Chapter Text
Usually, when he was thrown in the stall to think about what he did wrong, Dream would come by twice a day for some water at the very least. When he was less pissed it’d be water and food delivered twice a day, though Ranboo wasn’t holding his breath on that one. Dream’s yelling still echoed around the barn in time with the ache in his back and his hands. His presence was haunting. But one day had already dragged by, and the second was nearly over, and there hadn’t been a single sign of his brother.
Ranboo’s body may be extremely hydrophobic, and he didn’t have to stay as hydrated as a normal human, but trying to heal a bunch of burns with nothing in the fuel tank was. Less than effective. Zero out of ten for that experience. And he was starting to worry about infection setting in, which was probably the worst thing that could realistically happen. He had a very long list of things that could unrealistically happen starting at “the barn burns down with me inside” and ending with “the zombie apocalypse breaks out and then a meteor flattens the Pacific Northwest”. So, yeah, infection was up there with the worst of them. The barn wasn’t exactly a sterile environment, even if all Ranboo had done so far was shift his weight from one hip to the other after his butt went completely numb. Yes, the bridle and the leash were extremely upsetting, but the real test during these punishments was always the unending boredom and chronic discomfort.
In all honesty, Ranboo’s resolve had flickered a bit that afternoon when there was still no sign of food or water on the way. He wasn’t proud to admit it. But then his brain shoved the image of Tommy shuffling backwards towards near-certain death back in his face. Quick to remind him of the fact that Dream pushed Tommy there over and over while he himself did nothing to stop it and his resolve came rushing back. It was hard to defend someone, even if you wanted to, when their victim breaks down in front of you and then tries to jump off the tallest structure in a ten mile radius just to get away.
“This is my escape route!”
Ranboo bumped his head sternly against the pole, trying to shake the memories out of place by force. It wasn’t really working. But, like, hello! He’s already geared up to fight again! He doesn’t need to dwell on all this awful stuff anymore! We can cut it out!
“There’s really no escape.”
Normally he could at least talk to the animals to get away from his own brain but Dream had finally had enough of his stupid motor mouth and unless he wanted to hum vaguely into the overwhelming quiet of the barn there’s no way to run from the terrible thoughts aside from passing out—but he wasn’t tired, even though he’s exhausted because that’s all he could do just sit there and think into the void or sleep and dream about all the terrible things he’d been trying not to think about and-
“Dream’s World Eater and you’re World Ender.”
Did he hurt people? When Dream made him smile, did he leave the farm and go hurt someone? Was Dream even really controlling him or did he want to do terrible things? He could’ve killed someone, and never known about it. He could’ve killed several people and there was no way to know. Not until he could get his hands on a newspaper or a computer.
“You’re only here to watch me!”
He’d known that he acted differently when he was smiling but he never considered-
What if the person who’s smiling is the real Ranboo? The one with a perfect memory and a cool demeanour who never questions anything and just does what he’s told when he’s told to do it. The one who doesn’t make mistakes thanks to overthinking. When he’s not smiling, is he just there to be a walking talking security camera? A pawn to be moved there and back and there and back again who would ignore everything awful or suspicious because he was a coward who ‘‘didn’t want to think about it’’?
Dream was wrong about Tommy, that was clear. And Dream was wrong to pin all the blame for the roof incident on Ranboo. But before Tommy, Dream was always fair and just and when he had to be mean, it was for a good reason that Ranboo agreed with. All of that couldn’t be wrong too. Yes, the punishments were bad but they had a purpose! Dream was just wrong to do it this one time. And maybe if he could get Tommy off the farm for a while and have a nice long conversation where nobody’s yelling then Dream would realize how awful he’d been and work to be better and prove just how much he loves his family!
“Does he?”
Ranboo might be getting slightly delirious which is. Not a good thing. His thoughts felt too heavy and his logic was starting to loop to weird places with weird rules that didn’t make sense if he tried to retrace his steps. The barn was getting colder, which was ridiculous because the sun was still up outside and wouldn’t be going down for another three hours. Dimly he put two and two together and knew that he was feverish, and would probably be sweating bullets if he had any water in his system. A chill clawed its way up his spine and his teeth clenched painfully around the metal between them. His jaw wanted to seize and chatter but it was held fast in place.
He. Needed help. Like now. Like right now.
He was kind of panicking. But with his thoughts out of order everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. The alarm and the fear were all there; they were just…stuck behind a wall of fuzz that made his ears ring and his nail beds tingle. The adrenaline was trapped at the base of his skull and pooled there like nausea.
The universe evidently didn’t hate his guts, which was nice, because Tommy peeked through the stall door a moment later. Or maybe Ranboo blacked out for a bit, he honestly couldn’t tell and he didn’t care either. The point was, help was here.
One more blink and Tommy was kneeling in front of him and moving his hands around a lot and moving his mouth even more. Whatever sounds Tommy was making weren’t clearing the gap to Ranboo’s ears. Whatever expression he was making—he’d stopped feeling the muscles in his face yesterday—got the message to Tommy that nothing was being understood.
The blonde shook his head, eyebrows furrowing while his eyes stayed wide open and darted from corner to corner, his hands stalled and jump started again. Tommy’s hands came up sharply against Ranboo’s cheeks, sending a shock of ice down the older teen’s neck as he hissed in warning. But the sting of it cleared away some of the static and Tommy’s voice was able to ring clearly again. “Hey there bud, how are ‘ya?”
Ranboo huffed and jutted out his chin to hopefully draw attention to the obvious. Questions would be pretty pointless at the moment.
