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The first day of school is always the worst.
But even worse than the first day of school is when you’re the only one who’s there for the first day. Or, well, the only one whose first day it is? When it’s not the first day, except for you it actually is? Or—
Ranboo is starting at a new school today. In the middle of the year. And it is the worst.
The day is going fine, Ranboo supposes. Only one of his teachers has made him stand up before the class to introduce himself, and all of them have offered him time to catch up on class work before they start grading him.
But it’s not too late to write off the day being awful yet, since now it’s time for lunch. At a new school. Where everyone already has their unofficial assigned seats and are probably not looking for random people who stuttered in their introduction to sit with them.
With a sigh, Ranboo steps out of the lunch line with his tray, scanning the room in hopes of finding an open table. He’s shocked when his eyes land on a mostly empty table in the corner of the room. There’s only one person sitting there who Ranboo vaguely remembers from some of his classes. Well, the long pink hair is kind of memorable.
Hesitantly, Ranboo starts over to that table. At the very least he can just ask if anyone else is sitting there. If the boy is just holding the seats for his friends, it’s no big deal and will only be a little mortifying. Better than sitting by the trash cans without trying.
Taking a deep breath, Ranboo prepares himself to greet the other kid.
“Hey, Rainbow!”
The yell rings out across practically the entire cafeteria. Ranboo turns on reflex, relatively used to his name being mispronounced regularly. It doesn’t bother him, but he’s still shocked when a group of boys at a table are looking and waving at him.
For a second Ranboo pauses, looking back over at the pink haired kid. But the boy is just slouched over in his seat even further, nose practically touching his notebook and shoulders pinched to his ears. Turning back to the boys that shouted at him, Ranboo walks over.
“H–hello,” Ranboo greets them, trying to offer a smile.
“Hey, you’re the new guy, right?” One of the boys asks.
“Oh, yeah. I just moved here, so…” Ranboo trails off, tongue feeling dumb as his cheeks heat.
“Well a piece of advice then, don’t sit with Technoblade.”
The words make Ranboo’s mind spin in confusion, though most of the kids around him just chuckle in amusement. Someone moves some things away from a spot at the table, motioning for Ranboo to sit. Slowly, he does, though his spine stays stiff.
“What do you mean?” Ranboo asks.
“The pink haired freak in the corner? Yeah, I’d keep your distance,” One of the boys jeers.
“Come on, Jason. Don’t say that,” A girl with very curly hair says.
“What? It’s not like you like him, either. He's such a… you know,” Jason, apparently, reinforces.
The girl rolls her eyes before turning back to Ranboo.
“Technoblade’s kind of a jerk, just ignore him like everyone else does. Who isn’t Jason at least.”
That seems to earn more amusement from the surrounding kids, as they rib Jason and the girl. And the Technoblade kid. Except Technoblade certainly isn’t laughing along with them.
Maybe the guy is a huge jerk or something, but it’s still not great that so many people are casually mocking him. If they were just ignoring him, that would be fine, but it seems mean to go out of their way spreading rumors. And… Ranboo doesn’t know.
It seems like these people are willing to let him sit with them. Maybe they’ll keep doing that, maybe even let him join their friend group or something. That would make school much easier. Ranboo didn’t really have loads of friends at his old school and it wasn’t great. He didn’t eat alone in the corner like the pink haired boy, but…
Ranboo looks over his shoulder and peeks at Technoblade. The kid doesn’t seem to notice any of the jeering, scribbling away at his book and occasionally shoving his long hair behind his ear or shoulder. It’s like he’s in his own little bubble, totally removed from the rest of the cafeteria.
It could totally be him projecting, but Ranboo remembers that he kind of wished someone would talk to him at lunch unprompted. Sure, people would respond if he talked first, but it’s not the same as being sought out.
Chewing on his lip, Ranboo stares down at his tray for a couple seconds before slowly standing and stepping away. A couple of the people at the table look at him, but they don’t say anything. And everyone else is busy laughing over how milk is running out of someone’s nose to notice.
So, Ranboo walks with absolute total confidence back to the little table.
