For what?”

Thunder boomed again and Ranboo winced, eyes lighting with panic. 

Techno shook his head, as if to dismiss the storm. “Hey, no, you're fine. Keep talking. What did they get mad about?" 

Ranboo made a noise in the back of his throat, the genuine fear on his face hard to miss. He was shaking.

But, after a moment, he managed to answer, “For, for everything. There were a lot of rules there. Impossible to keep.” 

“I know what that’s like,” Techno told him, the honesty creeping out without his permission. 

Ranboo stared at him for a moment, unsettling given the fact that he was part enderman. He looked like he might ask a question, but at the last second he looked away and his lips formed something else. “Well, they had a lot of–unique p-punishments.” 

Techno felt his blood start to boil again. He stomped it down, trying to reign his emotions in as best he could. “Like?” he prompted.

“Like…making us scrub the floor on our hands and knees. Stuff like that.” 

The house creaked slightly, saving Techno from having to form a reply around the lividness filling his system. 

How someone could be so cruel, so hurtful to kids was beyond him. He may not like teenagers, but he couldn't imagine doing something like that.

And that was probably one of the more tame punishments.

Thunder boomed, and Techno watched as Ranboo's body tensed. After a moment, everything quieted down again, and Ranboo continued. “One time, I messed up. I can’t even rem-remember what I did. But…, uh, t-they locked me outside.”

“Oh, buddy,” Techno breathed, the voice coming out of him without permission, his anger fading in place of worry. 

This poor, poor boy. His heart hurt.

Ranboo looked away, using the back of his hand to wipe the remaining tears from his face. His face scrunched in pain and Techno instinctively moved forward, reaching out and catching the kid’s hand softly. 

Ranboo went still. 

“Sorry,” Techno blurted, dropping the enderman’s fingers. His face felt hot, flushed, a feeling he wasn’t really used to. 

Yes, he was definitely out of his depth. 

But Ranboo’s face was also red, and it wasn’t just from the fresh burns. “It’s…okay,” he murmured, reaching his shaking hand towards Techno. 

“You sure?” Techno asked, fingers poised above Ranboo’s skin, not quite making contact. He waited until Ranboo nodded before he gently grabbed the hand, flipping it over to look at the back. 

All things considered, it wasn’t too bad of a burn. A little red, and it might swell, but–it wasn’t awful. It definitely wouldn’t scar, which Techno counted as a plus. 

“Anyways,” Ranboo continued, voice softer, staring at the place where Techno’s hands touched him, “they locked me out. It was fine at first, a little cold.” 

Techno blinked, gaze focused entirely on Ranboo’s hand so that the enderman didn’t see how angry he was. How in the world did the boy think that being locked out was fine? 

He almost asked, but he held his tongue. 

Later. 

“But then,” Ranboo was saying, voice dipping quieter and quieter until it was kind of hard to hear over the storm, “it started to rain.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

Techno let out a breath, feeling his heart pumping widely in his chest. “Kid,” he whispered, heart breaking slightly, vengeance screaming in his mind but body tired from the day. 

Ranboo finally looked away from his burnt hand, sniffing. “I managed to find shelter. At a park, some stupid playground tunnel thing. But…water still got in. And there was thunder, and, and lightning, and–”

“Shh,” Techno murmured, not wanting the boy to start crying again. That wouldn’t be good in more ways than one. He repeated words he’d heard Phil say a hundred times: “You’re safe now.” 

Ranboo shivered again, the cover tight where it laid on him. “That was one of the worst nights of my life,” he admitted softly.  

Techno swallowed. He didn’t want to think about what the boy might consider the worst night. 

It couldn’t have been anything good. 

Not good at all. 

“Anyways,” Ranboo murmured, continuing on, as if dwelling on one thing for too long might kill him, “I got back to the house that next morning. And I wasn’t–with them that much longer.” A pause. “But…I still have the scars.”

The last few words were quiet, desperate things.

Techno felt his heart shatter the slightest bit at the admittance. Without meaning to, he stroked the enderman’s hand. 

Ranboo glanced down at the touch, face flushing slightly, mouth forming something until a small sound slipped out. 

“I didn’t know an enderman hybrid could make enderman sounds,” Techno said, blinking. 

Ranboo shrunk back a little. “Sorry. I know it’s annoying.”

“No, no,” Techno hurried to say, cringing. Stars, how did he always manage to mess things like this up? “It’s not annoying, I promise.” 

The boy in front of him peeked at him, unshrinking from the couch cushions the tiniest bit. “It’s..not?” 

“No,” Techno assured. “You’re allowed to make noise, Ranboo.”

“Right,” Ranboo nodded, face saying that that wasn’t something he’d known all along. 

“So…storms have scared you since,” Techno said, getting the conversation back on track. 

Ranboo hesitated, nodding slowly, a soft sigh working its way out of his mouth. “Yes. I can never sleep during them.” 

“Why didn’t you wake up Phil?” Techno asked, cocking his head.

Ranboo shied away slightly again, his hand tugging a little bit at Techno’s. “Well…” 

“You can tell me,” Techno assured. “I won’t tell anyone.” 

Ranboo sighed again, the noise a little puff of air over the rain outside. “I didn't want to bother him,” he admitted after a moment. 

Techno blinked. 

Right, then. That was…something else that probably needed unpacked. 

“It won’t bother Phil if you get him when you need to,” Techno said, carefully, trying to navigate this unfamiliar territory he had found himself in. 

“I know,” Ranboo said. 

No, you don’t, Techno wanted to say, but he held his tongue. Part of him wanted to squeeze Ranboo’s hand and show him just how much Phil already cared about him. 

But the other part of him knew that healing took time. 

A lot of it. 

“Well, if you don’t want to go to Phil,” Techno said slowly, “you can always come to me if you need it.” 

Ranboo regarded him with a look, as if judging if Techno was poking fun or not. Techno held his stare until Ranboo was the one to finally break it. 

“Okay,” he whispered. 

They dipped into a soft silence, sitting like that for a while, Techno holding Ranboo’s hand gently, cradling it. 

“We should probably get your hand healed up,” Techno finally said, climbing to his feet. “Wait here.”

He hurried to the bathroom, digging in the cabinet for supplies. He produced a healing potion and washcloth and made his way back to the living room. 

“Here,” he said, reaching for Ranboo’s hand again, pleased when the enderman only hesitated a moment before handing it to him. He wetted the rag with the potion and placed it gently on the spot where the burn was. 

Ranboo watched with fascination, even though the red mark was covered by the cloth. Techno couldn’t fight the small smile from his face and counted aloud to thirty before removing the rag. 

“It’s gone," Ranboo whispered, staring at his hand like he’d never seen it before. 

Techno grinned. He looked at Ranboo's now smooth skin, the spot where the red burn had been completely indistinguishable from the space around it. “Yeah. What, you’ve never seen a healing potion before?” 

Ranboo shook his head. “Well–I’ve heard of them, and I saw other kids using them before. But I never–I mean, they never let me–”

He trailed off, still staring at his fingers. He gave them a little wiggle, as if testing that they were working right.

“Can they–can that fix my-?” he trailed off, gesturing to the scars on his face. 

Techno felt his heart fall. “No, I’m sorry, bud. They don’t get rid of scars.”

Ranboo nodded like he’d expected it, but his eyes were still sad. 

Techno added, “But it can help with those burns.” 

Ranboo touched his face lightly, but his eyes still crinkled with pain. There were blisters forming underneath them, the burns aggravated and red. “Please,” he said to Techno, eyes begging for help he struggled to ask for.

Wordlessly, Techno wetted the rag again. Slowly, very slowly, he reached out towards the boy. 

Ranboo didn’t pull away, and he only shivered a little bit when the potion touched his cheeks. He winced slightly at the pain when Techno applied some pressure, but otherwise held still as the rag was held there. 

This time, they counted together to forty-five to give the potion more time to work on the severe burns. When Techno pulled the cloth away, the blisters had all but disappeared, and the tear tracks were a lighter red. 

It would have to do. Hopefully in the morning it wouldn’t be too obvious to the others that the boy had been crying. 

Ranboo brought trembling fingers to his face, touching the smooth skin in awe. “I can’t even feel the burns,” he told Techno. 

Techno smiled sadly. “That’s good, kid.” 

He got up again, returning his tools to the bathroom. When he came back to the living room, Ranboo was exiting himself from the blanket, struggling to his feet. 

Techno opened his mouth to say goodnight, but lightning flashed and deafening thunder boomed, cutting him off. 

Ranboo winced at the noise, body stilling. He was looking towards the stairs, but he didn't move.

Techno swallowed, glancing at the couch. 

He couldn't believe what he was about to say.

“If you want,” he started, rocking on his heel awkwardly, “you could…sleep down here. With me.” 

Ranboo blinked, looking at the man like he’d grown a third head. “Really?” 

“Yes–uh, sure. Yeah. As long as you stay on that side of the couch.” 

Ranboo nodded immediately, hovering awkwardly for a moment before clamoring back into his spot. “Do you–do you want your cover back?” 

Techno shook his head. He shut off the lamp and grabbed another stray throw blanket, getting onto the couch, too. 

They both settled down, quietly, not talking. A long time passed, and Techno figured that Ranboo had fallen asleep. 

But then the enderman muttered, “Techno?”

“Yes?”

“Can…can you not tell Phil about this?”

Techno blinked, sitting up, squinting at Ranboo in the dark. He wanted to push him, ask why, wanted to tell him that that wasn't something he could promise. He wanted to explain that Phil would want to know so that he could help, so that he could be there when Ranboo needed it. 

But before he could say any of that, Ranboo added, voice barely above a whisper, “I just…please.” 

Something in Techno softened considerably. He shoved his thoughts away, laying back down. “Of course, Ranboo.”

“Thank you. I–thanks. For everything.” The boy’s voice was slightly wet. 

“You’re welcome, Ranboo,” Techno responded softly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Sleep, sleep well.” 

And, later? In the early morning after the wind and rain had melted away? When Techno woke up to Ranboo snuggled against his side, breathing softly? 

Well, so what? The kid needed his rest. 

And, if Techno was being honest with himself…

…he found he really didn’t mind. 

Chapter Text

Being alone with Ranboo was weird. 

It wasn't that Tubbo didn't like the other boy–he did. Ranboo was quiet and shy, but he had a funny streak if you knew how to dig it out. 

Plus, he always lost to Tubbo in Mario Cart. 

(Hey–after years of always being last between Tommy and Techno, winning felt nice!)

It was just…well, some of Ranboo's behaviors were…concerning, was all. 

And Tubbo understood that–he did! Foster home upon foster home, there was bound to be something. 

The foster system was a pretty dark place. Tubbo knew that from experience.

And Tubbo could easily assume that Ranboo, with all his quirks and timidness and enderman characteristics, hadn't had a very pleasant experience in it so far. 

But even with him knowing all that, it was kind of hard to understand Ranboo. The enderman hybrid was always anxious, never quite making eye contact. He worried about the craziest things, scared Phil would get mad at something so trivial it hardly mattered at all.

For example, about a month into his stay there, Ranboo had accidentally woken the older avian up. 

It had been about eleven at night, and Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo were hanging out in the formers’ room. It was Ranboo's first time in a bedroom other than his, and he kept staring at all the things they owned, shocked.

“Where did you get all this?” he'd asked, running his hands over Tommy's nicknacks. 

Tommy was laying on his bed. At the question, he perked up, eyeing Ranboo somewhat suspiciously. “Why?” 

Tubbo had winced a little. Tommy was always kind of “on guard”, especially about things he owned. He was always a little worried someone would steal them.

Another result of the system. 

But Ranboo had just shrugged, shrinking in on himself slightly. “Um…just wondering.”

“Well, Phil got a lot of it,” Tubbo jumped in before Tommy could start an argument. He tried to keep his tone passive, easy. “For birthdays and stuff.” 

Ranboo had been shocked. Tubbo watched as his eyes widened, mouth falling open slightly. “Phi–you guys celebrate birthdays?” 

Something like concern washed over Tubbo, with a heavy dash of sadness. Had Ranboo really not celebrated his birthday before? 

“Of course we do, dummy,” Tommy had answered, getting to his feet to join Ranboo at his bookshelf. 

“R-right,” Ranboo replied shakily. 

Tubbo had sighed. Over the weeks, he had learned that that response normally meant Ranboo was pretending not to be surprised about something. 

Right , he would say, while his body language said he was fighting not to freak out. 

It was a difficult dance, reading between the lines. Tubbo and Tommy weren't very good at navigating it.

That day, everything dipped into silence for a moment. Ranboo had turned away, migrating from Tommy's section of the room towards Tubbo.

He took it in, mouth pressed firmly shut. Tubbo's side was neater than Tommy's, with less things, but he had his fair share of trinkets. One of these was a small bee plushie, and Tubbo watched as Ranboo's gaze softened onto it.

“You like it?” Tubbo asked, rocking on his heels. “Bees are my favourite.” 

Ranboo blinked, looking slightly guilty, as if he had been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. “I…love bees,” he admitted quietly, looking at the goat hybrid for a moment before glancing back at the stuffed animal.

Tubbo took a deep breath, relieved. Finally, there was something he could talk to Ranboo about. “What do you like about them?” he asked.

Ranboo shrugged, tail swishing behind him. His fingers sort of curled at his sides, as if he was debating answering. 

Tubbo waited. He knew sometimes the best way to prompt someone was to go quiet. It worked well with Tommy. 

And apparently it worked with Ranboo, too. After a moment, the enderman hybrid had mumbled out, “I think they're cute.” 

Tubbo felt a small smile light his face. “I think so, too.” 

Ranboo hesitantly returned his grin, gaze falling back onto the plushie in silence.

Tubbo looked back and forth between the two, faltering for a second before he said, “You can have that, if you want. I have one just like it.” 

“ What ?” Ranboo asked, stilling perfectly, staring at Tubbo with wide eyes. 

Tubbo gestured to his bed, where an admittedly very similar stuffed toy lay. “See? You should take that. Your room doesn't have anything personal in it.” 

Which was true. Even though Phil had taken the boy shopping, Ranboo had only returned with a minimal amount of clothing and toiletries. 

Nothing else, even though Tubbo was sure Phil had offered. Which meant Ranboo had refused, for one reason or another. 

So if wasn't a huge surprise that Ranboo hesitated, not quite touching the toy. “I--Idon't want to steal,” he whispered.

Tubbo shook his head, the shock cold. “What? No, Ranboo, it's not stealing . I'm giving it to you.”

The hybrid didn't seem to understand. He kept looking from Tubbo to Tommy to the plushie, like this was an elaborate joke they were all playing on him.

They all waited.

Finally, Ranboo's hand reached out, barely hovering over the toy, something like gratitude swelling into tears filling his eyes.

Tubbo had been alarmed. He'd found out from Techno that water hurt enderman, and the idea of Ranboo crying was something he really didn't know how to deal with.

But before anything like that could happen, Tommy had hopped from his bed, grabbed the toy, and shoved it into Ranboo's hands. “There.” 

Immediately, Ranboo was cradling the bee as if it was something precious. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.” 

Tubbo had blinked. Based on the gratitude in his tone, it sounded like his life had just been saved. 

“You're welcome,” Tubbo said, somewhat numbly, a little bit shocked. 

Ranboo nodded. A moment later, he'd left the room to put the plushie on his bed. 

And that was when everything went downhill. 

“I’m gonna scare him,” Tommy had said after a moment, posing by the door. 

Tubbo had only laughed, not thinking anything of it. He’d been a victim of a ‘Tommy scare’ on more than one occasion. It was nice to finally see it directed at someone else. 

They thought it would just be a silly prank.

But when Ranboo came back into the room and Tommy jumped out, hands raised, the enderman didn’t react typically. 

No, he’d flinched, eyes lighting with panic as he scrambled backward, bumping Tubbo’s dresser and sending everything on the top crashing to the bottom. The fear on his face was unmistakable, his breathing coming in fast, unhealthy pants.

He looked– stars, he looked like he was bracing for a hit. His hands had come over his face to protect it, body tensing against the dresser.

Tommy and Tubbo had just stood there, frozen, the shock an actual thing weaving through the air. They stared at Ranboo, then looked at each other.

When nothing happened to Ranboo, he peeked out between his limbs. He was shaking hard, trembling like he might collapse at any second. His face was white. 

Before any of them could say anything, a voice called out, “What in the world was that?” Phil had appeared in the doorway, eyes tired but alarmed.

Tubbo could pick out the concern, but Ranboo didn't see it. Immediately, he had started apologising, shrinking away, shaking shaking shaking . 

Tubbo and Tommy had just stood there, dumbfounded, while the enderman begged Phil to forgive him. 

“Please, please, I'm sorry–I'm sorry, Sir, please –”

It was…a lot. 

Eventually, after what felt like a long time, Phil managed to calm Ranboo down. His voice was steady, calm, promising Ranboo that he wasn't mad, he swore, just breathe.

Ranboo finally complied, sucking in oxygen, stuttering as he tried to copy Phil's exaggerated breathing. 

When he was finally calm enough to function, the silence was loud. 

Without a word, with shaking hands and trembling fingers, the four of them reset the dresser. 

“I’m sorry,” Ranboo told Tommy and Tubbo, still trembling slightly, the scars on his face flashing. 

Tommy just shook his head, his wings twitching behind him as he regarded Ranboo with wide eyes. Tubbo managed to say, “It’s okay.” 

That had been about a week ago, and still, the memory was enough to keep Tubbo up at night. 

He tried not to imagine what Ranboo might have gone through to hurt him that badly. 

He didn’t like the implications. 

Either way, Tubbo wanted to help the enderman hybrid deal with whatever was plaguing him. And that panic attack, watching from the outside, had only hardened his resolve.

He would help. He would . 

And he’d do it by being friends with the boy, by being something steady he could turn to when Ranboo needed it. 

So, a little over a month into Ranboo’s time there, when Phil had to go out and Tommy was over at Techno’s, Tubbo volunteered to stay home with Ranboo. 

Keep him company. Bond, a bit. 

He just hadn't anticipated it being so awkward .

The two of them were sitting at the table, silently eating lunch. Tubbo was across from Ranboo, and it had been at least ten minutes since either of them had spoken. Their respective meals sat in front of them, Ranboo's considerably smaller than Tubbo's. The only sound was the noises their silverware made when it scratched against the plates. 

Nice. 

Finally, Tubbo had had enough of the silence and timid, shy glances from the other boy. He said, “So, how are you liking it here so far?”

Ranboo didn’t seem startled by the sudden conversation, the way he might’ve been when he first came here, so Tubbo counted that as a win. “It’s, uh, really nice. Phil is…he’s so kind .”

Tubbo nodded. “Yeah, I remember thinking that, too.” 

