Chapter Text
Ranboo had been proud of himself. He felt joy looking at the statistics, the numbers, the people who admired him. He could do some good in the world, and he wanted to make the most of it.
Smoke. There was smoke- why was there smoke?
Ranboo awoke suddenly, confused and still half-asleep, to silence and smoke. It entered his lungs, choked him, strangled him, breaking him free of his disorientation as he realised what was going on. There was a fire. There was a FIRE.
Scrambling from his bed, Ranboo forced himself out of his room and down the hallway towards the stairs- but it was already too late. The fire, which he later learned had started in the kitchen, was already climbing the stairs towards him. It burned and cracked, giving off such intense heat that Ranboo cried out in pain and fear. He stumbled, brain foggy, trying to formulate a plan. What could he do?
Firefighters had found him, unconscious and burned, on the floor of his bedroom. He was only feet from his window.
At the hospital, there was a time that no one was sure if he was going to survive. It was touch and go, and any infection would have probably killed him within days- but Ranboo got lucky. He pulled through with burns to 30% of his body, mostly on his right arm and thigh, and his chest, stomach and back. His face also received a significant burn. Most of his right cheek and chin were covered in scar tissue, lessened by a skin graft.
When he regained consciousness, he was informed of the safety of his family, who had thankfully all made it out without serious injury, but also the seriousness of his own burns. They were talking about fitting him for pressure garments and the long term side effects of having burns like that, but all Ranboo could think about was the most immediate and pressing problem on his mind- his streaming career.
Ranboo remained in the hospital for close to two months, bed bound and suffering through bandage changes every couple of days. He had no contact with any of his friends. His phone had been destroyed and he had no energy, so he simply slept or stared out the window. Occasionally one of his parents would read to him, which is how he finally got around to ‘reading’ the Harry Potter series- over some weeks, they recited all of the books to him.
“How’re you feeling?”
He felt as if it was asked constantly, by his family, by his nurses and doctors, by basically everyone that walked into the room. He got sick of it quickly.
“Excited to go home?”
Yes. No. Ranboo wasn’t sure. It wasn’t home anymore- he had none of his belongings, none of his memories built up over the last 17 years. They were all burned. But he had a new house, a new bedroom, new items and a space fitted for his recovery. He longed to be out of hospital too, anywhere had to be better than the white walled room and people constantly checking on him. He longed for some privacy.
“What about…”
Streaming. His content, his career, his friends. God, he didn’t know.
By going home, he was confronted with everything he had been avoiding for the past two months. But it was then, less than 24 hours after being situated in his new bedroom in an unfamiliar and strange home, he made the decision.
He couldn’t continue.
He couldn’t keep streaming or making content. He couldn’t deal with the pressure from the internet, fans and strangers. The judging looks, comments and stares he knew he'd receive. Ranboo had been relatively open about his mental health issues and facial dysmorphia, but the extensive burns he had suffered would undoubtedly scar. He knew once the bandages and, eventually, the pressure garments, were off, it would only make his hatred of the way he looked worse. He couldn’t stay in an environment that would compound those issues- he had to put himself first.
Ranboolive is live!: Important Announcement
His stream title was simple but got the point across. After two months of no streaming and no contact with anyone, his audience quickly grew into the hundreds of thousands. They were all desperate to know where he’d been.
“Hi everyone.” He murmured, bringing the microphone closer to his face. He wasn’t sure if had the strength to speak very loudly. “I… I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long. I’m sorry for worrying you guys, and my friends too.”
He sighed deeply, scrubbing the uninjured, unbandaged side of his face with his palm.
“This is going to be difficult, and I’m sorry. I… God, I’m so sorry. I wish it could have worked out any way other than this, but unfortunately it’s… not like that.”
He waited a few minutes in silence as more and more people joined. When he checked the users in chat, his heart jumped when he saw the users of all his friend- Tubbo, Tommy, Wilbur, Phil, Jack… Dream and George and Sapnap and Karl, Techno, Quackity… basically everyone from the Dream SMP, and that was only the VIP’s and moderators who appeared first on his list. He hadn't even scrolled down.
“I’ve made the decision that I will no longer continue streaming, or content creation in any form.” Ranboo said quietly. “I won’t explain why, but just know that something… something happened a couple of months ago, and I made the decision that I can’t continue. After stream, I’ll be logging off all my accounts and won’t log back on. I’m sorry guys-” Ranboo inhaled sharply, trying to prevent himself from crying. “I just… I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t continue, but it’s become too much.”
With blurred eyes he watched the chat fly by, not truly comprehending any of the messages.