Technoblade doesn’t look up as Ranboo approaches. Awkwardly shifting, Ranboo coughs a bit in the hope that it will draw the attention of the other boy. It’s obvious that it does, since the pencil stops moving, but Technoblade doesn’t look up.
“Um, can I sit here?” Ranboo asks.
The other boy sighs before looking up with a blank face, looking just on the edge of pissed off. Ranboo can only shift even more, waiting for the response.
“Did they send you over?” Technoblade asks, voice flat.
“No? I mean— the table has empty seats?”
The lackluster response obviously doesn’t put Technoblade at ease, since his intense stare just bores into Ranboo harder. At the very least, the other boy isn’t looking directly into Ranboo’s eyes and instead just vaguely at his face. If the eye contact was that long and intense, Ranboo would probably just give up and go sit at the trash cans for real.
Technoblade just ends up grunting out an “I guess,” before turning back to his notebook, hair falling over his face.
Ranboo slides into the seat across from him, bouncing his leg a couple times before starting in on his food. It’s all gone cold, but at least it gives him something to do.
“What are you working on?” Ranboo asks after a couple long quiet seconds.
Techno squints up at him, as if Ranboo had insulted his grandma.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Just curious, I guess. You don’t have to tell me. I mean, if it’s personal or something, I didn’t mean to pry. Um…”
Ranboo feels his face go hot in embarrassment, but at least Techno looks up a bit more, which makes his eyes less burning. After a second, Technoblade turns his notebook around, still staring at him.
A bit desperately, Ranboo looks down at the page before him. It’s covered in words and some sort of diagram. At first, he thinks it must be some sort of school project. But the longer he looks, the more confused he gets. This is like a drawing straight out of an old boring book or something.
“What is it?” Ranboo asks.
“A water purifier. Well, a drawing of one, anyway.”
It does make more sense after the clarification. The drawing’s pretty detailed, probably enough for even Ranboo to follow. But it still doesn’t explain:
“But, why?”
Technoblade is quiet as he turns the book back around, picking up his pencil and slowly writing a title on the page. It goes on long enough that Ranboo assumes he’ll be ignored. Maybe Technoblade just likes drawing diagrams. There’s weirder interests. Honestly, Ranboo probably has weirder interests himself.
But Technoblade looks up suddenly, meeting Ranboo’s eyes for the first time. His eyes are gray and surrounded by dark smears.
“The world’s going to end, don’t you know?”
—
“I don’t know how to climb a tree,” Ranboo protests, looking up at said tree with apprehension.
It’s a tall tree with a thick middle and sturdy branches. The leaves are just starting to regrow from winter, but it’ll surely be quite pretty and plump come summer. Techno seems more worried about ‘the foundation,’ or something like that. He’s already kicked at the trunk and swung from about half the branches.
“Well, we’d build the ladder first. We’re not going to climb up every single time, that’s not tactical,” Techno says, voice heavy with an eye roll.
“Is a tree house good for survival?” Ranboo asks as Techno pulls out his notebook, writing away.
“Good for zombies.” The response is immediate.
Ranboo creeps closer to Techno, looking over his shoulder. The page is already half full of a quick sketch. It only takes a couple glances for Ranboo to make out that it’s of the tree before them. It’s a pretty good sketch. Techno’s pretty good at drawing. But he only ever draws diagrams though.
“So it’s going to be zombies then?”
That seems like a pretty bad apocalypse to have. Well, Ranboo supposes the end of the world is going to suck no matter what, but man-eating monsters are pretty disturbing outside of movies. Maybe Ranboo’s so bummed about the idea because he’s not so confident about being able to survive something like that. And being trapped in a rotting corpse forever sounds shit.
“Maybe,” Techno answers with a shrug, not even looking up.
The sketch has started to be covered with straight lines. An outline of where Techno wants the wood to go on the tree house. Ranboo already knows that there will be at least a couple more pages where Techno draws every single angle, including from above.
Resigned to his fate, Ranboo goes over to the wide tree and sits at the bottom, leaning against it.
“So why a tree house if it’s not going to be zombies?” Ranboo asks.
