Archive of Our Own ^beta

They never really mention how lonely it is to be yourself.

Probably because few people care to admit that they’re lonely in the first place. They refuse to realize that being who you are can be lonely, particularly when you never quite fit in with them.

Ranboo knew he was lonely.

Clara bothered him about it all the time, sending him a small, sad smile when he was found sitting on the front steps again, watching clouds go by with a sullen look. She always told him to go play with the village kids, to “make friends”, and “branch out a little more”.

Ranboo never told her how it hurt a lot more to listen to them make fun of his height, or his weird, clawed hands, or his strange eyes than it ever would to stay a little bit lonely.

So that’s how he grew up.

Clara never really knew where he’d come from. She told him she was happy to take care of him, that the day the villagers had brought him to the infirmary– small, confused, and a bit of an amnesiac– had been one of the best. She took him in with open arms, helped him through the confusion, coaxing memories back from the brink. (None of them were ever about where he came from, no matter how much he tried to remember.

He liked to think he’d had a nice past. He didn’t really know.)

Clara said that Ranboo was a gift, someone to keep her company after a long day of taking care of patients. Her little helper, her clumsy, lovable boy.

(Sometimes he wondered if he really was a gift. If parents he couldn’t recall had happily returned him to the sender.

But he never told Clara that.)

The hybrid boy, the loser kid, the odd one with the funny smile and the messy hair and limbs too long for his body.

He grew up, just a bit. Safe under Clara’s kind, guiding eye, sure. But Clara was busy. And Ranboo, well. Ranboo was lonely.

Watching clouds was only so interesting by himself, and only for so long. The beach was nice to walk on, but he couldn’t go in the water, and he didn’t really have a good spot to keep a collection of sea glass and rocks anyway. Besides, collections were only so fun if you had someone to show them off to.

Even as young as he was, Ranboo decided good things were meant to be shared.

If only he had someone to share them with.

Lonely. That sounded about right.

On his eight birthday, Ranboo was given a book. Still working to make the switch from Ender to a more common language, it was hard to read at first. The book was a classic, simple story, about an island filled with treasure and a sailor named Jim, ever faithful to his brave Captain Silver. After that day, he wasn’t quite so lonely anymore.

Who needed friends when he had his book?

Pirates were better than friends. Pirates didn’t make fun of your shyness, they just taught you to be loud and brave. Pirates helped one another, fought for one another. Pirates didn’t hate someone who looked a little odd around the edges, a little different.

Ranboo decided he rather liked pirates.

If he ever met one, he was going to be sure to tell them that.

—————

The sky was clear today, the morning washed free of the dark clouds and rumbling thunder that had smothered it the night before. Sun filtered through the leaves of a lone tree, the cool scent of the sea drifting over housetops to the hill upon which it perched. In its shade sat a young child, skinny legs lost in the long grass of the shore and nose buried in a book. Claws gently scratched paper as the kid slowly turned another page.

Ranboo squinted down at the words, carefully making his way through the sentences. The new language was quite easy to read now, even if he still reverted to writing in Ender out of habit. It helped that he had read this one so many times, but still. Progress.

A gentle puff of wind came up over the hill, rustling the grass. With it came a noise that instantly popped his bubble of peace.

The sound of laughter, shrill and childish, grew louder. Ranboo peeked over the cover of his book, watching warily as a familiar group of village kids wandered up the hill, pushing and shoving and making far too much noise. He cringed, pushing back against the tree behind him, practically trying to disappear into it. The shrieks of laughter got louder, and Ranboo held the book up higher, trying to hide behind it.

Maybe if they don’t realize it’s me, they’ll just keep walking. Maybe.

“Hey, look!” The sounds of scuffling grew quiet as one of the kids shouted. “It’s Boo boy!”

Yeah, so much for that.

More echoes of “Boo boy!” came from the group, anything but fondness in the nickname.

Ranboo flinched, sliding down the tree a little. Do they have to be so loud?