“Shit, right, right, uh-” Tommy floundered, his hands reaching out toward the end of the leash and then jerking back. “Dream left this morning, early. I don’t think he’ll be back anytime soon and I needed to make sure you were still…here.”
That made sense. Ranboo nodded along, as much as he could, before he tried to use his shoulder to gesture at the restraints again. He’d like very much to be unrestrained now before he passed out or did something even more embarrassing.
Tommy hesitated. “Is that safe? It won’t, like, hurt you or anything?”
Ranboo gestured harder. He was so far beyond not wanting to get hurt. He still couldn’t move his hands for crying out loud. He was already hurt and he didn’t think a few more dings or scrapes or a momentary loss of air would cause too much lasting damage.
Tommy got the message and slipped the leash off first, resulting in a few brief seconds of choking before the line went slack but, again, Ranboo could not care less as long as it was off. Tommy went for the bridle next, working at the buckles behind his head as gently as the other teen could manage while still checking over his shoulder every couple of seconds.
One minute stubby nails were scraping at his scalp trying to get purchase on the smooth metal and leather and the next Ranboo’s face was finally allowed to go slack. The bridle fell into his lap, and he quickly shoved it off into the corner of the stall. He let his jaw fall as far as it possibly could and felt it bump softly against his chest. Tommy grimaced and pushed Ranboo’s jaw back into place with a quiet pop.
“I hope that’s not like,” Tommy winced as he gestured at Ranboo’s face, “permanently broken.”
Ranboo shook his head. “No, that’s supposed to happen.” He said, hating how it came out nearly breathless and raspy. He didn’t really want to get into an End biology lesson, there were much more pressing matters at hand anyway. “We need to get you out of here.”
“What?” Tommy breathed, half smiling out of reflex. “Are you serious?”
“Your life is in danger. I can’t let you stay here.” Ranboo said.
“So is yours!” Tommy shot back. “Clearly! You look like shit Ranboo and, not to be, like, mega-cringe or whatever, we don’t have any chances of escape as we are. You’re hurt, I’m stuck in slow-mo, and we have no way of getting help.”
Ranboo growled, the sound nipping uncomfortably at his throat. “I don’t care. We need to get you out. Then, maybe, I could try and talk to Dream when he’s feeling better and we’ll…mail you a letter? Or…” He trailed off and it burned into another, softer growl. “I don’t know, we’ll figure…something out.”
Tommy frowned, scooting forward through the old hay until their knees were pressed together. “I’m not leaving you, Ranboo.”
Ranboo couldn’t look at the other’s face, turned away as he pulled his hands close to his chest. He had a feeling that if he risked a glance up that Tommy would be looking at him, really truly looking and this whole conversation was already a lot so. So he tried to steer it elsewhere.“Sure, but if-”
“No, I’m not doing that.” Tommy interrupted. “I’m not doing what ifs. If- no, sorry. When I get out of here you’re coming with me. End of story.”
Oh.
He was wanted. And wasn’t that an unusual thought.
“That better not be the end,” Ranboo said with a waver to his words that he hoped Tommy would ignore. “I want the story to keep going. At least for a while.”
Tommy snorted and rocked back onto his feet so he could stand. He offered a hand down to Ranboo. “I do too.” He said.
Ranboo took the hand and let it haul him upright with a wince as it gripped the stinging burns on his palms and then caught him as he immediately overbalanced. His legs jumped to life in a rush of pinpricks that shivered down through his bones. He supposed that’s what happens when you sit and barely move for nearly 48 hours. “I’m still a little, uh, dizzy.” He warned.
Wordlessly Tommy snaked an arm across his shoulders and pulled him to lean up against the shorter teen. The blonde shoved the stall door open with a foot and started to guide Ranboo out of the barn. “The biggest blocks are your health and the collar ‘round me.”
“I could probably pull it off…” Ranboo mumbled, squinting at the thick black band around Tommy’s throat.
“And take my head with? No thanks. Dream’s got a key hidden somewhere around here.”
Ranboo hummed, letting his eyes slip closed and relying on Tommy to steer them towards the house. The sun was a pleasantly warm presence against his eyelids and across his face. “It’s probably in his room.”
Tommy cursed under his breath. “I can’t get close to that, this stupid fucking thing shocks me every time I try.”
“I could go in,” Ranboo’s mouth offered even as his mind started wailing no no no no that’s wrong you can’t go in you can’t you can’t that’s death that’s hurt that’s against the rules no no no no no. Everything was still mixed up upstairs though, so the screaming got slotted right next to his panic in the lazy pool of Bad Feelings at the bottom of his brain.
Tommy looked up at him with eyes brimming blue. They were still mostly grey but the sparks of hope brought the irises to life. And his clothes were still worn and gross and it still looked like someone had punched Tommy under both of his eyes but. He was alive. Tommy took in a shaking breath as he helped Ranboo up the stair to the back door and into the kitchen. “Do you think you could? Walk on your own for long enough, I mean. To get all the way in there.”
He took stock of his body and the intensity of the pricks of discomfort still shimmering along his legs. “I should be fine once we’re up the stairs.” Ranboo decided, ignoring the logical side of his brain that was still doubtful of his standing capabilities. But he was doing a great job of ignoring his thoughts so far today. He was practically on a roll! Someone should tally up all the pieces of his brain that he’d dodged-slash-avoided so far and submit it to be reviewed by whoever set world records. Probably the same people that put together the almanacs each year and fill the pages with surprisingly accurate horoscopes.
