You're My Twin

Nine: Adjusting

Trigger Warning: alcohol, mention of a plague

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Years passed.

Ranboo was now able to speak, read, and write English, courtesy of Techno teaching him everything. Phil had taught all four boys how to cook and bake so Ranboo helped make most of the meals. Wilbur taught him and Tommy basic piano and Tommy and Techno often did small violin/piano duets (the ones Wilbur and Techno did were always more interesting).

As for Tommy . . .

Ranboo wasn't sure what to make of Tommy.

Yeah, they were friends, but it kind of felt forced. Tommy usually tried to spend his time with his friend Tubbo (who lived about three miles away), leaving Ranboo to stay home with Wil and Techno.

Then Phil enrolled him in school.

Wilbur gave Ranboo a journal for his first day. Ranboo treasured the leather journal and wrote pretty much everything in it, including how he first met Tubbo, Tommy's best friend.

Tommy, Ranboo, and Tubbo ended up all being in the same class. At recess one day, Ranboo was sitting against his favorite tree and writing down the basics of what had happened that morning as usual when Tubbo, a small brown-haired boy with green eyes who always wore blue overalls, ran up to him grinning. "Hi!"

Ranboo swallowed. "Hi."

Tubbo held out his hand for Ranboo to take. "Do you want to come play with us?"

Ranboo was stunned. He was fully aware that Tubbo was infinitely more extroverted than he was and would ever be, but his sudden invitation was still startling. "What are you playing?"

"Ring Around the Rosie." Tubbo's grin, infectious as it was, turned slightly demented. "My dad told me that it's about the Black Plague."

"What's the Black Plague?"

"I dunno. Do you wanna play, though?"

That had to be one of the most interesting conversations Ranboo had ever had.

Once they got home, Techno sat on the couch doing his homework while Wilbur sat behind him, re-braiding his hair.

Ranboo touched his own hair, which hadn't been cut much since he had escaped the End, and looked longingly at the boys on the couch, going through a daily routine Ranboo desperately wanted to be part of.

Wilbur caught him looking and smiled. "Want me to do your hair too, Ranboo?"

Ranboo nodded. He sat next to Wil on the couch, turning away so Wil could easily access his hair.

Wilbur gently combed his fingers through the boy's black-and-white hair, untangling the knots and dividing it into thirds. He began to weave them together into a braid. He was careful, trying not to pull too hard and make the sensation as pleasant as possible.

Ranboo found it overly soothing and satisfying.

He purred.

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Tubbo opened the door to his house and was hit by the scent of alcohol. He sighed, walked back to his room, and tossed his school bag on his bed. Cautiously, he went back out, wondering how drunk Schlatt was this time.

Schlatt was sitting at the dining room table with an empty whiskey bottle next to him. This bottle wasn't as big as the last one he'd finished, which either meant it was his second or he wouldn't be as drunk.

Hearing his son's footsteps on the wood floor, Schlatt turned and managed that weird smile he always did when he'd had too much to drink. "How was school, kid?"

"It was alright." Tubbo climbed onto a chair and got out an apple. "I played more with Ranboo today. I think he and Tommy are getting along better."

"That's good," Schlatt said, his voice slightly slurred.

Tubbo silently took the whiskey bottle away and placed it in the sink.

"Sorry," Schlatt muttered. "I drank too much again."

"I thought you were gonna break the habit." Tubbo bit into his apple. "You told me I wasn't gonna come home to you drunk again."

Schlatt sighed heavily. "I'm trying, kid. I really am. It's just not easy."

Tubbo scowled, completely unconvinced, but he didn't press. Schlatt got angry easily when he was drunk.

With a sigh, Tubbo opened his mouth as wide as he could manage and finished his apple in two massive bites—being a goat hybrid had its advantages—and threw away what was left of the core before heading out into the backyard.

Finally, he could breathe! The air was getting colder, making it smell almost fresher, as he ran around in happy circles, laughing in delight.

Schlatt watched him through the kitchen window.

"I'm sorry, kid," he said to no one. "I'm so sorry."

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750 words

Oct. 28, 2022