“I’m sorry.” He murmured one last time. “And thank you, for all you’ve done for me. You’ve helped me in more ways than you can ever know, and I’m sorry I can no longer return the favour. I'm sure I'll be okay, eventually, but I need to... I need to step away from content creation. Thank you for giving me this last year and all the exciting adventures. I… thank you. Truly.”
He thought about his streaming room- the memoirs from his trip to England, the plushies and figurines and merch and photos... memories, now all burned away.
With one final click he ended his stream, sitting back in his chair. There was a weight off his shoulders. Maybe now he could begin anew.
~~~~
“Hello!” Ranboo said with a laugh, almost dropping his backpack as his golden retriever greeted him very enthusiastically. “Hello darling! Ooh, I’ve missed you too! You know I’ve only been gone 4 hours, right? It’s not the end of the world!”
She didn’t seem to mind- she greeted him the same way every time he returned to his apartment, whether from work, shopping, or visiting his family. Every time, she jumped up and attempted to lick his face, despite the small problem of Ranboo’s height. Ranboo loved her and her excitability either way, even if she got slobber all over his good clothes.
“Do you wanna go on a walk?” He encouraged, still laughing. “I think you wanna go on a walk, don’t you?!”
As he made his way to the kitchen to grab her lead, he took a quick glance at the mirror in the hallway.
It was strange. Even a few years ago, he was still swearing that when he moved out he’d make sure there wasn’t a single mirror in the house. It triggered his dysmorphia too badly. But now, nearly four years on from the accident and almost as many years of therapy under his belt, in his own apartment, mirrors didn’t seem so bad. There was one in the bathroom and this one in the hallway, and he caught glimpses of himself at least a few times a day. It was difficult at times, but he knew exposure aided his recovery.
With his short sleeves, he could see the healed scar tissue from his burns on his right arm, up the right side of his neck and face. The twisting red scars were evident against his skin, attention grabbing for obvious reasons- so to combat it, Ranboo's left arm was covered in tattoos. Comprised of dozens of small, sketch-like designs, he had gotten them over a period of several years. Many of them he had done himself. Some had meaning to him, like the small duck above his elbow, or the hardcore heart, or the music disk, but some were just for the hell of it, or because he thought it was funny. It a mixture, really. He liked the appearance either way. It gave people something to talk about aside from his scars.
He had other tattoos, including a rather large chest piece and some around his ankles, but his sleeve was the most evident. He hadn’t gotten any on the other side of his body- his artist had recommended to avoid it, because of the scar tissue, but Ranboo also felt wrong to tattoo over the scars. He wanted to embrace them, not cover them up.
His hair, too, had grown long, which he usually kept in a braid tucked into the back of his shirt. The boy of almost four years ago wouldn't even recognize him. It was curlier than it had been back then, and he embraced it.
“Come on girl, let’s go!”
Ranboo’s dog, whom he had affectionately named Ali- short for allium, but he’d never tell anyone that- jumped up at him again. He laughed and clicked the lead to her collar, kicking his apartment door closed behind him, swinging his keys around his finger.
At the park he let Ali off her lead and allowed her to run around, throwing a tennis ball he had brought with him whenever she ran back, panting. Ranboo let her run off all her energy, as she had been cooped up at home all day, while he observed the locals in the park with him.
Ranboo groaned when Ali, instead of delivering the ball back to him, swerved in her path and veered off towards a group of people. He guessed they were in their 20’s, about the same age as him or slightly.
“Ali!” He called, slightly annoyed. He whistled once, short and sharp. “Ali! Come back here!”
Instead, she simply pranced around the group with the ball in her mouth. She had never been great at recall. Ranboo grumbled under his breath, moving towards them.
“Ali!”
One of them caught her collar, holding her still as Ranboo moved closer.
“Thanks!” He sighed, pulling the lead back out. “Ali, I swear, you’re supposed to come back to me!”
Ranboo didn’t get a proper look at the people who had managed to catch his dog, too focused on getting her back on her lead and moving to pull her away.
“Ali down!” He laughed as she tried to jump up on someone. They didn't seem annoyed, so he kept it lighthearted. “God girl, get down!”
Once he got a proper hold on her and clipped the lead onto her collar, he turned to leave, but a familiar voice startled him-
“Ra…Ranboo?”
He glanced up sharply. He knew that voice, he knew who that was- why the fuck was Tommy in California?! And then he recognised the group of people with him. With Tommy was Tubbo, and Wilbur… and Techno… and Phil. Ranboo stumbled a little, shock hitting him full force in the chest.
“I- Tommy? What… what are you guys doing here?” He stammered, watching them with wide eyes. “Why are you... why are you here?”