“Watcha readin’, Boo?” One boy asked, stomping up to him. “Prolly somethin’ stupid, right?” He stopped, hands on hips, waiting for a response.

The kid didn’t get one, Ranboo turned his page, despite having only been a couple sentences in. His eyes stayed stubbornly glued to it.

Go away. Please, he silently begged.

A grubby hand suddenly reached out and snatched the book from his hands. Ranboo gasped, watching the well-loved pages crumple in another kid’s grip.

“Hey-!”

The girl who took it held it above her head, grinning down at him. “He probably doesn’t even know what it’s about. I doubt he can even read. Mobs are too dumb for that.”

His heart sunk.

He wasn’t dumb. He could read just fine– especially now that he could write in both English and Ender.

Ranboo stood slowly, tucking his clawed hands behind his back. Just in case. The last thing he wanted was to scratch somebody right now. That would only make things a million times worse. He eyed the book– his book, debating how bad it would be if he tried to snatch it out of her hands.

“What’s it even about?”

The kids peered over the girl’s shoulder, watching as she carelessly flipped through the pages.

“Uh– guys?” Ranboo asked nervously, “Can I have that back please? It was a gift and I–“

Another boy groaned, smacking the girl on the shoulder. “Look what you did Paige, now the freak is trying to talk to us.”

Ranboo winced, ears flat against his head. The bark of the tree dug into his back, pressure no longer comforting.

“Sorry,” Paige said, not sounding sorry at all, “Here, you can have it back. I swear.” She held the book out, fingers wrapped tight around the pages. Tentatively, Ranboo pulled one hand out from behind him, reaching forward to take it.

The book was snatched back out of reach. A peal of laughter followed, accompanied by the sound of tearing paper, a few pages now hanging limp.

“Whoops!” Paige giggled. “My bad! I think my fingers slipped.”

“At least you have fingers,” another kid sneered. “Don’t even know how Ender boy turns the pages with those freaky talons of his.”

Ranboo flushed, tucking his hand back behind him and trying to ignore how uncomfortable it was for the tree bark to dig into it. Hair slipped over his eyes, but he didn’t want to try to push it away. There were too many eyes on him, too many people waiting for a comeback. He didn’t– They–

He shrunk further into himself, hating the attention. “M-my hands aren’t-“

“Whatever. Give me the book! I wanna see what it’s about. Maybe we can keep it!”

There was a clambering as the group tossed the book around. His eyes grew wide, peering through black and white bangs in fear.

They couldn’t have it. That book was his favorite, the one he had learned to read with. Clara had given it to him. It was pirates and adventure and everything good. They couldn’t take it.

…Could they?

“What kinda book is Treasure Island?”

“I dunno. You ever heard of it?”

“It’s good!” Ranboo blurted, finally finding his voice. “It’s got pirates in it, and there’s this captain-“

The words were scoffed at.

“That’s stupid.”

“Of course he likes it.”

Laughter rang out, and he winced again, pushing so hard against the tree that he really should’ve been a part of it by now.

Can’t they just leave me be? Tears pricked at his eyes, and Ranboo sucked in a breath, blinking rapidly. He couldn’t cry. Clara would get upset at the burns and his cheeks would hurt–

“I don’t wanna touch this anymore. It’s probably got freak all over it. You take it-“

“Ew, no!”

Ranboo watched helplessly as two boys threw his book around, the pages crinkling, blue cover turning muddy with fingerprints. One of them fumbled, failing to catch it, and it landed on the ground with a thump. Seizing the opportunity, he darted forward, snatching the book off the ground and hugging it to his chest.

He backed up again, shuffling his feet, trying not to hyperventilate. Despite the fact that he was as tall as or even taller than most of the kids there, their glares still felt like a trap.

“Ender freak,” someone hissed, and then there was a faint sizzling sound. His cheeks burned.