The enderman hybrid cocked his head. He seemed to hesitate a moment before venturing, “You and Tommy were foster kids, too?”

Tubbo nodded. “And Techno.” 

Ranboo mulled this over, looking down at his plate. “How long were–I mean, how many homes–”

Tubbo swallowed, glancing away for a moment. “I’ve been through a few.”

He didn’t elaborate. From the look on Ranboo’s face, he didn’t need to. 

“I’m sorry,” the enderman murmured after a moment. 

Tubbo nodded. “It’s fine. It’s over, now.” He paused. “Just like it’s over for you.” 

Ranboo stilled at the words. “I–know,” he finally whispered. 

“Phil isn’t going to hurt you like those other homes have,” Tubbo said, slowly, navigating territory he wasn’t quite sure he should be in. 

Ranboo flushed, shoulders hunching. “I know.” 

“He loves you.”

“I kn– what ?”

Tubbo nodded, staring right into Ranboo’s eyes so he knew he meant it. Ranboo hadn’t been around that long, yet, but he could see it in Phil’s eyes when he looked at the boy, and the way he had handled last week's panic, it was evident. “He loves you.”

Ranboo looked away, swallowing. When he spoke again, it was to change the subject. “We should tidy up.” 

Tubbo fought down a sigh, standing up in time with Ranboo. Often, Ranboo suggested cleaning up as a way to pass the time. Tubbo knew that had to stem from something, somewhere, but sometimes he wished Ranboo knew how to chill out. 

But Tubbo didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed his plate, and Ranboo grabbed his, and they headed towards the kitchen. 

Tubbo tossed his plate into the sink, turning around to grab Ranboo’s. But the enderman let go too quickly, and suddenly the dish fell, shattering loudly at their feet. 

They both jumped backwards, staring at the mess with wide eyes. 

The silence was deafening. 

“Well,” Tubbo said after a moment, still looking at the shards, heart pounding, “I guess we–”

“I’m so sorry,” Ranboo interrupted, and before Tubbo could stop him, the enderman was already on the ground. He was shaking, hands trembling as he closed fingers around sharp glass, picking the pieces up. Cleaning. “I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry . I’m–”

“Ranboo,” Tubbo said, taking a step forward, trying not to walk on the glass. His eyes were wide. “You–you gotta stop that, you’re going to cut yourself.”

But Tubbo was too late. He watched as Ranboo’s hand closed on a large piece of glass, the piece digging into his palm. The hybrid cried out, dropping all the pieces he’d gathered so far, bringing his bleeding hand to his chest. He was shaking. 

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, before Tubbo could do anything. He forced his hand to go away from his body, reaching with bloody fingers towards the pile of glass.

“Ranboo, stop ,” Tubbo snapped, concern a living thing inside of him. 

Ranboo froze, body going unnaturally still. He opened his mouth. 

Tubbo shook his head. “Don’t apologise. Back away from the glass.” He passed, his throat tight, his own fingers starting to tremble a little bit. “ Please .”

Ranboo shivered but did as he was told, scrambling backwards on the floor. His hand left a bloody handprint. 

Tubbo felt like he couldn’t breathe. He forced himself to suck in air,  sidestepping the mess on the ground. He gestured for Ranboo to stand. The enderman did, feet unsteady beneath him, holding his hand close to his chest.

“We need to clean out that cut,” Tubbo said, trying to think logically, to shove away the panic and fear and helplessness building up inside of him. 

“O-okay,” Ranboo stammered, already turning to go to the bathroom. Tubbo followed behind, mind reeling. 

“Phil keeps bandages under the sink,” he said aloud as he crouched down, rifling through the cabinets. Talking always calmed him down a little bit. “Also cleaner and potions,” he added. 

Ranboo sat on the lid of the toilet. He was a lot taller than Tubbo was, but in that moment, he looked so small. “I’m sorry,” he said again. 

“Don’t apologise,” Tubbo told him. He reached for Ranboo’s hand. 

The enderman flinched. 

Tubbos swallowed. A mess of emotions rose in his throat and he did his best to keep them at bay. “Ranboo, can I see your hand, please?” 

“Sorr–yes,” Ranboo whispered, holding his bloody hand out. 

Tubbo examined the cut to save him from having to form a reply. It wasn’t too deep, but it was bleeding a lot. He snatched some tissues and pressed it to Ranboo’s palm.

Ranboo stayed silent as Tubbo worked. He had to have been in pain, but he didn’t cry out or anything like that. He just sat there, drumming his fingers, anxiety making his tail swish around. 

Meanwhile, Tubbo used the healing potion to clean out the cut. He wasn’t very good with measuring dosages, and he knew that too much healing potion could be bad, so he kept it to the bare minimum. 

When he was done with that, there was just a thin scratch left. He bandaged it. “All done,” he said, making sure his voice didn’t shake. 

Ranboo examined his hand. “Thank you,” he whispered, and unlike Tubbo, he didn’t mask the fear and panic in his tone.

Tubbo nodded, wiping his hands on his trousers, standing. “Now, come on. We can clean the glass up now. Using a broom .”

He emphasised the last word, eyeing the enderman, who shifted away slightly. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

All at once, the fight faded out of Tubbo. He wasn't trying to get the hybrid to apologise, he was trying to get him to realise that what he’d done was absurd.

Why was this so hard ? “Come on,” he murmured. 

The two of them headed back to the kitchen. Tubbo grabbed the broom, and Ranboo hovered awkwardly while Tubbo swept the broken plate up. He used a wet paper towel to mop up any of the blood, throwing them into the bin. 

“Is Phil going to be mad when he finds out?” the enderman asked, not quite meeting Tubbo’s tired eyes. 

The goat hybrid cast a glance at Ranboo, taking note of the nervousness and anxiety making itself known on his face, clear as day. 

“No,” he answered honestly, carefully. 

He watched the relief practically melt Ranboo. Something in him softened. 

“Phil doesn’t get mad easily,” he said, slowly, putting the broom back in place. 

Ranboo shifted a little. “R-right.” 

“I mean, you’ve seen how patient he is with Tommy.” 

Ranboo hesitated, looking over his shoulder as if someone might appear out of the walls. His paranoia was contagious, and Tubbo did the same thing. “I have wondered about that,” he admitted, after a moment. 

Tubbo felt triumph light his heart, the slightest bit. Finally , he was getting somewhere. “Yeah, Tommy can be kind of a lot. But Phil has learned to manage.” 

Ranboo faltered for a moment. “Um–so, Phil doesn’t–”

He trailed off. 

Tubbo felt something like a sinking feeling fill his gut. He looked into Ranbo’s eyes. “Phil doesn’t what ?” he asked, afraid he knew where the question was going. 

“W-well,” Ranboo stuttered, looking away. Tubbo noticed that his hands were shaking. “I’ve been in homes before–like, places were sometimes…”

“Sometimes, what?” Tubbo prompted when Ranboo didn’t continue. 

“...like– they would, um. Punish us? Does Phil ever…” 

The last words were a whisper. 

Tubbo swallowed, surprise and shock and horror weaving their way through his system. Ranboo thought– stars, he thought that Phil–?

“No,” he gasped out, shaking his head as hard as possible. “No, Phil has never hurt me. Or Tommy. Or Techno.” 

Ranboo’s face had grown red. “Oh.”

Tubbo took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, fighting to understand . 

For a moment, he wasn’t there. He was back to being the new boy, back to being shocked by Phil’s gentle and calm demeanor. 

He’d forgotten what that was like. 

Carefully, Tubbo cast a glance at Ranboo, debating his next question. He shoved in a deep breath before he decided to plow ahead. “Do you have any experience with that?” 

Ranboo cocked his head, genuinely confused. “With what?”

Tubbo swallowed. Part of him wanted to abandon ship, to stop , but he forced himself to continue. “With punishments .”

Ranboo sucked in a breath, finching. 

Everything went quiet. Ranboo shifted, turning away, his tail spasmodically moving behind him. “No,” he finally whispered out, the word sounding choked, and Tubbo’s heart fell at the obvious lie. 

“Oh, Ranboo,” he murmured, softly, softer than he knew he could speak. “I’m so sorry, dude.”

The enderman hybrid tensed. “Nothing–no one’s ever–”

“It’s okay, man,” Tubbo interrupted, shaking his head. He let the silence linger for a minute, making his next words quiet. “It’s okay.” 

Ranboo looked at him for a second, before shooting his gaze somewhere else. The lingering silence was awkward, charged with words that neither of them knew how to say. 

“Let’s play Mario Cart,” Ranboo suggested after a moment. 

Tubbo hesitated, nodded after a moment. 

Fine, then. He would let this slide. 

For now. 

The two of them headed to the living room and settled into the familiar game. To be kind of honest with himself, Tubbo was getting a little sick of how often they played. But Ranboo was finally learning to relax into the couch, and if the game brought the enderman a small amount of comfort?

Well, then, Tubbo could suck it up. 

They played for a long time, not really talking. Eventually Phil arrived home, Techno and Tommy in tow. They ate dinner together, and for a while, Tubbu could almost pretend that everything was normal. 

But when everyone dispersed for bed, he found himself outside Phil’s door, gently knocking. 

The avian opened it almost immediately, his eyes slightly worried. “Tubbo?”

“Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Phil moved out of the way, holding the door, and Tubbo scrambled inside. “Is everything okay?”

Tubbo waited for the door to close before he admitted, “I’m worried about Ranboo.” 

Phil blinked at the admission. Tubbo expected the avian to tell him not to be concerned, to not worry about it, but after a moment Phil admitted, “I am, too.” 

Tubbo felt the relief fill his chest. He wasn’t alone in this, then. “He asked me today if you…” he trailed off.

“If I what?” Phil asked, his voice laced with worry. He leaned closer. “What, Tubbo?”

Tubbo looked away. “If you punished us.”

Behind Phil, his wings ruffled in alarm, the concern a present thing in the room. Other than that, he was perfectly still. “Punish? Like–?”

“Like, bad,” Tubbo interrupted, the fear pouring into his words unchecked. “He basically told me that that had happened at other homes.” 

Phil sighed, deflating on his bed like he was too weary to stand. “I’d assumed so,” he told Tubbo.

It went quiet. Tubbo shoved the memories away. 

“So what do we do about it?” Tubbo asked after a moment, his voice kind of desperate without his permission. He wanted the problem fixed . 

He wanted Ranboo to be happy. 

“Well, it’s only been about a month,” Phil said quietly, after a long second. “We can’t expect him to heal so quickly.” 

Tubbo kicked his leg in front of him, hard. Suddenly he felt angry. “How long is that going to take ?”

“I’m not sure.” Phil wrapped an arm around Tubbo, pulling the goat hybrid close. “It’s different for everyone.” 

Tubbo stilled, considering that. He thought about how long it had taken him to trust Phil and Tommy and Techno. 

He was pretty sure it had been a lot longer than a month. 

“I wish it would go faster,” he admitted to Phil, leaning slightly into the hug, allowing himself to be cared for for just a minute. 

Phil squeezed him. “I know.” A pause. “You’re really starting to care about him, huh?” 

“I guess so,” Tubbo said, the realisation hitting him. He'd just promised Ranboo earlier that Phil loved him, not even considering himself. 

He was surprised to find that the same was true. He did care about Ranboo. 

And it had only taken a month. 

“We’re going to help him, right?’” he asked Phil, pulling away for a minute so he could look the avian in the eyes. He plowed on with another question before he could stop himself. “Are you going to adopt him?” 

Phil blinked, freeing slightly. He hesitated and looked away, eyes torn. “That’s…a big question, Tubbo. We don’t even know if Ranboo wants to stay here yet. I think that’s something we’ll have to decide later.”

Right. 

Only a month. 

Tubbo nodded, pulling away completely, now. He felt slightly renewed, like he might be able to take on the world so long as he had his family by his side. The resolve sat heavy in his stomach. “Well, I’m going to make sure Ranboo wants to stay,” he decided. 

Phil smiled softly. “I am, too.”

And as Tubbo climbed into bed that night, he thought the words again, just to cement them into his mind. 

He cared about Ranboo. 

And he was going to make sure he wanted to stay. 

That was a promise. 

Chapter Text

Tommy knew he was hard to understand. 

Part of it came with being a foster kid. There were always layers to those types of people; things to peel back and observe and try to learn about. Foster children always guarded themselves, always took a step back. 

They didn’t want to form connections, because if you did that, you could get hurt. 

That had been one of Tommy’s main problems with getting to know Phil and Techno. He didn’t want to get attached, only for something to happen and him be kicked out, headed towards the next house. 

If he didn’t care about anyone, it didn’t matter when they didn’t care about him, either. 

It was a defense mechanism. Hide in plain sight. Make yourself unlikable , hatable . Make it easy for them to get rid of you. 

Make it easy for yourself to forget. 

When Tommy came to Phil, he’d expected to be gone within a month. 

But…that didn’t happen. 

And slowly, slowly , Tommy learned to trust, the slightest bit. To give people the benefit of the doubt. To lean on them when he got too tired to stand. 

It took a while for him to get to that point. A lot of help came from Phil and Techno, who were encouraging, who let him rant when he needed it and even cry when everything got to be too heavy. 

They were steady, kind. And suddenly Tommy found himself wanting to be like them, wanting to open up more. 

And so he did. Of course, it took him a long time, and with new people, he was definitely still hesitant. 

But he was getting better. 

That being said, it was still difficult for him to express things. To talk with people and appear soft, gentle. 

So it honestly wasn’t a huge surprise when he found communicating with Ranboo hard. 

The two of them were just so… different . Tommy felt everything times 100, and he made sure everyone knew it. He was loud, and he acted out and he yelled and fought and meanwhile, Ranboo–

–Ranboo didn’t do those things. 

No, instead, he just sat there, quietly, not really speaking. Not really doing much of anything except watching. Red and green eyes sweeping across the room, mismatched skin giving him an unworldly look. 

It was, honestly, a little unnerving. 

Tommy tried to see things from Ranboo’s perspective. The boy was new; he didn’t know people very well. Obviously he would be quieter than them. 

But–augh, why did it have to be so hard ? If Ranboo were just a little bit more energetic, a little bit easier to understand, then Tommy could make more of an effort. He needed an inch in order to go a mile. 

He didn’t know how to force that out of the boy, though. He wasn’t an idiot; he knew about the foster system. He knew about the dickwad ‘parents’ and the fake friends. 

He knew it all. So he also knew, at least to a small amount, why Ranboo acted the way he did. 

It was just so frustrating. 

(Tommy found himself wanting Ranboo to heal just as badly as the enderman did.) 

And so, between all of that, those layers and disconnections and shared trauma, it didn’t shock anyone that Tommy and Ranboo didn’t interact that much. They talked, sure, but most of the time they just sat silently. 

They weren’t hostile to each other, the way Tommy had kind of been with Techno. No, they were just…awkward. Not quite knowing what to say, how to act. 

But that changed about a month and a half into the enderman’s stay there. 

And it happened purely by accident. 

Looking back, Tommy would redo it in a heartbeat. But in the moment, the mistake had been glaring, burning into him. 

Tommy, he…he hadn’t meant to do it. 

It was late at night, probably around midnight. Him, Techno, Tubbo, and Ranboo were seated in the dining room. They had been playing a board game for the better part of the evening while Phil got some work done on his computer upstairs. 

Surprisingly…it had been pretty fun. Ranboo was pretty easy to beat at Monopoly. He didn’t seem to quite understand the game, watching with nervous eyes as the other three argued and yelled and screamed. But at least he seemed to enjoy. A little bit.

Tommy hoped so. 

But that didn’t change the fact that the enderman hybrid was bad at it. A lot of that was due to inexperience, but even Tubbo managed to beat him, and Tubbo always lost. 

Ranboo didn’t seem upset. In fact, he’d nodded at Tubbo, and his, “Good job,” sounded so genuine that Tommy blinked. 

Tommy didn’t have the same grace. He came in second place, Techno ahead. 

“Put a cork in it,” Tommy muttered when Techno started gloating. He swore, no matter how hard he tried, Techno always managed to beat him. 

It was the younger brother curse, he was sure of it. 

When they all finally wrapped it up, the four of them had headed off to their separate places. Techno was planning to spend the night, so he went to the couch, calling a quick goodnight. Ranboo and Tubbo scurried upstairs. 

Tommy was going to follow them, but he paused, taking a moment to throw the snacks they’d been eating into the kitchen first. 

When he walked by the dining table on the way to the stairs, he’d almost missed it: a black zip-up sweatshirt, hanging off one of the seats. 

He recongised it immediately as Ranboo’s. It was one of the clothes Phil had bought for the enderman a while prior, the ones Ranboo was still nervous to wear out. 

“Idiot left his hoodie,” Tommy muttered, snatching it from the chair. The fabric was soft in his hand. 

For a minute, Tommy tried to decide what to do. He knew he wasn't the closest to Ranboo, and that returning the clothing would definitely be awkward. 

He hated awkwardness. 

But sometimes…well, sometimes it seemed a little bit like Ranboo avoided him. 

He knew that probably wasn’t right, and Tommy shook those feelings away whenever they had shown up over the past month and a half.

He knew first-hand how hard it could be to get used to a new environment. Ranboo just needed…time, was all. 

And…wel,l Tommy wasn't an idiot. He knew he wasn’t always the most approachable person ever. 

But he still cared. And even if he didn’t want to admit it…

…he still wanted to get to know Ranboo. 

So, steeling himself, he’d launched up the stairs, intent on returning the clothing. Even if it was going to be awkward, he knew they had to start somewhere. 

A step towards friendship, trust, or something like that.

But that’s when he’d made his mistake. 

See, Tommy wasn’t really one for privacy. He liked his own, of course, but when it came to other peoples’...

Well, he didn’t knock a lot, to put it in simple terms. It was more habit than anything; it wasn’t really something he needed to worry about that often. 

And so, because of this, he hadn’t been thinking when he’d barged into Ranboo’s room, calling, “Hey, dipstick, I have your–”

And then his voice died in his throat. 

Because there was Ranboo, standing there, his exposed back turned towards Tommy.

And his skin was peppered in scars. 

Ranboo flinched when he heard the door open, whipping around. His eyes were wide and filled with something akin to panic as he stood there, staring, finally gasping out a strangled, “Don’t come in!”

But he was too late. 

Tommy had already seen. 

“W-what–?” Ranboo tried again, his face flushing red, as he looked at Tommy and Tommy looked at him. He tried to cover his body, but he wasn’t holding anything, and it only served to make it look like he was giving himself a hug. 

“I, uh,” Tommy stuttered, stupidly. He could feel his own face heating up, the urge to stare forcing his eyes. Normally he wasn’t this awkward. “You left your sweatshirt downstairs,” he finished lamely, holding the limp fabric out. 