Tommy just nodded and they kept going. Well, they stopped by the sink to get a glass of water each first, which was nice, but it was a very quick pit stop. Getting up the stairs was its own special little hell. Tommy had to take a step, brace himself against the railing, and haul Ranboo up by the armpits while Ranboo did his best to sort of hop the rest of the way up the stair. If anyone saw them they’d think they were possessed by some sort of codependent frog demon. But what works, works, and they weren’t going to complain.
Up in the hallway, Ranboo was pressed against the left hand wall that would lead to Dream’s room at the end. “Get the medkit, it’s under the sink, and the stuffed animals. I’ll look around Dream’s room.” He said to Tommy, the younger teen sending him one last concerned look before nodding and hurrying off to gather supplies.
Ranboo turned to face the door and slowly made his way across the wall until he could get a grip on the door knob. It was embarrassing how many times he had to slap at it and try to curl fingers that felt like hunks of wax around a piece of metal. But Tommy wasn’t watching, and he probably wasn’t listening, so when Ranboo got a proper grip on the handle he let himself celebrate quietly at the achievement. With a deep breath, he pushed the door in, and stepped inside.
Dream’s room started out normal. A modest white bed pushed into the corner with a nightstand and a lamp, a closet across the room, a few of Ranboo’s crappy paintings hung up on the walls, and a pile of dirty laundry next to the hamper as if someone had thrown and missed their shot. But as he looked at the other side of the room, it became clear how not normal Dream was. Along the length of one wall was a complicated web of newspaper clippings and charts printed out on long sheets of grid paper. Bits of coloured string ran from point to point with no real rhyme or reason. Plans for, what he could sort of see as world domination if he really squinted, were ranked from most plausible to least fun in bright red pen. If he had any more doubts about the supervillain thing, they were dead in the water now. The whole room felt off, and he couldn’t tell if that was because part of him was terrified to be caught in there or if there was something else about it pinging his anxieties.
Ranboo shuffled to the closet door in the corner next to the—for lack of a better word—conspiracy board and pushed that open too. There was a mannequin, currently bare, in the middle of the closet. Weapons racks were stacked nearly on top of each other along the two sides. One knife still covered in dry blood was hung on the back wall next to a landline. He grabbed the knife out of curiosity, a fairly boring thing except for two letters carved into each side of the blade. One side was “W.S.” and the other “G.B.” which could mean anything. Still, it seemed important, so he kept it tucked into the crook of his elbow as he searched the closet for some kind of key. He shuffled through coat pockets and shoes and under each and every weapon stashed in there. No dice.
He eyed the phone as he stood up, the shoe he had been examining dropping to the floor with a soft clatter. Without thinking he grabbed the receiver and punched in 9–1–1 with his elbow. He pressed the phone up to his ear as it trilled.
“Hello 9–1–1, what’s your emergency?” A voice asked.
Ranboo swallowed, was he really going to-? “I’ve been captured by World Eater. I’m at RR 7 LCD Main in Logstedshire, Wyoming. I’m calling from a landline. Please send police.” Apparently yes, he was.
The operator started talking very fast but Ranboo couldn’t keep up and they were already on the clock so he dropped the receiver and let it dangle by its cord. He managed to walk out of Dream’s room in a straight line which was definitely an improvement and he followed the sounds of movement to find Tommy cramming socks into a modified trash bag already pretty full. Tommy glanced up at him as he stepped into the doorframe and Ranboo just shook his head at the unspoken question. No key yet.
“I called the police.”
“What?” Tommy hissed, tying off the bag with hasty jerks.
“Also, I found this knife.”
“You’re a wanted criminal Ranboo! If they catch you they’ll-” Tommy’s mouth stopped moving as soon as he got a good look at the knife in Ranboo’s hand. “That’s Wilbur’s knife.”
Oh! Good, Tommy seemed to recognize it then. Was this the same knife that Dream had caught Tommy with a few days ago? Looks like it wasn’t thrown in the trash after all. Ranboo smiled and passed the knife over to the other teen as he reached out for it. The blond took it with a reverence Ranboo had only seen directed at Henry the stuffed cow before.
Tommy fiddled with the knife for a few seconds. Turning it this way and that, rubbing a finger over the engravings on the blade. Without warning he shoved up the sleeve of his shirt and scored a line on the back of his hand.
Ranboo lurched forward, grabbing Tommy’s hand with the knife and yanking it away from his arm. “Don’t do that!” He said as a wave of ice cold worry poured over his head. “Is this getting too much? Do we need to take a break?” He knew that Tommy wasn’t in a good place but even then he didn’t think the other would-
“Relax,” Tommy said with a roll of his eyes, “I’m calling for help. You’ll see.”
The whine that built up in the back of Ranboo’s throat clearly expressed his opinion on the matter. No he did not see and he didn’t want to see especially if seeing meant watching Tommy hurt himself in any way. Tommy batted at his arm with a warm huff.
“Come on,” the blonde tugged Ranboo onto their bed and shoved his green dragon plush into his lap while Tommy got busy opening up the medkit.
Ranboo kept trying to spark up conversation again but Tommy was focused solely on cleaning out the worst of the taller teen’s burns. He carefully worked around the broken skin with a cooling salve and then wrapped everything up snugly in bandages. And while Ranboo didn’t want to admit it, the simple care made him feel a lot better physically and emotionally. It was a bit selfish to want to be taken care of, especially when Tommy still needed a lot of care himself, but Ranboo didn’t think he could get the other to stop—short of knocking him out cold. Which was not an option.
