Archive of Our Own ^beta

          Sitting on the roof of the server house, Ranboo stared down at his arm with the kind of casual apathy he’d expected.

          Red, blue, and purple dripped down his wrist from the series of thin slashes across the inside of it, thudding down onto the roof shingles with quite drip drip drip sounds. Taking a breath, he sighed and felt his mouth twitch up around tiny little fangs. It was too bad he hadn’t managed to get a better knife, that he’d only managed to get the little razor he’d stolen from one of Tubbo’s pencil sharpeners. He felt bad, obviously. Tubbo only had so many of the sharpeners, he’d asked to borrow it and made sure it was new so at least he wouldn’t get too badly hurt.

          Well, too badly hurt omitting the fact he was currently slicing his wrists open on the roof of the server house because he needed to bleed.

          He hated it. These server folk were nice to him, and what had he gone ahead and done? He’d messed up. Sure, maybe it wasn’t that bad, and maybe he was overreacting, but he didn’t particularly feel like it was a small offence by any means. It was big, it was super big, he’d screwed up and now Phil was mad.

          Well, there was really only one other solution.

          Taking a breath, Ranboo glanced behind him and slowly allowed himself to skid down the roof shingles. He looked at the lawn down the hill, teleported there with little more than a thought. In his palm, the thin razor cut into the soft skin there, but he ignored it. Ignored the stinging pain, ignored the way the blood dripped down his hand. It was probably staining his jeans now. They were borrowed from Tommy, he’d never be able to give them back now.

          Looking into the forest, Ranboo closed his eyes, took a breath, and continued to walk into the shadows.

+++

          Sighing, Phil made his way up the stairs, one hand on the bannister.

          He wasn’t even sure Ranboo wanted to see him, actually. Which was why he kept hesitating. Sure, he’d gone through this with Techno, and Wilbur, and Tommy and Tubbo and pretty much everyone who found themselves sheltering with him at some point or other. Some of them weren’t big arguments, but it was bound to happen and he wasn’t one to ignore when he needed to apologise. So, simple as that, he was just going to walk up the stairs. If Ranboo wanted to see him, then they’d talk through things. If Ranboo didn’t…then Phil could wait. Simple as that.

          Knocking, he waited for a few moments. “Ranboo?” The room was quiet. Closing his eyes, Phil knocked again. A brush of wind went underneath the gap between the floor and the door. As it hit his wings, he felt the shift in wind and his eyes snapped open. “Ranboo?” The tone of his voice pitched up into panic, and he heard some footsteps on the stairs behind him. Testing the door, he found it locked and hesitated. Please don’t be hurt, please don’t be hurt. He leaned down and looked at the lock before deciding to ram his shoulder into the wood twice, knocking it open.

          Ranboo was gone.

          Looking around, Phil sucked in a few breaths and glanced around the room. Dream, Wilbur, and Techno entered, the last sniffing with a wrinkled nose. “There’s blood.” Phil stared out the open window, at the curtains fluttering in the breeze as the moonlight washed them in pale blue light. Crossing the distance, he leaned out and sucked in a quick breath. On the window sill, the white wood was stained with rapidly-fading drips of red, purple, and blue.

          “He’s bleeding.” Phil whispered. Turning, he ordered, “Wilbur, go downstairs and tell everyone that Ranboo’s missing and to contact us if he decides to show up. If they want, they can try calling him, see if he decides to come home himself. In the meantime, Dream, I want you preparing horses for the three of you. We’re going to fan out. I’ll take east. Techno, west. Dream, you’re north and Wilbur—”

          “South. Got it.” Nodding, Wilbur adjusted his beanie on his head and started running downstairs, Dream right behind him after giving a quick two-fingered salute.

          Looking back, Phil slipped out of the window and looked around. “Techno, what else can you pick up on?” Techno placed one hand on the wall and closed his eyes, focusing.

          “Blood, metal. A razor of some sort.” Opening his eyes, he met Phil’s gaze and said, “Self-harm.”

          Phil’s heart dropped to his stomach.

          “Are you sure?” He asked, aware of the hollow tone to his voice. Nodding, Techno looked out at the forest.