Stars, what was he doing?

Ranboo swallowed, looking down at the black cloth in Tommy’s hand. The enderman was shaking slightly. “Oh.” 

The word was barely a breath. 

Tommy shifted his weight. He realised he was still holding onto the doorknob, and he squeezed the cool metal in a pitiful effort to ground himself. He tossed the sweater onto the bed, face burning the longer he stood there. “Sorry, I’ll–”

“Wait,” Ranboo interrupted, looking away for a minute. He seemed to be debating with himself, lips forming several words before he finally mumbled, “You…you can come in.” 

Tommy blinked, freezing. His eyes trailed to Ranboo’s bare chest. “Uh, listen, Ranboo, as nice as that sounds, I’m not really interested in–”

“No,” Ranboo snapped, his face somehow flushing more red. He took a deep breath, calming himself. “Not that . It’s just…well, you saw them, right?”

‘Them’ could only mean one thing. 

The scars. 

Tommy tried not to picture them, tried to tell his eyes not to wander to the boy's body, but he couldn't stop them. He stared at the puckered circles that had to be from cigars, the stripped lines, the disfigured, patchy skin.

“Yeah. I saw them.” 

Ranboo shifted uneasily. “You–you have questions.”

It was a statement, and Tommy was kind of surprised to find it was a factual one. 

He eyed the enderman for a moment, assessing the proper move. He wondered what Phil would have done. 

Ranboo seemed less panicked than a few moments ago, which Tommy considered was good. At least, he had stopped shaking. 

He didn’t look as fragile. 

But despite that, his eyes were still on the open door behind Tommy, staring into the hall. Tommy hesitated for only a moment, shoving in a deep breath, wishing for courage. 

Then he crossed the threshold into the room, shutting and locking the door behind him. 

Ranboo relaxed a noticeable amount the moment they were alone. That was something Tommy had kind of expected, a thing he had noticed since the other boy had come to live with them: Ranboo didn’t like being around a lot of people. It made him feel exposed. 

He seemed to have made a small exception for the people in the house, but the standard still stood for the most part. 

He liked to be alone. 

Tommy thought maybe he understood that.

Slowly, Ranboo crossed over to his dresser, pulling Tommy from his thoughts. For a long moment, it was all the avian could do not to stare at the raised welts, the horrible scars. 

He forced his gaze away, face burning. He turned and pretended to observe the room, feathers ruffling slightly. 

The space was actually… smaller than he remembered. Even with sharing with Tubbo, Tommy had plenty of space for his things. And though he'd complained a lot about having to move, he didn't actually mind all that much. 

Being back in his own space was weird, though. He pictured where he had had all his own things set up, the spaces he put them. It had been pretty cluttered, now that he thought about it. 

He guessed it helped that Ranboo really didn’t have a lot of stuff to begin with, so it wasn’t as crowded as before. Tommy noticed the bee stuffie that Tubbo had given him sitting on the made bed, and he saw the backpack that Ranboo had arrived with, but other than that…

Nothing.

It kind of made him sad. 

He knew Phil would buy Ranboo anything the enderman hybrid wanted in the drop of a hat. The problem was, Ranboo never asked for anything. He took what he was given and nothing more, never complaining, never wanting. 

He shoved his needs away, learned to live without things. It was a trait a lot of foster kids carried. 

Tommy knew from Phil that that wasn't particularly healthy. It was probably killing the older avian not to drag Ranboo to the store every chance he got.  

But…Tommy also knew Phil was giving Ranboo the gift of time . Not pushing the boy, not rushing him. 

He was just there, gently showing Ranboo that he cared. That when Ranboo was ready, they would go out again. They would grow together. 

It was a similar strategy that Phil had used with him. He had known that forcing Tommy would never work. Tommy had had to feel like it was his decision, like he was in control, even if he definitely wasn’t. 

Phil loved them enough to figure out what worked best with each of them. 

And, yes, it was love. Tommy could see it in the other avian’s eyes; Ranboo was 100% a part of their little mix-and-matched family. 

Honestly, Tommy could see it in everyone’s eyes. 

They had all welcomed the taller boy. 

But it didn’t seem like Ranboo felt exactly the same. 

Tommy tried not to be frustrated. He knew these things took time. 

It was just–he wished time would hurry up . He was sick of waiting. 

Which was a bit hypocritical, he knew, especially considering his own first few months there. He’d spent a lot of time trying to get kicked out. 

They can’t leave you if you leave first. 

But Phil…he never lost his patience with him. He gave Tommy chance after chance after chance , until suddenly there wasn’t a next time. 

Suddenly Tommy was adopted. 

And then, when Tubbo came along, Phil treated the goat hybrid the same. 

Tommy knew it was going to be the same story with Ranboo. 

They just…had to wait. 

(Tommy hated waiting.)

He shoved his impatience aside and swiveled around the room, continuing his observations. When he’d finally made a full rotation, he saw Ranboo, completely dressed, standing there awkwardly. 

Silence settled over the room. Tommy didn’t know what to say. 

“Why didn’t you lock your door?” he blurted, finally, when he couldn’t take it anymore. It was the first question that came to his mind.

Ranboo shrank back the smallest bit, the way he always seemed to when someone spoke to him directly. “I–well…I wasn’t sure if I was a-allowed to.” 

Tommy let the words wash over him, the honest truth surprising. He blinked. “You weren’t sure if you were allowed to?”

Ranboo nodded jerkily. 

Wow . 

Surely Tommy hadn’t been this bad.

“You’re allowed to lock your door,” he said matter-of-factly, crossing his arms. “Especially when you’re changing. Have you seriously been leaving it unlocked this whole time?”

Tommy's tone was more aggressive than he meant it to be, but seriously–it'd been well over a month! That was–he didn’t–

“I–I don’t know, at other places they–didn’t like it when I locked it.”

Tommy stilled, thinking about the words, digging around for their hidden meaning. The fight drained out of him in waves. “Did these other places…ever lock you in?” 

Ranboo looked away. 

It was confirmation enough. 

Tommy tried to grapple with that. He had his own experiences, his own horrors he had to live through, and by the sound of it, some of their memories might be similar. 

Shared trauma, or something. 

“What about the scars?” Tommy asked, lowering his voice. He pictured Ranboo’s back: puckered and raised with what looked like burns in the shape of whip marks. 

He suppressed a shiver, fighting to keep the flashbacks at bay. 

Ranboo trembled at the question. For a while, he didn’t answer, and Tommy honestly didn’t blame him. He wouldn't have been surprised if Ranboo asked him to leave, to never talk to him again, to just go.

But then the enderman muttered, “You know how I’m allergic to, to water?”

Tommy nodded slowly. He’d been told at least a dozen times by Phil and Techno both, making sure he knew not to start any impromptu water fights. 

He’d somehow managed to suppress the urge. 

“Well, I also, um, have a pretty bad memory. That one's just, like, a me thing, though. Nothing to do with being an enderman.” Ranboo cleared his throat, looking away, eyes trailing the blanket on his bed. “One of the houses I was at–they, uh, they didn’t want us to get food without asking first.”

Tommy swallowed. He felt kind of cold. “Let me guess: you forgot about that rule?”

Ranboo nodded slowly, hands shaking slightly at his sides. “Y-yeah. I was new there. It was, was my first day.” 

A hundred different feelings were welling up in Tommy. Part of him wanted to beg Ranboo to stop talking. The other part was curious to a fault. “You took food,” he prompted. 

“Yes,” Ranboo agreed. “And, and they caught me.” His voice was starting to break up. “They knew about enderman and water. How it hurts. And–and he soaked this rag. And then-”

“Stop,” Tommy cut him off, the other side of him winning, the side that had started to shake. He could hear blood rushing in his ears. 

He knew the rest of the story. 

He knew that the man had whipped Ranboo with a rough, wet wash rag. 

He knew that it had hurt twice as bad, burning and cutting. 

He knew he couldn’t hear Ranboo say that out loud. 

Ranboo looked away, his features twisted in something that looked like shame. 

Tommy wanted to snap at the boy. “No,” he said aloud. 

Ranboo jumped. “What?”

“I said, no .” Tommy stalked closer, leaning into Ranboo’s space. “That man is a no good dick who needs to piss off.” 

Ranboo blinked, swallowing slightly. He looked alarmed, the confusion swimming in his eyes. “I–sorry?” 

“No,” Tommy growled again, leaning away, raking a hand through his hair. Behind him, he could feel his wings starting to twitch, the way they always did when he got worked up. “I’m just saying, like–you don’t need to be embarrassed or ashamed or whatever of what happened to you. Like, bro, that’s just–that’s so messed up.” 

Ranboo blinked, regarding Tommy, eyes somewhat fearful but not like before. “It was a long time ago.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Tommy shot back. “But time doesn't mean a thing to scars. I would know.” 

He froze the moment the words left his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t meant to say that. 

The words hung there in the air, waiting for someone to reach out and grab them. 

Ranboo looked stricken, finally grappling. “You too?”

Tommy looked away, face burning. He hated this feeling, this moment in time where all his armor had been ripped away. 

Still, he gritted his teeth. Forced out, “Yes.”

The enderman hybrid was quiet for a minute, mulling this over. Distantly, Tommy wondered what time it was outside. It felt late. He was tired. 

“Does…does it get easier?” Ranboo finally whispered, hands clenched at his sides. “Phil and Tubbo and Techno keep saying it gets easier. But…”

“But it doesn’t feel like it?” Tommy guessed, sighing. Stars, him and this kid were more alike than he’d thought. “It feels like you’re stuck, right?” 

Ranboo nodded uncertainly. He hesitated, then muttered, “Tubbo told me Phil doesn’t…doesn’t do things like that here.”

Tommy shook his head. He felt like his stomach was rolling onto the floor. “No. No, no, Phil doesn't." 

“But, but what if I make him really mad?” 

“You won’t,” Tommy said, before Ranboo could continue. He waited until the enderman met his eyes. “Trust me.” 

Everything dipped into silence. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ranboo nodded. “O-okay.” 

Tommy sighed at the admission. He balled his hand into a fist and then relaxed it again. “Not to mention, it’s only been, like, a month and a half. Healing takes a lot of time.” 

Ranboo looked away. “I wish it would hurry up.”

Tommy felt something sympathetic roll through him. “I know.” He paused. “But, hey, you’ve made some progress.”

“Like what?” 

Tommy thought for a moment. “Well, for starters, you don’t ask every time you eat. And you haven’t called Phil ‘sir’ in, like, at least a week.”

Ranboo blinked, the surprise lighting his eyes. “You’re…right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Tommy shot back, feeling his confidence spike again, his armor coming back on. “I’m always right.”

“I hadn’t even noticed those things,” Ranboo admitted, softly. 

Tommy swallowed. He hadn’t realised how much he’d noticed, either. 

He’d been watching closer than he’d thought. 

Tommy realised, with a start, that even in this conversation there was a lot of improvement on Ranboo’s part. He wasn’t shying away all the time. He was actually responding, for the most part. And asking questions. 

He…really had come a long way, even if he didn’t realise it. 

“It does take time,” Tommy said, slowly, “but every single day helps. And…we’re all here for you.”

Even me, he added silently. 

He knew he hadn’t been showing that to Ranboo very well. But…hopefully, after tonight…

“Thank you,” Ranboo murmured. 

Tommy nodded. “Yeah. No problem.” He turned towards the door but paused with his hand on the handle. “Oh, and sorry for barging in.”

Ranboo let out a small, light laugh. Tommy stilled at the rare sound, taking it in, pleased that he had caused that. “It’s okay.”

And actually, despite everything that had happened, Tommy felt like it was.

Chapter Text

Phil was starting to understand Ranboo a bit easier. 

Finally, after two months of the enderman hybrid living there, he was getting the hang of navigating the young boy. He was getting better at predicating his reaction to things, and what might or might not be a trigger.

Like shoes, for example. That was something Phil would never have guessed.

But it was on a random day that they went for a small walk around the block, and Phil took note of the way Ranboo's shoes were practically falling from his feet. Holes had appeared in the front, and the rubber sole was hanging on by a thread. He’d said something, off handedly, about how he’d have to get the enderman some new ones. 

Apparently the wrong thing to say. The boy had started freaking out, claiming something about “not wanting to be a burden” or “force Phil to spend his money”.

It was…honestly, scary. Phil managed to calm the boy, but even still, he made a mental note to handle gifts and buying things very carefully.

At least he knew that now . 

The point was, he’d learned a lot from his experiences with Ranboo. Things the enderman did or didn’t like, made up rules he thought he had to follow. 

Not to mention what he’d learned from Techno, Tubbo, and Tommy. 

Techno had told him the enderman didn’t like storms. He hadn’t elaborated much farther than that, saying he was sworn to privacy, but Phil had tried to to connect the dots himself. 

Enderman. Rain. 

It wasn't that hard of a course to go down. 

Tubbo had, of course, gone to Phil that one night and explained some of his troubles and concerns. He also told the avian about the broken glass and Ranboo’s constant fear of making him mad. 

And then there was Tommy. Honestly, he had taken a while to tell Phil of anything he’d learned from Ranboo. Part of that, Phil suspected, was that Tommy and Ranboo had had a slow start to their relationship.

But, eventually, Tommy approached Phil and told him some things. 

Things that Phil tried very hard not to think about. If he did, his vision started to turn red, anger twisting his veins. 

But shoved all that away. His main focus had to be on Ranboo, on helping the boy. 

And all in all, the four of them were learning to do that. 

Ranboo was learning, too, even if his progress felt slow. He had stopped trying to force himself on chores and instead helped out when he was able. He’d gotten comfortable enough with Tommy and Tubbo that he regularly striked conversations with them. 

With Techno, it was a little harder, because he didn’t live with them. But Phil noticed there was a certain tenderness between the two, as if something had happened that Phil didn’t quite know about. 

Whatever it was, Ranboo relaxed the slightest bit when Techno came into the room. 

And Phil was grateful for that. He liked to think he maybe had a calming presence on the enderman hybrid, but sometimes…he wasn’t so sure. It was nice to see that Ranboo felt safe with at least one of them. 

He just…kind of wished it was him. 

He attributed all that to what Tubbo and Tommy had told him: that Ranboo was afraid of making him mad. He knew that they had assured Ranboo that Phil didn’t…didn’t punish them the way other homes had, but he supposed—

–something like that was hard to get rid of. 

Still, he wanted Ranboo to feel safe around him. Late at night, staring at his ceiling, he thought about the question Tubbo had asked him. 

Do you plan on adopting Ranboo?

It was definitely something he had to consider. Honestly, Phil already felt a sort of protectiveness about the enderman. He wanted Ranboo to break out of his shell, learn to be a normal teenager, learn to be loved . 

He knew that would never happen, though, if he didn’t spend any time Ranboo. 

Which was why, two months into the boy’s stay, Phil sent Tubbo and Tommy to stay at Techno’s house. They would spend the night there, leaving Phil and Ranboo with the house to themselves. 

Ranboo watched them pull out of the driveway through the window. His tail was swishing behind him, the scars on his face shining in the sun that spilled into the house. 

“Do…they stay with Techno a lot?” he asked Phil, who was hovering behind him. His tone was nervous, slightly anxious. 

But at least he hadn’t denied himself the right to ask a question. 

“Every once in a while,” Phil responded, easily. It was just after dinnertime, and he was rinsing a plate in the sink. He hesitated a moment before adding, “Maybe Techno can take you, too, next time.” 

Ranboo tensed a little, turning to look at Phil. “Do you think he would do that?” 

Phil nodded. “Sure, if you ask.” 

Ranboo looked away. He didn’t speak for a moment. “I don’t want to invite myself over,” he murmured. 

Something in Phil shattered at the way Ranboo’s voice sounded: timid, shy, scared. 

He wanted to hug those worries away. 

But he restrained himself. Ranboo, for all the growth he had done in the past while, hardly ever let anyone touch him. 

And he never touched anyone, either. 

Phil knew that the reason behind that couldn’t be good. He hated to even think about it. When he did, a spark of anger lit in his heart, growing steadily into a flame until he wanted to track down anyone who had ever hurt the boy and make them pay. 

It was the same fire that appeared in him when he first met Techno, and then Tommy and Tubbo. 

He wondered if that fire had ever actually disappeared. 

“It’s not inviting yourself over,” he finally told Ranboo in response, even though it kind of was. “Techno would be glad you asked.” 

The last part was true. Actually, Phil suspected that Techno would have asked Ranboo to come if Phil hadn’t been trying to get some bonding time with him. 

“...you’re sure?” Ranboo asked, tilting his head away, face tinting red. “I…don’t want to be a, a burden.” 

Phil swallowed, concern and sympathy and sadness washing over him. That word again . “Ranboo, you are not a burden. And you won’t be one. Ever.”

“Right,” Ranboo was quick to agree, though his eyes were still unsure. 

Phil vowed that he would make Ranboo believe that. 

He finished cleaning up his dish, shutting off the water and drying his hands with a dish towel. “What do you want to do?” he asked Ranboo, after a beat had passed, in which neither of them said anything. 

Ranboo hesitated. He opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head. 

“What?” Phil prompted, sighing when Ranboo looked away. “No, don’t shake your head; I want to know what you were going to say.” 

The enderman shrunk in on himself, the smallest bit. “Well…I mean, a little bit ago–Tommy, Tubbo, Techno and I–we, we played this board game…”

He trailed off, every word seemingly making him more and more embarrassed. But Phil could guess where he was going. 

“You want to play Monopoly?” 

Ranboo looked relieved that Phil had been able to detect that. “Yes, please.” 

“Of course we can do that,” Phil said, a little bit surprised that Ranboo had chosen that activity. From what he’d heard, Ranboo had been beaten pretty easily. 

The two of them headed towards the dining room, where Phil kept the games in a little cabinet in the corner. He grabbed Monopoly, and without a word, Ranboo helped him set it up. 

“Which piece do you want to be?” he asked, looking at the small pieces of metal. 

Ranboo considered them. He thought for a moment, looking, before he murmured, “Uh, the ship?”

“Good choice, mate,” Phil said. He selected the hat and placed the pieces on the ‘GO’ square. 

Ranboo sat across from him, straightening his stacks of money on the table. 

“You liked this game?” Phil asked, grabbing the die to begin playing. He didn’t make eye contact with Ranboo; he found that the enderman talked best when he wasn’t being looked at. 

“Yeah,” Ranboo admitted, watching Phil take his turn. “I like—um, I think it’s cool.”

Phil frowned gently. “You haven’t played it since that night,” he observed, passing the dice to Ranboo. 

He took them somewhat sheepishly, rolling before he answered, “I didn’t–well, I didn’t think the other boys really liked it all that much.”