Once his burns were wrapped Ranboo insisted on cleaning up and wrapping Tommy’s own hand. There wasn’t a lot of blood, but there was more than he was personally comfortable with seeing on his younger brother. All of this was done in a gentle quiet. Bird song drifted through the open window along with a warm evening breeze. The sun was dipping ever closer to the horizon and it painted the world bright gold as it went. The rays caught nicely against Tommy’s hair and turned his smile into something even more precious.
They picked up the supplies, the loops of the trash bag being fit over Ranboo’s shoulders since Tommy had strung them through the bottom corners of the bag. Tommy kept a firm grip on the knife, and they left.
It was weird to walk out of the house and think that it would be the last time he would be seeing it. Ranboo would miss it, eventually, he was sure. But in the moment he walked past memories of warm nights by the fire and cold mornings before dawn and he was okay. He had an objective to fulfill, and he would have his time to mourn the life that sort of belonged to him once he was done.
As they stepped out once again they were met by something more than a little weird.
Standing out a few meters from the door was a tall person in full monochrome save for royal blue fingertips. The person’s eyes were black voids and there was no mouth to be seen on their face. Dark curly hair fell over one side of their face and Ranboo got the weirdest feeling of deja vu looking at them.
He leaned over to whisper at Tommy. “Am I hallucinating? Who is that?”
Tommy gave him a brilliant grin and waggled his eyebrows. “That, is Ghostbur. He’s Wilbur’s like, shadow? Sure, we’ll go with that.”
“He doesn’t have a mouth.” Ranboo cupped his hand over his own mouth for this whisper message. He really didn’t want to offend this Ghostbur guy, even accidentally.
“Nope!” Tommy stepped forward, practically dragging Ranboo along. “He doesn’t really talk either. But sometimes when Wilbur is dreaming Ghostbur will sing or say some stuff. It’s kinda freaky.”
“How did he get here?” Ranboo asked even as dozens more questions started to clog up his inner queue.
Tommy waggled the knife, his grin only getting bigger as they drew closer and closer to the shadow. “I called him, mate.”
That was incredibly unhelpful! But as much as Ranboo wanted to demand a better answer, they were already in front of the guy. And, he would know, being discussed right in front of someone’s face was pretty rude and had the general effect of making the person feel terrible and awful and terribly awful.
Tommy took in a deep breath, his hand shaking slightly where it gripped tight over the handle of the knife. “Hello, Ghostbur.” He started. He was practically bouncing in place as Ghostbur’s eyes crinkled up in delight. Ghostbur clapped his hands together, somehow without making a sound, before he waved at the two of them. Tommy’s free hand squeezed Ranboo’s arm, likely for moral support that the taller teen was all too willing to provide, before he continued. “Ghostbur, could you reach inside this collar and take it off for me?”
Ghostbur was still for a few seconds before nodding and slowly gliding forward with hands outstretched. His blue fingers came to rest along the box stuck onto the collar before they sunk inside. Holy guacamole. Ranboo was starting to believe that the ‘ghost’ part of Ghostbur was more literal than figurative.
The shadow started fiddling and it was clear that Tommy was running out of patience faster and faster. Which, fair. It was stupid easy for nerves to start biting away at your attention span when you’re standing out in the middle of a farm in plain view with a ghost sticking his fingers in the device around your neck that could really really hurt you if messed with in the wrong way. Tommy didn’t seem worried about Ghostbur messing up, which was telling, but he kept scanning the area as if daring the universe to do something about their escape.
Unfortunately, the universe answered. In the shape of Dream popping into existence in a flurry of shadows on the road directly across from them, with maybe half a mile between them. Dream looked down at them from the road, his face covered by the mask and wearing a really weird costume. Black, and bright neon green.
“Shit!” Tommy hissed, “Ghostbur can you hurry?”
The shadow didn’t make any sign that he heard the request, working steadily away at the collar.
In a flash, Ranboo had made his decision. He still didn’t want things to escalate, he had hope that Dream would be willing to talk if given the chance. But he couldn’t trust that his older brother was in the right mind. Especially not with the night of the storm still so fresh and pushing at his thoughts. He stepped in front of Tommy and Ghostbur, hardening his expression as much as he possibly could. He wasn’t in the mood to sugar coat things.
Dream wasn’t either.
He cleared the distance between them faster than Ranboo would’ve liked, fists clenched at his sides and shaking with barely restrained anger.
Ranboo didn’t give him the chance to start the conversation. “I’m taking Tommy away from the farm.” He said.
“And I’m taking Ranboo!” Tommy chimed in, having dropped into something of a fighting stance with Ghostbur hunched over him.
Dream’s hands uncurled, coming to rest on his hips. “And why are you doing that?” He asked.
“You can’t be trusted not to hurt him right now.” Ranboo started, forcing himself to stay standing straight so Dream would have to look up at him. “So, we’re leaving, to get Tommy help. And I would appreciate it if you would support this. It would show that you…care. That you care about your family.”
Dream propped a hand on his chin, rubbing idly as he thought. The silence stretched, awfully, before he broke it with a snort that turned into wild peals of laughter. “Sorry!” He bit out between giggles, “sorry, but wow. You’re serious?”
“I am.” Ranboo nodded.
That just made Dream laugh harder, clutching his stomach as he cackled.
Tommy bristled behind Ranboo, tucking in closer to the taller teen. Ranboo spared him a glance, trying to smile warmly and keep tensions low. It didn’t really work, but he had more important things to think about as Dream started talking again.
“Yeah, yeah, no. You’re not doing that.”
“I am,” Ranboo insisted. “I mean it.”