“I said it maybe zombies. Maybe won’t be. It can’t be said.”
There’s a bit of frustration in Techno’s tone, like there always is when Ranboo pushes too far on the whole end of the world thing. Techno likes talking about it. Or, more accurately, he likes talking about parts of it.
Techno likes describing how to tell edible berries from poisonous ones, and how much protein is in termites, and how to hot wire a car. He does not like to talk about how he knows that the world is going to end. Ranboo thinks that’s a pretty important question, but Techno always talks about something too complicated for Ranboo to keep track of when he asks, so it’s best not to.
“Then, why a tree house?”
Finally, Techno sighs and puts his notebook down. It makes Ranboo smile a bit, though he has to hide it behind his hand. Techno always seems to hide in his books, but Ranboo likes actually seeing Techno too.
“It’s a survival shelter. We’ll have food and water and medical supplies. And weapons. That’s good for any survival situation. The only thing I can think of that it won’t work for is nukes, but there’s not much to be done for that anyway.”
Ranboo nods hesitantly, which seems to urge Techno on.
“And anyway, with radiation it’s the nuclear power plants you need to worry about. A lot of them have automatic shut offs, so maybe we’d be okay. But, well, anyway. With the bombs, you just need to stay underground as long as you can, okay? At least two weeks.”
Ranboo nods again, though much slower and smaller. It seems to put a crease between Techno’s eyebrows.
“Do you have two weeks of food and water in your basement?”
“Well, no. We have some canned food in our pantry.”
Techno makes a scoffy sound. “That won’t work. Fourteen gallons of water, at least. Food can be rationed more, but you’ll probably need around thirty cans. But water’s most important, okay?”
Ranboo blinks up at Techno’s serious face. The boy is talking more sternly than even Ranboo’s mom ever has. He sounds like it is life and death.
Ranboo supposes that it is. To Techno at least.
“Okay. We don’t have gallons of water, but I can fill up the milk gallons when they’re done, maybe.”
The tension seems to visibly bleed out of Techno’s shoulders at the words and he nods.
“That’s better than nothing. Good thinking.”
Techno picks his notebook up off the ground and brushes it off, drawing light lines over it. Looking over the drawing, Ranboo smiles when he sees that Techno sketched him at the bottom of the tree. It’s a bit sloppier than Techno’s drawings usually are, but Ranboo thinks it still looks good.
“We’ll just have to hope for zombies,” Techno whispers to himself, flipping the page and starting a new diagram.
The edge of Techno’s sleeve pushes up slightly as he draws. There’s a ring of purple and brown around his wrist, bruises almost vivid enough to show off five fingers. Ranboo keeps his eyes glued to the paper, his own eyebrows pinched together as the silence is cut only by the pencil scratching away.
—
Every small creak in the house seems to send Ranboo’s hair on edge. Not because he’s preparing for something to happen, but quite the opposite. The house is so quiet and empty that any intrusion on that just seems wrong.
Ranboo rolls over for the millionth time that night, sighing in annoyance. Even though falling asleep while home alone is nothing new, he just feels too… on edge, or something, to fall asleep. He’s not quite sure what exactly he’s feeling. His chest kind of aches and his stomach hurts. It doesn’t feel good.
With the darkness and thick silence choking him, Ranboo scrunches all his features up before finally rolling over and hopping out of bed. Technically he doesn’t have a bedtime, and there’s no one to check anyway, but he still probably shouldn’t be up right now. Or be doing what he’s going to be doing.
Tip toeing around the house, Ranboo carefully pulls on a pair of shoes and a hoodie. He dumps all the books out of his backpack before creeping into the kitchen, opening the pantry and looking around.
It’s been a little while since his mom has been shopping, but there’s still a good amount of shelf stable food set up. His mom likes buying those things, since they’re easy enough for Ranboo to make himself. Frowning, Ranboo puts a few cans of ravioli and spaghettios into his bag before starting to zip it up.
A small idea pops into Ranboo’s mind as he pauses, before quickly running upstairs and then back down, throwing his bag over his shoulders and heading out.