Phil considered this. He figured it was probably true: the others would rather have been playing video games or something like that. But…“They’ll play with you, if you ask them. And before you say anything, asking them to spend time with you is not being a burden.”

Ranboo nodded, glancing away. “Uh, right.” 

Phil sighed. He took his turn. 

The game continued that way. Despite Ranboo’s former horrible loss, the enderman seemed to have a strategy this time. He bought specific properties and saved his money, managing to place houses on most of his squares and still have cash left over. Phil was good at the game, but when a while had passed, he realised he was on a steady track to lose. 

He was…a little bit impressed. 

“Good job,” he praised when his inevitable loss came. 

Ranboo perked slightly at the praise, a genuine smile lighting his features. It was a rare occurrence, and Phil basked in it. “Thank you.” 

“How did you do that?” he asked as he and Ranboo began cleaning up. It was later than he had thought; it was already dark out. 

Ranboo stacked his money neatly in front of him; he had a lot. “Well, since that night, I just, like, kept thinking about it. It seemed like there had to be a strategy.”

“Well, you definitely found it,” Phil commented, gesturing to his bankrupt side of the table. 

Ranboo ducked his head, but his face glowed from the praise. “Thanks.” 

Together, they finished cleaning up the game. When they were done, Phil suggested a movie, and Ranboo didn’t hesitate before nodding his head. “Okay.”

They settled into the living room, Phil popping in the film before sitting on the couch. Ranboo hovered a moment, glancing from the couch to the chair, before he slowly lowered himself next to Phil.  

He was tense for a moment, not easing into the cushions, but he seemed to realise and leaned back, sinking down slightly. 

Phil fought off an endearing smile that wanted to show and turned his attention to the movie. 

For a long time, they just sat there, watching. Phil had already seen this movie before, but he knew Ranboo was pretty new to electronics, and so he sat through it. 

But, about halfway through the film, Phil felt something smush into his side. 

He looked to see Ranboo, eyes closed and breathing deeply, fast asleep and leaning on Phil. 

His lips tugged into a smile that he couldn’t fight off. He held completely still, staring forward, trying not to interrupt the enderman’s sleep. 

Triumph filled him. He’d, he’d done it! Ranboo had felt comfortable enough with him that he’d fallen asleep on him! 

It was hard not to feel giddy. 

But Phil forced himself to relax, lest he wake Ranboo. He kept sneaking looks at the sleeping boy every now and then. His fluffed hair was hanging over his eyes, slightly, and his lips were parted. 

He looked so peaceful . It was a sharp contrast to his normal anxious self. 

Phil shifted slightly, heart thumping as he raised his arm and gently, carefully, wrapped it around the boy. 

Ranboo didn’t wake. He just snuggled closer, burying his face into Phil’s side. 

Phil smiled softly. In a different life, Ranboo would’ve been a hugger. 

He leaned back into the sofa, something like tiredness tugging at his edges, too. He realised it had been a long time since he’d slept well. 

And so, with Ranboo breathing softly next to him and the TV still droning on quietly, Phil tilted his head back and fell asleep.

*****

Phil woke up to screaming. 

He gasped, jerking forward, squinting in the dark as his heart hammered widely. The TV was on the nuance loading screen, bathing the room in a dim grey glow. 

For a moment, Phil couldn’t tell what was wrong. 

But then his tired eyes finally landed on Ranboo. 

Ranboo, who was clearly still asleep, thrashing and jerking and breathing heavily. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and distantly, Phil was amazed at how well they followed the already scarred lines, as if trained to do so. 

“Ranboo,” he gasped out, reaching for the boy, concern welling up. He couldn’t think straight, could hardly move. “Ranboo, wake up.” 

Ranboo didn’t wake up. 

Instead, he let out another scream, and Phil felt his world shatter at the fear, the primal terror cursing through it. 

“Ranboo!” he yelled, hating himself for raising his voice, but he needed the boy to wake up. “Ranboo, it’s okay, you're having a nightmare. Ranboo!”

And, still, the enderman hybrid only thrashed harder. 

Phil reached out without thinking, catching the boy’s hand, but when their skin touched, Ranboo freaked. 

“Please,” he gasped in his sleep, pulling away. “P-please, please, please, I’m sorry–I’m, I’m sorry, s-sir, please –”

Phil felt his heart break. “Ranboo, it’s me, it’s Phil. It’s okay. I’m not, not going to hurt you.” He swallowed, his eyes burning. “Please, Ranboo, wake up. Wake up .”

He gave the boy a shake, knowing he shouldn’t, knowing it was stupid, knowing it could make things worse. 

But then, suddenly, Ranboo’s eyes flew open. 

Phil sobbed in relief, retracting his hands as Ranboo scrambled back, eyes wide and unseeing, sprinting around the room. He was breathing quick and hard, shaking horribly, burning tears streaking down his face. 

“Ranboo,” Phil stuttered out, staring at the boy’s wild expression. “It’s okay, it’s fine. Shh, it’s okay.” 

“Please,” Ranboo gasped out, shaking harder, staring at Phil in the dim light. “I’m sorry, sir, please, don’t–”

“Shh,” Phil interrupted, hands still poised in the air. He realised he was shaking. “It’s me, Ranboo. It’s Phil. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Several terrifying seconds passed, filled with shaking, panting breaths. 

Then, finally, Ranboo whispered, “Ph-Phil?”

Phil let his arms fall, wanting to cry. “Yes, yes, Ranboo, it’s me.” 

Ranboo’s face screwed up more, and he sobbed, tears streaking his skin and leaving angry red lines in their wake. He buried his face in his knees, shoulders shaking. 

“Oh, kid,” Phil murmured, heart broken, staring. He felt trapped, caught in a tight snare. What did he do ?

Ranboo kept crying, entire body trembling from the force of it. Phil knew the tears had to hurt him, probably badly, but he didn’t stop. 

“Shh,” Phil whispered, moving closer, hand hovering in the air. After a moment, he slowly, gently, rubbed Ranboo’s shoulder. 

The enderman stilled, tensing underneath the touch, and Phil froze. He held his breath. 

And then, after a moment, Ranboo melted into the contact. He lunged forward, launching himself so suddenly into Phil’s arms that Phil nearly fell backward. 

“I’m sorry,” Ranoo gasped into his shoulder, tears wetting his shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–”

“It’s okay,” Phil cut in, rubbing slow, soothing circles into Ranboo’s back. “It’s okay. I’m here.” 

He squeezed Ranboo tighter, like maybe he could force all the badness out. The boy was trembling in his arms. 

They sat like that for a long time. Every so often, Ranboo’s panic would spike again and he’d start sobbing, and Phil would have to calm him down. 

It was a long process. It was tiring. Phil felt like his heart was breaking in half every time Ranboo’s breath stuttered. 

This poor, poor child.

After what felt like a long time later, Ranboo finally sniffed, leaning back out of Phil’s arms. He was still shaking, tears still pouring down his cheeks. 

But he looked semi-aware. 

(Phil tried to focus on the positive things.)

“Are you okay?” he whispered, voice quiet. It felt like a crime to speak loudly after what had just happened. 

Ranboo shuttered, wrapping his arms around himself, as if replacing Phil’s hug with one of his own. 

It was a long minute before Ranboo croaked out, “Yes, sir.” 

Phil felt his stomach drop. It’d been weeks since Ranboo had called him that. “It’s just ‘Phil’, remember?” he asked, somewhat desperately. 

Ranboo looked away. “Sorry.”

“No, no,” Phil sighed, deflating, wanting to reach back out and wipe Ranboo’s burning tears away. He wondered if the enderman even noticed they were hurting him, or if he was so used to the pain that it didn’t register. 

He wasn’t sure which was worse. 

“You don’t have to apologise,” he assured, wringing his hand together slightly. 

Ranboo breathed out heavily. Jekrily nodded. “R-right.” 

The air settled into charged silence. Ranboo sniffed again. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Phil murmured after a moment, instinctively offering a hand to Ranboo. 

Ranboo flinched slightly, eyeing it, trailing the arm back to Phil’s face. Phil waited patiently. Even though they had just been hugging, and before that practically snuggling together on the couch, this felt far more trusting. Phil recognised that. 

They were both fully aware for this. 

And, as he watched, Ranboo gingerly, slowly, lowered his hand into Phil’s. 

Phil offered a sad smile, and together, they walked towards the bathroom. Ranboo let go and sat on the toilet lid without being told otherwise. Phil grabbed the healing potion and rag. 

“This, this is the third time–something l-like this had happened,” Ranboo stuttered out, watching as Phil wet the rag. 

Phil stilled slightly. 

He hadn’t known that. 

Later . 

He brushed the alarm away and came closer, kneeling in front of Ranboo. The boy was tall, but Phil could still reach his face. 

“I’m going to touch you, now,” he warned, and Ranboo nodded. 

Phil gently rubbed the cloth on Ranboo’s face, dabbing at the wet cheeks. The scars were irritated and red, blisters forming slightly around his eyes. 

“Oh, buddy,” Phil murmured, staring into Ranboo’s eyes, the eyes that were still, after all this time, forming tears. He swiped them away as soon as they left his eyes, before they could burn his skin farther. “You’re okay now.”

Ranboo nodded, glancing away, face heating red. Phil wanted to inquire, but he held his tongue, continuing to dab the potion. 

When he was done, he settled the rag and medicine back into the cabinet and turned again to examine Ranboo’s injuries. 

The healing potion truly helped a lot; it was almost impossible to tell Ranboo had been crying. His skin was a little red, especially directly around his eyes, but it more looked like a sunburn than anything. Only one blister remained, but Phil knew it would fade without a few days. 

(Briefly, he wondered if Ranboo would have tear scars at all if he’d always had access to healing potions.

He didn’t think so.)

“Better?” he asked, keeping his voice soft. 

Ranboo nodded. Looked away. “Thank you,” he whispered. A pause. “And…I’m sorry I woke you up.” 

Phil shook his head. “No, no, you don’t have to be sorry. I wouldn’t want you suffering alone.” 

Ranboo scrambled to his feet, slowly heading back to the couch in silence. Phil followed. 

“Was it a nightmare?” Phil asked after a moment, as he turned off the TV and flipped on a lamp. 

It was quiet for a few minutes, and Phil wasn’t sure Ranboo would answer. But then, “Yes.” 

Phil didn’t push any farther. He just sat back down next to the enderman, sitting in silence. 

He figured that if Ranboo wanted to, he would talk. 

And after a few minutes, he did. 

He told Phil what the dream had been about. A memory, more so than a nightmare, of a previous home. A punishment he’d endured. 

That particular foster parent had been fond of beatings. 

And then locking the children in the basement afterward. 

Phil tried to hide his anger. He knew Ranboo would misinterpret it and think it was directed at him. 

But it was hard. All he could think about was that monster, traumatising kids, messing them up for the rest of their lives. 

He wanted to find him. He wanted, wanted to hurt him. 

He shoved those feelings away to deal with later. Right now, he had a still trembling enderman hybrid to turn his attention to. 

“How long ago was that?” he asked, softly, trying not to pry too much. 

Ranboo shivered anyway. “A few years,” he answered. 

A few years, and still , Ranboo had nightmares. 

Phil wondered what Ranboo might be leaving out of the story. 

“It, it feels like those things never go away,” Ranboo admitted, whispering the fear-filled words. “I want them to go away .” 

Phil sighed, the concern and worry and sadness nearly suffocating. “I know, Ranboo. I know.”

“Tommy and Tubbo and Techno say it takes time. But it’s–it’s been time.” 

Only two months, Phil thinks to himself. Because even though that particular home had been years ago, it had only been two months where Ranboo was being genuinely and attentively cared for. 

He wasn’t going to heal in two months. 

“Sometimes it takes a long time,” Phil responded when he realised Ranboo was still waiting. “And it can be annoying, and scary, and frustrating. But it will get better. It did for Techno. And Tommy, and Tubbo. And it will for you.”

Ranboo absorbed the words silently, mulling them over in that overactive head of his. His hands were clasped together in his lap and he was looking straight ahead. 

“This is the nicest place I’ve been in,” he finally told Phil, the words feeling odd and prickly in the air. 

Phil swallowed. He hated that. He hated that so much. “Well, we’re happy to have you here.”

Ranboo looked towards the window for a moment. Phil followed his gaze. It was completely dark out; he thought it might be around four in the morning. “I’m glad to be here.”

Phil wanted to take those words and frame them. He settled for leaning a bit closer, slowly, gently laying his hand on Ranboo’s. “You’re going to get there,” he promised, squeezing the boy softly. 

“Where?”

“Healed.” 

Ranboo stilled at the word before relaxing, just a little bit, into Phil’s touch. Phil found it peculiar; just earlier that day he’d thought that Ranboo hated being touched, but now he came to a different conclusion:

Ranboo had been made to hate contact. 

In reality, the enderman craved it. 

Touch starved, Phil knew the term. It was, without a doubt, something every single one of the boys had dealt with. 

Even himself. 

Ranboo seemed to have it bad. He flinched away from most contact, not initiating it hardly ever, but in the rare times he allowed himself to be held–

He wanted it.

Phil squeezed the boy’s hand again. 

Ranboo sighed softly, a sound part whimper, part hiccup. He had cried a lot, and Phil knew first hand tiring a panic attack could be. 

“You should sleep,” he told Ranboo. 

Ranboo hesitated. Phil could tell he wanted to deny being tired, but it was impossible when the bags under his eyes were dark and swollen from tears. 

It didn’t seem like that boy had been sleeping well. 

Phil wondered if nightmares were a prominent factor in that. He hated that this was the first time he had noticed it. 

“Sleep,” he said again, lifting his arm, inviting Ranboo to lean on him again. 

The enderman’s face darkened. He faltered for a moment before finally leaning forward into Phil’s side. 

“You can relax,” Phil murmured, tilting his head back. 

Ranboo didn’t, for a moment. 

But then, slowly, his body untensed. 

A few minutes later he was out like a light. 

Phil took a bit longer. He would have liked to blame that on the lamp filling the room with light, but he knew it wasn’t that. His worries plagued his mind, the concern he felt for the boy settled next to him almost overwhelming. 

Protectiveness felt strong over him, and he knew he would do anything for Ranboo if the boy just asked. 

And tiredly, slowly, he came to the conclusion. 

He was going to adopt Ranboo. 

As soon as he could. 

Chapter Text

Ranboo was trying very hard not to feel embarrassed. 

About a week or two had passed since he’d had that nightmare on the couch with Phil, and still–he kept cringing about it. 

Seriously, what was wrong with him ? He’d cried in front of Phil, he’d fallen asleep on him and hugged him. 

That was–he didn’t have–

Augh. 

He knew Phil well enough by now to know that the avian wouldn’t bring it up, but still. Ranboo couldn’t stop thinking about it. He kept trying to decipher the scene from Phil’s point of view.  

How pathetic had he looked? 

His face burned just thinking about it. 

He just–he couldn’t believe he’d lost control like that. He didn’t cry if he could help it; the pain and the emotional toll it took combined just weren’t worth it. 

Plus, most homes hated it when he’d cried. 

So he learned not to, learned to shove the tears someplace else, down and away. 

But somehow, in his short time of being there, he’d managed to cry twice. Once with Techno, and now with Phil. 

Two times.

The humiliation was a lot to deal with. 

But…as the days slowly passed, neither man mentioned it. They didn’t call him stupid, or a crybaby, or make fun of him or anything like that. 

Honestly, it seemed like they’d forgotten about it. Ranboo knew there was no way that was true, but it was nice to imagine. 

Still, he figured if they weren’t going to talk about it, then neither should he. 

That was easy. He had zero desire to remind any one how pathetic he was. If by some miracle they had actually forgotten, he was not going to be the one to rat himself out. 

It was weird, though, that they talked with him about it. In other homes, he’d have been scolded, punched, hit, locked away–anything to let him know that crying was never acceptable. 

He’d kind of learned to stop expecting that behaviour from the people here. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t his first thought whenever he messed up. 

Phil would probably tell him it was all part of that “healing” he kept mentioning. Ranboo just…had to give himself time to stop thinking like that. 

It made sense, he supposed. He was wired to think that any emotion besides submission was bad. 

That was a lot of unlearning to do. 

To help, Ranboo tried to focus on what Tommy had said, that he was getting better. Eating, talking, not being as scared…he was, he was doing good . 

He tried to believe it. 

But then he had to go and mess everything up. 

It was just a regular day. Ranboo had thought he’d woken up before anyone else and crept down the stairs quietly, only to greet Phil in the kitchen. 

“Good morning,” Phil had said, lips turning up at the corners. 

Ranboo had smiled back lightly, glancing at the stove, where Phil had started to make breakfast. After hesitating a moment, he offered, “I can help you cook.”

Sometimes, Phil got weird when Ranboo offered to help. His face went a little paler, his eyes sad, and he would quietly insist that Ranboo relax instead. Other times, his face melted a little bit and he agreed. 

Ranboo wasn’t really sure what made the difference, but this time, Phil nodded his head and showed Ranboo how to crack an egg without dropping the shells. 

He wasn’t very good at it, but Phil let him practice until he did it right. 

“Good job," the avian praised, and Ranboo felt his face warm. His smile came easier. 

They managed to finish quickly and set the table together. When Tommy and Tubbo came down, Ranboo was the first one to say good morning, and he didn’t even flinch when Techno burst through the door to eat with them. 

All things considered, he thought he was doing pretty good. 

The trouble started when Tommy, mouth full of food, said, “We should go see Purpled today.”

Tubbo nodded his head. “Oh, yeah! We haven’t seen him in ages.” 

Ranboo glanced at them. He just sat there, feeling a little confused and, surprisingly, left out. 

It was an odd emotion to have. Normally, he wouldn’t want to go anywhere, especially with someone he’d never met. He would have much preferred to stay home, playing Monopoly or reading. 

But at that moment, looking between Tommy and Tubbo, he almost did want to go. 

If only to spend time with them. 

Of course, Phil noticed this. The older avian was a lot more observant than Ranboo had thought. “Why don’t you take Ranboo with you? You guys can walk to the mall.” 

Tommy stilled slightly, lifting his eyes to look at Ranboo. Ranboo tried to smile back. 

Ever since Tommy had accidentally walked in on him changing, the two of them had actually gotten along better. But there was still an unfamiliarity in the air. 

Tubbo, though, was quick to nod. “Yeah!” 

Techno spared Ranboo a quick glance. “Maybe…maybe you guys should go to the park, instead.”

Ranboo blinked. That…admittedly, sounded better than the mall to him. Less people. Less crowds. 

He was surprised Techno had suggested that. 

Tommy opened his mouth to argue, but he glanced at Ranboo again. Seemed to understand something. 

