The door is shut behind them, and Ranboo hadn't talked much while they traversed back to their home. Tommy feels a sense of dread as he sets Michael down on the floor.
Tubbo jerked up from his sleeping position, hair mussed and his eyes clipped with sleep. Ranboo smiles rather tiredly at him. "What-" He attempts, "What happened?" His voice is crimped with sleep, and Tommy suddenly feels guilty.
Ranboo unbuttons his cloak, one laced with patterns that are familiar but not enough for Tommy to remember the meaning of it. "Michael got worried." Says Ranboo, and Tommy snaps his gaze to the taller. "Got Tommy to come look for me. Nothing big, dear." Ranboo plucks off his magenta slick armor.
Tommy feels sick to his stomach.
Thats- not. They should be mad. Why isn't Ranboo mad? He just put their son in mortal danger, he would murder anyone else. Anyone else. He realizes with a pang, and he feels a rising bitterness. Of course they pitied him. What else could it be.
Its cold without Michael. Tubbo rubs at his eyes and yawns, and stands up with a heavy groan. "Go to bed." Ranboo urges softly, comes close to run his hands down Tubbo's arms. The blue blanket was discarded on the chair.
"Okay." Tubbo agrees eventually, and yawns again. He kneels down to scoop Michael in a tight hug, Tommy aches, and then kisses the piglins head. Tubbo climbs up the spruce addled latter.
Tommy doesn't realize, but Ranboo hovers near him, and places a large hand on his shoulder. The blond tenses with it. His head feels a bit muddled, and Ranboos voice comes in after. "Take off your coat, man. You're not going anywhere."
Tommy wants to believe him, he wants to sink in the quiet resoluteness and familiar comfort of his best friend, and with how much he wants to indulge in the heavyweight against his shoulder, but he can't. He knows he'll mess it up. Still.
Tommy brushes off Ranboo's touch.
"I'm leaving in the morning." He decides. Ranboo raises a heavy brow. "Okay, Tommy. Please keep inside, away from creepers okay?"
"I'm not stupid." He bites back. He doesn't mean to. He's just tired. Guilt and confusion eats at his spine.
Ranboo is so kind, patient, and Tommy hates him for it. The hybrid raises a slow hand, and Tommy watches as he buries it in his curls.
Against his will, he leans into the hand. Ranboo seems to understand his solemn expression. "If it's any consolation, Tubbo will be mad at you later. We don't pity you, okay?"
What the fuck. Fuck this tall prick. How does he do that. "Shut the fuck up." Tommy says, without any real heat, and his vision wiggles as Ranboo curls his fingers into his soft hair. "Sorry." Tommy mutters. And he is. He's upset he's sorry, because he's never been sorry for much bigger things, so why was he starting now.
Tommy hates how much thinking he's been doing the past day. "Go to sleep." Ranboo tells him, and Tommy does feel better now that he knows Ranboo is home. (Home? Jesus.)
"Don't tell me what to do." He replies, but he still chases after Ranboos hand once he let's it fall from his head.
Tommy falls asleep again that night, buried in quilts and blankets, and desperately praying Tubbo doesn't kill him as soon as he wakes.
YOU ARE READING
itch (DreamSMP)
Fanfiction(COMPLETED) (crossposted from AO3) Tommyinnit doesn't know what touchstarved means, but he knows for sure thats not what he is. Spoilers, that's exactly what he is. - Tommy-Benchtrio-centric :)