With a small gasp, Ranboo turned tail and ran, feet tripping over the grass, precious cargo held close to his chest. The echoes of laughter and cheers followed him down the hill. Half-blinded by tears, Ranboo stumbled through the bluffs, trying to get as far away as possible, cheeks stinging.

Feet hit warm sand, but he kept going.

Gotta get away, gotta–

Freak.

The beach was unfamiliar territory, having been rearranged by the careless hands of last night’s storm. Blinded by tears, eyes screwed up from the sting, Ranboo sprinted down the beach, thoughts a panicked chorus of away away away get away.

The sand crumbled under his feet, slipping and sliding with every step. Seaweed tangled his ankles, the sensation only making him cry more, salt burning his skin. He adjusted his grip on the book, darting through another patch of kelp, hardly paying attention to his surroundings.

This cluster of seaweed, however, didn’t tear and slough off like the others before it. It wrapped itself around his ankle, the crude, coarse rope hidden within like a snare. With a yelp, Ranboo was sent sprawling into the sand, book falling from his grip. Coughing, he pushed himself up, spitting out grit and trying to catch his breath.

“What was–“

Blinking the tears and sand from his eyes, Ranboo finally looked up from the ground. He gasped.

Looming out of the waves was the battered wreck of a small boat, sail shredded and sagging, sprawled across the sand. Chunks of rough-hewn planks littered the beach, pitiful collections of what could’ve once been someone’s supplies among them.

Slowly, Ranboo got to his feet, panic and book both forgotten in the wake of this discovery. Carefully, he made his way over to the mess, curious. Had some fisherman left their boat untethered last night, and the storm had taken it? He’d heard about that happening before, when someone would come to Clara for help and complain about it.

Or maybe… No, that wouldn’t make sense. It was just his imagination getting away from him again. There weren’t pirates around here. Treasure Island was just a book, and this was just going to be some boring old fishing boat–

Rounding the corner of the biggest chunk of hull, Ranboo caught sight of something glinting in the sand. Tentatively, he reached in and scooped it up, pulling something far larger than he’d expected out of the kelp. He stared at the object with wide eyes. A scuffed and worn iron axe was in his grip.

The fishermen didn’t carry axes around. He glanced up at the boat again, nerves and excitement running under his skin in tandem.

The boat was unfamiliar, poorly made. Grow up on the coast and even someone as young as him knew what a solid fishing boat looked like. This wasn’t it.

He set the axe carefully back in the sand, continuing on his way. It was like a mystery, one for him to solve. Whose boat was it? Could it belong to pirates? Would there be treasure on the ship?

Oh– imagine everyone’s faces if he found a real pirate treasure.

They’d probably be so stunned they wouldn’t even have time to make fun of him.

That would be nice. It really would.

Ranboo kept picking through the wreck, looking for anything of interest. A random leather boot, more worn tools, loose logs and a smashed-open chest, and–

And–

Oh god.

That was a person. The was most definitely a person, sprawled on their stomach in the sand, waves still lapping past their knees even with the low tide.

Oh boy, that was not good. Not good at all.

Against his better judgement, Ranboo inched his way toward the unconscious person, something telling him to help. Even if it was a pirate, one who might attack him or something. Clara had taught him to look out for others. This was no exception.

“Uhm- hello? Person?” He called, stopping a few feet away. No response. Obviously.

C’mon, Ranboo. They’re asleep, that’s not gonna be enough to wake them up.

He inched closer, kneeling down at their side. “Are you still alive?” He reached out and gently poked their shoulder, careful with his claws. He swallowed. “Please don’t be dead.”

Still nothing.

“Hello?” This time, he shook their shoulder. Their head rolled in the sand a bit, limp, but still no reaction. “Oh gosh. That’s uh- not good probably.”

He froze, trying to decide what to do. It was probably bad to leave them face-down in the sand right? And- and maybe he should pull them further out of the water? The last thing he wanted was for them to drown when the tide came back in.

