Jet Lag

chapter 4

They took the evening train to Tommy's house. Suspended between point A and B, time seemed meaningless. The only indication of time passing was the slow descent of the sun, runny and yellow like an egg yolk. Tubbo was pressed into Ranboo's side, knees pulled up and staring mindlessly out the window. Every few minutes he'd grab Ranboo's hand and exclaim. "Horse!" or "Pig!" or any other creature likely to be found in the English countryside. They rolled by, mere blurs to him. Tubbo was back in his hoodie, handed off silently after a day. He knew they should talk about it, but some part of Ranboo hoped that if they just continued blindly, it would all be fine. The undisclosed closeness could just grow and grow until it didn't matter how much Ranboo wanted from it.

Tubbo leaned further back, wriggling until Ranboo lifted his arm and let him under it. Tubbo arranged Ranboo's arm around him as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and Ranboo thought maybe it could be. Maybe they could just be.

"Ranboo, look out for horses for me, I'm going to check Twitter." He sighed into Ranboo's sleeve.

"Horse alert activated."

Tubbo scrolled for a few minutes and Ranboo did his duty, stopping only to nudge Tubbo when he spotted one. "We should take a picture," Tubbo said, already swiping to the camera. "They'll go bonkers."

"My mask is in my backpack, Tubbo. My mask is not out." Ranboo felt his heartbeat quicken a little.

"Relax, big man. I'll just cut you out of it. It's a pain to fit you in anyways you fuckin' giraffe." He stretched his arm out, angling the lens until he was satisfied.

"Show me before you post it," Ranboo murmured. "Just to be sure, y'know. Just to be sure."

Tubbo held the phone up and Ranboo squinted at the display. Tubbo was beaming, hair mussed from travel and very clearly leaning on Ranboo. It cut off at his neck, nothing the viewers hadn't seen before.

"Alright. It's good."

"Do I look pretty?" Tubbo said cheekily.

"Yeah, sure. Very pretty."

Tubbo hit post and swiped up to refresh as the replies rolled in. Only then did Ranboo realize he had left his hand in frame. He'd completely ignored the arm around Tubbo.

"Uh-Oh. Hand reveal." Tubbo looked up at him quickly. "I didn't even notice. I'm sorry. For real."

Ranboo waited for the panic to rise in his throat. The nauseous feeling he always got before streaming his face-cam or posting tiktoks. It didn't come.

"Uh," He tried.

"Fuck, I've upset you. I should have been more careful. Christ."

"No." Ranboo covered Tubbo's hand with his own, pressing the phone onto his lap. "Relax. It's done." He murmured. "I told you, if it was going to be someone, it'd be you."

Tubbo's smile was watery at best but he nodded. "Okay. Right."

The sun slid further down, casting the fluorescent train carriage in soft golds instead. Tubbo's hand wound around his arm and he returned to his eye-spy. Ranboo felt his heart settle.

--

Tommy greeted them at the door, loud and full of questions. Ranboo had never considered himself quiet until he started talking to Tommy. He started to see the ways Tommy included him. Often times it was a well-meaning insult and they made Ranboo smile.

"Can't believe Tubbo's lugged his giant American on a train. Do they even have those where you're from?"

They were crowded around the Wii in Tommy's basement, Tommy on the floor right up close to the old TV, Ranboo in a linty beanbag and Tubbo at his feet. Tubbo was currently creaming them all in Mario Kart.

"We have trains, I think." Ranboo began uncertainly. "Oh, crap." Tubbo as Luigi lapped him, and Ranboo fumbled to throw a shell after him. It crashed into the guard rail,

"Nice one Ranboob!" Tommy laughed, loud and contagious. "Oh, I like this. Finally someone else for Tubbo to target."

"You miss me red shelling you, Tommy? That can be arranged." Tubbo snickered and Tommy shrieked.

"No! Fuck, no! I'm in third! I'm too young to lose to an American, have some mercy!"

"Perish,"

"That is fucked up! Fucked up!" Tommy grumbled, dropping the controller as he crossed the finish. Luigi cheered in first place while Tommy's Mario and Ranboo's Bowser pouted. "Ranboo I think you're a bad influence on our dear Tubbo. He's being all macho to impress you."

"Baaah, I don't have to impress Ranboo. He made me pancakes yesterday."

"Jesus Christ, man. You're right."

"What does that mean?" Ranboo whined. "What's wrong with pancakes."

"Nothing at all you giant simp!" Tommy howled in laughter. "Was it breakfast in bed?"

"Unfortunately, no." Tubbo had the decency to blush and Ranboo reached down to mess up his hair.

"See if I make you anything ever again. I can't believe this. I can't believe this." He muttered good-naturedly. This was as close to Tommy's blessing as he would ever get, Ranboo thought. Tommy had this uncanny ability to make anyone feel in on the joke, to feel important, even if it was only to entertain himself. Tubbo's head lolled against his leg and he couldn't fight his grin.

"You're not so bad, Ranboo," Tommy said. He was over the moon.
--

They took the train back that night. Tommy didn't have room for the both of them and Tubbo had said something about night-trains.

They stole through the night, through endless silhouettes and smoking chimneys and blacker-than-black tunnels. The chill outside fogged the window and Tubbo had drawn out little stick figures. One very tall and one very small. Ranboo leaned into his space to swipe his finger between them, joining their hands.

"That ones you." Tubbo gestured to the taller one.

"I figured."

"And that ones me." He said sleepily.

"Naturally."

"And," Tubbo yawned, pressing his nose into Ranboo's shoulder. "They're," the words seemed to peter out, drowned by the rattle of the train car.

"They're friends." Ranboo completed for him. Moonlight poured through the frosted pane, and Ranboo thought about that night when Tubbo had been so wreathed in silver. He still wanted it, to be known. If Tubbo could read him, he wouldn't have to say it. To find a way to pour all the messy feelings into words.

"Friends," Tubbo repeated. "Best friends."

"Of course." He pushed Tubbo's hair out of his eyes gently, watching as his friend blinked against the starlight.

Tubbo sat up a little from where he sagged against Ranboo, drawing out one last doodle on the window. A heart. Between them. "And now?"

Ranboo's face was hot. When he'd imagined Tubbo seeing into his head he hadn't accounted for this. He'd wanted to be understood, unspoken and easy. "Uhm."

"I think I like it better this way," Tubbo said, slow and sure.

"Okay."

Tubbo's hand nudged his own, pinky hooking around his. "You're trembling."

"I am?" He was.

"Close your eyes. We'll be home soon." Tubbo whispered, making himself at home against him. "I know you're tired. Jet-lag, right?"

"Yeah." Ranboo breathed. "Jet-lag."