The walk to the little chunk of woods where the tree house is set up is not very long. It’s not very short either, but it’s placed between he and Techno’s house apparently. And it’s Techno’s project anyway, so it being near his house makes sense.
But Ranboo still wants to help. He’s not totally sure why. Techno says it’s important that they start now and slowly but steadily work their way up to a proper shelter. If anyone can do it, it’s probably Techno. And it’s not like Ranboo has any objections.
While approaching the little platform tucked into the tree, Ranboo suddenly jolts as something pops over the edge of it. Heart practically thundering out of his chest, he’s hit with a painful freeze impulse, practically convinced he’s been physically struck alongside the shock.
“Ranboo?” A small voice whispers, almost being wicked away in the night.
But Ranboo still recognizes them. It’s Techno.
Sighing, Ranboo continues his approach, waving as Techno’s head disappears back onto the platform. The pieces of wood nailed to the tree trunk that work as a ladder are a bit hard to see in the dark. Ranboo climbs it very slowly and carefully, not too keen on falling in the night and breaking his neck. Techno says making it a bit hard to climb is good, since that means it’s hard for other people to climb as well. It’s kind of just a pain though.
When he reaches the platform, he’s panting a bit. Only because his backpack is quite heavy with the cans and such. Maybe he should start working out or something though. His long legs are only going to go so far if the zombies end up being able to run.
“Oof,” Ranboo says as he flops onto his back, bag falling next to him. “Techno? I didn’t know you were here.”
Techno doesn’t respond to him, though he can hear the slightest of shifting on the wood. It’s a good thing that Techno had the foresight to have them jump up and down on the platform before. At least Ranboo knows they’re not going to plummet to their deaths tonight.
With a deep breath, Ranboo rolls over and sits up. He pulls his bag before him and unzips it, fishing around inside and stacking the cans between him and Techno.
“Got more canned stuff. I thought about bringing pasta, but I thought the cardboard would get wet in the rain, so we’d better wait till the roof’s up, huh?”
Ranboo’s words are met with silence, which seems to make his breastbone pinch suddenly. Looking up, he half expects Techno to have disappeared. But he’s still sitting there, and he’s looking at the cans. But he’s quiet and still.
“Techno? Are you okay?”
A slight breeze chills Ranboo’s skin as it rattles the leaves around them. It tugs on pieces of Techno’s hair, making them float in the wind like clothes left out to dry. Unconsciously, Ranboo shuffles a bit further into his sweatshirt, though Techno doesn’t seem to react to the cold at all.
“Tech—”
“Yeah. I’m, yeah…” Techno whispers.
Ranboo isn’t sure what he’s meant to say. Words seem to be pushing at his throat, like they know they should be coming out. But when Ranboo opens his mouth, all he does is breathe quietly.
“... okay,” Ranboo eventually whispers back.
Looking down at where his fingers are fidgeting together, he pokes at the cans so they move a bit closer to Techno. It finally seems to break through the boy’s mind, and he jolts the smallest amount. Then he leans forward and starts picking through them, turning the cans in his hands like he’s mapping them out in his mind since his notebook isn’t around.
The light is dim, with only the moon and stars to let them see. But even so, as Techno bends nearer to him, Ranboo makes out dark splotches on his shirt. They’re mostly around the collar of his shirt, dripping downwards, like they were once wet before they dried into stains.
Peeking up at Techno’s face, Ranboo makes out the smallest amount of discoloration around his nose and over his chin, where something dark was rubbed away while it was drying there.
Techno slowly gets up onto his knees and starts moving the cans into their little cache that’s covered with a tarp. Something about rain and rust and spoilage. Ranboo can’t really imagine eating anything that was left out in the tree house, but…
Reaching into the bottom of his back, Ranboo pulls out a large blanket. He had grabbed it on impulse, worried about being cold while he was wasting time up here, but it seems more useful now. Maybe he should find a better blanket that can be kept here. A sleeping bag or something.
“Techno,” Ranboo calls. The boy looks over at him, rubbing at his eyes, Occasionally, his fingers will stray towards his nose, but they quickly pull away then. “It’s getting cold.”