“Well I’m sure you mean it.” Dream scoffed, putting air quotes around ‘mean’. “But I think you’re forgetting where you stand with me. When I tell you what to do or what not to do, I expect you to listen. No matter your stupid little opinion, you obey me.”
Ranboo frowned, fighting the growing urge to bare his fangs and scream at his brother. “I want to talk about this with you, like, y’know, adults. Like mature people. We don’t have to argue, and we don’t have to fight.”
Dream snorted, and Ranboo got the impression that he had rolled his eyes. “We’re not going to fight, idiot. Because you never had a chance in the first place. Ugh, I’m sick of standing around in this dumb staring contest. Let’s just get this over with.”
Dream took a breath to start his next sentence and Tommy, being either clairvoyant or good at reading these kinds of situations, mimicked him. They both started talking at the same time.
“Boo,” Dream said.
“Ran!” Tommy cried.
“Give me a smile!”
A few things happened at once.
¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸
Ranboo liked to think that he was a humble guy, or at the very least aware of a good majority of his flaws and able to comment on them without having a full-blown breakdown. He knew the ins and outs of his mind, which roads were good for a train of thought and which were full of potholes that he didn’t know how to fix yet. And he also liked to think that he knew everything there was to know about himself.
He knew what his favourite colour was (it was rainbow colour, obviously), and he knew that his favourite smell was strawberries growing in the sun. He knew how long it took to get clean and then feel clean and what his dreams should be like and all sorts of other things like that.
And, logically, he knew that he was a descendant of the End. That he’d lived there in some nebulous “before” thanks to the customs and manners that he could still recall no matter how hard Dream wanted him to forget about them. He knew that he had claws and fangs and a weird face and a jaw that could dislocate and stretch wide. He was also vaguely aware that when he was smiling he was closer to the pureblooded children of the End than normal, even if he never thought it consciously, it wasn’t a surprise.
So when the two commands were issued, Ranboo had frozen.
“Ranboo, grab Tommy and get rid of the guest. Lock yourself back up in the barn once you’re done.”
“Ranboo, are you with me? Please, please say that you’re still with me.”
One of those was harsh and cold, and he didn’t like that.
The other was whispered into his back with so much fear and desperation he could taste it, and he didn’t like that either.
He stopped to comb through his memories, this usually helped make a decision. The old ones he could reach now that he had been given the okay to were a good place to start. Dream bleeding out in the tub, monologuing in his room and pitching new ideas for how he could play his old friends against each other until either or both came running back to him. The bonfire. The weeks of bringing Tommy food and water and being forbidden from talking to the teen, watching the other become a patchwork of bruises and cuts that got mysteriously healed by the end of the day. The first conversation with Tommy. Patrolling the city and holding hostages against his chest while Dream laughed in the heroes' faces. Dream tugging him away from the cooling bodies of their parents deeper and deeper into the woods.
None of that helped him decide, so he looked to his awake self and what he planned to do and realized that dayshift Ranboo wanted to protect Tommy and get him away from Dream by any means necessary.
The goal—Make Tommy Feel Safe—was unfulfilled. And should be completed before any other tasks by seniority.
He raised his chin, flexing his claws open beside him. “I’m not moving.” He said between hissing warbles that burbled naturally along the ends of his words.
Dream stopped, his hands curling back into fists. He shoved his mask away from his face, showing off an expression twisted in confusion with hints of shock and anger clear between twitching brows. “I gave you a command.” He said lowly, advancing.
“And I’m not listening.” Ranboo shot back. A warning growl built up in his chest as Dream kept getting closer. Too close.
Dream scoffed, tossing his head. “What the fuck are you talking about, have you gone brain dead? I said-” and he looked up to meet Ranboo’s eyes and that was the first mistake.
Ranboo screamed, leaping into action and raking his claws down Dream’s armoured chest.
Dream cried out in shock rather than pain. Though, he recovered quickly, grimacing as he pulled out a hand axe with a wickedly sharp blade. “Someone needs an attitude adjustment.” Dream sneered.
The axe came down fast, the handle crashing into Ranboo’s arms with a sickening crack. Nothing felt broken yet, but the impact on his already smarting skin hurt like hell.
Ranboo screamed again. He snapped his jaws when Dream’s hands came close to the teen’s mouth from strike after strike. Dream kept twisting away before Ranboo could bite anything, and the taller of the two had to keep on the defensive. He caught blows from the axe, always the blunt edge or the handle, and forced Dream to keep away from Tommy while Ghostbur was working. The bag on his back got grazed a few times, tiny holes appearing in the thin plastic. And Ranboo was already flagging as the fight wore on, his body alight with pain. Dream could tell.
Dream pivoted on his heel, spinning with deadly accuracy and hauling the axe over his shoulder. It soared with the extra energy, Ranboo barely able to dodge in time as the blade thunked into the dry earth under their feet.
Ranboo could feel his heart racing, but it was fairly normal now. Not just for this fight but for all the others too. Escaping from super angry heroes was not a light, low intensity work out. He barely had time to think. The axe blade making him jerk out of its way and the handle knocking his thoughts out of his head the second he’d managed to collect them again.
Tommy gasped behind them, and Dream perked up at the noise.
That was his second mistake. Getting distracted.
Ranboo lunged, sinking his teeth deep into the junction of Dream’s shoulder and neck. The black bodysuit gave way under his fangs and the flesh underneath cut away from bone easily. It spurted hot blood between his gums and coated his tongue. Dream was screaming from above him, fists ramming down on his head over and over which only made Ranboo bite down harder. The clavicle shattered between his teeth and he braced himself on Dream’s shoulders before he started to tug. He yanked a mass of flesh and bone out of place with a wet squelching screech. Like someone had gotten a fishing net stuck in the rudder of a boat.
