Ranboo sat at his dining room table, pushing the food around on his plate. If the blonde was being honest, he couldn't remember the last time he had genuinely been excited or happy about eating anything. Must have been before the breakup. Now, though, he couldn't even bring himself to eat. It wasn't because he wasn't hungry, or because the food wasn't good...there was just this sick feeling in his stomach that he couldn't get rid of, something that practically prevented the boy from eating anything. The guilt and pain just made him feel absolutely nauseous, like he would throw up any second if he even tried to eat something. So, Ranboo simply didn't, deciding that he would eat only when he started feeling light-headed...and dinner certainly wasn't one of those times, since he had already eaten lunch that day. So, he sat there, staring at his plate numbly, his eyes barely focused as he stared off into space.
Just thinking. Thinking about how things could have been different. The thought tormented him...it haunted him as he walked through the hallway to each class, while he was in the car looking out the window, when he was doing his homework, when he was trying to read a book...and always when he was laying back in bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying to fall asleep so he wouldn't have to endure the tears that would follow if he thought about Tubbo for too long. But, of course, he would find himself thinking about his former boyfriend...and the blonde would start crying. Making sure to be quiet, of course, because he didn't want to wake the rest of the house up. Ranboo didn't want his family to know about everything that had happened to him. Besides, it was over...it wasn't like he could do anything about it. He had been rash and impulsive, and now he was going to have to live with the burden of everything that could have been.
How much they could have smiled together...how many more seconds they could have shared by each other's side. Ranboo just wished he could have a few more minutes of ignorance and bliss with his former boyfriend. To be able to sit beside him and not care about a single thing in the world. To not have to fight back tears for just a minute would be more than he could ever ask for. To glance at Tubbo out of the corner of his eye...to feel love swelling in his heart like it used to...God, like it still did. The blonde couldn't get rid of it. He couldn't get rid of that sickeningly sweet and demented feeling of love that had haunted him ever since the day he had confessed his feelings to the brunette in the library; ever since he had found the courage to spit out an I love you, the words remained a bitter aftertaste on his tongue.
Ranboo would find himself whispering those words underneath his breath when he was in bed. I love you, I love you, I love you. He would curl around his pillow, almost ripping at the fabric as he bunched it up in his hands, his eyes screwed shut tight as he buried his face into the sheets, tear stains remaining damp in the cloth when he finally lifted his head. I love you, I love you, I love you. The words that he longed so desperately to be able to say to Tubbo again...words he knew that he could easily say whenever he wanted, but it just wouldn't feel the same. The brunette didn't want to be seen with him, so what was the point? A few words and him confessing how he felt wouldn't be able to change that...after all, it surely hadn't the day he had first said it. The words stung in the back of his throat whenever he murmured them underneath his breath, tears trickling down to his ears whenever he laid on his back, crying helplessly as if it would even make a difference. Crying, wailing when no one was home, trying desperately to remember the way that Tubbo's hand felt in his. I love you, I love you, I love you.
The blonde, despite himself, would fall asleep with the thoughts of his former boyfriend circling his mind. Ranboo would hug his pillow closer, refusing to let go, and would eventually fall asleep with at least some peace washing over him. The peace that he would be able to have a few hours wherever he wanted to be, and he could be happy and pain free until the morning after. Where he would wake up...and there were just those few beautiful seconds where nothing mattered. Where he was still drowsy, and he would sit up and wipe the blurriness from his eyes with the back of his hand...he would blink, in complete bliss from a comfortable night...and then all of those thoughts would sink back in and he would remember. He would remember everything. How hurt, how lost, how desperate, how longing he felt. And the blonde would have to manage to pull himself out of bed with all of that weight on his shoulders, forcing a smile after getting dressed and making his way downstairs to the kitchen to say good morning to his mother before she drove him to school.
