Piece by piece to love | Sleepy bois inc

Chapter 29: New rules

Later in the afternoon Tommy was forced to give Ranboo a tour around the city under the name of going for groceries. Of course it wasn't the only reason, the rest of the residents needed time to talk as well.

– Well, I definitely haven't expected that we would have to go back to just haunting the house so quickly- Wilbur stated, once again sitting on the couch in the living room and tuning his guitar. He wanted to try a new piece that he recently wrote but due to the arrival of Ranboo he had no occasion to do so. Randomly playing guitar can be worrying in a presumed empty house.

– It's not that bad… we can always pretend to talk on the phone…- Tubbo tried to look at this from the bright side, but he actually had no idea what to do. Were they supposed to just go to Ranboo and say “hey, man, we’re living with Tommy’s dead ancestors. But no worry, they’re cool”? Yeah, trying to pretend that they’re alive seemed like a better option. Fingers crossed he would not ask anyone in the town about them, because then the cover’s blown.

– But do any of us know what is there to see in London to fake it in case he asks about the trip?

- Will, you've been to London multiple times, you even had a flat there during your studies- Wilbur only shrugged in response. Living there and sightseeing are two different things. He never climbed to the top of Big Ben for example, he had no reason to do so. The only popular spot he has visited was the British Museum, because they had to go from the university. And he actually remembered nothing from it, because he was busy writing another song.

– How the fuck did he manage to get so many mistakes…- Techno on the other hand was in his own world, checking Ranboo's work for any mistakes and highlighting them with his red pen like a teacher. Right now almost half the page was covered with red ink, either scolding him or suggesting differently built sentences.

– Where did you even get that?!

– He left it on the counter- he murmured in response, once again slipping into his thoughts, scribbling another dozen of corrections in the margin. Tubbo sighed deeply, deciding that it would be pointless arguing with him about privacy, so he just left him be. He would probably get an answer like "he should keep an eye on it if it's so important" anyway.

– Should we try getting him used to us? Baby steps, but at least something?- Wilbur proposed, leaning on his guitar, looking defeated. This would not end well, he knew that.

– And how do you intend on doing so?

– I'm not sure, what worked for you?

– If I remember correctly, breaking point for Tommy was Techno trying to murder him…

– Always ready to help- Techno rose his head, grinning widely. Of course that caught his attention...

– You are NOT trying to murder Ramboo!- teenager screamed, Phil nodding with agreement.

– I'm with Tubbo, this isn't a good idea- but unlike Tubbo he seemed completely fine with this thought, continuing to sip his tea unbothered, while the splinters of wood kept falling onto the floor. What is wrong with this family?

– Well, we can just do our stuff and hope he's smart enough to figure everything out. For now he's doing terrible job- Wilbur shrugged, once again turning his attention to the guitar, strumming it suddenly before trying a few chords to see if it's tuned properly.

– Agreed. This kid is oblivious as fuck- Techno nodded in agreement, debating if he should just cross out the whole page at this poind, demanding for it to be rewritten. Gosh, it was so dry, no one would read it… he knew it's just a paper for a teacher to grade, but come on, if you're going to write something, at least make it readable. Not to mention that with a bit of care every subject can be described interesting, even habitation of bugs.

– The boys were too…- Phil chimed in, sighing at the memories. 

– Hey, not everyone just assumes that they live with three ghosts on a daily basis!

By the time Tommy and Ranboo came home they settled on trying to get him used to their paranormal activity. Well, it's not like they tried to hide it before anyway. Techno and Tommy for time being would move their practice to his room in the basement, having the attic occupied by the newcomer now. Wilbur also moved his guitar to the living room, instead of his bedroom, where it was sitting next to the piano with his twin's violin. They agreed that they would still have their "music fridays", they would just send Ranboo either to his room or for shopping. A late walk in the garden wouldn't be so bad either. Phil cleaned up his room, mostly the desk and moved a few books onto it, the same ones that the boy used today. He also left a few of his own picks, hoping to nudge him into reading them. He managed to persuade even Tommy for one after all, despite the boy being really embarrassed by the fact he liked that book. It was nice knowing that someone besides his sons enjoys the same literature. Duty of making dinners hasn't changed for time being, the only exception being the times when Tubbo would be out helping Sapnap with the booths for the festival. Then his turn would fall onto Wilbur or Ranboo if he's up for cooking, but they haven't asked him yet. What was left up for a debate were breakfasts: they didn't know if they should make them together or the ghosts would skip them from now on. After all, they woke up earlier than any of them and would sit for another hour in the kitchen waiting for the boys to wake up, enjoying their morning tea or coffee.

– Tubbo, why did you read my work?!- Ranboo starred in horror at the page almost soaking with red ink at this point. At the end the notes were starting to get aggressive and the pigment bleed through the sheet, staining the next one with this bloody splotch. It looked like someone murdered something with this book...

– I didn't- Tubbo looked at him sceptically, for a second turning his attention away from the game he and Tommy had been playing for the past hour.- Ranboo, I'm dyslectic, do you think I would be able to read your tiny handwriting?- Ranboo wanted to answer, but Tommy cut him off, slamming the buttons of his controller aggressively. 

– Yeah, big man, even I can't read it!

– Since when did you become the measurement for something being readable or not?

– Fuck off.