Dream topped backwards into the dirt, blood pooling quickly around him as he pressed pale, shaky hands around the wound. The dirt was turning into bubbly red slush underneath him.
Ranboo spat out the flesh into the weeds. He used the sleeve of his old green flannel to wipe the blood from his chin. He smeared most of it.
“Holy shit,” Tommy whispered.
Ranboo looked over at the other teen, now holding the collar in his hand while Ghostbur floated happily over to the panicking Dream.
Dream started to plead for his life, panting hard and shaking in the dirt as a cold sweat broke out across his forehead. He couldn’t heal that big of a wound all on his own. His words came out in a stream of garbled syllables and half thought out phrases. Promises, deals, desperation.
It was sad.
Ghostbur waved goodbye to Dream before waving at Tommy and Ranboo. The shadow faded out of sight entirely and Tommy slumped in relief. The two teens looked warily at each other, neither quite certain what to do next.
Tommy cleared his throat, fiddling with the collar before shoving it in the back pocket of his tan pants. “Your eyes are…really purple.”
Ranboo hummed. That was interesting, but he probably could’ve guessed that on his own if he thought about it long enough. “That makes sense.” He settled on. He didn’t want to be too mean.
His ears perked up at the sound of shrill sirens in the distance getting closer. “The police are on their way.” Ranboo said.
Tommy swore under his breath again and spared one last look at Dream, now silent and shivering in the dirt. “Alright,” he said, squaring his shoulders, “let’s get the fuck out of here.” Tommy turned to Ranboo and after squinting at the taller teen for a while mumbled a soft “fuck this,” before hoisting Ranboo up into his arms, one hand secured behind the other’s head.
Ranboo blinked and suddenly they were a mile down the road and somehow still gaining speed. The farm was no more than a blur in the distance soon covered up by the trees as the road curved out of sight.
Tommy was…running. For real. Really running super fast and holding Ranboo holding all their stuff and only looking a little bit constipated. Well then. Even though nightshift Ranboo was well aware of Tommy’s super power it was an entirely different thing to see it up close. The wind around them was sharp and chilled Ranboo down to the bones but. Yeah. This was really cool. And it distracted him from the bits of blood and gore he could still taste in his mouth.
They kept going down the road until they found their way onto the interstate. The traffic was nearly nonexistent, thankfully. No doubt they would be drawing all kinds of attention otherwise. Tommy spotted a rest stop with a semi parked in the lot and dashed over to it.
Only a few minutes had passed and they were already further away from the farm than Ranboo had ever been allowed to go. It was weird. Decidedly.
Tommy was breathing hard, but he managed to get the trailer unlocked and ushered Ranboo up inside before following after. The truck bed was full of sacks of grain all the way up to the roof, but there were a few stacks that were shorter near the doors. They weaselled their way up there before falling into a heap, enclosed in darkness, and just breathing together.
The truck rumbled to life, and they were on their way.
¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸
As they travelled they hopped from truck to truck randomly and without a real destination in mind. Tommy still wanted to get back to L’Manburg eventually, but neither of them wanted to chance being found by Dream or the police. If Dream was even still alive. They would doze while the truck was moving in the day, and then they’d talk—freely, for the first time since they’d met—in hushed voices all through the night.
On the first night Tommy asked, “how long are your eyes gonna stay like that?”
Ranboo shrugged, only belatedly realizing Tommy couldn’t see the motion. “I’m not sure,” he said, “I’m acting on my own command right now so it could take anywhere from hours to days. I’m not quite awake, but I’m not as deep as Dream normally puts me.”
“Awake?”
“That’s what I call myself when you usually see me and I’m not carrying out any commands. I don’t have all my memories when I’m awake and I’m prone to suggestion as my memory is usually blank after I’ve been given a command. I also call that being on dayshift.”
“Why?” Tommy snorted.
“I think it’s funny.”
Two nights later they were sandwiched between hogs in a livestock trailer. Ranboo had come back to himself with hazy but intact memories by then. He and Tommy passed the time watching signs pass on the highway and star gazing.
Ranboo turned to Tommy. “Can I hear more about your family now?” He asked.
Tommy sucked in a breath through his teeth but nodded all the same. “I already told you about Tubbo. But there’s also Wilbur. He’s my brother– not by blood or anything. Brothers by choice, we are. He’s a bitch, and a priss, and way over dramatic, and he always has to be right about everything, but we looked out for each other. I hope he misses me.” Tommy paused and sighed, scratching his nails idly along the back of a snoring hog. “And there’s Phil, and Jack, and Niki, and all the folks from the home. And Sam, and Ponk, and Quackity sometimes. Man…”
“That’s,” Ranboo whistled, “that’s a big family.”
Tommy smiled up at the stars. He slumped over so their sides were pressed together with their bag tossed over their laps. “Yeah,” he said softly, “I miss ‘em a lot.”
And then, about five nights later, they’re scrounging around a rest station for food and a bathroom break when Ranboo spotted one of those old newspaper stands that was clearly broken and thus completely free. He wormed one of the papers out of the stack and flipped it open. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he read the headline.
He sprinted into the bathroom without a moment to lose. “Tom!” He hissed urgently, checking for feet under stalls for his brother. He locked onto the mud stained tennis shoes just as Tommy called back to him. Ranboo ran up to the stall and knocked on it rapidly.
“What? What? I’m pissing dude, fuck off.” Tommy grumbled.
Ranboo slid the newspaper under the door. “Dude,” he whispered as if that one word could convey all the weird bubbling emotions that were growing in his chest.