And after a moment, he finally nodded. “Park it is.”

Ranboo felt his mood lift even more. He liked going outside, and he was actually looking forward to spending time with the boys in front of him. 

After breakfast was over and they’d all helped tidy up, Tommy and Tubbo scurried upstairs to get changed. Ranboo was already dressed; he didn’t leave his room in his night clothes, usually. 

He waited with Phil and Techno in the kitchen, watching as they did the dishes. They seemed well practiced in the chore. He would have offered to help, but…the water. 

(In any other place, he might have offered anyway, but he knew Phil and Techno would give him wide eyes and tell him absolutely not.)

“What, ah, what time should we be back by?” Ranboo asked instead, just to say something. He rocked on his heels, his tail swishing behind him. 

Phil glanced at Techno, who shrugged, hands wrist deep in soapy water. 

“Well…” Phil considered as he dried a plate. Ranboo realised with a wince that it was the same type of dish he’d broken a few weeks ago, when it was him and Tubbo home alone. He looked away. “We had a late breakfast, so…how about three? That should give you guys plenty of time to do whatever you want.

And that was what sealed Ranboo’s fate. 

Because, see, Ranboo had a lot of problems, but one of them was, without a doubt, his awful memory. It had gotten him in trouble more times than he could count. 

He didn’t know why it was so bad. He didn’t know of any time he’d hit his head that would have caused it. Honestly, it had been a problem pretty much all his life. 

The scars on his back were a testament to that. 

So Ranboo tried to commit the number to memory. 

Three o’clock. They had to be back home by three. 

Three o’clock. 

“Okay, Phil,” he said. He had a watch; it was something he always wore on his wrist. He could track the time easily that way without having to guess. 

Ranboo nodded to cement this idea into his head. He thought back to the day he’d first come here; Phil had only given him three rules. 

One was to respect privacy. Another was to not call him ‘sir’, which Ranboo, admittedly, had broken a few times. 

But then the other one, the relevant one: to always tell him where he was going, with who, and when he was expected back.  

That rule had never come up, yet. Ranboo rarely left the house, and the few times he had, it was always with Phil to the store or for a small walk. 

In fact…this would be his first time venturing out without the avian. 

He considered that rule in his head as he stood there. He figured it went without saying that he had to be back at the designated time they’d set. He knew that Phil wouldn’t punish him if he wasn’t, at least, not to the extent of any of the other homes, but the thought of making Phil mad?

Making Phil disappointed ?

He could hardly stomach it. 

So Ranboo repeated the number in his head until Tommy and Tubbo came back down the stairs, dressed and ready to go. He repeated it as they stepped outside into the morning sun.

“Have fun!” Phil called after them as they started down the sidewalk. 

They all called various goodbyes back, and Phil disappeared back into the house. 

“I think you’ll like Purpled,” Tubbo said, conversationally, as they walked along. “He’s been wanting to meet you.” 

Tommy jumped up on the guardrail, balancing with his wings slightly out. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

Ranboo considered this. He didn’t know much about this Purpled, only what Tommy and Tubbo occasionally said in passing. It seemed like the three of them had been friends for a long time. “What’s he like?”

Tommy lost his balance and jumped off the rail before he could fall. “Nice,” he replied. 

Tubbo nodded along. “He can be kind of blunt, though,” he added, almost as an afterthought. 

Ranboo filed this information away. “You said he wanted to meet me?” he prompted, kicking at a rock on the ground. 

Both boys nodded. 

Ranboo wasn’t sure how to feel about that. It meant that he had definitely been brought up before. He wondered what they had to say about him. 

He hoped they weren’t bad things. 

The walk to the park was shorter than Ranboo had thought. They arrived in a little under twenty minutes. He checked the watch strapped to his wrist; it was 1:03. 

About two hours until they had to be back. 

He could work with that. 

Slowly, the three of them headed towards the swingset. A figure in a bright purple hoodie sat alone, but he perked up when he saw them. 

Ranboo subconsciously moved slightly behind Tommy. 

“Hi,” the guy, who must be Purpled, greeted. He jumped up, holding out his hand in a formal greeting. “I’m Purpled.” 

Ranboo considered the hand, slowly placing his own in it. They shook twice, then let go. “Ranboo,” he said, not quite meeting the other’s eyes. His face felt hot. 

“You’re an enderman hybrid, right? That’s what Tommy said.” 

Tommy answered for him. “Yup. Ranboob sure is.”

Ranboo blinked at the name. For a second, something like familiar fear sloshed in his stomach. Maybe this was where Tommy and Tubbo revealed themselves, where they let Ranboo know exactly what they thought of him. 

He’d dealt with bullying before. He hadn’t thought that they were the type, but…

No. He shoved that thought aside as hard as he could. No . 

Tommy and Tubbo had had plenty of opportunities to hurt him, to call him names and make fun of him, and they hadn’t. That wasn't what this was. 

A quick glance at Tommy told him he was right. The blond had a mischievous, teasing glint in his eyes.

Ah. A joke, then. 

Ranboo laughed lightly, what he hoped was an appropriate response. 

Tubbo jostled his arm softly. “Tommy calls you that when you’re not around.” 

Tommy puffed his chest, his wings also rising up. “Sure do,” he said, never one to not take credit. “It’s a good name.”

Ranboo didn’t necessarily agree, but he shrugged in answer. “It’s better than other things I've been called.” 

The other boys kind of froze, and Ranboo grimaced. 

Not the right thing to say. 

The silence felt very heavy. Ranboo swallowed, expecting them to ask, to inquire, to make him tell. 

Instead, Purpled just said, “Well, anyway , it’s nice to meet you.”

Ranboo nodded his head, glancing away shyly, grateful for the topic change. He wished he was better at making eye contact, but it always turned his stomach. “Uh, thanks. You too.” 

It was awkward as they fell into another silence. None of them seemed to know what to say. 

Eventually, though, Tommy blurted something out, which sparked a conversation. 

Ranboo mostly listened as they interacted. Purpled was funny; calmer than Ranboo would have expected. Tommy and Tubbo were both their usual selves.  

As they talked, they slowly migrated around the park, climbing monkey bars or sliding down slides. All the way, a steady stream of conversation was kept up. Tommy, Tubbo, and Purpled had an easy way of talking, their words flowing back and forth. 

“What’s your favourite animal?” Purpled asked Ranboo directly, at one point.

Ranboo thought about it. He pictured the stuffed animal Tubbo had given him, the answer springing into his head. “I like bees.” 

Tubbo pumped his fist, holding it out for a high wave. Ranboo barely faltered before slapping their pals together. “Let’s go!” 

Tommy had pouted. “Come on, we all know that spiders are better.” 

Purpled and Tubbo both shuddered. “No,” Purpled said, and Ranboo surprised them all by laughing lightly. 

It was the kind of interaction that Ranboo had never had before. Even when he did manage to make friends in the other homes, they were always relationships built on fear and mutual need for survival. 

They never lasted long. 

But with these people, these other boys—there was something about them. Ranboo could see himself relaxing, visiting them and maybe, potentially, them visiting him. 

He could hope. 

As the time progressed, the four of them slowly migrated back to the swingset. There were actually enough swings for all of them, and Ranboo settled down in between Tommy and Purpled. Tubbo was on Tommy’s other side. 

They sat like that for a while, talking about everything and nothing. 

At one point, a mother and her daughter came to the park. Ranboo watched silently as the mother played animatedly with her child, feeling a spark of something–longing–lighting to life in him. 

“I know,” Tommy told him, like he felt what Ranboo was feeling. One glance at the avian told Ranboo that yeah, actually, Tommy did feel the same way. His voice was kind of cracked around the edges. “It’s hard.” 

They sat there in silence for a while. But then the mother and daughter left, and Ranboo and Tommy both went back to normal. 

Ranboo was trying hard not to be amazed at how well the three boys talked. He always found conversations difficult; reading people was hard for him. Of course, he’d learned how to tell when someone looked angry or something like that, but other emotions?

He was mostly just guessing. 

Not to mention the fact that he always seemed to say the wrong thing, and do it while stuttering. His anxiety was like a bull, always rushing around inside of him, making his words and sentences topple over each other.

But with these other boys, after a while…some of that went away. As the time went on, he joined in the conversation more. He laughed for what felt like the first time in years. He lost himself to the push and pull of whatever the topic was, swinging back and forth next to Tommy and Purpled and Tubbo, next to his friends. 

He thought of the word. He asked aloud, without thinking, “Are we friends?”

Tommy and Tubbo stilled on their swings, sharing a look. 

Purpled went quiet. 

This was what Ranboo meant. It physically felt like he’d chosen the wrong option in a game. Or maybe like he’d landed on Boardwalk in Monopoly. 

When it had hotels .

But then Purpled jumped in, “Well, dude I only just met you, but–sure, I guess. We can be friends.” 

“Us too, Ranboob. We’ll be your friends,” Tommy shot out, and this time, everyone laughed at the nickname. 

“We can like bees together!” Tubbo exclaimed, and Ranboo felt a feeling with wings light inside his chest. 

He never wanted that day to end. 

By the time the four of them said goodbye, Ranboo’s stomach was grumbling for an early dinner. It’d gotten used to eating three meals a day. 

Tommy and Tubbo walked alongside him home. Now that Ranboo was sure they were his friends, his nervousness had almost entirely melted away. He talked with them much easier on the way home than on the way there. 

When the house came into view, they bounded up the steps lightly, pushing the door open and rushing in–

–to find Techno and Phil standing there, looking worried as anything.

Immediately, Ranboo felt his own anxiety spike. He exchanged a glance with the boys next to him, wondering if they knew what was going on. 

“Is everything okay?” Tubbo asked, looking from Techno to Phil and back again. 

“What time is it?” Techno asked instead of answering, looking only at Ranboo. 

Ranboo blinked, shrinking back a little at the direct eye contact. 

The time ? Why would they be–

And suddenly his heart stopped. 

Three o’clock. 

Gasping, he lifted his wrist, almost afraid to check his watch. 

It was… stars, it was five. 

Five.

He was–they were two hours late. 

Ranboo had forgotten. 

“Uh, it’s, like, five something,” Tommy answered, cocking his head. “Why the heck does that matter?”

“Because,” Phil jumped in, and his voice was veiled with something, “I told Ranboo to have you all back by three.”

“What?” Tubbo asked, swiveling to look at the enderman hybrid. “ Three ?” 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Tommy snapped, face slightly red. 

Ranboo hunched in on himself. His heart was beating faster than he thought it should be. At his sides, his hands trembled slightly. “I…I forgot,” he whispered. 

“You forgot ,” Tubbo asked, the skepticism on his tongue sharp. 

Ranboo swallowed, the panic making it hard to think. They were angry with him. He’d messed up. He’d broken a rule and he’d messed up. 

“Breathe,” Ranboo, Phil told him, and Ranboo shivered. He hadn’t realised he’d stopped. 

He made himself take measured air into his lungs, fighting to calm himself, to focus. He forced his eyes to look at Tommy, pleading with the young avian to remember. To recall when he’d walked in and saw Ranboo’s scars, to recall the explanation of them. 

Somehow, the pleading worked. 

Tommy’s features softened slightly. He swallowed, his frustration fading into his eyes. “You forgot,” he repeated what Tubbo had said, but this time it was soft, a reassurance. 

He understood. 

Phil blinked, looking between Tommy and Ranboo, like he was trying to decipher what was going on. 

“Ranboo,” he said after a moment. “Can you please explain?” 

Ranboo shifted uneasily. He tried to stifle the instinctual panic that welled back up in him. Everyone was looking . “I…um, I’ve always had a bad memory. I didn’t think–I wasn’t thinking–”

He trailed off, looking to the side. He felt like dying. 

It was too quiet for several minutes. Then Techno asked, softly, “How bad is it?”

Ranboo shrugged, embarrassment making its presence in his stomach. His tail swished. “Um. Well, like, it’s short-term. I forget things that, uh, that aren’t repeated a lot. Or that my brain didn’t deem important.”

He realised how that sounded half a second later and he whipped towards Phil, shaking his head harshly. “I didn’t, it’s not that I thought what you said wasn’t important–”

“It’s okay, Ranboo,” Phil assured, his ever present patience back again. His eyes looked a little tired, though, and Ranboo felt sharp guilt slide into place, trying to imagine the worry he’d caused them. “I believe you.” 

Ranboo sighed in slight relief, rocking on his heels slightly. He glanced at Tubbo and Tommy, just to see how they were taking it. 

Tommy had already known, of course. He was watching the scene with a certain type of observation, but deep in his eyes, Ranboo thought that maybe he saw some concern. 

Maybe. 

And for his part, Tubbo was just absorbing the information, looking around the room at everyone else. His eyes met Ranboo’s for a moment and Ranboo looked away quickly.

“I’m sorry,” Ranboo said. “I’m really, really, sorry. I–I understand if you’re mad–”

“We’re not mad,” Phil and Techno said at the same time, with varying amounts of bluntness. “I promise,” Phil added, probably seeing the look on Ranboo’s face that told him he didn’t quite believe them. 

“Still,” Ranboo murmured, looking at Tommy and Tubbo. “I–I want you to know. I didn’t mean to worry you.” 

Phil was quiet for a minute. Then he nodded. “Thank you, Ranboo. I appreciate that.” 

The older avian turned to Tommy and Tubbo. “In the future, I might have you two keep track of the time,” he told them. 

They both nodded. 

“Sorry,” Ranboo told them both, slightly ashamed that he had given them an extra job without meaning to. 

“No apologies,” Tommy told him. 

“We’re your friends, remember? Friends help each other out.” Tubbo smiled, a gentle thing, and without thinking, Ranboo smiled back. 

“And we can get you something to write reminders with,” Techno added. “That way you can look at it and remember things you’ve forgotten.”

Phil nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

“Of course it is, I came up with it.” 

The storm calmed a bit and they passed amused smiles around the room. 

And if Ranboo’s smile faltered, even the tiniest bit?

Well, his friends didn’t comment on it. 

Chapter Text

Three and a half months in, Ranboo finally started to relax around everyone. 

Techno noticed it on a random Friday when he spent the night. The five of them sat in the living room, watching a movie, laughing and talking, and he was halfway through the night before he realised something. 

Not once, not a single time, had Ranboo recoiled from any of them. 

He shared the observation with Phil the next day, early in the morning while the two of them drank their coffee. 

“He’s getting better,” Phil said, sipping his. His was milky white; he dumped, like, half of the creamer into it. 

Techno took his black. “The kid is growing,” he responded, the thought sending sparks of excitement down his spine. 

Finally. Finally. 

And it wasn’t just that, either. Ranboo had put on a few pounds since he’d come to live with them, a sharp contrast to his skinny, lanky frame from before. He looked…actually healthy, now, and less like a sleep walking zombie. His face wasn’t so sunken and his eyes were slightly brighter. 

He smiled more. Laughed. 

It was pretty wonderful to see. 

But beneath all of his happiness, Techno also knew that progress could be deceiving. 

However good you think someone is doing, their true state can be revealed at the drop of a hat. They can regress. They can go back to their old ways, cloth unraveling from a pull of a thin thread. 

It had happened with Techno. With Tommy, and then with Tubbo. 

He knew it would happen with Ranboo. Heck, it already had . And he knew to expect it again. 

Something was going to happen, and Ranboo was going to unlearn some of the progress that had happened. 

For once, Techno hated it that he was right. 

It was a few weeks after the incident in the park when Ranboo had approached Techno, shyly. He’d mumbled something under his breath. 

“What?” Techno asked. “Can’t hear you.”

Ranboo’s face went slightly red, embarrassed. “Um. I heard you were taking Tommy and Tubbo to your apartment to spend the night tonight. And…”

Techno connected the dots when the boy trailed off. “You want to come?” he asked, surprised. 

Ranboo took that shock as something else. “It’s totally okay if you don’t want me there, I get it, it might be family only, I understand–”

Techno held up a hand to cut the other boy off, the insinuation that Ranboo wasn’t part of the family breaking his heart slightly. “Of course not. I just didn’t realise you’d want to come.”

“Phil said I should ask,” Ranboo admitted. 

Techno nodded. That checked out, that was 100% something Phil would say. “Well, the answer is yes. You can definitely come tonight.”

A smile lit the enderman’s face, slowly, and Techno tried to memorise the rare sight. But before he could, Ranboo scurried away towards the stairs. 

Techno imagined him explaining the news to Tommy and Tubbo and had to fight off a smile of his own. He had noticed the three of them getting much closer lately. 

He himself went to Phil’s room, where he knew the avian was trying to get some work done on his computer. 

Phil’s room was the biggest out of all of them. Part of that was because he was the oldest, but he also had a lot of stuff . Bookshelves lined the walls, and he had a cluttered desk shoved into the corner, pillows and blankets piled on the bed. 

“Ranboo asked me if he could spend the night with the boys,” Techno said as a way of greeting, shutting the door behind him. 

Phil jumped slightly; he hadn’t heard Techno come in. He glanced away from his screen for a moment. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

Phil hummed. “Last time Tommy and Tubbo went over there, I told him he could probably go if he asked.”

“That’s what he said. Pretty cool that he actually did it,” Techno said, feeling something suspiciously like pride blossom in his chest. 

He was… proud of Ranboo. 

Maybe Phil was getting to him. 

“Yeah,” Phil replied. “It is cool. I guess he really is learning.” 

Techno nodded, moving closer. He hovered over Phil’s shoulder for a moment, pretending to observe the screen. He lowered his voice for his next question, murmuring, “How are the adoption papers going?”

Phil whipped around to look at him, eyes wide. “How–how did you know that?”

Techno shrugged. “I just could sense it.” 

There was no point for Phil to deny it. The avian opened and closed his mouth for several moments before sighing, giving in. “They’re being processed. I’m hoping to get approval before his birthday.”

“When is that?” 

“A few months.” 

Techno rocked on his heels. “Would a surprise party be a bit too much for him?”

Phil let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I think so. I’m not even sure he’s ever had his birthday celebrated.” 

Techno swallowed. His mood plummeted into something much more sour. “Wow.”

“I know,” Phil said back, understanding as always, his own eyes seeping with sadness. 

Techno pushed his sympathy away. They couldn’t change the past, as much as they both wished they could. “Well, we’ll just have to make sure that it's the best day of his life.” 

Phil smiled softly at the idea, glancing back at his computer screen. But his grin faded after a moment. “I hope he wants to be adopted,” he whispered. 

And there it was. Phil’s doubts, something the avian only really shared with Techno. 

“He will,” Techno assured, keeping his own worries out of his voice. 

Phil nodded. Cleared his throat. “Well, I guess you’d better prepare for babysitting. Those boys can get into a lot of trouble together.”