Tubbo sucked in a sharp breath, staring up at his friend with teary eyes. “Ranboo?” He breathed.
Of course, Ali took that moment to yank the lead out of Ranboo’s hand and jumped up onto the nearest person, who happened to be Techno. She nearly knocked him to the floor with the force of her jump and Ranboo struggled to contain her, seizing the leash again and pulling her back. His hands were shaking, shock and adrenaline running through his veins.
“…Hi.” He finally said, wrangling Ali back under his control. Phil spoke up first.
“Hey Ranboo.” He murmured. “It’s been a while.”
“Yeah…” He managed to laugh. “I guess you could say that.”
Ranboo yelped in surprise as Tubbo ran forward and tackled him into a hug, squeezing him so hard he gasped in shock. It took Ranboo a moment to realise he was sobbing, shoulders shaking. He froze, unsure of how to comfort him- it had been nearly four years since he had seen Tubbo, they were both 21 now. Fuck, they were both almost 22. He didn’t… he didn’t know what to do.
Wilbur stepped forwards, pulling the crying brunette back.
“Hey Tubbo, maybe back off a little, yeah?” Wilbur said gently, unwinding Tubbo’s arms from around Ranboo’s waist. “Leave the man be.”
Tubbo sniffled but relinquished, rubbing his eyes with closed fists. Ranboo worried his lip, still struggling to comprehend the situation- why had his past suddenly shown up in his town, just when he felt secure in his situation!? He knew he’d have to confront it eventually, but he didn’t want to do it now!
Closing his eyes, he reached deep inside himself for whatever courage he might have left and extended the metaphorical olive branch.
“Do you guys wanna come back to my place?” He asked gingerly. “I… don’t think this is the place for a conversation.”
Techno spoke up for the first time, his voice just as deep and monotone as Ranboo remembered. “That’d be great, Ranboo, thanks.”
Keeping one hand on Ali’s leash, Ranboo turned and headed back in the direction of his apartment. He didn’t turn back to see if the others were following him. He just repeated in his head over and over again, desperate to remain calm, it’s okay, you’re okay, it’s okay, you’re okay, it’s okay, you’re o-
His building came into view far too soon for his liking. He was only on the third floor so took the stairs- he’d rather not be crammed in an elevator with everyone. They all followed, not speaking.
“Here we are.” Ranboo stopped outside his door. “Home.”
The first thing that greeted him was a loud and demanding meow, and a ginger cat trotting down the hall towards him. Ali sniffed the cat but quickly moved on, searching for her water bowl in the kitchen. Ranboo scooped the feline up, managing a quiet laugh as she immediately perched on his shoulder and meowed insistently into his ear.
“Yes, I know, I’m sorry I forgot to feed you and you’re a demanding bastard who can’t wait for half an hour.” Ranboo commented, scratching her head. “Give me three seconds and I’ll get you your goddamn food.”
He moved down the hall and quickly filled her food bowl up, removing her from his shoulders.
“What’s its name?” Tommy asked, watching as she wound her way between Ranboo’s legs.
“Rocky. Her name’s Rocky.” He replied after a significant pause, cheeks flushing red. So… he might not have left his past completely behind, but he really didn’t like to talk about it. Tubbo sniffled but didn’t say anything.
“…Oh.”
“Take a seat.” Ranboo said, pointing to the living room. “Just don’t get shoes on my rug please.”
Once everyone was situated, Ranboo on an armchair opposite, he leaned back and folded his arms.
“Right.”
They all just stared at him.
“Did you want to say something?” He asked. “I... really don’t know what to do in this situation.”
“You’ve got tattoos!” Tommy finally blurted; eyes wide with surprise.
“I do.” Ranboo affirmed.
“Ranboo I- fuck, mate it’s been nearly four years! We weren’t planning on running into you or anything, but… jesus man, I can’t… I don’t really know what to say.” Phil stammered, running his hands through his hair. He had grown it out, Ranboo noted, with the blonde tips nearly reaching his shoulders.
Ranboo didn’t say anything. He observed the group silently, feeling a pang in his chest when he noted how much everyone had grown. Phil and Techno had both grown their hair out. Tommy and Tubbo would be 21 now, the same as him, but it still made his heart ache. Wilbur looked much the same, with a similar dress style as when Ranboo had last seen him, just a little older. Of all of them, Ranboo knew he had changed the most. They were still recognisable as the people they had been four years ago- him, not so much.
“Ranboo?” Tubbo asked. The blonde switched his attention to the shorter, raising an eyebrow in acknowledgement. “What… what happened? You just... you left, and you never replied to any of us.”