There was a brief moment of silence before hands darted down to pick up the newspaper followed by the furious flipping of pages. A quick flush and some hand sanitizer later and Tommy was brandishing the newspaper at him. The blonde was speechless as he gestured back and forth from the breaking news story and himself. His mouth flapped a few times with only two squeaks ever passing through.
Printed in big black letters was the title: HERO SUICIDE: VELOCITY’S FAREWELL.
¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸
Early on the morning of July 26th, officials found the decaying body of the hero Velocity. The young hero was only seventeen, and evidence from the autopsy points to the culprit being suicide.
“I can’t believe it,” said hero Ultraviolet when asked for a comment on the situation, “how could we have missed his body all this time? He goes missing and we only find the corpse months later? And why couldn’t we see what was happening until now?”
The hero community is in a state of upheaval. Velocity was a top hero from L’Manburg despite his young age, and thousands have gathered online and in city central to mourn the loss. Hero Panic, now Head of Hero Coordination at L’Manburg’s top hero agency, has scheduled for a public funeral to be held on August 7th. Panic, as well as other heroes who knew Velocity personally, will be in attendance and speaking on the life and times of this outstanding hero.
A statue is being constructed in the hero’s honour in the memorial park.
But along with this passing, the public has begun to question the hero industry complex. Activist Juliana Perez comments, “they let a child work himself into the grave. And if not this, who knows what other emergency would have killed him. What other emergency might still kill child heroes.”
The nation is reeling from this tragedy, and sympathies have been extended from many world leaders. We’ve yet to see the full extent this tragedy will have on the world, but Velocity’s legacy has already grown beyond beloved superhero. From our office, and from our staff, we are wishing the young man peace in his death.
¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸
They’ve spread out a simple plaid fleece blanket on the roof of the building. It helped keep them from burning themselves on the sun-warmed concrete. Their belongings were tucked away along the lip of the roof and they both had a bowl of popcorn pressed into their laps. From up here, it’s easy to see the grand stage with its jumbo screens and lights. The audience’s chatter could be heard drifting up in peaks and waves. Some people were wearing costumes and masks, others in full black, and a few were waving signs in the air. There’s a road cut in between the crowd that runs up to the stage. From their vantage point, they can just see the funeral parade lining up. A dark casket hefted up on strong shoulders and flanked by two black cars.
It’s going to start any minute now.
“Is this weird?” Ranboo asked.
“A bit late to ask that question innit.” Tommy said. He ate a handful of popcorn and kept talking, his hands waving about. “You don’t get to see your own funeral every day, man. I’d be fucking crazy to stay hiding and sad in our apartment. Plus! This is the place to be, Ranbus. Look out there at my sea of admirers! One of 'em is wife material for sure.”
Ranboo levelled his brother with the flattest look he could manage. “I’m sure that’d go great. Just walk up to someone and say ‘hey! I’m the guy who died! Wanna go out on a date?’ like? That’s objectively terrible.”
“Is not,”
“Is too!”
Tommy huffed, eating more popcorn and slumping dramatically against Ranboo. “I wouldn’t actually.”
“I know,”
“Yeah, you know, but I’m going to say it anyways.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it.”
“Sure sure, whatever, man.” Tommy sobered a little as the cars started moving and the funeral truly got underway.
The speakers down on the stage crackled to life and started playing what Ranboo vaguely recognized as a funeral march. But it was weirdly upbeat for a funeral. The notes were bright and brassy, the beat was lively, it felt more like a victory march than anything.
His confused expression caught Tommy’s eye and the other teen started to explain without being asked properly. “In my will I said that my funeral better be a fuckin' party. I didn’t want any sad music or crying black and white slide shows, fuck that. That’s not who I am and that’s not how I wanna be remembered.”
“When did you write a will?” Ranboo asked, because that was the thing that stuck out to him the most. Tommy might be that morbid now, sure, but before the farm it was hard to believe that Tommy would plan ahead for something like his own death.
Tommy shrugged, waiting as the audience roared to life once the procession turned the block and came into view. “When I was thirteen, when I signed up to be a hero.”
Ranboo was shocked into silence for a second. “Jesus, what?”
“It’s part of orientation,” Tommy explained, “that’s one of the first things you do. You gotta write down the terms for your death and some people like to update it every year but I didn’t really care so there’s some cringe shit in this funeral for sure.”
Just as he finished talking a firework went off, a bright red smiley face sparkling over the crowd. They both winced.
The procession continued down the road in time with the song, marching steadily to the beat.
Tommy slumped further, his eyes drooping and his expression one step away from distraught.
Well. That just wouldn’t do.
Ranboo got to his feet, ignoring Tommy toppling over with a cry, and extended his hand down to the other teen. “Wanna dance?”
“Oh, we’re flirting now are we?” Tommy huffed. But he grabbed the offered hand all the same.
Neither of them knew a whole lot of dance moves, but somehow they both knew the basic ballroom waltz. So whenever they danced together, it was usually in a waltz. “Um. C-can I-?” Ranboo started.
“Sure, fine, you can be the guy this time.” Tommy interrupted.
Ranboo beamed and they both got in position. They took their first step together, and the rest was easy. The music was playing in twos, and they were dancing in threes. They were entirely off beat but what mattered was that they’re dancing together. They were both dancing in the daylight and no one would be able to stop them. They twirled and laughed and worked through clumsy dips as Tommy’s casket passed them on the streets below.