          “Faint smell of void. He teleported.” Looking over, Techno mused darkly, “You’ll need to go fetch him, you know.” Phil took a breath and closed his eyes. “Come on, Phil. Let’s get moving.” With a light tap to Phil’s back, Techno started moving down the roof to the grass, dropping with a thud. Phil, however, started climbing up, towards the roof. As he did, he glanced around for a better look at the surrounding area, checking where the moon was currently rising. He would want to go that way.

          “Techno!” Looking up, the man met his gaze. “Tell Dream and Wilbur we have a change of plans. If he’s going that way, then we’ll go after him. No point in spreading resources thin when there’s no need.” Nodding, Techno began heading back for the house. Phil gripped the weather vane and lightning rod at the top of the house in one hand, looking across the moonlight-silvered trees with narrowed eyes for a moment. Unfolding his wings, he allowed himself to tip forwards, allowed the wind to rush around him.

          For a heartbeat, he free-fell.

          Gliding over the trees, Phil kept his gaze on the leaves ahead of him, whipping over the canopy. Perhaps, if they were lucky, Dream would have some sort of compass designed for Ranboo’s signature. If he remembered, they had one in the prop room. He took a breath of the humid air, glanced at the towering silver clouds above the mountains in the distance, and then glanced at the moon again. There’d been a ring around it several days earlier, warning of rain.

          If they were lucky, they’d find Ranboo before the storm did.

+++

          Saying that Ranboo was beginning to regret running away was a bit of an understatement.

          Glaring down at his arms, he growled and stared at the little razor in his palm where it cut against his wrist. Small gashes were slit across the thin skin there, stinging and angry, and he gripped the razor harder. He deserved it. After all, he was a screw up, and no one would want him around anyways. He got it. If he were being honest, he wouldn’t really want him around either. Not after everything that had happened.

          Shaking his head, he took a breath, rubbed his arm with his unbloodied hand, and kept walking.

          Smooth stones crossed the river, and he stepped over them. Frantically, he tried to keep his thoughts anywhere but where they wanted to wash, to when he and Tubbo and Tommy were jumping across the stepping stones at full speed the other day to get to the scene where Dream and Techno were going to face off. The crew had written four scripts, courtesy of a stroke of inspiration from Wilbur, and the path they followed for the next episode was decided by who won the battle. One script for if Dream won, one if Techno did, one for if Phil managed to make it there from where the battlefield was to stop the fight, and one where they were both killed. Of course, Ranboo, Tubbo, and Tommy had been up late with anticipation the night before and nearly slept through the fight, so they’d bolted as quickly as they could to the meeting place.

          Scrubbing at his face, Ranboo sighed and then hissed when his tail flicked into the water. He held it just out of reach, looked down at the moon-laden surface. Fish swam along peacefully, and he knelt at the muddy shore for a moment to just watch. If he were right, it’d be a while before anyone went to check on him. He had time to just take a moment. Besides, maybe they wouldn’t look for him at all.

          Shoving the thought aside, he watched the crawdads for a moment and then reached for the water without thinking. Red dripped from his white fingertips, and he paused for a moment before watching the little swirls stain the water. Red from his white side, blue from the enderman, and purple when they mixed together. Honestly, he wasn’t sure quite how it worked. The kids at some of his older homes had enjoyed it, though, kicked him around and punched him in the nose just to watch the fading of the colours as they mixed together. Absentmindedly, Ranboo reached up to swipe at his nose like he was wiping blood away, and he caught his reflection in the water when he looked for some of the salamanders. Or were they newts? Tubbo would probably know.

          Looking at the half-and-half state of his face, his two very different coloured eyes, Ranboo wrinkled his nose and grabbed some of the dirt from beside him. Throwing it into the water with a growl, he watched the fish scatter and immediately something heavy settled in his chest. He got up, took a few short breaths, and growled again before turning and stalking away, muttering to himself. “Sℸ ̣ ⚍!¡╎↸. Sℸ ̣ ⚍!¡╎↸ ꖎ╎ℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ ꖎᒷ ᒲ𝙹リᓭℸ ̣ ᒷ∷. I↸╎𝙹ℸ ̣. E⍊ᒷ∷||𝙹リᒷ'ᓭ ∴∷𝙹リ⊣, ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ|| ᓭ⍑𝙹⚍ꖎ↸ ⋮⚍ᓭℸ ̣  ᓭℸ ̣ ᔑ|| ᔑ∴ᔑ|| ⎓∷𝙹ᒲ ||𝙹⚍.” Shaking his head, he shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself. His gaze wandered to the foliage littered along the sides of the dirt path he was walking on, and he mused, “P∷𝙹ʖᔑʖꖎ|| ᓭᔑ⎓ᒷ∷ ╎⎓ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ|| ↸╎↸. I⎓ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ|| リᒷ⍊ᒷ∷ ᒲᒷℸ ̣  ||𝙹⚍ ᔑℸ ̣  ᔑꖎꖎ.”