Carefully, Ranboo hooked his hands under their side and pushed with all his strength. Slowly, the person tipped over, rolling in the sand, eventually falling onto their back. Ranboo stopped to catch his breath.

He looked down at the person’s face. The first thing he noticed was that they were a he, and he had a painful-looking number of bruises on his face. Heavy eye bags, small cuts, some fresher than others. Ouch.

“You look awful,” Ranboo commented, feeling rather bad for the mystery-shipwreck-possibly-a-pirate man. He glanced further down, frowning at the waves still covering the guy’s legs.

He patted their shoulder, making sure to be gentle. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of the water too. I’m sure it’s not very nice to be in.”

Ranboo stood, shuffling around. He hooked his hands under possibly-a-pirate guy’s armpits and pulled, heels skidding in the sand, and slowly the man’s legs escaped the water. Ranboo grit his teeth, taking one staggering step after another.

Man, unconscious people were heavy.

Panting, Ranboo finally set him down, taking a second to lean forward on his knees. Oof. He sucked in another breath, taking in the salty air and the– oh wow. That smelled very much disgusting.

Ranboo straightened, holding back the urge to gag. What was that?

He took a few steps, looking over the mystery man. Something smelled rotten, decaying. Yuck. He scanned along the other’s body, looking for the source of it. Regretfully, Ranboo found it.

“Oh ew–“ He gasped, clapping his hands over his mouth and nose. Growing up with Clara, he had seen his fair share of mob-inflicted wounds. It wasn’t rare for someone to come in with a gash from a skeleton’s stray arrow or a festering cut from a zombie’s swipe. But that had to be the worst thing he had ever seen.

The guy’s left leg was practically split open, the wound bright red and filled with glistening sand and sea water, swollen and rotting under the daylight. Vomit crept up Ranboo’s throat.

“No wonder you’re asleep,” he croaked through his fingers. “Oh god– I’m gonna, you just wait here. I’ll just–“

He stumbled a few steps back, glancing worriedly at the slack face in front of him, everything feeling much more urgent all of a sudden.

Clara. He needed Clara.

She knew how to fix people, how to fix this. She’d know what to do.

“Just hold on,” Ranboo reassured the unconscious man, “I’ll be right back!”

Then he turned and scrambled up the bluffs, book and that entire awful morning already forgotten in the urgent need to make this right.

—————

“When do you think he’ll wake up?”

Clara sighed, setting aside a handful of dirtied bandages. “I’m not sure, dear. He’s had quite a rough time.”

Ranboo peered down at the man’s face (“A young man,” according to Clara), taking in the slackness of it. His eyes remained firmly closed, screwed up tight, as if even in his dreams, the world was too painful.

“Do you… do you think he will wake up?” Ranboo asked, timidly.

He wanted the strange-shipwreck-possibly-a-pirate-young-man to wake up. He was sure that whoever he was, he’d have some cool stories to tell.

He needed new stories. When the whole panic to get Clara down to the beach had ended and the adults had kicked him out of the room for the healing of the stranger’s leg, he’d finally gone back down to the beach to get his book. Heartbreakingly, the tide has started to come in, and he couldn’t grab it, not if he wanted to end up with burnt palms and feet.

He’d sat there, mourning the story as the saltwater slowly soaked the pages. Once the tide was too far in to see it, he’d gone back home, empty handed.

It could’ve been worse, though.

At least the mystery man was interesting. Even if he didn’t do much but lay there and sleep while Clara changed his bandages and put potion on the new end of his leg. Ranboo watched her do this, refusing to leave the room even when kindly asked. It’s not like there was anything better to do, now that his book was gone.

Clara stayed silent for a moment, glancing up at the sleeping teen’s tired face. “I really hope so,” she said quietly, something like pity in her eyes. “Poor thing has been through a lot.”

Ranboo nodded in understanding, leaning against the bed. “Do you think he’s a pirate?”

Clara paused in her motions, huffing out a laugh. “A what?”