Techno shrugs, but Ranboo just holds the blanket up with a slanted smile. Hesitantly, Techno creeps a bit closer, eyes flicking between the blanket and Ranboo’s face.
“Guess we should see if the tree house is sleep ready,” Ranboo says, voice purposefully light.
“... That’s not a thing,” Techno mutters, but he grabs an edge of the blanket anyway.
“Well, you need sleep to survive, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Ranboo throws his empty bag down as a makeshift pillow before flopping down himself. Even with the blanket wrapped around him, it’s pretty freaking uncomfortable. Sleeping on plain wood is not ideal. Good to know.
The sound of Techno shifting awkwardly beside him fills the air until Ranboo pulls up the edge of the blanket and gestures him closer. If anything, Techno moves even more awkwardly as he crawls closer and curls up under the blanket. It’s kind of weird for Ranboo too, since he can’t remember sleeping so close to someone else before. But it’s also not any more unpleasant than the hard floor beneath them. At least Techno’s warm.
After a couple minutes, Techno rolls a bit closer to him. His head lands on Ranboo’s shoulder, small breaths puffing on his skin.
It still takes Ranboo a while to fall asleep that night, but his chest hurts a little less when he can hear Techno’s soft breathing beside him.
—
Ranboo stares intently at the shelves of books around him, only glancing where he’s walking enough to not run into anyone or trip.
Despite visiting the school library every two weeks, Ranboo doesn’t really know what he should get. Their teachers get kind of scoldy if they don’t check out at least one book, but nothing really peaks his attention. Maybe he should just try to find one about survival skills or something for Techno, since the other boy maxes out checking out books every time. But he’s probably read them all already anyway.
Pausing before a bookshelf full of bright colored spines, Ranboo scans them absently. Or, he was scanning them, until he hears someone whisper Techno’s name before not quite quiet giggles ring out.
Ranboo peeks over his shoulder, though he doesn’t turn fully around, hoping to not draw attention to himself. A sigh wants to break from his chest at the sight. No shocker that it seems to be some of their classmates, and Jason among them. Oh joy.
It’s become obvious that many of their classmates dislike Techno and talk quite badly about him whenever he comes up. The more time that passes, the worse the squirming in Ranboo’s stomach seems to grow. Because, Techno isn’t the jerk that everyone tries to make him out to be. It’s obvious that that’s the excuse they use to make their teasing seem better.
The kids that call Techno weird are more honest. Techno is kind of weird, but Ranboo doesn’t think it’s bad in any way. He’s still nice, and doesn’t force any of his interests on anyone else. In fact, the only time Techno talks about his whole survival thing is when someone else asks. Which… some of their classmates like doing. And then they always laugh after.
“I know! He actually said it with a straight face, he’s a freaking psycho!” A girl giggles.
“That’s so weird.”
“Yeah, but what do you expect with that creep?”
Pain prickles over Ranboo’s fingers as he pinches them together. His breaths kind of stagnate as he feels stuck, unsure what he should do. Techno’s his friends and it’s not right that people are talking about him. But should he call them out?
Very hesitantly, Ranboo turns and crosses his arms, if only to have something to do.
“K-knock it off, that’s not nice,” Ranboo says quietly.
It’s loud enough to draw most of the eyes of the kids at the computer table. They seem a mixture of annoyed and amused to see him. Ranboo wants to shrink under their eyes, but he takes a page from Techno and keeps himself blank.
“What?” Jason asks, as if Ranboo is the one insulting people for no reason.
“I said cut it out. Stop talking about people behind their backs,” Ranboo reinforces.
“Why are you sticking up for Technoblade? He’s such a freak, don’t you know?” Someone asks.
“Rainbow’s actually his friend or something,” A guy sneers.
“What? Actually?”
Ranboo’s face feels a bit warm, but he tries to ignore it. It’s a bit too hard to not give in to the squirming though, and his feet and hands shuffle around as he tries to stop himself from fleeing like he wants.
“Technoblade’s such a jerk, why do you hang out with him?” A girl asks, wrinkling her nose.