          He wiped at his eyes with his sleeves, crying when he realised who the hoodie belonged to. His last one had gotten blood on it, and the dark green hoodie was a thing Dream had loaned him. Crying out, Ranboo pulled it off and threw it to the side, leaving himself in Tommy’s black jeans and a dark grey shirt Ranboo actually owned. A wail tore itself loose from his throat, and he dropped to his knees, clutching the razor from Tubbo’s pencil sharpener.

          Tubbo’s pencil sharpener razor.

          Tommy’s black jeans.

          Dream’s hoodie.

          Running his hands over his face, ignoring the sting of where the razor scraped against his cheek and temple (it hardly cut that easily, he’d be fine; and if he didn’t then who was he to care), Ranboo sucked in another breath and grabbed at his hair. I ∷ᒷᔑꖎꖎ|| ᔑᒲ リᒷ⍊ᒷ∷ ⊣ᒷℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ ╎リ⊣ ∷╎↸ 𝙹⎓ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷᒲ ᔑᒲ i? Shaking, he tried to drag himself upright. His vision was blurring, so he only succeeded in getting a couple more steps, past a few more trees before he inevitably tripped on something and went down in the dirt.

          Collapsing, Ranboo screamed.

          He wasn’t breathing right. It was too erratic. Almost like Tommy when he was having a panic attack, except Ranboo was pretty sure this wasn’t a panic attack. Curled on his knees, he stared at the dirt in front of him, tears running down in his face like he’d been dunked under water again. Shaking, he clawed at his ribs, felt the tips dig into his skin and shirt where they’d automatically unsheathed. A gasp escaped him, and he pressed his forehead to the dirt for a split second before he realised, somewhere, that he needed to slow his breathing down.

          He needed to stop screaming. Something was going to find him. Some monster, something less friendly. In the distance, thunder struck, and he flinched. As he did, he spotted the blood on his own wrist and sucked in a few shaky breaths. A few times, when he’d been younger, he’d bit himself. It’d worked then.

          Staring at the blood-streaked skin with wide eyes, he dimly wondered if it’d work now.

+++

          When they found Ranboo, curled up in the mud and covered in his own blood, sobbing his heart out with his fangs digging into his wrist, Phil’s only thought was that he had to shield him from the rain.

          Throwing himself over the young man, Phil spread his wings as much as possible, felt the rain splashing through his feathers in cold, thick drips. Beside him, Ranboo let out a sound almost like a wail, and Dream pulled his horse to a stop with Techno and Wilbur’s. Throwing a discard dark green hoodie onto the horse’s back, Dream hurried over and started messing with his communicator, likely fiddling with the world code. Slowly, the rain parted around them, and Dream crouched next to Phil and Ranboo.

          The young man was still curled up, hunched over and in the same state as a panicked animal. Rasping, short breaths made their way past his lips, and Phil reached over to touch his hair. “R-Ranboo? Hey, can you hear me?”

          The words were a quiet whisper, barely audible above the rain pattering down on the woods around them and around Ranboo’s wrist. “i'ᒲ ᓭ𝙹∷∷||, ↸𝙹リ'ℸ ̣  ꖎᒷᔑ⍊ᒷ.” Ranboo repeated that a few times. Sitting back, Phil touched his back and gently rubbed a few circles between his shoulders. The young man relaxed, not completely but just a little bit. “i'ᒲ ᓭ𝙹∷∷||. i'ᒲ ᓭ𝙹∷∷|| i'ᒲ ᓭ𝙹∷∷|| i'ᒲ ᓭ𝙹∷∷|| !¡ꖎᒷᔑᓭᒷ ↸𝙹リ'ℸ ̣  ꖎᒷᔑ⍊ᒷ.”