He sighed deeply, scrubbing his face with his hands. “I knew I was going to have to face it eventually, but I didn’t think it would be now.” He said, slightly muffled. He moved forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. “Fucking hell.”
“Wow.” Techno said sarcastically. “He even swears.”
“Mm. A lot’s changed in four years.”
“Ranboo, you just vanished for two months, did a single stream and then never contacted any of us again.” Tubbo begged. “You couldn’t have expected us not to ask! We were terrified for you! I thought you died!”
“I very nearly did die.” Ranboo said quietly. He knew they could all see the scarring on his face and arm. “They thought I might. I was in hospital for nearly two months.” He shrugged, leaning back again. “Afterwards, I just… couldn’t keep doing it. I was already burning out and my mental health had gone to shit. I needed to focus on my recovery. I couldn’t have said sorry enough in that stream, to you guys especially… fuck, I wish I could have stayed in contact, but I just couldn’t.”
“So you… moved here?” Wilbur questioned.
“Mhm, got my own place, moved further into the city. Family’s ‘bout an hour from here.” Ranboo shrugged again. “Adopted Ali and Rocky, got some tattoos, worked. It’s been… quiet. It’s nice, honestly. Calm.”
“You sound like you’ve been doing better.” Phil murmured.
“I have. I enjoy it.” He paused. “What’ve you been up to? I haven’t looked at any of your socials, so I’ve got no idea what you’ve been doing.”
“You haven’t looked… at all?” Tubbo asked, frowning. Ranboo shook his head.
“I don’t have any social media.” He said easily. “I don’t… I don’t like being reminded of it. So, no. Not at all.”
Wilbur easily filled the tense silence, quickly filling Ranboo in on the basics of what they’d been up to over the past four years.
Honestly, it was exactly what Ranboo had expected. They were all still streaming, mainly Minecraft but branching out into other areas. They were still successful, still doing things together and, from what Ranboo realised, still missed him. Fans still asked about him on occasion. He didn’t interrupt until Wilbur stopped talking, trailing back off into an awkward silence.
“I’m glad you guys are doing good.” Ranboo finally said. “Sorry I just… wasn’t expecting to confront this any time soon. Fucking hell, my therapist is going to have a field day.” He managed a dry laugh.
Rocky decided that that was the perfect moment to make a demanding meow from the doorway, winding her way between legs to jump onto Ranboo’s lap. He turned his attention to the feline, scratching behind her ears while he tried to remain calm. He could feel their eyes on him.
“Would you ever consider coming back?” Tubbo whispered. Ranboo looked back up. “Would you ever consider streaming again? People miss you, ‘boo, they still ask about you all the time. I… I miss you. We all miss you.”
“I don’t know.” He said honestly. “I’ve got my life here now. I’ve got friends and a job and… I’ve changed. If I did go back, I wouldn’t be the same person that you all remember. It’s been four years- I mean, not quite but... yeah. I’m not sure I could ever be that person again.”
“Ranboo, we don’t want you to be that person!” Techno interjected. “We’ve all changed!”
Phil nodded. “I get it mate. I think we all do. I… understand if you don’t want to come back to content creation but please, just… allow us to tell everyone you’re alright? I know a lot of people…” He inhaled sharply. “I know a lot of people who think you might have passed away. We couldn’t give any confirmation because... well, we didn’t know. Until now.”
Tubbo stood up from his seat suddenly and moved away from the group, trailed closely by Tommy. Ranboo didn’t move. He knew the man was crying.
“I’m sorry.” Ranboo said sharply, swallowing thickly. Nausea bubbled in his gut. “It might be best if you leave. I’m just upsetting people.”
“Ranboo-” Wilbur tried to speak.
“Don’t, please. I’m happy that you guys are doing well, but I’m happy here. I don’t… I don’t want to be involved in that life again. I’ve got my friends and family here.” He said, standing up to the face the glass door to the balcony. He kept his back to the group, even as he heard them moving.
A gentle hand brushed his back. Ranboo turned to see Techno, hair braided in a similar fashion to his own, standing beside him.
“You know where to contact us if you ever want to.” He murmured. “I… I wish this could have worked out differently. But I’m glad you’re doing okay.”
“Thanks, Tech.” Ranboo breathed, closing his eyes. He breathed out shakily, struggling not to cry.
But it was for the best. Was it for the best? He didn’t know. He had his life here, a job and pets and friends. But he had this past. He had people, fans and friends alike, looking for him, waiting for him to return.
God, he didn’t know.
The moment the door clicked shut behind the group, Ranboo felt like a metaphorical door in his heart had been closed too. Closed, but not locked.
Ranboo knew that if he chose too, he could contact them.
He just had to make that choice.