dancing with your ghost

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR RECENT LORE

      It didn't feel right... Tubbo had been living in denial for a long time. Ranboo couldn't be dead, he had only lost one life... at least in the time Tubbo had known him. Their relationship had felt like so long to Tubbo, but it really wasn't. Ranboo had forgotten more about his own lonely past than he remembered about his time with Tubbo. Tubbo liked to think that Ranboo enjoyed his life, that somehow he had made it good for him. He tried to make up for the lost memories by birthing new ones, smothering forgotten moments with things that would stick. He would write reminders on Ranboo's left arm, stick notes in his pockets, leave post-its on the fridge, anything to make sure he didn't forget his new family. To make sure he didn't forget Tubbo. During Ranboo's worst times, when he would forget Michael or even his own name, Tubbo would sit with him and leaf through photo album after photo album, twisting the ring on Ranboo's left hand while he rambled happily about the beautiful life their family had. Eventually, Ranboo would remember. He always remembered. So how could he forget that he still had so much to live for...? Even Wilbur came back as a ghost for some period of time, and Ghostbur was all of the kindest and warmest parts of Wilbur. Maybe Ranboo's ghost would remember. Was that a good thing? It made Tubbo think. Ranboo with all of his memories... would he hate him? Ranboo would probably remember his whole life, and surely there were plenty of people and moments there that were much more important than whatever he had with Tubbo. Was Ghostbur a special case, or was Ranboo just choosing not to come back to Tubbo? Tubbo didn't blame him if that was the case, Ranboo always treated Tubbo much better than he deserved. Tubbo's inventory was never without a diamond named especially for him. His anxiety attacks were never for long without Ranboo's arms encircling his back and his fingers running up and down Tubbo's spine. Tubbo owed so much to his husband, both material and emotional. When he left their house, it was easy for Tubbo to pretend that everything was okay. He could live his normal life without thinking about the absence of his other half. But when other people glanced at him with that look in their eyes - pity - it brought everything back up. It was like nausea, in the way that it made Tubbo embarrassed and disgusted, he wanted to just shut himself away from the world and bury his head in his knees. For Michael's sake, Tubbo only let himself feel this kind of emotional nausea when he was alone. It rose late at night, when Tubbo laid on his back, lonely in a bed that was far too big for one person. When the stars were burning through his open windows and Michael was soundly tucked away, only then would tears drip into the burned tissue that coated Tubbo's left cheek. One night, or rather early morning, just before the sun was scheduled to rise and smear gold across Ranboo's side of the bed, something caught Tubbo's eye. It was a sort of flicker, like a glitch or a trick of the light. A feathery, fluffy glitch that looked too real and too close to Tubbo's heart to be fake. The outline of a slowly lashing tail which first drew Tubbo's attention, but trailed to a body that floated a couple of inches off the floor, a little translucent but still solid enough to look touchable. The body's skin was split black and white, wearing a white dress with an awful cut across its chest and frozen blood dripping down the silky material. What Tubbo immediately realized to be a ghost smiled at him, and raised his hand in a greeting. Tubbo raised his in return, shocked at the ghostly replication of his husband standing in front of the window in the bedroom they once shared, wearing the dress he had worn at the altar. A long second of silence stretched between them, and Tubbo had to allow himself a beat to realize that what he was seeing was real. Once it hit him, he blinked hard, scrambled to the edge of their bed, and gazed at the apparition.
"Ranboo...?" Tubbo slowly stepped off of the bed, his hooves clicking on the hardwood floor. Ranboo just smiled at him, and opened his arms as Tubbo got closer. Seemingly not in control of his own body, Tubbo felt himself fall into Ranboo's chest, frosty fabric pressed against his cheek and hands that felt like icy water finding their way to his hairline. Tubbo was used to Ranboo's chilliness, his frozen touch was always comforting, but knowing that those cold hands were dead ones felt... wrong. Tubbo stepped back, gently removing Ranboo's hands from his head and holding them in his own shaking ones.
"Hi," Ranboo whispered, a sad smile glistening in his eyes. He lifted his hand to Tubbo's cheek, brushing away tears he didn't even realize were pouring from his eyes. When Ranboo's hand found scar tissue, Tubbo instantly found himself menting. His eyes involuntarily closed and he leaned into Ranboo's touch. He hadn't realized how desperate he was for comfort until he felt it again. No one could do it like Ranboo, who was always able to pull Tubo back into a better headspace, calmly ramble when Tubbo was unable to speak, and relieve crippling post-nightmare fear with as little as a back rub or deep hug. Now, standing in the shadows of the bedroom they used to share, everything came flooding up. All of the pain kept bottled in, every ounce of missing his soulmate, and Tubbo buried himself back into Ranboo's arms.
After a moment of just standing together, arms tight around each other's backs, there was nothing that could be said. Tubbo wanted so desperately wanted to scold Ranboo for leaving him, thank him for saving Michael's life, and tell him how fucking much he missed being with him. He wanted to hear from Ranboo how it was all going to be okay, that he was there now, here to stay in a form that couldn't be hurt, that couldn't leave Tubbo anymore. However, no words came from either of them. Instead, they started to sway, moving to an unheard song that played in unison in both of their heads. It was one of the ways they spoke when neither of them could - through dancing. Ranboo's lithe body and fluid limbs were perfect for the comforting movement that Tubbo had taught himself when his life was at its worst. He would dance to comfort himself, to ground himself, and to express power in the most beautiful way he could. Ranboo would move alongside Tubbo, complimenting his movements and catching him just before he fell to the ground when Tubbo impulsively trusted him to. That was one of the things Tubbo loved the most about dancing with a partner, the trust placed in both people by the other.
Tubbo's hands locked behind Ranboo's back, and Ranboo's rested on Tubbo's shoulders. Their feet stepped back, left, forwards, in a sort of shaky slow dance that only the two of them knew. Ranboo looked down at Tubbo, in all of his red-eyed, scarred, messy and restless being, and quietly began to hum. The melody was exactly that which Tubbo heard whenever they danced, and tears welled up once again. The sun began to creep through the window, and Ranboo's skin became slowly more translucent. Tubbo held on tighter, and Ranboo pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him in the all too familiar, "hey, it's going to be okay" hug. Tubbo hummed along to Ranboo's song, and they danced slower and slower as the room filled with more golden sunlight. With his eyes closed, Tubbo hardly noticed the absence of Ranboo's touch when the light hit him. He heard Ranboo's song fade, finally opening his eyes when the last note rang through his ears. Ranboo was gone as if he had never been in the room to begin with. In the place of Tubbo's hand where he had been gripping Ranboo's dress, there was a piece of paper. Tubbo read it through blurred eyes due to thick tears, "☌⍜⍜⎅⏚⊬⟒, ⟟ ⌰⍜⎐⟒ ⊬⍜⎍".  Tubbo slowly lowered down to his knees, gripping the paper as tightly as he could, feeling somewhere inside of him like it could bring Ranboo back, even though he knew in his heart that he would never see him again. Tubbo grabbed a pen from the bedside table on Ranboo's side, flipped over the paper, and scribbled a response, "☌⍜⍜⎅⏚⊬⟒ ⏚⍜⍜, ⍀⟒⌇⏁ ⌿⟒⏃☊⟒⎎⎍⌰⌰⊬".