Techno let the subject change slide. “Don’t worry, I’m the king of chaos.”

“Oh, I know.” 

The two of them laughed together, like the old friends they were, and Techno left the room feeling better than when he’d gone in. He had to force himself not to blurt the news about the adoption to the first person he saw, which happened to be Tommy. 

“What’s with your stupid face?” he asked, absentmindedly. 

Techno screwed his pleased features back to normal. “Nothing. What’s with your’s?”

“My face isn’t stupid.”

“Looks that way to me.”

“Piss off.”

Techno grinned. Getting on Tommy’s nerves was something he specialised at. “Did you hear that Ranboo is coming tonight?”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah. He seems pretty nervous.” 

Techno considered this; realised it probably checked out. Ranboo was typically ‘pretty nervous’, and now he would be going to an entirely new place, away from Phil. 

Heck, Techno would be kind of nervous. 

Kind of. He was also, like, super hardcore, so probably not. 

“You and Tubbo don’t mind if he comes?” Techno asked. 

Tommy shook his head. “I mean, I’m still getting used to him. But…no, I don’t mind.” 

Techno looked sideways at the young avian. “You guys have had a lot of similar experiences,” he ventured, slowly. 

Tommy looked away, his armor immediately on. “Whatever.”

Which was the best Techno was probably going to get. He sighed and left the avian in the hallway, going back downstairs. 

Tubbo and Ranboo were already waiting in the living room. Ranboo had an old, torn up looking backpack clenched in his hands. It didn’t look very full. 

“You should take it,” Tubbo was saying, softly, and Ranboo shook his head. 

“Take what?” Techno asked, plopping onto the couch to wait for Tommy. 

Tubbo and Ranboo exchanged a look. The enderman hybrid’s face was red. 

Tubbo finally said, “Just…Ranboo was going to leave his stuffed animal here. But he says it helps him sleep. So…”

Techno nodded immediately. “You should take it,” he told Ranboo. 

Ranboo looked away. “It’s dumb,” he said. “Childish.”

Techno shook his head, sadness filling him, concern and care working their ways into his blood. “It’s not childish,” he said. “Not if it helps you.”

Ranboo was quiet for a long moment. 

Then he stood up and left without a word. 

Tubbo and Techno exchanged an anxious look. A few minutes later, Ranboo reappeared, the simple bee stuffed animal clutched in his hands. 

“There we go,” Techno soothed. He could tell from the swish of Ranboo’s tail that the boy was still embarrassed, but he offered a small smile. 

Tommy joined them a moment later. He spared Ranboo’s stuffie a glance, but didn’t comment on it. “Ready to get a move on?” he asked, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder. 

Tubbo nodded, scrambling to his feet. 

They headed towards the door. Before they left, though, Phil came down. 

He wrapped Tommy in a hug first, then Tubbo.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” he asked Ranboo, who didn't hesitate before nodding. Phil pulled him a long hug, squeezing him tight. 

“What? No hug for me?” Techo asked, throwing his arms open mockingly.

Phil laughed and gave Techno a quick squeeze. “Happy?” 

“Appeased at best.” 

Phil chuckled. “You all have fun, now. Call if you need anything.”

“Will do, Dadza,” Tommy replied, already halfway out the door. 

The rest of them followed him out, starting the short walk towards Techno's car.

“I call shotgun!” Tommy yelled, racing forward.

“What? That's not fair, you got it last time!” Tubbo exclaimed, charging as well. 

Techno and Ranboo watched the chaos unfold. In the end, Tommy ended up in the front, locking the doors and sticking his tongue out.

Techno laughed at their antics as he walked to his side. “Hey, Tubbo, wanna drive?” 

“Really?” 

“No.” He unlocked the car with his keys and got in the driver's seat. 

Tubbo grumbled under his breath as he climbed in behind Techno. Ranboo took the seat behind Tommy. 

“How far is your apartment?” he asked as Techno started the vehicle. “Phil said down the road, but…”

Techno nodded, glancing in his mirror before pulling out. “Yeah, short drive. I normally walk to save gas money, but Tommy complains about walking.”

“I do not ,” Tommy snapped, and the rest of them chuckled lightly. 

Within minutes, they were pulling up to Techno's apartment. He had the second floor landing, and they climbed the creaky steps together, shoes squeaking beneath them. 

“Wow,” Ranboo said as he stepped inside. 

Techno grinned, eyeing the enderman hybrid. “Not what you expected?" 

“I didn't know what to expect,” Ranboo replied as he slowly took in the space. 

Techno's apartment was nice . Pristine floors, large windows, a massive balcony; he really had it all. It was up-to-date and fully refurbished, with plenty of space for him to store his things. 

“It's really nice,” Ranboo breathed, the politeness leaking out of him like second nature.

Tommy laughed. “You should see it when it gets dirty. Trust me, he just cleaned up for tonight.” 

Tubbo nodded. “It gets bad, man.” 

Techno shushed them both. “Just let me have this moment.” 

Tommy laughed, his wings shaking out behind him. He dropped his bag on the floor. “Come on, Ranboo, let me show you the balcony.”

“Okay.” Ranboo followed Tommy over to the sliding glance doors. They pushed them open and stepped outside.

“Woah,” Techno could hear Ranboo say, looking out over the houses. Honesty, the landing wasn't that high up, but Techno doubted the enderman had gotten the chance to experience something like this.

“Cool, huh?” Tubbo asked as he stepped next to them. Techno followed.

Ranboo nodded. “I can see home!” 

Tommy and Tubbo laughed, but Techno was too caught up on that word.

Home.

Ranboo had called Phil's house home.

The enderman hybrid didn't seem to notice. He was pointing at all the different houses, tail swishing happily behind him. Tubbo and Tommy chatted easily with him.

They…they made a good group. 

Techno went inside after a bit, but he watched through the window as the boys laughed and chatted.

It was nice to see Ranboo so open, so relaxed.

Eventually, the trio came back inside, shutting the door behind them. Their faces were bright and happy.

“The guest room is all set up,” Techno told them. Normally, when Tommy and Tubbo came over, they shared the large guest bed. But Techno wasn't sure if Ranboo would be comfortable with that, so he'd blown up an air mattress as a second option. 

“Cool,” Tubbo replied, grabbing his bag from where he'd thrown it next to Tommy's. Ranboo was still wearing his backpack, little bee plushie clutched under his arm. 

Techno led them towards the spare room, watching as Ranboo hesitated a moment before gently setting his things down beside the air mattress.

Neither Tommy or Tubbo put up a fight about sleeping on the other mattress together, despite the fact that they regularly complained about sharing a bed here. 

“Should we watch a movie?” Ranboo suggested after a moment, not quite meeting anyone's eyes. He didn't look very hopeful; he had the face of someone who thought that every suggestion they made would be shot down.

“Sure,” Tubbo replied, at the same time that Tommy said, “Whatever you say, Ranboob.” 

Techno stifled a snort at the nickname. They all piled into his living room, plopping onto his massive couch.

Well, all of them but Ranboo, who gingerly lowered himself down like he might break it.

“Relax,” Tubbo said without looking at him.

“Right.” Ranboo pushed himself back into the cushions. 

Techno smiled softly at that, turning on the TV. He selected the first movie that popped up. 

The four of them sat there, not really talking, watching the film in almost silence. It was dark, but the moon was bright, and light filtered through the balcony windows. 

Eventually, the movie ended, late into the night. For a minute, no one moved, as if frozen. But then Techno stood, stretching and yawning, and they all came to life.

“Time for bed,” Tubbo said, and Ranboo nodded in tired agreement. In the pale light from outside, the scars on his cheeks looked especially vibrant. 

Tommy didn't even speak, just shuffled down the hall and collapsed. Techno laughed a little, wishing them all a goodnight before retiring to his own room. 

He did his nightly routine, getting ready for bed as he moved around the room. He cleaned a bit, just to do something with his hands, winding down. When he climbed into bed, he grabbed a book. 

Another hour had passed when he heard footsteps.

Slowly, Techno peeked his head out the door. He glanced both ways down the hall, spotting a tail swishing around the corner.

Ranboo.

Concerned and curious, Techno closed his door behind him as silently as he could. He tiptoed down the hall, long pink hair unbraided and cascading over his shoulders.

He stopped at the living room, watching as Ranboo silently pried the balcony doors open. The enderman hybrid went out, turning around to shut the door.

Techno tried to hide before Ranboo saw him, but it was too late. The boy's eyes widened in surprise and he jumped. 

Cover blown. 

Techno crossed the room, standing in front of the still open balcony doors. “Hi there, Ranboo.”

Ranboo ran his hand along the edges of the door. “Um. Hi.” 

“Care to tell me what you're doing?” 

The enderman glanced away. “Couldn't sleep,” he murmured.

Techno paused. “Oh,” he said, intelligently.

Ranboo nodded. Shuffled slightly. “Did I–did I wake you up? I'm sorry if I did, I really didn't mean to. I’m sorry.”

Techno tutted softly. He stepped out onto the balcony, forcing Ranboo to step back slightly. He slid the door shut. “Don't worry, you didn't wake me. I was still up.”

“Oh,” Ranboo replied, repeating Techno. He hesitated. Then, “What were you doing?” 

Techno crossed to the railing, looking out over the town. “I was reading.” 

Ranboo joined him, mimicking his stance. “What were you reading?” he asked after a moment. 

Techno didn’t look at him; he just kept staring out. It was a cool night. “A book Phil got me.” 

“Ah.”

They went quiet again. That seemed to be a natural part of Ranboo’s talking: he would ask something, the other person would reply, he’d make some sort of sound of acknowledgement, and then they wouldn’t talk for a few minutes before one of them said something again. 

Right on cue, Ranboo shuffled. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Techno blinked. “Uh, right. You said that.”

“Oh, yeah.” 

Techno took the bait. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

Ranboo swallowed. “Memories.”

It was one of the most honest, straightforward answers Techno had heard from the enderman hybrid. 

He knew he didn’t have to ask. He was already certain of the answer. 

But he asked anyway, “What sort of memories?”

Ranboo looked away. Techno followed his line of sight; he was staring at a bird perched in a tree. “Of…older homes. And stuff.”

‘And stuff.’ 

Very specific. 

But Techno could navigate this. He could . “Do you want to, like, talk about it?” 

Ranboo shrugged. He was still looking at the bird. “I don’t know,” he admitted. 

Techno nodded, reeling slightly. On one hand, Ranboo was being quite open compared to past times. On the other hand, the fact that his memories were so bad that he couldn’t sleep ? Well…

It was a little concerning. 

“One time,” Ranboo started, “I ran away.”

Techno blinked, surprised. Out of all the things he’d imagined Ranboo to say, that had not been one of them. He didn’t really seem like the type. 

Now, Techno, on the other hand? Tommy? Both of them had had their fair share of running, of living on the streets. He wasn’t sure about Tubbo, but he didn’t think the goat hybrid ever had. 

If he had had to guess, he would have said Ranboo hadn’t, either. 

But Ranboo wasn’t a liar. 

“Why did you run away?” Techno prompted, feeling a sick pit open up in his stomach. 

There was only one reason why a foster child would run away. 

Ranboo confirmed it a moment later when he mumbled, “It wasn’t a very good place.”

Techno nodded, waiting. Sometimes the best way to get Ranboo to keep talking was to go silent yourself. 

It worked. “There, they…there were a lot of kids. Way too many. I don’t even know how that happened.”

“How many kids?”

“Like, at least more than ten. I was younger, and you know my memory is crap, but, yeah. Like fifteen, twenty.”

Techno swallowed. That was fifteen kids in one house undergoing the same abuse. 

And not all of those kids would be sent somewhere like Phil’s. 

Ranboo was picking at his nails, now. He always seemed to be doing something that required his attention in order to avoid eye contact, a result of his enderman side. “Well, obviously, there weren’t enough supplies for that many. Money was tight and whatnot.”

“Right,” Techno agreed. He tried to fend off the growing horror in his stomach. 

“...to, like, solve this, the adults–they set us up to, um. To f-fight each other."

Techno stilled. “ What ?”

Ranboo shifted. His face was growing red, embarrassed. “Um. Yeah.” 

The horror inside of him grew. Techno leaned away from railing for a moment, just to try and calm himself. He could hardly picture it. 

A younger, more fragile Ranboo. Forced to fight for food and clothing and, probably, entertainment .

He felt sick. 

“So. Yeah.” Ranboo finished awkwardly. He finally looked at Techno for a split second before turning away again. “I figured there were a lot of kids. They wouldn’t notice. So I ran.” 

Techno swallowed. Breathing was suddenly hard as he asked, “Did they catch you?”

Ranboo shook his head, and Techno sighed in relief. The enderman said, “I was on the streets for, ah, a few weeks. Maybe. Then workers found me and put me in a new home.”

A new home, with new horrors. Techno knew the drill. Heck, every foster child knew the drill. 

Ranboo shuffled again. He still seemed on edge, mind still focused on something. When the silence got to be too much for him, he blurted out, “I left them.” 

Techno blinked, confused. “Left who?” 

The enderman hybrid shivered, hands trembling slightly as he gripped the bottom of his shirt. “...some of the kids at that h-home. I left them. They were…we were friends, and I, I just left them.”

His voice was becoming more and more choked and for a moment, Techno was scared he was going to cry. But Ranboo sniffed and screwed his face back into some semblance of calm. “I left them,” he whispered. 

Techno bit his lip, slowly reaching out to rub Ranboo on the shoulders. The boy stilled for a moment, then sank into the touch. “Ranboo,” Techno started, “You were in an impossible place. You didn’t have many choices. No one–no one is going to blame you for that.”

Ranboo shook his head. “They would.”

Techno squeezed the boy's shoulder. It really was a cool night; they both shivered. “Well, I don’t blame you. And neither will Tommy. Or Tubbo.” He paused, saying the name that he knew would affect Ranboo the most. “Or Phil .” 

Ranboo stilled beneath his hand. He whispered, “Do you promise?” 

“Yes. I promise.” Slowly, awkwardly, he pulled the younger boy into a tight hug. 

Ranboo slumped into it. “I feel so guilty,” he said, voice kind of pleading, kind of desperate, muffled from where his face was buried into Techno’s shoulder. 

“I know, buddy. I know,” Techno tried to soothe. “You had to get away. They might have noticed if you took your friends, too. You had to go.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ranboo said, the words crinkling around the edges, fraying away like dust. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry–”

“Shh, I know. I know you are. I don’t blame you, Ranboo. We don’t blame you.” 

“He’s right,” a new voice said, and both Ranboo and him jumped, springing apart. 

Techno turned to see Tommy there, looking uncomfortable and tired, but his eyes were hard as they looked at Ranboo. “I don’t blame you.” 

Ranboo looked away, swiping at his eyes. “How–how much did you hear?”

“Enough. And I don’t blame you ,” Tommy repeated, taking a step forward onto the balcony. 

Ranboo’s shoulders hunched. “You should,” he shot back, fire coming alive in him so suddenly that Techno turned to look, surprised at the almost yell. 

But it died just as quickly as Ranboo turned away to look back towards the spot where the bird had been. It was gone. “You should.” 

“Well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel,” Tommy snapped, coming up close to Ranboo, standing next to him. “And I feel like I don’t blame you. And neither does Techno. And obviously Tubbo and Phil won’t. So you’re worrying over nothing.” 

Ranboo was quiet. For some reason, Techno felt like he might be intruding, even though he had been the one here first. 

“...I still feel bad,” Ranboo admitted. 

“Don’t,” Tommy told him. 

“You did what you had to do,” Techno finally jumped in, going to stand on Ranboo’s other side. 

They were quiet for a long time. Then Ranboo asked, quietly, “How are you guys always so kind ?”

Tommy snapped his head up, glancing at Techno, as if to say What in the world is he talking about ?

Techno waved him away. Roll with it. To Ranboo, he said, “What do you mean?”

“Well, like–” the enderman waved his hand as if searching for the right word. “It’s been, what, more than three months? And, and I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you guys to get mad at me–”

“And it hasn’t happened,” Tommy finished, glancing at Techno. 

Techno felt like he was getting whiplash. He remembered, years ago, having a very similar conversation with Tommy. 

“You guys are too nice! Why can’t you–you should just hate me, like everyone else does!” 

Techno shoved the memory away. 

To Ranboo, he murmured, “There’s no ‘other shoe’ that’s waiting to drop. Both feet are already on the ground.”

Ranboo sighed. “Right.” He sounded so tired. 

Tommy breathed out in turn, leaned forward, and whispered something into Ranboo’s ear. Techno couldn’t hear what he was saying, but when he pulled away, Ranboo had tears in his eyes. 

Techno reached forward and swiped them away as they started to leak out, before they could burn his skin. “Are you okay?”

Ranboo nodded, sniffing, getting control of himself again. “Yes. Yes, I’m okay. I’m–okay.” He glanced at Tommy. 

Tommy sighed, holding his arms open in invitation. Techno watched as Ranboo folded himself into them, slightly surprised. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

“Welcome,” Tommy responded, wings twitching behind him. 

They pulled apart. Ranboo opened his mouth to say something, but a yawn came out instead. 

“Think you can sleep, now?” Techno asked, moving towards the door. 

Ranboo hesitated. “I can try.”

“That’s the spirit.”

The three of them went back inside, awkwardly trailing to their respective rooms. 

It took a while, but eventually Techno fell asleep. In the morning, he was up before anyone. 

The worry was too much, and he gently cracked the door to the boys’ room open to check on them, only to find…

…all three boys asleep on the bed, limbs tangled together, the air mattress abandoned on the floor.

He couldn’t fight the smile from his lips. 

Chapter Text

“Please, Tommy, can’t you help me?” Tubbo begged, voice slightly whining as he followed the avian around the house. 

“Absolutely not,” Tommy replied, shaking his head without turning around. His feathers ruffled slightly before settling down again. “It’s your job.” 

Tubbo bristled. Sure, Tommy was technically right, but, but– “You could still help.”

“Nope.” 

Tubbo sighed, throwing his head back dramatically as he came to a stop. They were standing in the dining room, and Tommy finally turned to face him, glaring.

“Please?” Tubbo tried again.

Tommy shook his head. 

Tubbo growled. 

That morning, Phil had had to go out to the store, and he’d given them a list of chores that needed to be done. He’d explained, very carefully, that the list wasn’t a command and they shouldn’t worry too much about them. They were just some housekeeping things.  

“None of you need to panic if you don’t finish,” he’d said, eyeing them. 

Tubbo knew that Phil was mostly saying that for Ranboo’s benefit. The enderman had gone white just looking at the list. 

Tommy and Tubbo, for their part, had been kind of surprised. The chores were mostly easy and actually pretty short, especially compared to former lists. It was divided into three sections, their respective jobs scribbled underneath. 