“He’s not a jerk, you all are just mean to him,” Ranboo says, voice firmer than he feels.
“Yeah, cause he’s a freak,” Jason says firmly. “You don’t believe any of that stuff about us all dying that he talks about all the time, do you?”
The urge to flee grows even stronger. Everyone is staring at him intensely, sharp edged smiles peeking at their lips. It’s right, to stand up for Techno. Because they’re friends, and it’s just a good thing to do. But Ranboo kind of wishes that none of the ire was on him. Even if it’s still on Techno.
“Well, no. But just lay off. He’s not hurting anyone, but you all are.”
Ranboo feels quite proud of his words, barely even stuttering. It doesn’t seem to have any effect on the kids, but that’s to be expected. Years of bullying aren’t going to go away with a single word, Ranboo knows from experience.
Still, the slight high only lasts for a second before Ranboo catches a snatch of pink out of the corner of his eye.
Turning quickly, Ranboo takes in Techno’s blank face. To most people, it probably looks emotionless. But Ranboo can tell that he’s upset. In fact, he looks absolutely devastated.
But it’s also obvious to Ranboo that Techno’s not upset at the kids talking bad about him. He’s upset at Ranboo.
“Techno, wait,” Ranboo says, starting towards him with a hand out.
But Techno’s already turned on his heel and hurried away, shoulders near his ears and practically stomping. It screams of such hurt that Ranboo’s own face feels hot and his eyes burn a bit. Leers and laughter rise up behind him, but Ranboo can barely hear them over the rushing in his head.
As Ranboo searches the library in vain for Techno, dread sits leaden in his stomach.
—
For all the times that Ranboo’s sulked about his loneliness, he’s never felt truly lonely before now.
Techno won’t even look at Ranboo in their classes. He avoids all the places they’d see each other outside of class and seemingly disappears off the face of the planet. No matter what apologies Ranboo cooks up in his head, he never even gets the chance to try them.
The other kids at school have probably started being a bit meaner to Ranboo, but he doesn’t care. Most of the time, they just ignore him. Which is mostly normal. But still just makes his chest feel an inch colder.
The pantry dwindles low on food before suddenly refilling while he’s at school. His mom texts him that night about a work trip. The thought crosses his mind that maybe he should not respond, just to see what happens. But instead he says okay. It’s left on read.
It at least gives him an excuse to go to the tree house. Bringing more supplies to stock it up. Ranboo even goes to the store and buys some wood, lugging it all the way there, even if it’s awfully heavy. He doesn’t know how Techno does it.
Occasionally, things will have moved or a few more boards will be nailed into place, but Ranboo never catches the other boy there. Somehow that’s even more damning than never seeing him at school.
Tonight, the house isn’t silent though. It’s filled with crashes and claps, so loud that the windows shake in their frames. Even the rain pelting the ceiling creates an unbroken growl of static. As lightning pierces the sky for the millionth time, it shines through Ranboo’s eyelids and sends him blinking fully awake again.
It really seems like the sky is splitting apart outside. Ranboo’s homeroom teacher had warned them about the storm this morning, when it was just a light drizzle. But even with the warning, it feels sudden and fierce.
Every flash of lightning and ear ringing bellow of thunder makes Ranbo’s chest feel a bit tighter. It’s almost hard to breathe around. He’s not scared of storms exactly, but this one is big. Its violence puts him on edge, as it feels truly dangerous. Maybe that’s encouraged by Techno’s words whispering in the back of his head. They whisper about hurricanes. About the big one. About how wind can tear a building apart like paper and tear a person right off the ground till they're dashed dead.
Techno…
Somehow, Ranboo’s feet are landing on the floor as he crawls out of bed. Almost mindlessly, he grabs his coat from his closet and shoves on a pair of shoes. They’re just plain sneakers, since he doesn’t have anything for the rain. Techno’s certain judgement pokes at the back of his mind, but it just fuels Ranboo to continue on.
Outside, the storm is much worse. Even before he steps out from his porch, his front is spattered with rain drops blown towards him by the wind. Gripping his coat around him tighter, Ranboo takes a deep breath before plunging into the storm.