“You know, a pirate. He got shipwrecked, and now he’s only got one leg. It makes sense, right?”

Clara laughed again. “How on earth did you come to that conclusion? Just because someone crashes their boat doesn’t mean they’re a pirate, dear.”

Ranboo pouted, opening his mouth to argue, but he closed it again.

It made sense, okay?

Because Ranboo was sure when he woke up, they’d be the best of friends. He already liked this strange blond person, for whatever reason. Of course he had to be a pirate, that’s why Ranboo liked him so much. Duh.

There was a low clattering as Clara gathered up the bowl of potion and the bandages, having finished her work. Balancing it in one hand, she ruffled Ranboo’s hair with the other. “Don’t bother him too much, okay? He needs his rest.”

“M’kay.”

“Good.” With that, Clara stood, heading for the bedroom door. She paused, hand on the knob, “He’s going to be alright, kiddo. He’s a strong one, I can tell.”

Ranboo nodded. He didn’t doubt that.

The door closed with a click, and then it was just the two of them.

Gingerly, Ranboo settled down on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping stranger. The kid watched over him, adjusting the blanket if it slipped too far away from the bruised and scraped chin.

The young man shifted in his sleep, letting out a quiet groan. Ranboo blinked, watching the way the other’s face scrunched up in pain. He leaned forward, quietly shushing him, hoping to help. When that didn’t work, Ranboo reached out, ever so mindful of his claws, and pushed the hair out of the young man’s face. It was dirty and uneven. The guy really ought to get a haircut.

There was another pained groan.

Ranboo shushed him again. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, gently combing through the hair he could reach the very best he could. “You’re going to get all better. And then you can tell me everything about being a pirate and sailing.” He paused thoughtfully. “Although maybe I don’t want you to tell me how to sail. You’re not the best at it.”

The stranger stilled, the wave of pain apparently having passed. Ranboo continued on.

“But that’s okay. I’m sure you can get better at it.” His fingers caught on a particularly tangly knot, and he stopped speaking, tongue between teeth as he tried to work it out. A few tugs, and it came lose. He smiled.

“Just like how you’re going to get better,” he said, grinning down at his new friend. Because they were going to be friends. He’d make sure of it.

Pirates were supposed to sail with a crew, Ranboo knew that much. But this guy had been all alone when they found him. Either he’d lost all of his friends in the wreck, or they’d never been there to begin with.

Either way, Ranboo would make sure he wasn’t alone anymore.

Nobody liked being alone. He’d know.

“Don’t worry,” he assured, still fiddling with the messy hair. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I promise.”

——————

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Ranboo swung his legs back and forth, kicking absentmindedly at the chest beneath him. Clara had said that the stranger was going to wake up soon. The potions were working well, and the skin on the stump had entirely healed over, even if it was still a little sensitive.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

He’d set his journal aside for the day, having turned to it a lot more often now that his book was gone, and spent the better part of the morning waiting.

Clara had said he couldn’t sit too close, just in case the young man woke up scared and lashed out, and she didn’t want him to get hurt.

Ranboo was sure he’d be alright, but he listened anyway.

Thump. Thump. Tha-thump.

It’d been a rather long time now. He hoped Clara wasn’t wrong, that the guy really was going to wake up. He really wanted to meet him, for real.

Thump. Thump.

There was a shifting from the bed, a bit of movement. Ranboo froze, holding his breath. He watched, practically buzzing with excitement as the other’s eyes opened, blinking blearily.

Ooh! He had blue eyes!

So cool.

Those eyes turned to him, blinking in confusion. Slowly, the other’s gaze came into focus, staring at him with a lost expression.

Unable to hold back any longer, Ranboo chirped out a “Hi!”, struggling to not go running around the room in excitement.

He was awake! He was awake and even looking at him!

There was no response back. The guy just kept looking around the room, gaze falling on random objects, trying to get his bearings. Ranboo bit his lip, holding back a million questions.