Ranboo’s was noticeably smaller than theirs. 

Neither of them mentioned it. 

The enderman had, of course, started on his set of chores the minute Phil had left. Tubbo watched with curiosity and a small amount of concern as Ranboo obsessively cleaned, as fast as he could. 

It was…kind of sad to see. 

But, of course, that meant Ranboo was done with his chores hours before the other boys. Sweeping, placing up the living space…it had all been done. 

And somehow time had just gotten away from the other two. Already, it was early afternoon, and Tubbo and Tommy had only just started. 

Procrastination at its finest. 

“Please,” Tubbo asked, yet again, clasping his hands together. 

Tommy shook his head, his arms crossed over his chest defiantly. “Nope.”

Tubbo fought the urge to wring the avian’s neck. That would not help convince him.  

It was just– augh, it was so frustrating. 

The main chore Tubbo had gotten stuck with was moving some boxes into the crawl space. 

Okay, yeah. He knew it wasn’t, like, a huge deal. It wasn’t hard. Tubbo could have done it easily by himself. 

But he didn’t want to. 

The boxes were filled with assorted things from in Phil’s room. The older avian had gone through some of his junk, and the stuff he didn’t want to throw out, he wanted put into the crawl space. 

It made sense. 

But why did Tubbo have to do it ? 

“I hate you,” Tubbo grumbled at Tommy, who cackled in response. 

“Sure, sure. Now, you better get a move on. Phil is supposed to be back in a few hours.”

Tubbo glared, not wanting to admit defeat just yet. “Have you even started on your chores?” 

Tommy stuck his tongue out. “As a matter of fact, yes .” 

“I hate you,” Tubbo repeated. 

Tommy shook his head. “Nah, you love me. You do.”

The goat hybrid was too exasperated to argue back. He turned around and marched up the stairs without another word. 

At least he had already started on his job.The boxes had already been moved into the hallway. 

There…honestly wasn’t that many of them. Like he’d said, Tubbo didn’t really need help. He could get them up the ladder and into the small space easily enough. 

But it would go faster with two people. 

Stupid Tommy. 

Sighing, Tubbo looked up at the ceiling. The latch glinted down at him menacingly, as if mocking.  

Tubbo crinkled his nose. Steeling himself, he jumped up, hands trying and failing to grasp the handle that would drop the ladder down. He landed hard.  

He bristled and jumped again, fingers barely brushing the cool metal. 

No luck. 

Frustrated, Tubbo jumped yet again, determined to get it. But like the times before, he fell short. 

Before he could kick the nearest box in frustration, a somewhat amused voice asked, “Need a hand?”

Tubbo turned to see Ranboo standing in the door of his room, a smile playing at his lips. His tail wagged behind him, lazily moving in the air. 

Tubbo glared. “No.” 

Ranboo’s eyes flashed and he suppressed a laugh. He ignored Tubbo’s answer and walked over, reaching up and easily unlatching the ladder. 

He hadn’t even gotten on his tiptoes. 

Tubbo glared as the ladder came down. Being tall was officially cheating in life. 

“Thanks,” he muttered, begrudgingly. 

Ranboo laughed a little. “You’re welcome.” A pause. “Whatcha working on?” 

“Phil wants me to move these boxes up,” Tubbo explained. “It’s my last chore.” 

Ranboo crouched to examine one. “What’s in them?”

“Junk.” 

“Why does he want them?”

Tubbo shrugged, flipping the lid of the box that Ranboo was studying open. It was just a bunch of clothes. “Beats me. Phil is sentimental like that.” 

The enderman hesitated, then slowly shifted through the fabric. “It…really is junk,” he said after a moment.

Tubbo laughed at Ranboo’s bluntness. “Told you.” 

Ranboo flashed a shy smile, closing the lid and standing back up. “Well…would you like some help?” 

Tubbo blinked. 

He had just been begging Tommy, but…

Well, he didn’t want to force Ranboo, or make the enderman feel like he had to. Plus, it wasn’t really fair. Ranboo had already finished his chores; he shouldn’t have to help Tubbo with his. 

“That’s okay,” he said.

Ranboo listed his head, studying Tubbo in a way that made him feel see-through. “I want to,” he insisted. 

Still, Tubbo hesitated. It…probably wouldn’t hurt, right? He finally nodded. “Okay. How should we do this?”

Ranboo shrugged, glancing at the small pile of boxes and then towards the crawl space. “No idea.”

Tubbo leaned down to pick up a box. This one definitely didn’t have clothes; it was much heavier than he thought it would be. “Well, ah, you could climb up there, and I’ll pass the boxes up?” 

“...Okay.”

Without another word, Ranboo started up the ladder, his top half disappearing. 

And then he froze for a second. 

“You good?” Tubbo asked, grunting slightly as he adjusted his grip on the cardboard. Seriously, what did Phil have in there, bricks?  

“Oh. Um, yeah,” Ranboo finally responded. He went the rest of the way.

Tubbo frowned. He didn’t like the way Ranboo had sounded, slightly nervous, when just a moment ago he’d been perfectly fine. 

He shrugged it off. 

Maybe it was his imagination. 

Steeling himself, he came closer to the ladder, peeking up. He could see Ranboo up there, looking down, eyes flitting around anxiously. 

Oh-kay. Something was definitely off. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tubbo asked again. 

Ranboo nodded, too fast, too many times. When he spoke, his voice was akin to a breathless wheeze. “Y-yeah. Yup. Never better.”

Tubbo eyed the other boy, concerned. Slowly, he set his box down with a heavy thump . “Is…it okay if I come up there?”

Ranboo let out a small sound, scrambling backward slightly out of view. “Um. Sure.”

Tubbo swallowed, taking that as his cue. He climbed the ladder quickly.

When he finally peaked his head up, he could see Ranboo was crouching low, body bent down because of the sagging ceiling. His hands were on his knees, eyes wide as he looked at the goat hybrid. 

Tubbo swallowed, looking around. He’d been up here before, but the space was more cramped than he remembered it. It was narrow and small, the ceiling short and getting shorter near the walls. It stank of rotting wood and mold.

There were a few boxes in there, but Tubbo knew it had been a long time before anyone had touched them. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, and there were no windows. The air tasted stale. 

He finally turned his attention back to Ranboo. He climbed the rest of the way up, crouching down to avoid the low ceiling. 

Ranboo eyed him nervously. Tubbo noted that he was shaking slightly, his face alight with a nervous energy that Tubbo could now recognise after almost four months of the boy living here. 

“What’s wrong?” the goat hybrid asked, looking around for anything that would obviously upset someone. He came up empty. 

Ranboo shivered, not meeting Tubbo’s eyes. He was folded at the waist and after a moment he dropped down, folding in on himself. 

Tubbo noticed Ranboo was sitting in almost exactly the middle of the room. 

His heart shriveled. Slowly, he lowered himself next to the boy, not caring about the dirt. “Ranboo?”

“I–I–” he couldn’t seem to speak. 

Tubbo swallowed, at a slight loss for what to do. He wasn’t Phil, he didn’t know how to navigate this. 

But…he had to try. He owed Ranboo that. 

“You need to breathe,” he said. There was a small space between them and he thought about closing it, but hesitated. Not yet. “In and out.” 

Shakily, Ranboo copied him, eyes squeezed shut. When a few minutes had passed, he had at least stopped trembling. 

For the most part. 

“Talk to me,” Tubbo urged, inching slightly closer. “What’s wrong?”

Ranboo let out a sound that sounded suspiciously like a whimper. He turned his head, eyeing the walls, the low ceiling. He folded in on himself more. 

Tubbo stilled, the answer coming onto him like a lightning strike. 

“Are you…do you not like small spaces?” he asked, carefully, whispering the words like volume might shatter the enderman. 

Ranboo shook his head, hugging his knees, his face screwed in slight panic. “They’re not,” he gasped out, “they’re not the best.” 

Tubbo sighed softly at the admission, inching away against his first instinct. He wanted to go closer , to comfort Ranboo, but he knew that would only crowd him. 

He would have to do this without proximity. 

But…how do you comfort someone down from far away? 

Tubbo bit his lip, thinking back to what Phil would do with him. When Tubbo had first come here, he really hadn’t liked to be touched. 

When he would panic, Phil couldn’t comfort him by giving him hugs or anything. 

Instead, the avian would just…sit there, talking in a low voice, a calm in the swirl of fear. 

Tubbo swallowed, an idea forming in his head. 

He could–he could try that.

He had to try that. 

Sucking in a deep breath and cracking open his lips, he mumbled, “I know what that’s like, dude. Tight spaces can be awful. They’re not, um, they’re not the best.” He winced as he realised he’d just repeated Ranboo. Plowed on. “I’m sorry I sent you up here. If I would have known I wouldn’t have done that.” 

His voice cut out. Ranboo didn’t respond. 

Tubbo cleared his throat and forced himself to continue. “Um…Phil mostly uses this to store random things he doesn’t want to throw out. Old clothes or photos or stuff like that, like what you saw downstairs. We hardly ever go in it.”

Ranboo nodded jerkily. His face was buried into his knees, arms wrapped around himself in an attempt to make himself smaller. 

Tubbo hated that, the concern spiking. He shoved it away and made his tone even. “This space is kind of a negative about this house. Too small to be of real use; it’s not a lot of storage. We don’t even call it an attic. It’s just the ‘crawl space’.” 

He paused. 

Nothing. 

Tubbo swallowed. 

And then he opened his mouth and forced himself to keep talking. 

It went like that for a long time. Tubbo would say something and then trail off, hoping Ranboo would respond. 

He didn’t. 

It was hard. Tubbo wished he knew what had made Ranboo so upset about small spaces, but he didn’t dare to ask, for fear it would worsen things.

He just talked. 

When he ran out of things to say about the crawl space, he moved on to anecdotes about his life so far. He talked about Tommy and his love for spiders. He talked about his own love for bees, and how Techno secretly liked to cook but didn’t want anyone to know. 

He mentioned that Phil had always been so kind and soft, even years before. He talked about how he’d met Purpled, and crazy stunts they had pulled together.

At one point, he even mentioned his parents. His voice was soft and quiet as he talked about them, the few memories he had before everything went bad.  

“They loved me,” he whispered.

And, oddly enough, it was those words that made Ranboo peek out of his shell at Tubbo. 

Triumph lighted Tubbo’s heart. Sure, Ranboo’s eyes were glassy and his face was pale, but it looked like the worst of the panic attack was over. 

He was back. 

“Hi,” Tubbo greeted, as if he hadn’t talked for at least an hour straight, as if his voice wasn’t cracking at the edges. 

Ranboo blinked at him, attempting a shy smile that looked more like a grimace. He kept his eyes on Tubbo as he slowly moved towards the exit, shaky limbs struggling to climb down. 

Tubbo went after him. 

The air was cooler down in the hallway. The boxes were still there. It looked exactly the same. 

“You okay?” Tubbo asked Ranboo, not quite looking at him, to try and make the enderman hybrid more comfortable. His throat kind of hurt. 

Ranboo nodded slowly, shifting around, sucking in the air. “Y-yeah. I–thanks, Tubbo.”

“No problem,” Tubbo responded, trying not to make a big deal out of it, trying to gloss over it. 

He added it to the list of things that seemed to trigger Ranboo: small spaces. 

He didn’t like the implications of that. 

But he didn’t ask. Sometimes, Ranboo offered up information about his past without any prompting at all. He just started talking, filling everyone in on the abuse he had suffered. 

But this time, Ranboo didn’t say anything as he picked up a box.

Tubbo didn’t push. He knew better.

Instead, he just went back up the ladder, and silently, the two of them worked. Ranboo passed him boxes and Tubbo grabbed them, placing them up as neat as he could. 

The job was done in less than fifteen minutes. 

Tubbo came down. Ranboo closed the hatch with his long limbs. 

For a while, the two of them just stood there. It was awkward, both of them feeling too exposed. 

But Tubbo forced himself through it. “Wanna play Monopoly? Phil told me you liked that game.”

Ranboo hesitated a moment, clearly unsure, but then he nodded slowly. “S-sure.” 

They didn’t discuss what had happened. They didn’t even mention it. They just set the game up on the dining room table, and a few minutes later Tommy came in and joined them. 

When Phil came home, only about half of the chores were finished. He hadn’t been mad, just slightly surprised. 

Tubbo pulled him aside and quietly told him what had happened. 

“He’s claustrophobic,” he finished, because he doubted Phil knew.

The older avian nodded, taking a deep, stuttering breath. Ranboo’s past ran deeper than any of them really knew, the layers peeling themselves back more and more everyday. “Thank you for telling me, Tubbo. And thank you for helping him.”

Tubbo looked at the ground, almost shy. “I only knew how to calm him down because of what you used to do with me.”

“Oh?”

Tubbo nodded, still not meeting his eyes. “Yeah. I just talked for a long time. I didn’t want to crowd him.”

When he finally looked up, Phil’s eyes were glassy and proud. 

Tubbo blinked in surprise as the avian pulled him into a tight hug, wrapping arms and squeezing . “You’re a good brother,” he murmured.

Tubbo hugged him back, thinking about that word. 

Brother. 

He hadn’t realised it, but Ranboo had…kind of become that to him. There was a certain fondness, something there, that only came with family. 

“Are you…remember how you said you were maybe going to file for adoption?” Tubbo asked, pulling away and keeping his voice quiet. They were in Phil’s room, but you never knew who was listening. 

Phil nodded, face breaking into a small smile. “I already did,” he told him. 

Tubbo gasped, unable to fight the smile working its way onto his face.

Ranboo, adopted. Ranboo, his brother. 

It just made sense. 

“Who knows?” he asked, almost giddy. 

Phil’s smile grew wider, the excitement contagious. “Techno, me, and you. I was going to tell both you and Tommy tonight, but you were ahead of me, I guess.”

“Wow,” Tubbo said. He was bouncing happily, hardly realising it. “When does-?”

“The file is being processed. Should be approved before the end of the week.” 

Tubbo’s grin grew so wide he was showing teeth. Techno had been there when Tommy was adopted, and they had both been there when Tubbo was. 

But Tubbo had never experienced it on the outside. It was a wonderful feeling. “When will Ranboo know?”

“His birthday,” Phil explained. “So…next month.”

Tubbo couldn’t think of a better birthday gift. “He’s going to be so happy,” he said, thinking back on his own adoption. It was a memory he never got tired of reliving when he was sad. 

Phil nodded, wings puffing up slightly behind him. “I hope so.”

“I know so.” 

They both looked at each other then. A moment later they were laughing. 

“Shhh, shh,” Phil hissed, but it didn’t quite have an effect considering he was shaking with suppressed laughter. 

Tubbo put a finger to his lips, still chuckling. He always laughed when he was happy. 

And he was definitely happy. 

“Go,” Phil said, pointing to his door. “Go do something, I want to tell Tommy.”

Tubbo nodded, moving to the door. It made sense that Phil wanted to talk to Tommy alone; the younger avian was a little more guarded than Tubbo was. “Aye, aye, captain,” he said, mock saluting. 

Phil rolled his eyes, but Tubbo could still see the happiness crinkling around the corners. 

Ranboo. Adopted. 

Yes, Tubbo was definitely excited. 

Chapter Text

Tommy was very particular about who touched his wings. 

Of course, he wasn’t exactly special in that. Most avians were. Allowing someone to touch your wings was a sign of trust , of caring, of tenderness. It was a tell tale sign that you liked a person and enjoyed their company. 

Normally, the right was reserved for family and very close friends. And obviously your mate, if you had one. It was kind of like someone brushing your hair, except way more intimate and personal and nerve-wracking and–

–and actually, it wasn’t really like that at all. 

But, yeah, most avians were pretty cautious about it. It was a general rule of thumb to always ask before you touched them, even if you had been given permission in the past. 

But Tommy…Tommy was very reserved. Even more so than most avians. 

Most of that stemmed from his time in the system. He knew that. People touching his wings without asking, running fingers along his feathers–

It had been awful. 

Not to mention that, often, foster parents would bind them. Call them unnatural, make him suppress his avian urges. They’d refuse to let him preen them, and his feathers would layer with dirt and grime and hurt and he couldn’t do a thing about it. 

And when they did preen them, it was always harsh, a thing Tommy hated. Pulled feathers, nail scratches. Sometimes they’d just grab a fist-full of the feathers and yank . Little pinpricks of blood would seep into the area around, making them more dirty, more disgusting than they already were. 

He had scars from that. 

So, no, Tommy was very particular about who touched his wings. Most of the time, if he could, he just preened them himself. 

Doing that was hard, though. The feathers at the base of his back and shoulders were difficult to reach, even when he twisted all the way around. He often went by touch alone, and afterwards, he could still feel dirt building between them. 

He hated that feeling. 

But–the idea of letting someone else touch them, someone help him, had been so much worse. 

So he learned to deal with it by himself, over the years. He was guarded. He snapped and fought and punched, never letting anyone near him if he didn’t want them to be. 

 He took care of himself. He did. 

But then…then there was Phil. 

Phil, who was so soft, so gentle. Phil, who never lost his temper with Tommy once, even though he had every reason to. Phil, who was an avian himself, who asked one day, very softly, “Tommy, would you like help preeing your wings?” 

And things had only built from there. 

After a long time, he finally let Techno do it. The man was harsher than Phil, his personality more similar to Tommy’s in that he was guarded, didn’t want to mess up. His patience wasn’t as long. 

But he was always as gentle as he could be. 

When Tubbo came along, the goat hybrid had been somewhat fascinated by Tommy’s wings. He thought they were beautiful, all the feathers lined up in neat rows. 

He never touched them, though. Not once. He just looked. 

A few months into Tubbo’s time there, it was Tommy who approached him, asking, almost shyly (not that he would dare to show that), “Do you want to help me preen?”

It had been a step towards building trust, building friendship.

Tubbo had been eager. He was inexperienced; he didn’t quite know what he was doing besides the basic idea, and the basic idea didn’t even begin to cover the proper procedure. 

Tommy had taken one of his wings in his lap and showed Tubbo, silently, how to comb through it, how to find the dirt and–gently–tear out the molten feathers. 

When it was Tubbo’s turn on the other wing, he was hesitant, slow, much less practiced than Phil or even Techno. 

But he was careful. Soft. 

It took awhile, but eventually they finished, and Tommy was somewhat amazed at how good his wings felt. 

He only grew from there. He learned to let others help him, if only for this one thing that he couldn’t do entirely on his own. Every few days, one of his family members would sit down with him, chatting about useless, mundane things as they cleaned and realigned the feathers. He even let Purpled do it, once.  

It was…actually nice. It felt how preening was supposed to feel. 

Trusting. Kind. Soft. 

