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It was dark.
He was used to the dark, but he didn’t like it. He didn’t like any part of situation he was in, to be fair, but it’s not like he could do anything about it. It’s not as if anybody he could go to would care enough to listen.
It’s not as if they realized how much pain he was in.
“Why are you sad? Didn’t you like exploding the community house?”
He felt himself let out a soft whimper as he tried not to cry, trying to block out the voice that wrapped around his mind.
He didn’t blow up the community house. Sure, he found TNT, but that was from the whole situation with L’manburg. He didn’t explode the house, surely. He knew that. Right? Why did the voice keep bringing it up?
“You know Dream gave you the disc. Why did you take it? It’s almost as if you wanted to betray Tommy and Tubbo.”
He didn’t know! He didn’t know anything! Why did the voice keep asking? It was always the same answer, it was always the same path through the winding thoughts in his head. It was always the same. He never had any new reasons to believe why the voice in his head was wrong.
But the voice was him- or at least it said it was. Was it? Was he just making up this whole thing? Why wouldn’t it just go away?
He felt his breath quicken.
Why was it still haunting him, why him, why now, why did it exist, why was he so useless, why, why, why?
He gave out a low whine and pulled his knees to his chest even more, feeling the tears welling in his eyes.
Oh, god. Not now, please, not now-
They started to fall, stinging his cheeks as they found a path towards the floor. It only made him cry more, and for the first time in so, so long, he let out a faint enderman chatter.
He’d tried so hard in the past to act more human, to never speak his native language in public, in an effort to fit in, but once the first noise was out, it was as if a floodgate opened.
He couldn’t stop it. Just like he couldn’t stop his betrayal.
He began to sob, feeling so alone, in his self-made prison of darkness that extended into his mind. His soft growling grew louder until they were near screams. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t do anything.
Why couldn’t he do anything?
Why couldn’t he remember?
***
Phil had been through a long day. He’d gone back to the L’manburg pit for... something, but it wasn’t there, like most things, and he’d left relatively quickly.
Only, he got lost. He didn’t mean to, honest, but without the houses, he just lost his sense of direction.
He was wandering around where he thought the portal back home was, but then he stopped.
What was that noise?
Whatever it was, the thing giving it out was in pain. Anguish, even. It sounded like an enderman, sure, but he’d never heard something this sad before. His feet began moving towards the sound without his mind realizing it, and soon he was in a peaceful-looking cove.
Peaceful, at least, if not for the ear-splitting cries interrupted by soft mutters, almost in an argument.
Where were they coming from?
After a bit of searching, he saw an opening under the water, and dove in before he could mourn how long it would take his wings to dry. When he emerged, it was dark. Dark, and miserable, and why would anyone come here?
He got a light going, and it took a doubletake before he noticed the small lump in the corner. Wait-
“Ranboo?”
***
Why was he so useless? He couldn’t even get a light up, he couldn’t get all of his pets to safety, he couldn’t even stay on one side of the inevitable war, he couldn’t remember anything-
It was Dream’s fault. It was Dream.
Dream.
Ranboo?
No. It wasn’t him. It was-
“Mate? Are you alright?”
Why was the voice asking him that? It never cared.
“No one cares.” He whispered. “No one cares about me.”
“What do you mean? That’s not true.”
Ranboo felt his breath quicken even more. His claws moved to grasp his hair, and he shuddered at the small prick of pain that it brought.
“Whoa, calm down. Can you listen to my voice, buddy? I need to you to calm down.”
A hand lightly grabbed his wrist, and he flinched before submitting, because there was nothing he could do. He was barely strong enough to stay conscious, let alone fight someone.
His hand was moved until it rested against something solid, a soft beating moving his palms.
“Can you follow my breathing? Try to breathe with me, okay Ranboo?”
Could he? Could he? He could barely remember, how could he be expected to do something that seemed so simple but was really a huge task?
His tears burned him, leaving tracks down his face with marks that only made him cry harder at the pain. His garbles grew quieter, for his throat was becoming sore, and instead of his chatters, he registered a reassuring voice.
It sounded like-
“Phil?”
“Yeah, hey. You coming back now?”
Somehow, he had been moved, one of Phil’s dark wings wrapped around him while he was curled into his side.
“Ranboo? You alright?”
The hybrid in question sniffled a little bit, wincing as more tears leaked out of his eyes and gave off light hisses against his skin. “I’m okay.” He managed, but he doubted it was convincing.
“You wanna tell me what this is all about?”
As much as he wanted to shake his head, Ranboo doubted that he really had a choice. “It’s my panic room.”
Phil’s eyebrows furrowed. “Your what?”
“My panic room. Where I go to panic.”
It was nearly quiet as Phil took that in, only interrupted by a timid question from the teenager.
“Phil, why do they hurt me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, everything. Choices, people, my own tears...” Ranboo trailed off. “Why do my tears hurt me so much?”
“Oh, Ranboo.” Phil sounded so sad, and Ranboo felt bad for causing it, but he was brought into a warm hug and he broke.
It had been so long since he had gotten any form of affection, and though he never wanted to be this vulnerable, the tears flowed out faster than before and his barks of enderman noises picked up again.
He talked, between sobs, about all that had happened to him. The voice that sounded like Dream and spoke to him about how he betrayed anyone who’d ever trusted him. His memories that weren’t really his, fed to him by a phantom that never stayed. The choices that he was driven to make, when he really just wanted peace. His pain, all of his pain, let out in small drops of fire that burned his cheeks and left trails of scabs in the days after he cried.
He never liked crying, because they left him with a headache and he never could hide the signs of his sorrow.
He fell asleep, eventually, after he’d dampened Philza’s robes and after his voice had left him.
He’d wake up in a soft bed near a roaring fire, feeling safe, and though he’d scurry out of the house and back to his small shack, Philza treated him with more kindness than before.
Ranboo’s story was one of tragedy and sorrow, but maybe there was hope for a happy ending, found in a cottage surrounded by snow.