The brochures for the event were titled “a celebration of life”, and Ranboo liked to think that this, dancing on a random roof with no rhyme or reason or rhythm, was a better celebration than the funeral currently going on.
But that was just his opinion. And he was well aware that his status as supervillain might have made his opinion a bit biased when it came to the heroes.
They collapsed in a heap, spilling one of the popcorn bowls all over the roof, as the music died out and heroes started to fill the stage. Tommy was breathing hard in his ear but Ranboo didn’t mind.
They tucked against each other as a short man (a boy?) stepped up to the podium. The boy had dark brown hair hanging low over his eyes, and he was wearing a truly ridiculous suit with golden shoulder dangly pads and everything. Ranboo couldn’t help his quiet trill in interest as the hero cleared his throat and straightened. His face blown wide on the jumbo screens.
Tommy shot him a weird look. “Dude,”
“Dude what?” Ranboo said, distracted.
“Don’t mrrowp and pretend you didn’t! I heard that shit you fuckin' mrrowp-ed at Tubbo! Which is illegal, by the way. It’s the law and it’s illegal.” Tommy crossed his arms over his chest. They both ignored Tubbo greeting the crowd and the responding cheer.
Ranboo grinned, making sure to show off his teeth. “Good thing I’m a villain then. I’m already crazy illegal. Should I do it again?” He was already building up another trill in his throat.
Tommy silenced that with the most scandalized expression. His eyebrows were pulled all the way down over wide, offended eyes.
Ranboo snickered into his hand and kept laughing as Tommy showered him with stray popcorn kernels.
“We’ve come here today,” Tubbo continued, “to remember Velocity. My closest friend and long-time partner. Or, as some of you might know him, Tommy.” Tubbo took a breath that wasn’t picked up by the microphones but could be seen easily on the screens. “Tommy made the world a better place each and every day. He went out only to bring good to someone else, and he came back home and he-” Tubbo cut himself off. One of the heroes, a fox looking guy, started to move forward but Tubbo waved him off. "And now we have to learn how to live without him. It’s not going to be easy. In the coming days we will see an increase in crime and terror. Villains will try to strike while we are grieving, and it will be tempting to lie back and let it happen.
“I know what it feels like, to grieve so wholly it’s like the world might as well come to an end. But we cannot, and we will not stop the fight for justice. We will miss Tommy, and we will cry for him, but he will always be our strength and I refuse to let villains turn him into a weakness.” The crowd was swelling with Tubbo’s words, eating them up. “L’Manburg will remember Velocity, we will remember Tommy, and we will work to make the city safe for people just like him. The young, and the hurting, and the quiet. The good. It might feel like the end of something, but I assure you, this is only the beginning.” Tubbo stepped back from the mic and it looked like he was breathing heavily. He smiled, raised his hand into the air, and was met with a deafening cheer.
Tommy whistled softly. “He always knew how to set the mood.” He mumbled.
Ranboo caught Tommy’s hand in his own and twined their fingers together. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell them?” He asked.
Tommy closed his eyes and sank into the contact. He worked to keep his breathing even while his ears and nose turned bright red. “Yeah,” he said after a few moments. Someone else was stepping up to the podium. “Dream was awful but the agency isn’t…great. And you’re here now. Maybe I’ll tell them someday but I…don’t think I could stand them looking at me. Not yet.”
Ranboo nodded, his free arm snaking behind Tommy and pulling him even closer with a hug.
The other person on the podium wrapped up their speech, and a hero came up in their stead. The hero looked nearly identical to Ghostbur, just in full colour. And he was already crying.
“Wilbur,” Tommy breathed.
Wilbur grabbed the microphone with both hands. He pulled it down to his mouth and opened it just to shove the mic away at the last second and keel over the side of the podium. The crowd cried out in distress. It was hard to watch the hero's face twist in agony, broadcast in HD for all to see. Wilbur tried again, managing a few huffing breaths before he crumpled over himself and sobbed onto the podium. He sounded so close to outright wailing, choking on his own breath and tears.
Fox guy came up to Wilbur’s side right away and pulled him away from the podium and off the stage.
When Ranboo checked, Tommy was crying too.
He wanted to say that they could try sending Wilbur a letter first, stagger the revelation that he was still alive one person at a time. But Tommy was shaking ever so slightly in his hold and he didn’t think breaking the moment would help anyone.
So he settled for squeezing his brother tight and rubbing calm circles along his side.
More heroes stepped up to the podium. Some of them told stories that had people laughing or crying, and others talked about how Tommy had personally impacted their lives. How he would go grocery shopping with people and keep new recruits company after their first villain battle. How even some of the city’s vigilantes held a soft spot for him and often stayed out of his way where they would mess with other established heroes. The warden of the high security prison even spoke, stepping forward with a hand over his heart and a heavy promise to keep working hard in Tommy’s memory. That, since World Eater had been captured in critical condition, they were planning to extract as much information from the supervillain as they could and stage a war against the criminal underbelly.
The audience was cheering and crying in unison. A wave of emotions felt all at once by such a crowd, it was nearly overwhelming.
The crowds were nearly gone when Tommy started to stir against Ranboo’s side.
“Did your butt finally go numb?” Ranboo asked, not quite smiling.
“Something like that,” Tommy muttered, not quite frowning. He spared another glance at the stage where workers were starting to tear down. He took in a shaky breath before letting it out. “Let’s go home.”
“Okay,” Ranboo packed up the blanket and Tommy got rid of the popcorn buckets and when they were done they linked arms and walked down from the roof together. Things would be rough, rough for a while. But they knew that they had each other. They'd seen each other at their worst. Maybe it was time to see each other at their best.