So when, five months into Ranboo’s stay there, he walked down the stairs and shouted, “Who wants to help me preen!” he was surprised that Ranboo perked his head curiously. 

In all the time that Tommy had known Ranboo, the boy had never offered to preen him and Tommy had never asked. Ranboo had watched, cautiously, a few times when Phil or Tubbo or Techno had done it, but he never spoke. He just sat there, eyes tracing the movements.

Honestly, it was a little unnerving. 

But this time, it was different. After hesitating for a fraction of a second, Ranboo literally raised his hand. He was seated on the chair in the living room, reading a book. 

He was alone. 

Tommy faltered for a second.

Then he slowly came down the stairs, wings held tightly behind his back. He glanced towards the dining room, hoping to see Phil, but he wasn't in there. 

He stopped and stood in front of Ranboo. “Do you…know how to?” 

Ranboo glanced away. “I think so.”

Tommy scoffed, his defenses immediately rising up. “You think .”

He could tell from the look on the enderman’s face that he was growing embarrassed. “I, uh, I’ve watched it done a few times. I think…I think I can do it. I’ve tried to learn.” He trailed off for a moment, then added, “Phil taught me some.”

Tommy tried to hide his surprise. Phil had taught Ranboo? Ranboo had intentionally learned, just so he could…what? 

Just so he could help Tommy?

He had no idea why the idea shocked him so much. 

“Oh,” he said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. The single word made him cringe. 

It was just–it was hard to believe that Ranboo was genuinely just offering. 

He supposed he should get used to Ranboo preening for him. 

Phil had told him about a week ago that he’d filed for adoption for Ranboo. 

“You may have guessed this,” he’d started, eyeing Tommy with something soft, something like concern in his eyes, “but I’ve filed for adoption for Ranboo.”

Tommy had stared at him. The shock had felt like an actual monster, ripping through him. 

“Are you okay?” Phil had asked, leaning closer,. His hands reached out and hovered, as if he might pull Tommy into a hug 

Tommy nodded numbly, processing. It was…a lot for him to take in. He had kind of guessed it, but still. 

A new brother. 

Phil closed the space between them, pulling Tommy in and squeezing. After a moment, Tommy returned the embrace. 

“Are you upset?” Phil had asked, and Tommy could hear the fear in the man’s voice. 

He shook his head, and he was being honest when he said, “No.” 

It was just…a hard thing for Tommy to get used to. He liked Ranboo, a lot, but it was impossible for his overactive brain not to worry.

(Would Phil love Ranboo more than him? Would he be replaced?)

He had shoved those thoughts away and sank into the hug more.  He knew the answer to both questions, a resounding no , echoing around in his head.

That wasn’t Phil. He knew that. 

Sometimes, though, that didn’t matter. It was hard to get himself to believe it. 

Even after all this time, Tommy was still healing, too. 

But Ranboo needed a home, too. He needed love. 

And that night, as Tommy laid down, listening to Tubbo’s labored breathing, he’d come to a startling thought: he already loved Ranboo. 

They all did. 

He knew things would be different when Ranboo was officially part of their family. He knew it would be a period of adjustment. 

But it wouldn’t just be him. Tubbo would be adjusting, too, and Phil and Techno. And of course Ranboo. 

They’d all be there for each other. He knew it. 

And now, standing there, looking at Ranboo’s nervous face, something shifted in him. 

He cared about Ranboo. Of course he did. 

He wanted him as a brother. 

“You can preen them,” he said aloud, turning around and sitting on the ground without another word. 

There was a long second in which nothing happened. Then he heard shuffling and felt more than saw Ranboo settling down behind him. 

Nothing happened. 

“It’s fine,” Tommy told him, keeping his voice hard so it didn’t shake. 

And still, Ranboo hesitated. “Are you sure?” he whispered, and man , Tommy was not prepared for the concern in the boy’s voice. 

He swallowed. Nodded. “Yes. Just…be gentle.” 

The last words were a whisper. 

There was another long moment in which nothing happened. 

Then cool, soft fingers landed in Tommy’s wings. 

“Man, your hands are cold,” Tommy snapped, pulling away slightly to hide the horrible beating of his heart. 

“I’m sorry,” Ranboo immediately said, sounding a little scared. The words were his first reaction to almost anything, being ripped from his throat. 

Tommy cringed. He forced himself to relax, to lean back again. “It’s fine.”

It was . 

This time, the pause was longer. Tommy wondered if Ranboo was even going to continue. 

But eventually, Ranboo touched his wings again, even gentler this time. It felt like the breeze. 

They were both perfectly still. 

Then, slowly, almost painfully so, Ranboo began filing through the feathers. 

He didn’t talk as he worked, a sharp contrast to everyone else. They all kept a steady stream of chit-chat, going through their days or telling stories. Most of the time, Tommy just listened to them, not really contributing. 

He thought the silence would be awkward. 

And it was, at first. 

But then, after a while, Tommy found it was actually…peaceful. He was relaxing into the touch, the softness. 

It was…nice. 

It was broken a few moments later, though. 

“I have to pull a feather,” Ranboo warned him, hands poised around it. He was tugging on it gently so that Tommy could feel which one it was. 

Tommy nodded his head. “Go ahead.” 

Ranboo hesitated, then pulled slowly. There was a gentle pressure and then a release. Tommy hardly felt it; it must have been very molten. 

“Did that hurt?” Ranboo asked anxiously. His breath was warm on Tommy’s neck. 

Tommy shook his head. “No.” He paused. “Most of the time, pulling things doesn’t hurt. It’s only bad when the feathers aren’t ready to come out yet.” 

Ranboo hummed in understanding, his cold fingers beginning to move through again. “I bet that would be painful,” he murmured. 

Tommy tensed a little. “Yes,” he said, curtly. 

But Ranboo didn’t push. He just went silent again, continuing the task at hand. 

They went that way for a while. No one really disturbed them; Tommy guessed that they were all busy with something. 

At one point, Tubbo walked through. He curiously glanced at them, something soft settling in his eyes. 

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” Tommy snapped, feeling his cheeks heat. 

Tubbo’s smile softened even more. He continued on without a word. 

Tommy forced himself to relax again. 

Eventually, after what felt like a really long time, Ranboo switched to the other wing. He was becoming more confident as he went on, his movements more precise and accurate than before. Tommy was surprised he was doing so well from simply watching . “Have you ever done this before?”

Ranboo made a small noise. “No.” Pause. “But I like to learn new things.” 

“Well,” Tommy said, shifting slightly, uncomfortableness crawling up his neck, “you’re good at this.” 

Ranboo’s hands stilled at the praise. “Thank you.” His voice was quiet. 

Tommy glanced to the side. “You’re welcome,” he said, sincerely. 

Ranboo continued on. His mix-matched hands cleared dirt and debris away, and Tommy found himself relaxing into the touch. 

It was nice. Ranboo took a lot longer than Phil and Techno or even Tubbo, but what he lacked in speed, he made up for in comfort. Tommy could feel his eyelids growing heavy. He felt like maybe he could stay in that moment forever. 

When Ranboo’s hands finally reached the end, they stilled on the tips of Tommy’s wings, as if he didn’t want to stop. For a moment, the air seemed to go completely still. 

But then he sighed, pulling his cold hands away, and Tommy felt something land in his chest. 

He didn’t want the moment to stop. 

“Does that feel okay?” Ranboo asked, voice quiet behind Tommy. 

Tommy shifted forward, stretching his wings out behind him and given them a little shake. 

Part of him kind of wanted to say no. If he did that, then Ranboo would  keep going, would work his way through every feather all again. 

Part of Tommy just wanted to sit back in the silence and be cared for. 

But he didn’t say that. He didn’t lie. 

Instead, he said, in a way of answer, “You did a good job.”

Ranboo's voice held a small smile. Tommy could hear the pleased note in his voice. “I’m glad.” 

They both struggled to their feet, turning to look at each other for the first time in over an hour. Tommy flapped his wings again, testing them out. They felt amazing. “I can’t believe you learned to preen just by watching,” he told Ranboo. 

Ranboo’s face glowed with a soft blush. His hands twitched at his sides. “Well, Phil taught me some,” he admitted, trying to displace the credit.

Tommy shook his head. He didn’t want to let this go. “No, this was more than just being taught. You’re good at this, dude, my wings feel great.” 

Ranboo suppressed a smile, eyes lighting from the praise. “I just wanted to help,” he murmured. 

The words weren’t desperate. It wasn’t a call of wanting to be useful, of needing to prove yourself, the way it might have sounded a few months ago coming from the enderman. 

But, no, not today. Today, those words were sincere, quiet but true. 

Ranboo had just wanted to help him. He hadn’t been pressured into doing it, wasn’t working himself too hard in an effort to be useful.

He just…wanted to. 

Simple. 

Tommy’s chest tightened at that as he stood there, staring. He thought about what it would mean to have Ranboo around all the time.

To have Ranboo as a brother . 

And he found his answer easy: Ranboo was already his brother. 

He was more than a friend, a bond that had slowly been building ever since Tommy saw his scars. Even before that; maybe it had been building from the moment they saw each other. 

They’d both been through a lot. They both didn’t quite know or understand the other’s trauma, the same way Tommy didn’t understand Tubbo or Techno or even Phil, at times, and they didn’t always understand each other either. 

They were a mismatched family, bound by trauma and fear and a healthy dash of PTSD.

But they were a family. 

And Tommy focused on that as he smiled at Ranboo, a genuine smile, and Ranboo offered one back. 

Family. 

The word was fitting, and Tommy settled into it as the two of them, without a word, plopped onto the couch. Ranboo sank into the cushions immediately without any sort of reminder, and Tommy fought a smile from his face. 

Family. 

He couldn’t think of a better adjective to describe them. His freshly preened wings attested to that, and his spirits were high and he felt good .

He was glad Ranboo had volunteered to preen. Glad he had agreed. 

Glad that Phil was adopting him. 

Chapter Text

There was something off about Ranboo. 

Phil first noticed it on the five and a half-month mark, just a few weeks before the boy’s birthday. He’d gotten the confirmation letter for the adoption a few days before, and his spirits were high. He felt like he was floating on the clouds. It took everything in him not to sprint to Ranboo and tell him immediately. 

Techno had managed to hold him back. Wait for the party, as planned. 

Phil had begrudgingly agreed. Right . Wait for the party, surprise the boy, shower him with what Phil hoped would be the best day of the boy’s life. 

He knew it was the best plan, and it was even what he wanted to do. But he also wanted to make the boy feel loved and comforted and happy. 

“You’re doing that anyway,” Techno assured him. 

Phil had sighed. He hoped so. It would just…be so much easier if he could spoil the news. 

But he managed to restrain himself. They were all right; it was better to wait. 

But that didn’t stop him from focusing extra hard on the little enderman. He wanted to make sure Ranboo was completely comfortable with them, wanted to know that Ranboo wouldn’t take the news the wrong way or be too overwhelmed. 

Everyone had been adamant that Ranboo would be thrilled. They all had their own guesses about his reaction, but they were certain he would accept. 

“He’s already basically family,” Tommy told everyone. “It just needs to be made official.”  

And, honestly? 

Phil Tommy was right. Even though it had been less than six months, he couldn’t imagine their home without Ranboo there. The quiet space he occupied, the thoughtful gestures he did without being asked…

No, Phil couldn’t imagine life without him anymore. He became more and more sure of his decision to foster the boy everyday. 

But, because he was constantly watching Ranboo, he started to notice when the enderman seemed off. 

He first observed it at lunch. Ranboo was just sitting there, staring at his plate, the sandwich in front of him practically untouched. 

Phil felt concern slosh through him. It had been awhile since Ranboo had struggled to eat. He had gained weight since coming to live with them, the consistent three meals a day doing him good, and he even tried a lot of new foods he’d never had before. Slowly his presence became an adamant one at the table. He talked and joked and measured his portions by himself without looking to Tommy and Tubbo for help. 

Watching that progress bloom had been wonderful. 

But that day…that day he just sat there. He looked tired, more so than Phil had seen him in awhile, eyes sunken and skin pale. 

“Ranboo,” Phil called, gently. “Are you not hungry?”

The boy’s face darkened with crimson blush. “Um…yeah. I’m not that hungry.”

Phil felt a sharp bout of worry, but he pushed it aside. Sometimes that just happened; appetites came and went. It wasn’t anything to be concerned about. 

At least, that’s what he tried to tell himself. 

He took some consolation in the fact that Tommy and Tubbo didn’t seem concerned at all. He knew they were just teenagers; they didn’t quite know what to find odd and what not to. But they were both smart. If something was actually wrong, he figured they would catch it. 

So he’d just nodded at Ranboo, smiled, and bagged the sandwich to save for later. 

He wouldn’t stress over it. Not unless there was more reason. 

And, for another day or so, there wasn’t anything. Ranboo was in his room a lot, but he ate the soup Phil made for dinner. 

Or, most of it. 

But that was fine! Phil shouldn’t expect him to like every single meal he made. Plus, maybe the enderman was just raving a rough day. 

As if reassuring this, Ranboo even watched a movie with them that night, settling down and leaning against the cushions. 

And if he was a little quiet? A little shaky? So what ? Ranboo was always quiet. 

It was fine. 

Until, the next morning, it wasn’t. 

Phil had woken up early, earlier than he normally did. He’d crept down the creaky stairs, feet light on the wood. The house was dark and quiet and he figured he was the only one up. 

Slowly, he made his way to the kitchen, coffee on his mind as his sluggish feet dragged beneath him. 

But when he entered the room, he froze completely in his tracks. 

Because there was Ranboo, on his hands and knees, cleaning up a pile of vomit. 

“Ranboo?” Phil asked, the shock in his voice strong, his eyes wide as he stared. The air smelled horrible. 

The enderman hybrid flinched hard, raising red and green eyes to look at Phil guiltily. His hands were shaking as they clutched paper towels. “I’m sorry,” he said, immediately. 

Phil shook his head hard, fast. “No, no, Ranboo. Are you–you’re sick .”

It wasn’t a question, even though Phil had kind of meant it as one. 

It was an observation. 

Ranboo shivered. His face was pale in the early morning light, eyes redrimmed and face taut. “Y-yes,” he whispered.

Phil swallowed back the concern that threatened to choke him and came closer. His heart felt like it was beating way too fast. 

Ranboo had mostly managed to miss puking on himself, despite a few splattered spots. The majority of it had landed on the floor, remnants of the soup from the night before. 

Phil finally had realised why Ranboo had been acting so weird. 

The poor boy was sick and hiding it. 

Slowly, Phil reached his hand out. Ranboo had gotten much better with touch over the past few months, but Phil still made sure Ranboo saw his fingers before grazing the boy’s forehead. 

He was burning up. 

“You have a fever,” Phil told him, fighting and failing to keep the worry from his words. “Oh, buddy.” 

Ranboo’s face heated red. His hands were still mindlessly trying to clean the mess up. 

Phil grabbed them gently, tearing the towels away from his shaky fingers. “You don’t need to do this,” he told Ranboo, trying to be gentle. “You should rest.”

Ranboo’s bottom lip quivered. “I’m sorry,” he said again, a tape stuck on repeat, words said so often they were second nature to him. 

Phil tried not to let that break his heart. 

“You don’t need to be sorry, Ranboo,” he told the enderman, slowly standing. Ranboo copied him. 

“R-right.”

Phil sighed softly. “Go change, okay? Then I want you to lay on the couch. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Ranboo nodded and went off, steps slightly stilted. Phil watched him go. 

When he was alone, Phil just stood there for a long moment. The thought of Ranboo pretending not to be sick, of cleaning up his own puke so Phil didn’t have to–

He hated it. 

Swallowing, the older avian forced himself to go retrieve the cleaning supplies that he kept in a small closet. He brought them out the kitchen, crouched down onto the floor and mopped up the mess. 

His hands couldn't seem to stop shaking. 

As he worked, he wondered how long Ranboo had been hiding the illness. At least all day yesterday; probably more. 

It was a little hard to judge, but Phil’s best guess was that Ranboo had the flu. His symptoms, at least what Phil knew about them, resembled the virus. Nausea, fever, probably dizziness and a headache if he had to estimate. 

With each thought, his worry only grew. 

Ranboo had made so much progress over the past few months. Phil would have liked to think the enderman would come to him for help if he was feeling poorly. Or, at least go to Tubbo or Tommy or even Techno. 

Apparently not. 

Just another thing that was definitely a product of the young teen’s past. 

Phil shoved that away. He had to focus on the now , on cleaning and then on taking care of the poor boy. He could freak out later, alone in his room. 

He nodded, cementing the thought in his mind, and forced shaky hands to finish the job. He bleached the ground, let it sit, then wiped it up. He threw everything out in the trash and scrubbed his hands. 

Done. 

Now onto step number two. The more difficult one. 

Slowly, he made his way to the living room, trying to keep his steps as light as he could. 

Ranboo was already on the couch, head back against the cushions and eyes screwed closed. 

He looked miserable . 

Part of Phil just wanted to let the boy sleep. 

The other part knew the two of them had to talk, at least for a few minutes. 

“Ranboo?” Phil asked, gently, walking more into the living room. 

The enderman’s eyes popped open; he’d never been asleep at all. “Yes?” he murmured. 

Relief swam through the avian. For a moment, he’d thought Ranboo might call him ‘sir’ for the first time in months. 

Thank the stars.    

“How long have you been sick?” Phil asked, trying to keep his voice as gentle as he could. He lowered himself into the armchair. 

Ranboo looked away. It was a long moment before he answered, “I…haven’t been feeling well for a few days. It was worse yesterday.” 

Phil closed his eyes briefly at that. Opened them. “Ranbo, you need to tell me when you don’t feel good. That’s how I can help you until you’re better.”

Ranboo shrunk back a little. His eyes were foggy and he blinked blearily. “I’m sorry.” 

Phil shook his head, sighing. “It’s okay,” he said, and he meant it. “Just for the future. Tell me, okay? Or Tubbo or Tommy or Techno.”

Ranboo hesitated a moment before nodding. “Okay. I promise. I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to keep apologising, Ranboo. It’s okay.” 

“I–sorr– okay .” His face had scrunched into something pitiful, voice wet.  

Phil let out a small sigh, letting it go for now. One day, he would make Ranboo see that he didn’t have to say sorry so much.

Just…not today.

He forced himself to continue on. “Could you tell me what doesn’t feel right? Obviously, your stomach. But what else?”

He watched as Ranboo’s face flushed. “Um. My head hurts?”

“Anything else? You were really warm when I checked; I think you have a fever.”

Ranboo nodded slowly. He looked a little embarrassed and definitely anxious. Fear made his tail flick. “Uh, yeah. Achy, and really tired. I…have a sour throat.” 

“Is that all?”