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Tubbo hasn’t slept in three days, and there is a spool of red string sitting in his pocket. Three days ago, Tommy had been alive and- well, not well. Tommy is never well these days, not since exile. But he had been alive and stuck in the prison with Dream.
Three days ago, Sam had explained to him and Ranboo that Tommy was dead. Tubbo didn’t believe him then, and a part of him still doesn’t. It feels too abrupt, too unreal. Tommy was meant for the battlefield, all raised fists and wild grins. He wouldn’t die beaten to death in a jail cell.
That’s what he reasoned that night, at least. Ranboo was asleep, but Tubbo was lying wide awake staring at the ceiling, turning thoughts around his head until he came to the conclusion that Tommy couldn’t be dead.
That’s what he explained to Ranboo the next morning, when he asked how Tubbo was doing. Sam was lying, and Tommy is still alive. “We just need to wait until the security issue is solved, right? Then Sam will let him out?”
Ranboo opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, and then closed it again. “Why…” he said carefully instead. “Why don’t we go to work on the hotel?”
Tubbo was more than willing to get his mind off of Sam’s lie, so he agreed without hesitation.
They worked well into the day, only taking a break when Ranboo declared he was hungry, and you should have something, too.
(Tubbo did not eat. For reasons he could not explain, he was not hungry. Maybe it was because when Ranboo pressed a potato into his hand, all Tubbo could think was is this what they fed- are feeding Tommy? and suddenly the idea of food didn’t seem appealing.)
When the sun set, Tubbo found that he didn’t want to go. He was enjoying the mindless work, and he didn’t want to sit in the dark with nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company.
He did not tell Ranboo that. Instead, he said: “I want to at least finish this wall.”
Ranboo had conceded. They could finish the wall, and only the wall. “And then we need to go home. Michael probably misses us.”
That… that Tubbo could not argue with. It was his turn to admit defeat, and that night he stayed sitting at the foot of Michael’s bed instead of sleeping. “Go on,” he’d lied to Ranboo. “I’ll come to bed in a little bit.”
Ranboo did not bring up the fact that he woke up alone, and Tubbo did not admit that he’d spent the night chewing on his lip with his hand tangled in his hair as he started to wonder what Sam even had to gain from that stupid lie.
Sam had cared about Tommy, Tubbo thinks. And Tommy would never willingly do this to Tubbo. He would never choose to die like this, even in a fantasy scenario. If Tommy got to lie about his death, it would’ve been a story for the ages.
Sam wouldn’t keep Tommy in the prison. Not willingly. Not with Dream. Tommy wouldn’t do this to him if he had any choice.
Oh.
Tommy really was gone, wasn’t he?
Ranboo asked how Tubbo was doing. Tubbo told him he was fine. Tubbo told him he wanted to take a walk.
“Okay,” Ranboo said. “Where are we going?”
“I meant alone, big man. I don’t need you to hold my hand.” Tubbo tried to keep his voice even. He tried to keep the smile on his face. Ranboo didn’t need to know Tubbo was upset. No one needed to know. Tubbo had always been able to take care of himself, and this was no different.
Ranboo seemed hesitant, but he’d agreed anyways. Tubbo had walked out the door, and somehow he found himself in Tommy’s house, rifling through his old sewing supplies until there was a spool of red string in his hands.
(He ignored the flowers on the lawn. Tommy would have hated them, and looking at them makes Tubbo want to curl up in a ball somewhere until the rest of the world goes away.)
Tubbo hasn’t seen him since. He’s been avoiding him, because he’s seen the way Ranboo has been looking at him. He’s careful with Tubbo, like if he breathes wrong Tubbo will shatter.
Tubbo doesn’t need careful right now, he’s never needed careful. Tubbo was president of L’Manberg, once upon a time and you get paid too much to cry, Schlatt had told him a lifetime before that.
What Tubbo needs is Tommy, but Tommy’s gone, and he would never leave Tubbo willingly, which means there’s someone out there responsible for this.
There’s someone out there that led Tommy to his death like a lamb to slaughter, and who knows what their plan is? Who’s next? It could be Tubbo. It could be Ranboo. It could be Michael.
He needs to get to the bottom of this.
That’s what he’s thinking when he passes by Tommy’s hotel, staring up the side of it wondering if Jack Manifold had the motive or the means. Maybe... jealousy? About Tommy owning the hotel? So he decided to try and off him.
Tubbo’s head is pounding. His eyes water with the strain of staring at the building, and part of him wants to lie down. The rest of him reminds him that he can’t sleep until the job is finished, that’s always how it’s been. He spent so many nights doing Schlatt’s paperwork, he can handle a little investigation.
Tubbo shakes his head, and turns his thoughts back to Jack Manifold. He hadn’t been anywhere near the prison, but maybe he could have set it off remotely? Was Jack Manifold even smart enough to do that?
...Where would he have gotten the tnt?
Why won’t Tubbo’s head stop hurting?
He’s startled by his thoughts by the telltale sound of an enderman vwoop from just behind him. Tubbo stills. There’s an enderman right behind him. That is… not good.
Cautiously, Tubbo takes a step forward. A step away from the enderman, hopefully.
He pauses, and listens for the sound of movement.
