notus

Chapter 14: wings of wax / heavy weight of living

Chapter 14: wings of wax / heavy weight of living

If Ranboo keeps his eyes closed long enough, he can almost think that nothing has changed.

That the body curled up next to him is Tubbo, and that any second now the Goat Kid will wake up, see him asleep, laugh so sweetly and curl right back down. For everything will be right in the world, and they are together.

But imagination is a poor substitute for reality.

When the body uncurls, stretches and yawns, it does not sound like Tubbo. When it shakes Ranboo awake, it's not with the bleary gentleness Tubbo would have.

This gentleness is hesitant. Wary and cautious, as one would treat a pile of broken glass instead of a person.

To be fair, that's what he is.

"Ranber," Tommy mutters. "Get the fuck up. I'm hungry."

Ranboo wasn't asleep - he hadn't been, for the past few...hours? Still, he steals a few selfish moments in the darkness of his own closed eyelids. Pretends that everything, for a few stuttering breaths, is okay again.

And then he opens his eyes.

"Why do I have to come with you," Ranboo mumbles. "Go by yourself."

Tommy sighs. He rubs at his eyes, blinking the heavy sleep away. "Cause I'm not a fucking idiot to let you starve to death."

Ranboo's lip curls. "That train's left," he grits, "seeing as I can't."

Tommy falls silent, and it's an emptiness that fills the Prince with the most wretched feelings of regret. Tommy didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve...this. He didn't deserve anything, other than to have his brother by his side again.

And Ranboo took that from him.

So, slowly, he pushes himself upright. His wings stretch and fan, more out of instinct more than any desire to move.

Tommy eyes them, the scorched feathers. "...do they hurt?"

Yes. 

"No." Ranboo shrugs. "I'll be fine."

Well, he didn't truly lie. The pain had dulled, a mix of Phil's care and time's passage. It's more of the emptiness that gnaws at him, the odd lightness, the air that blows through holes that should not be there.

The Prince wonders if he'll ever fly again.

He doesn't want to answer himself.

The house is a deathly place to be, for once. It's quiet, dull and heavy. The air practically chokes down their throats. Every breath is too loud, every shift deafening.

Tommy holds his hand, and it's an odd texture against the bandages. Ranboo doesn't know if it's to comfort him, or the Golden Boy himself.

He doesn't think Tommy does, either.

"What time is it?" Tommy mumbles. He peers at the windows, watching the morning sunlight rays beam through - gauging how long they've slept, how much of the day they still had. "Where...is everyone?"

Techno and Wilbur's door is open - just enough for them to see how empty it is. Two beds unmade, flecks of dust flying in the air and illuminated by light. Lifeless, and empty.

Phil's door is shut. It looks cold, unwelcoming - wrong. They don't bother trying to peer inside.

Tommy and Ranboo glance at each other, in silence. Ranboo wants to go back to bed - wrecked with lethargy, some part of him wants to drown.