He had to be patient. His friend had just woken up, he couldn’t overwhelm him right away. Patience, Ranboo. Patience. You can do it.

“Are you a pirate?”

Whoops. That was harder than it’d looked.

The tired blue gaze swung back around to him, the other’s mouth falling open, gaping like a fish. “Am I a what?” He croaked, voice flat and gravely.

Ranboo shrunk back a bit at the blunt tone. Maybe he should’ve tried a little bit harder to stay quiet. He didn’t like it when it was noisy right after waking up either. But the stranger was looking at him now, waiting for a response, so he might as well ask, right?

“A pirate. They have ships, you know? You were in a shipwreck, I think,” he rambled excitedly, trying to explain the way he’d found him on the beach, and that his boat had been all smashed. “They found you on the beach and Miss Clara said your boat must’ve sunk, plus now you’re missing a leg so you can have one of those pegs!”

The guy stared at him, groggily processing the words. His mouth opened again, as if to say something back, but no sound came out. His eyes flickered away, looking down at something.

“Do you have a parrot?” Ranboo continued, unable to stop himself. He just absolutely needed to know. He’d never seen a parrot, only read about them. They seemed lovely.

The young man froze, hands having crept out from underneath the blankets, starting to sit up a bit. He looked back over at Ranboo, face twisted, snapping. “What the fuck? No, I do not have a parrot. I’m not a pirate!”

Ranboo flinched, pulling back a bit. There he’d gone, annoying someone else with his stupid questions and fantasies. Didn’t he know better by now? “Oh,” he murmured, curling in on himself. “Sorry.”

The other scoffed, turning away from him, ignoring the apology. Ranboo mentally berated himself. How could he have already screwed this up? They were supposed to be friends, and the guy was mad at him now.

Can’t you do anything right?

“Fuck.”

He glanced up, eyes going wide. The stranger had pulled the blanket off his lap, exposing the stump of his leg to the air. To his shock, tears gathered in the other’s eyes, threatening to spill over. A shaky hand reached out, touching the spot where the horrid injury used to be.

Ranboo jumped to his feet, scurrying over to the bedside. Angry at him or not, he couldn’t let this guy touch his injury. It would only make things worse.

“FUCK!”

As carefully as he could, Ranboo wrapped his hands around the stranger’s own, making sure not to be too forceful. He’d promised to take care of him, whether he was upset or not. “Sorry Mr. Pirate, but uh... well, Miss Clara told me to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself and that looked painful so I gotta move your hands- sorry, really sorry,” he blabbered, sitting on the edge of the bed, keeping the other’s hands in his lap. They were scarred and rough, and Ranboo couldn’t help but feel a bit bad about it. He gave them a gentle squeeze, watching as the guy settled back down into the pillows, drowsy once again.

“I told you,” he grumbled, glaring through half-lidded eyes. “‘M not a fuckin’ pirate.”

Ranboo couldn’t help but laugh at how defiant that was, that of all the things to focus on, he chose to worry about the pirate bit.

“Okay,” he teased, smiling. “If you say so.”

“‘M not,” came the weak protest, all of the snappishness gone, replaced by exhaustion.

Ranboo gave the hands in his own another gentle squeeze, watching blue eyes slip shut once more. “Pretty sure you are,” he said, unable to resist teasing one more time.

In just a few moments, the stranger’s breathing evened out, chest rising and falling steadily. Ranboo didn’t let go of his hands. He didn’t want to, not when he finally knew his friend was going to make it.

Even if their first meeting had been a little messy, the next one would be better. It was probably stressful to wake up to a strange place, missing an entire leg. He’d probably be upset too. He couldn’t blame the guy for being angry, and it would be dumb to take it personally. They were both just overreacting.

“I don’t care if you’re a pirate or not,” Ranboo decided, leaning into the guy’s side, just the slightest bit. “I like you anyways. I’ll stick around, no matter what.”

“I promise.”