Every step splashes water up his calves. The streets are thick with churning water, unable to drain fast enough down the grates. When he reaches the small footpath into the woods, it’s overrun with a small river of muddy water.
The leaves of the trees offer just an inch of protection against the elements as Ranboo runs as quickly as he can without slipping. Just audible under the roaring rain are the sucking noises as his feet sink deeply into the wet ground and then get pulled out, deep footprints being instantly filled behind him. The only thing lighting his way under the thick clouds are the near constant lightning strikes, the staggering change between dark and light blinding him even further.
Ranboo hardly realizes when he reaches the treehouse, only noticing due to the wrought memories. As he looks up, his eyes pinch against the flood of water. The rain is cold and clear, but still makes them sting terribly. Raising a trembling hand to try and block some of it out, Ranboo squints hard up at the tree house.
It’s still mostly just a platform, with almost a single wall raised on one side. It blocks Ranboo’s vision, forcing him to slowly walk around the tree, trying to make out what’s up there.
Through the sheet of rain, Ranboo almost misses it. The outline of a body, standing at the center of the platform. But when he sees, a gasp leaves him against his will.
“T—Techno!” Ranboo shouts.
His voice is yanked away by the rain and wind. It just adds to the cacophony. Ranboo feels like he’s almost drowning under it.
A bolt of light hits nearby, flashing so brightly that Ranboo can make out the gray of Techno’s eyes. It seems to still the world for just a second, Ranboo’s mind whiting out alongside the crackling electricity.
But then the thunder follows, so fast that it must be right on top of them. The ground shakes below him with the dark rumble and makes his ears want to pop.
“TECHNO!”
The shout comes out louder than anything Ranboo’s ever said surely. His throat feels cut open with it. But a flinch seems to run through Techno, and he slowly turns and looks down at him.
“Come down! It’s not safe!”
Ranboo cups his hands around his mouth, hoping that it’ll let his voice travel a little further. For a second, he’s certain that it hasn’t. Techno barely reacts, before suddenly bursting out:
“Go away!”
His voice is high pitched and cracking. The sky lights up as a boom rolls out around them. It shows off Techno’s eyes, slanted and sharp.
But Ranboo can see that they look as mournful as the downpour around them.
“Techn—”
“You think I’m a freak, just like everyone else! Just, go away!”
With a splash of water, Techno falls to his knees and hits the floor below him with his fists. His mouth is open like he’s screaming, but Ranboo can’t hear him. The wind seems to howl for him though.
For a few seconds, Ranboo just stands there and stares. His insides feel shriveled up and small, shivering beneath the chilled rain. But then lightning hits a tree, close enough to turn the world orange and white. It hurts Ranboo’s eyes, almost as much as the agonized lines illuminated on Techno’s face.
With a quivering breath, Ranboo forces himself to move towards the tree. His feet stick in the mud, like the ground is trying to swallow him whole, but Ranboo doesn’t let it.
The pieces of wood that act as a ladder are hard to find. They feel squishy beneath his fingers, saturated with water and slick. Sinking his nails in, Ranboo starts the wobbly climb up.
The wind yanks on him all the way, hair whipping into his eyes and hood getting blown off. Every rung higher seems to make the world sway even more, rocking around him like an angry sea. Ranboo kind of wants to pinch his eyes closed and hide away. Instead he bites his tongue and pushes on, ignoring the ache in his arms.
Ranboo’s nearly at the top, hand reaching for the edge of the platform and almost grabbing it. His fingertips just about brush it before the sky splits open, nearly right above them, and shines down a burst of shaking light and roaring thunder.
The rung beneath Ranboo’s foot slips away with it, and his body falls hard. His shoulder wrenches as his hand tightens desperately around the edge of the platform, the other one grappling uselessly.
“Techno!” Ranboo yelps as his stomach lodges in his throat.
The water pours over his skin so quickly, prying beneath his fingers as his legs kick against the trunk. Panic bites at him so hard that his fingers go numb, certainly slipping away and ready to drop him to the ground far below. It’s all Ranboo can do to freeze, stuck in a long tense flinch.