            “i'ᒲ リ𝙹ℸ ̣  ꖎᒷᔑ⍊╎リ⊣.” Phil replied, and Ranboo stared at him for a moment with wide eyes. “Lᒷℸ ̣ 'ᓭ ⊣ᒷℸ ̣  ||𝙹⚍ ⍑𝙹ᒲᒷ, ʖ⚍↸.”

          Crying, Ranboo nodded, and Phil carefully cradled him close. Before they could get up, Wilbur stepped in with a roll of bandages in his arms, carefully cleaning the wounds to Ranboo’s wrists and palm. He finished and ruffled Ranboo’s hair, smiling below the mask, and Ranboo tucked his arms next to himself.

          When they got back to the server house, Techno, Wilbur, and Dream walked in first to tell everyone to leave him alone. Ranboo was already dead asleep, he wouldn’t be answering questions, anyways, and Phil carefully took him upstairs to Eret’s room. They were waiting there, smiled and gently woke Ranboo with a few words in soft Galactic and a shake to the shoulder. They had a conversation, and Phil ducked out to grab Ranboo some new clothes.

          He came back to find Ranboo clinging to Eret like they were his only lifeline, still crying. “Hey.” Setting the clothes down on the bed, Phil caught both their attention and added, “Just thought you might want something more comfortable to sleep in. Er, stay with him, alright?” They nodded, smiling softly, and Phil turned to meet Ranboo’s gaze. “I’m not mad, bud, okay? And I’m sorry for earlier, I just want you to know that.”

          Nodding, Ranboo fiddled with his pant legs, shuddering with his next breath. Phil stepped back, swallowing, and then met Eret’s gaze. “He’ll be alright,” they promised, deft fingers darting with the signs, “I think he just needs time.”

          “I’ll check on you in the morning. Just watch him, please?”

          “No problems.” Smiling, Eret turned back to Ranboo, talked in more Galactic as the young man pulled his legs up and tucked them underneath him. Phil took a breath and left the room, walking back towards his room.

+++

Galactic

Translation

1. Sℸ ̣ ⚍!¡╎↸. Sℸ ̣ ⚍!¡╎↸ ꖎ╎ℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ ꖎᒷ ᒲ𝙹リᓭℸ ̣ ᒷ∷. I↸╎𝙹ℸ ̣. E⍊ᒷ∷||𝙹リᒷ'ᓭ ∴∷𝙹リ⊣, ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ|| ᓭ⍑𝙹⚍ꖎ↸ ⋮⚍ᓭℸ ̣ ᓭℸ ̣ ᔑ|| ᔑ∴ᔑ|| ⎓∷𝙹ᒲ ||𝙹⚍.

Stupid. Stupid little monster. Idiot ̣. Everyone's wrong, they should just stay away from you.

2. P∷𝙹ʖᔑʖꖎ|| ᓭᔑ⎓ᒷ∷ ╎⎓ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ|| ↸╎↸. I⎓ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ|| リᒷ⍊ᒷ∷ ᒲᒷℸ ̣ ||𝙹⚍ ᔑℸ ̣ ᔑꖎꖎ

Probably safer if they did. If they never met you at all

3. I ∷ᒷᔑꖎꖎ|| ᔑᒲ リᒷ⍊ᒷ∷ ⊣ᒷℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ ╎リ⊣ ∷╎↸ 𝙹⎓ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷᒲ ᔑᒲ i?

I really am never getting rid of them am I?

4. i'ᒲ ᓭ𝙹∷∷||, ↸𝙹リ'ℸ ̣ ꖎᒷᔑ⍊ᒷ.

I'm sorry, don't leave

5. i'ᒲ ᓭ𝙹∷∷||. i'ᒲ ᓭ𝙹∷∷|| i'ᒲ ᓭ𝙹∷∷|| i'ᒲ ᓭ𝙹∷∷|| !¡ꖎᒷᔑᓭᒷ ↸𝙹リ'ℸ ̣ ꖎᒷᔑ⍊ᒷ.

I'm sorry. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry please don't leave.

6. i'ᒲ リ𝙹ℸ ̣ ꖎᒷᔑ⍊╎リ⊣.

I’m not leaving.

7. Lᒷℸ ̣ 'ᓭ ⊣ᒷℸ ̣ ||𝙹⚍ ⍑𝙹ᒲᒷ, ʖ⚍↸.

Let's get you home, bud.