The enderman chirps, a questioning noise, and Tubbo realizes that he knows that trill. He knows that voice. That’s Ranboo. Ranboo never hurt Tommy, and would never hurt Tubko. He trusts Ranboo.
He turns to face him. “Hey, big man,” he starts, trying to settle back into his usual false cheer until he can convince Ranboo to let him slip away again, but he’s stopped by the look in his eyes.
He’s expecting pity, maybe. Something sad, contemplative. He is not expecting nothing . Ranboo has always been smart, as far as Tubbo can tell. His brain goes a mile a minute, thinking through every problem and seeing every single angle he can get his hands on, for better or for worse.
But there’s none of that in these eyes, and Tubbo can’t think of why for the life of him.
Enderwalk.
The word comes to him unbidden, but he can’t remember where it came from. It feels important. It feels like his head is trying to split itself in half.
Ranboo lets out another chirp, but this one is lower. Something closer to a disapproving hum. His hand comes up to Tubbo’s chin. Ranboo’s hand tilts his head up so that he can get a better look at Tubbo’s face, and he has no choice but to let it happen.
Ranboo’s eyes narrow as they seem to scan his face. Maybe he’s taking in the bags under his eyes. Maybe it’s the fact that Tubbo hadn’t brushed his hair. Maybe it’s the way his bottom lip is bitten raw from how hard he’s been thinking. Maybe it’s all of the above.
He doesn’t know. What he does know is that Ranboo releases his chin, and proceeds to lean down and scoop him into his arms.
“Ranboo?” he says weakly, but he is not dignified with a response.
Instead, Ranboo carries him all the way to… to something. Somewhere between realizing his head was resting against Ranboo’s shoulder and the rhythmic motion of walking, Tubbo lost some time. All he knows is that one moment he is outside the Big Innit Hotel, and the next he is gently being dropped down into a bed.
He thinks it’s the Bee n’ Boo. He’s not sure. He’s not sure he cares. He doesn’t have time for this. He has an investigation to finish. “Ranboo,” he says again. “I don’t know what you want.”
Ranboo does not move from where he stands by Tubbo’s bedside. He just stares, unblinking and silent.
Tubbo sighs. He needs to get back to work. He moves to stand, and the world spins on its axis for a moment. His head screams, and he stumbles straight into Ranboo.
Ranboo’s hands are on his shoulders, and no matter how un-Ranboo the look in his eyes is, Tubbo can recognize disapproval a mile away.
Before he has time to react, Ranboo pushes him back onto the bed with something like a growl. Not quite, but something approaching one. More of an expression of frustration than a real warning, with a hint of stay put.
Tubbo’s head hits the pillow again, and he feels… marginally better now that he’s lying down. Part of him wants to just let go and rest for a moment, but the rest of him knows that he can’t. He can’t, not until the investigation was done, that was the deal-
Ranboo sighs. At least, he thinks that’s what that sound is supposed to be. A moment later, there’s a dip in the bed, and Tubbo feels a weight settle beside him.
Tubbo is about to move to sit up again, but then arms wrap around his midsection and the next thing he knows he’s being pulled against Ranboo’s chest.
“What?” he says, voice strained.
Ranboo’s arms tighten, and Tubbo almost feels protected being held like this. Like Ranboo will keep him safe, no matter what. Safe in the way that he hasn’t been since Tommy died, since Dream put an axe to his throat, since Wilbur thrust a presidency he never asked for on his shoulders, since Technoblade put a firework through his chest, or even since Schlatt called him up to the podium on Election Day and called him his right hand man.
Tubbo is being held, and for the first time in longer than he cares to admit, he actually feels safe.
Ranboo makes a low, rumbling sound, like a cat purring. It’s a surprisingly soothing white noise. Moments later, there’s a hand carding through his hair and scratching softly at his scalp.
His eyelids start to droop. Tubbo puts up as good a fight to stay awake as he can manage. He… he has work to finish, he tries to tell himself. But against his will, he is relaxing into Ranboo’s arms.
Tommy is gone, and Tubbo will find the person responsible for it.
Tubbo will find the person responsible for it in the morning. When he doesn’t feel so damn safe. When there aren’t fingers in his hair and a fading headache behind his eyes and arms around his chest and a purring half-enderman all bidding him to let go and just sleep.
In a few hours, Ranboo will come back to himself and he will wonder how he ended up lying in his own hotel bed with his husband’s head on his chest. He will try to remember, and find his memory entirely blank. He will panic for a moment, and then he will glance down and realize that this is the first time he’s seen Tubbo asleep since Tommy died.
He will sigh, and find himself suddenly glad for whatever actions he took that got them here. He will settle back in to sleep himself, and pray that Tubbo gets a few more hours before throwing himself into his next project to distract himself from his grief.
But that won’t happen for a few hours yet. For now, he keeps a purr rumbling in his chest and his hand in Tubbo’s hair. He keeps a silent watch as Tubbo’s breath becomes slow and even with sleep, and he silently congratulates himself on a job well done.
Ranboo does not know what Tubbo’s trying to do, but he does know that he is more than willing to make sure he doesn’t use it as an excuse to run himself into the ground.
It’s Ranboo’s job to take care of his family, after all.