A gasp manages to push through the tension as he drops an inch, fingers falling flat and—
Two hands wrap around his wrist, holding so tightly that Ranboo can feel the fingernails breaking his skin. But he doesn’t care, because he’s suddenly not falling anymore. Eyes prying open, Ranboo takes in Techno’s shadowed form, leaning over the ladder and arms hanging down connecting them.
“Techno,” Ranboo whispers dumbly.
“Gr—grab something,” Techno grunts, seemingly tipping forwards a bit more.
It jolts Ranboo back into action, his free hand swinging up and grabbing onto one of Techno’s wrists. His feet clumsily kick a few more times before finally finding traction on the tree and letting him scramble upwards.
Together, the pair flop onto the platform beside the opening, chests heaving. Water invades his nose and mouth immediately, choking Ranboo and forcing him to roll over and cough a bit. Somehow, Techno is still laying on his back, unmoving aside from his rising and falling chest.
“Techno,” Ranboo whispers, tongue dumb aside from repetitions, reaching out and touching Techno’s arm.
It makes his whole body convulse, a violent flinch. Techno’s eyes fly open and he squirms away before finally rolling over and sitting up onto his knees. Slowly, his head tips backward, eyes wide and cast upwards. It’s the same position he was in when Ranboo first came upon the tree house.
Sitting just a few inches away from the other boy, the distance between them feels just as great as when he was still on the ground. Lightning cracks around them, the brilliant white gleaming onto their faces. It’s almost too harsh to make out the splotches of red and purple wrapped around Techno’s throat, only visible because of how far back his head is tipped.
Just as Ranboo opens his mouth to say… something, Techno finally speaks.
“It’s the end of the world.”
Techno’s voice is so quiet. Much more quiet than the groaning and cracks and whistling wind. And yet, Ranboo seems to hear it more clearly than anything.
Slowly, Ranboo looks up, mimicking Techno’s pose.
Above them, the sky is angry and churning. All the clouds are swirling, creating a massive circle, right over their heads. The very center seems the smallest amount lighter, like maybe the clouds are thinning. But it’s surrounded by the darkest grays of all the sky.
A tornado, is the first thing Ranboo thinks. But it’s so large, the entire sky moving and thrashing. It’s as though the very atmosphere is splitting and straining. Right above them.
Ranboo clenches his teeth through the terror. His body jerks forward and he sinks his hands around Techno’s upper arms, holding tight, tighter even than the ladder.
“It’s not, it’s not ending!”
The wind seems to pick up, screaming back louder and full of agony. Techno’s still staring up, locked in place, so Ranboo shakes him roughly. Digs his fingers in and keeps shaking till his eyes stutter and his chin dips down.
“We’re both going to live! The world’s not ending, not for a long long time! Not till we’re both so old that— that we don’t even care if the world ends!”
Techno looks into Ranboo’s eyes. He realizes that his irises are the same color as the weeping sky. And his eyes are wet and full, water draining down his face and lost among the rain.
The hair on Ranboo’s arms seems to stand up, and he can taste static in the back of his throat. Desperately, Ranboo tugs Techno to his chest, holding him tight. Tight enough that even if the world ends, it won’t be able to take him.
With a deafening boom, a tree beside them explodes into a ball of flames. It’s like a star, bursting to life within arms reach. Ranboo curls tighter, ignoring the aching in his ears that’s eaten away by a sharp ringing.
"Ran—boo,” Techno stutters.
His hands come up and finally clutch Ranboo back, holding on much weaker, but fingers still shaking. Ranboo hugs Techno twice as hard, certain his arms are about to snap, but not caring.
Soon, Ranboo will corral them off of the tree and out of the woods. He’ll take Techno home where they can change into dry clothes and ride out the storm from the safety of his bedroom. The next morning will be born, bright and shining under the sun, pinching a bit of warmth back into the world. Techno will leave the house and look up at the sky, squint at the sun and frown, lips shaking. Ranboo will squeeze his hand.
But for now, the two of them sit in the middle of the end of the world.